Entertaining Angels – Chapter Two

xx

Monica watched out of the corner of her eye as Chandler dutifully scrubbed the dishes in the overflowing sink. She had been surprised when after the restaurant had closed, Chandler had offered to stay and help her clean up for the fifth night in a row. None of the other waiters had ever offered to help close. When she dropped hints, all she ever received was dirty looks. She had long since given up trying, figuring it wasn't worth the bother. Then, out of nowhere, without prodding or even the barest hint, Chandler had offered to stay, multiple nights. She was secretly pleased, even though she wouldn't admit it out loud. Having help, especially from the cute new waiter sure beat closing the restaurant alone, which was what she was used to most nights she worked the dinner shift.

Though they had hardly spoken over the past few evenings, except small talk and pleasantries, Monica felt a connection to Chandler, as if he had some sort of greater purpose in her life than 'just another one of the waiters.' For one thing, he was as nice to her as ever, in spite of nearly a week with Tony and the other waiters, whom she was sure were doing their best to sway him to hate her. She was relieved he seemed not to be so easily moved to hate. She liked him. His quiet, dutiful presence during the late nights was of more comfort than she was willing to admit out loud, to him, or anyone else.

Monica snapped out of her reverie, realizing Chandler was standing next to her and had been calling her name. She had been so involved in her thoughts she hadn't even noticed him approach. She blushed, not wanting him to think she was ignoring him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently touching her shoulder in a friendly way. Monica stiffened at the contact, fully aware of the nerves that threatened to overwhelm her at his nearness. As much as she liked him, and had a hunch he could like her, if he would just let himself, the friendly contact was foreign. Over the past week that he had been working for her the most contact they'd had was a brief brush of his fingers against hers as they both simultaneously reached for the same caesar salad bowl. Monica felt a rush of warmth at the memory.

"Monica?" he repeated, softly, his eyes searching her face worriedly, "Are you okay?"

Monica looked up into his concerned blue eyes, realizing she had sunk back into a reverie again, and answered embarrassedly, "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

Chandler smiled brightly, answering jokingly, "Ah, thinking. I've been known to do that occasionally, too. What's on your mind?"

Monica smiled back, only slightly nervous; his friendliness made her feel much less anxious. She shrugged, anyway, not willing to divulge her thoughts about him, and offered a half truth instead. "Oh, nothing much. Just thinking about how it's nice to not be alone here, for once."

Chandler nodded along, "Yeah, I can imagine. That's why I've been offering to stay! No one should have to be stuck here alone this close to Christmas!"

Monica shrugged indifferently, explaining cynically, "I'm used to it. Christmas is no different than any other time of year."

Chandler looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and friendliness, "Well, you won't have to be alone as long as I'm here! Christmas or not!"

Monica nodded at him in thanks, unwilling to let herself fully believe his words. Sure he could say that, but she knew the other waiters had their methods of persuasion.

As if reading her thoughts, Chandler added, "Don't worry about what those other guys think."

Feigning ignorance, Monica questioned, "Other guys?"

Chandler raised an eyebrow at her, calling her bluff. "You know who. The other waiters. They're all assholes, Mon." Monica smiled at him timidly, causing Chandler to look at her questioningly. "What?"

"You called me Mon," Monica answered shyly, "No one's called me that since I was a little girl, except my Dad. I've always been his little Harmonica."

Chandler flushed lightly. "Sorry, is that not okay?" he wondered, turning back to the dishes he had been washing earlier, picking at his yellow gloves uncomfortably.

"No, it's fine," Monica smiled, her mind flooded with memories of a much less lonely childhood. "I liked it. And, um, thanks, for, uh, you know, saying that, um, with the waiters," she fumbled.

Chandler looked up at her as he scrubbed a pan, his hands immersed in soapy water. "I meant it. The way they treat you… it just isn't right. They have no right to do that to you. I've seen you work, and you're good at your job. You deserve this position as much as anyone. Don't let them get you down."

Monica turned away, putting away grated parmesan so he wouldn't see her glassy eyes, though she was fairly sure he would be able hear her emotional state in her voice. "I try not to," she offered succinctly, not wanting to share her story, and turn into an emotional mess in front of the first employee who had been so kind to her since she had accepted the position as head chef.

Chandler looked at her sympathetically, clearly understanding her unspoken feelings, and pulled off his rubber gloves, tentatively offering her a hug, unsure if she'd let him, "It's okay."

Monica accepted the hug gratefully, sniffing back tears. Even if he was a near stranger, and they'd only met a week prior, the small contact was immensely comforting and served to only make her like him more. She laid her head on his shoulder, reveling in the sense of protection and serenity she felt, not wanting to let go. Chandler seemed to understand and made no attempt to break away.

After a few minutes had passed, he questioned gently, "Feeling better?"

Monica nodded, aware she should probably be embarrassed for letting herself be so emotional in front of him, but the feeling wasn't as intense as she expected. It felt good, almost cathartic, to be able to let out the repressed feelings of hurt and loneliness that stemmed from her coworkers' cruel antics. She nodded slightly against his shoulder, knowing he would feel the movement.

"Good," he whispered, gently into her hair, "If you want to talk, I'm here," he offered warmly.

Monica smiled up at him, shyly, "Thanks. I could use a friend."

"Well, I'm your man, then," Chandler grinned at her. Monica flushed at his words, liking that he called himself 'hers.'

"Okay," she smiled, at him for a moment, before realizing there was still a lot that needed to be done before they left. She shook her head lightly, as if to literally shake off her emotional mood, and return her thoughts to getting the restaurant closed for the night. "I'm just going to go check expirations dates on products in the fridge. Can you finish the dishes?"

Chandler smiled at her easily. "No problem." He watched as she all but skipped off to the cooler, her mood clearly improved. He was making definite progress! The first few days had been a shaky start; she was an extremely private person, and getting her to open up to him, in such a short time period had seemed daunting, but he felt he was making definite headway.

He quickly peered towards the fridge to make sure Monica wasn't watching him, and flicked a hand towards the sink. Immediately the sponge scrubbie hopped up from it's resting place on the sink ledge and began obediently cleaning the grime off of the pots and pans too clunky for the dishwasher. Chandler grinned. Being an angel certainly had its perks.

Chandler leaned against the counter across the room, bored, picking at his yellow rubber gloves, as he waited for the scrubbie to finish its work. It was working on the last metal bowl, when Chandler heard the door to the cooler open. Panicked, he dropped the sponge and pot and pan from midair. They made a big splash as they fell back into the soapy water.

Monica looked at Chandler with a raised eyebrow, as she emerged from the cooler, seeing the splash, and that Chandler was a good twenty feet away from the sink, "What's going on? What were you doing?"

Chandler glanced at her sheepishly, fumbling in his mind for a viable excuse. "I, uh, I was playing scrubbie basketball. See, you take the scrubbie, and you stand over here, and you throw it and see if you can get it in the bowl," he shrugged at her guiltily, "I missed, obviously."

He was surprised when Monica grinned at him, instead of being upset at his lack of work ethic. "Yeah?" Her competitive instincts kicking in, she demanded, "Let me try!" Chandler grinned back, and immediately headed to the sink to fish out the scrubbie from the soapy water. He handed it to Monica, who took it with a determined look in her eyes. She threw it, sinking it into the centre of the floating bowl perfectly.

Though he knew he had invented the game on the spot to cover his glaring blunder, Chandler couldn't help but be impressed. "Hey! Nice shot!"

Monica grinned at him, pleased with the compliment, "Yeah?"

Chandler nodded, "Yeah!"

Monica smiled shyly, "Thanks."

xx

Five minutes later, they were involved in an intense game of scrubbie basketball. Chandler was taking his tenth shot, as Monica watched. He stretched as if preparing for intense physical actively, and not merely throwing a sponge.

Monica sighed at him exasperatedly, "Come on! We're playing scrubbie basketball, not preparing for the Olympics! Besides do you really think that all that stretching is going to help? You've missed nine straight shots! You suck!" Her competitive side had really opened her up. How had they gone from her blushing when his fingers brushed hers to her telling him he sucked? From hero to zero in ten minutes. This sucked.

Chandler pouted, "It might help!" It turned out he wasn't all that stellar at physical activity, having never really practiced before; due to his reliance on magic he was much less coordinated than he thought.

"Yeah, yeah," Monica laughed, "Take the shot, Michael Jordan."

"Hey," Chandler huffed, "I resent that sarcasm." He proceeded to take the shot, anyway, flushing when instead of sinking perfectly into the floating bowl, the sponge went flying across the room landing in front of the sink with a wet squelch.

Chandler stalked over to the scrubbie, snatching it from the floor as Monica laughed. "Guess the stretching didn't help, huh?" she teased though a giggle.

"Yeah, whatever," Chandler huffed. Man, his pride was really taking a beating. Ten straight missed shots and losing to a girl! Could it get any worse? He slapped the sponge into Monica's hand, watching resentfully at she lined up her shot, and sunk another perfect basket.

Grinning at her opponent Monica called out, raising her arms in the air in cheer. "Monica 10, Chandler 0!"

Chandler looked at her sourly, retrieving the scrubbie from the bowl, and retreated to take his next shot, not even bothering to reply. Throwing the sponge, he watched as it flailed across the room, sailing towards the backsplash. Unable to let his pride take such a beating, Chandler waved a finger discreetly, and the sponge spontaneously dropped into the bowl.

Monica watched it, dumbfounded. "It looked like the sponge just fell out of the air! Isn't that weird, Chandler?"

Chandler looked at her fake-puzzled, embarrassment for the dishonest ploy setting in, "It looked like a perfect arc to me!" he boasted, flushing, adding with an embarrassed waver to his voice, "Monica 10, Chandler 1!"

"It was almost like magic!" Monica shook her head. "It would have to be for you to make a shot," she added with a laugh. Chandler tittered uncomfortably. Little did she know how right she was.

He closed his eyes, wishing he had never pulled that stunt. If Phoebe knew what he had done he could and would be severely punished for his indiscretion. Using magic in front of a human was a big no-no. They should change the rule, he decided with a inward humph. If someone was getting their ass kicked at scrubbie basketball by a human, it was only fair, after all.

"What can I say?" Chandler questioned rhetorically, "I'm a pro." Monica laughed loudly. "Okay, that hurt," he stated, the look in his eyes letting her know he wasn't fully serious.

"I'm sorry," Monica offered rather insincerely, adding sotto, "Too bad scrubbie basketball isn't an Olympic sport, because you would definitely make the team!"

Chandler grinned at her, "That's what I like to hear. Now that you have oh-so-brutally kicked my ass at scrubbie basketball, maybe we should get some actual work done?"

"Yeah," Monica agreed quietly, not wanting to let go of the open and fun atmosphere the game had brought, "Maybe we should."

"Hey, now," Chandler comforted, "We can play again tomorrow!"

Monica sighed, "It's not that-," she paused mid-sentence as his words sunk in, "You'll be here tomorrow?" she questioned hopefully.

Chandler grinned at her, "Of course! I love hanging out with you. I had a ton of fun playing with you today, even if I was pounded into the ground."

Monica grinned back helplessly. "Me too," she agreed softly, "I used to hate having to close the restaurant. Now, I think I'm going to look forward to it."

Chandler squeezed her hand. "Me too."

Monica grinned shyly. "I'm going to go empty the registers, are you okay to finish the dishes back here?"

Chandler nodded, "No problem." Monica smiled slightly at him and turned to exit, stopping when Chandler called out her name. He paused not sure how to ask her what he wanted to. "I, um, I – what I mean is I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out with me Saturday? It says you have the day off on the schedule," he explained, frowning. Way to come off as a stalker, man, he complimented himself sardonically. He flushed. "The reason I, um, asked was because I was supposed to go skating with my friend and his daughter, but he cancelled, so I was, um, wondering if maybe you'd like to come instead?"

Monica looked up into his nervous eyes bashfully, wondering if he was asking her what it sounded like. Was he asking her… on a date? Deciding it didn't matter, she nodded, "I'd love to, but, um, I don't know how to skate."

Chandler looked at her, shocked. "You don't?"

Monica flushed. "No? Is that weird?"

"You live in New York City and you've never gone skating at the Rockefeller Center? You haven't lived! You have to come, now! I'll teach you to skate! You'll love it, trust me!"

Monica looked at him nervously, desperately wanting to agree, just to spend more time with him, but not wanting to make an idiot of herself by trying to skate and falling flat on her face. Making a split second decision, and replying before she could change her mind, she nodded. "I'll do it!

"Awesome! We're gonna have so much fun!" Chandler promised.

xx

"And then my Mom tells me 'Tuck your hair behind your ears!' like she hadn't just said my ears were too big and 'not my best feature.' I swear," Monica complained, "I just can't win!"

"I'm sorry you have to deal with that," Chandler said sympathetically, as they plodded down the snow-covered sidewalk towards the Rockefeller Center, to go ice skating, as he had promised her they would. He clasped her mitten clad hand in his, and she smiled at him shyly as he did. "My mom is nearly as bad, in a totally different way," Chandler told her, "Words can not describe!"

"Try," Monica suggested.

"Okay," Chandler grinned, unable to help from smiling in response. It wasn't that he was an unhappy person, but being around Monica just made him feel that much more upbeat and willing to share his dysfunctional childhood, "Picture this: blonde, sequins, far too much cleavage, six inch stilettos and on the arm of husband number," he paused squinting, trying to remember, "Seven is it? Maybe eight."

Monica laughed involuntarily. "Yeah, that sounds bad. My Mom may be a pain in my ass, but at least she's my Mom and not a wannabe 20-year-old call girl."

"Yeah," Chandler shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm used to it."

Monica nodded in understanding. "I can understand that feeling. I don't even try anymore."

"Okay," Chandler exclaimed, brushing off the comment as they approached the outdoor rink, "No more lamenting over dysfunctional parents! It's fun time." Monica grinned; his enthusiasm was catching. "I'm gonna go rent some skates for us. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, he returned, a pair of ice skates slung over either shoulder. He immediately knelt down to help Monica remove her snow boots. She stared at him, touched by the small gesture, as he helped her replace her boots with the skates, and lace them tightly, 'so they wouldn't wobble.' He repeated the process on his own skates, before standing and offering a gloved hand to Monica to help her up. She grabbed his hand tightly, standing up shakily, taking careful steps towards the rink with his assistance.

"It's going to be fine," Chandler promised, seeing the nervousness written all over her face. He quickly twirled a finger, charming Monica so that she wouldn't slip and fall, since he knew that was the source of her anxiety. Maybe if she got out there and realized there was no reason to be afraid she would loosen up a little and have more fun learning.

"I know," Monica agreed shakily, sounding anything but sure, "You'll catch me if I fall, right?"

"It won't happen," Chandler promised.

Monica looked at him beseechingly. "How do you know? I might."

Chandler grinned. "I just know, okay? Now, come on, let's skate!" He let go of her hand and pushed off from the edge, turning to face her, demonstrating the footwork involved in skating. "See? It's easy! Now you try!"

Monica looked up at him terrified. "Already!? Aren't you going to hold my hand?" She looked at him pleadingly, "In case I fall?"

Chandler obediently skated towards her, grasping her hand tightly. Feeling secure in the knowledge that he would prevent her from falling, Monica moved her feet cautiously, sliding at a snail-like pace across the ice. "There ya go!" Chandler praised, "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now try a little faster. Once you get some momentum going, you'll loosen up."

Monica grinned up at him proudly. "I'm glad you made me try this."

Chandler smiled back, "That's the spirit! Trying new stuff is always fun!" With his help, Monica's confidence rapidly increased. Sure, she wasn't poised to do an axel, but Chandler couldn't help but feel proud of her. He desperately hoped that her confidence in her skating ability wasn't the only thing improving.

Over the course of a few days, his assignment had become an entirely personal matter to him. His happiness was dependent on Monica's. Sure, he'd been told to never get so invested, because he would inevitably have to move onto a new case in a few weeks time… but there was something about Monica that made him reconsider the intelligence of that philosophy. She was so sweet and perfect… and if it meant becoming invested, to make sure she was happy, so be it. That was a Solace Angel's job, anyway, right? To make people happy. So really, he wasn't invested, just dedicated to his job.

He tried to push out of mind the thought that he would have to leave in less than a week. The thought of never seeing her again–

No. Maybe he could visit. Was there a rule that angels couldn't appear to those who weren't involved in their current case? He couldn't recall… he'd have to check. Phoebe would know. He was reluctant to ask his old friend, though, he knew she would immediately know where his thoughts were and reprimand him for being an impulsive, infatuated idiot. He wasn't really keen on hearing that speech.

He forced away his thoughts and focused on Monica and the present. He was here and so was she. Focus and don't think about having to leave. He concentrated on the feeling of her mittened hand in his. "You're doing great," he encouraged, "You'll be flying across the ice in no time!"

Monica smiled proudly, shrugging. "I have a good teacher."

Chandler shoved away the blush he could feel fighting its way to his cheeks. Maybe she wouldn't notice, since they were pink from the cold. "Nah, it's all you." Monica grinned, not wanting to argue with him, even over that insignificant matter.

As Monica gained confidence in her ability, they skated more briskly in loops around the rink. Suddenly, without warning, the toe of Monica's skate caught on the ice, and she tripped, lurching forward. Chandler wrapped his arms around her, before she could realize that his charm had cushioned her fall, midair.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking into her eyes, concerned. Monica looked back, her face only inches from his. If she tilted her head up, she was close enough to kiss him. She briefly considered doing so, but decided she didn't want to make a bigger fool of herself if he reacted negatively.

Monica nodded, embarrassed for allowing herself to feel so confident that she had caused herself to nearly fall. Looking down at the ice, she shrugged. "Guess I'm not that great, after all."

Chandler shook his head, "You did excellent! You didn't fall. And even if you had, falling only once is amazing for a beginner!"

He helped her steady herself so her weight wasn't dependant on him, and squeezed her hand. "Let's take a break. We can get some hot chocolate and warm our bones before you hone your skating skills a little more!" Monica smiled at him, pleased he didn't seem to be at all fazed by what she viewed as a mortifying blunder. "Looks like the Zamboni is getting ready to come out, anyway."

Monica looked at him, puzzled, "The what?"

"The ice resurfacer. It makes the ice all shiny and smooth, so it's easier to skate on."

"Okay," she agreed easily, and headed in the direction of the café bar. "Can I get candy cane flavoured?" she wondered, innocently.

Chandler smiled at her, "Of course! My treat."

As they reached the ledge, Chandler helped her step off the ice, before following suit. Even once they were both on solid ground, he didn't let go of her hand.

xx

"Chandler!"

Chandler shrunk before Phoebe, knowing he wasn't going to like the following conversation. He averted his eyes, feeling like a 12-year-old that got caught sneaking out at two AM. "Yeah?" he questioned, though he knew exactly what Phoebe was upset about. He picked at a cuticle nervously.

"How could you use magic in front of a human like that! And for what!? Because you were losing at a game of 'scrubbie basketball?!'" she mocked, the term sounding ridiculous on her tongue. "You know that that violates everything we stand for as angels! It was selfish and stupid and urgh! I cannot believe you would even think about doing it, let alone actually do it! Did you think I wouldn't find out? I was reviewing your footage. I was impressed! I was thinking I had made the right decision sending you to Monica! Then! Then I see you do that!" she growled.

Chandler shrugged, explaining in a meek defensive voice, "She didn't know it was magic. I managed to convince her it wasn't."

"That isn't the point, Chandler!" Phoebe snarled, "The point is you know better than that, but let your emotions get to your head and used magic when you knew damn well you shouldn't have! If I were anyone else you'd be stripped of angel status now!"

"I know that, Pheebs, and I'm so sorry!" Chandler groveled, "It won't happen again. I promise!"

"It damn well better not happen again!" Phoebe snapped, "Do you realize how lucky you are? If Monica had understood what she was seeing, do you realize how much trouble you would be in?! I wouldn't be able to save you. You're goddamn lucky that I care about you too much to see you and your talents go to waste."

"Thank you so much, Phoebe. I know I scre-" Chandler started, only to be interrupted.

"Don't. I, just – urgh. I have a piece of mind to take you off of this case, right now!"

Chandler looked at her, his eyes wide and panicked. "No, Pheebs, please, I swear, I'll be better, just don't take me off this case! Monica needs me," he pleaded, "I can help her!"

Phoebe eyed him suspiciously, her expression softening as the realization came to her, "You care about her." She sighed warily. "I don't want to do this… but, that's two strikes against you, Chandler. I'm sorry. I can't keep you on this case."

xx

Thanks for the response to the first chapter! It's nice to see there's interest in this story :) It's been a fun one to write, being so different than what I'm used to.

It's really starting to feel like Christmas now, all the pretty wrapped presents under the tree, the white blanket of snow outside and of course the cookies! I love Christmas cookies :)

I'm hoping to have this little mini-story done by Christmas. The plan is for one last chapter, after this, but we'll see how it goes. If that's impossible, it'll be finished after Christmas, not abandoned :) After that, it's back to Listen to Your Heart, I promise :)

Anyway, please review and give my muse some holiday cheer to get it moving :P