Sleight of Hand

A/N: Ugh. Thats all I have to say about this fic now. I've been surprisingly dry when it comes to ideas, even though I already have the end planned. Its not even that I dont have inspiration- I dont even have to motivation for it. Blehh. I really hate how this chapter came out but whatever, its a chapter nonetheless. Hopefully you guys dont hate it as much as I do lol.

"No, Ross, really. I'm working late tonight too, it's okay. Seriously." She laughed a bit.

"Well, alright then," he said, finally accepting the fact that they were both simply too busy tonight. It was almost like he'd forgotten that they led their own lives over the past week. "We'll have dinner tomorrow?"

"That's fine. Now get back to work, those papers don't grade themselves." He smiled to himself, picturing the exact look of playful demand that had probably crossed her face as she'd said that.

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Bye."

As he hung up the phone, he found his smile lingering for a while afterwards. Even as he turned towards the thick stack of theses that sat on his desk, just waiting to be covered in red ink. And, for once, he wasn't starting out the work with an already bored air. He was almost . . . looking forward to it. It wasn't binding anymore.

Hell, he even felt like his collegues weren't restricting him as much. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this free, this limitless. God, he could do anything! And there was no one to stop him but himself. He was free of some chokehold he'd had in the past, one he could probably trace back to Emily, and even Carol. The bars were lifted, and he was just . . . him. Just Ross Geller.

And he liked it this way.

-----

She pulled her coat more tightly around her, feeling her nose go numb as she made her way home. Her hands were balled into fists, and she kept them in the pockets not so much to avoid the cold that had taken over Manhattan that night, but to keep her from doing anything stupid. Like punching a stop sign.

God, she wanted to punch something.

Glancing quickly at her watch, she increased her pace, carefully avoiding the small patches of ice that resided on the sidewalks that night. She was running massively late, and knew he must be standing outside her apartment, wondering where the hell she was. He was probably worrying too. Ugh, just some more stress to add to an already overwhelming night.

Everything started swelling up inside of her and she couldn't take it. She was right in front of her building, and there was a nice, hard speed limit sign just begging to be kicked. She flung her foot into it as hard as she could, only to immediately regret it as sharp pains shot all the way up her calf. Cursing to herself, she frantically hobbled through the doors and to the elevator, thanking God that maintenance had finally fixed it.

She somehow dragged herself down the hallway when she reached her floor, and, as expected, saw him leaning against the wall. His eyes were on the floor, and she quickly checked her watch again and saw that she was over an hour late.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm here!", she croaked, her voice a little raw from the cold air outside and the small amount of yelling she'd done earlier. His neck snapped up to see her.

"What happened?", he asked as she unlocked her door, and just as she'd expected, he sounded more worried then angry with her. At least that was one less person to have to deal with. And she couldn't help but already feel a little better, knowing that at least someone was worrying.

"Ugh, work. I hate them. I hate them all!" she replied, her voice getting a bit louder with her frustration. He followed her into her bedroom as she shed her coat and flung it somewhere on the ground.

Soon, she began shedding her work clothes as well, tossing them into a heap in the corner as she pulled on an oversize shirt and an old pair of worn boxers. She started fiddling around with her jewelery, not even able to calm down enough to get it off. Ross came up behind her and unsnapped her necklace, taking her by surprise as she'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Thanks." He rubbed her shoulder.

"Come here, sit down." He sat at the edge of her bed, and pat the empty matress beside him. With a resounding sigh, she shuffled over and plopped down next to him.

"First off, why are you limping?"

"'Cause I kicked a pole," she admitted, sounding like an upset child. He chuckled a small bit, taking one of her hands in his.

"Okay, tell me everything. What happened at work?"

"I spilled wine, one glass of wine! . . . Okay, well it was red wine and it was on a customer, but that was it! And the man just threw a fit and demanded to see the manager, and I'm already on his bad side. After getting an earful from both of them, he told me it was the last straw and they'd only been keeping me because they all pitied me. Can you believe that? It was a pity job! And, apparently, they didn't pity me that much, because I got fired."

She groaned loudly, collapsing back against the bed with a 'thud'.

"I'm so sorry, Rach." Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his fingers lightly rubbing up and down her arm, which already was relieving some of her tension. "Do you want me to get you some water? You sound hoarse."

"That's cause I told my boss he can go fuck himself. In front of the entire restaurant. Very loudly."

He couldn't help but laugh loudly, thinking of this petite, tiny woman bellowing out cuss words at her employer. She opened her eyes in disbelief, and shot him a dirty look, but all it did was heighten his laughter even more. Finally, she picked up a pillow and swatted him with it.

"I'm sorry! Its just funny to think of!"

"Its not funny at all, Ross! I lost my job!" Finally, her anger seemed to subside, leaving a bruised Rachel in its wake. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the sting of tears come, feeling like a part of this shanty little life she'd somehow made for herself was completely lost. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

"Okay, sit up," he demanded, tugging her arm until she sat back up next to him. Her head remained turned down, so he lifted her chin with his index finger to make sure she was looking at him in the eye. "Its one job, Rachel. Just a job. Were you planning on waitressing for the rest of your life anyway?"

"I guess not." She shook her head and sniffled a bit. "I mean, last year, the thought of having a job would have almost disgusted me. I never needed one, not with all the money Barry brought in. I was expected not to have one. So this was all I ever had."

"I know, its okay. Just know that this isn't the end of the world, alright?" She nodded, letting him pull her into a hug. Feeling his warm, strong arms enveloped around her, she finally felt better, even if a few stray tears made their way out of her eyes and onto his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled into his sweater.

"Of course."

He kissed her temple, meaning only to comfort her, but finding something a little more. He pulled out of the hug to look her in the face. Her eyes were big and still a little wet, her nose was still red from the chill outside, and her long bangs hung limply on her face. He brushed them to the side, cupping her cheek in his hand, as he leaned in and kissed her softly.

Her muscles finally relaxed against him and she felt his tongue brush against her lips, and instinctively opened her mouth. After a few moments, his hand slid underneath her shirt, caressing her bare back. She couldn't deny how good it felt, rubbing warmth back into her body, but something about all of this wasn't sitting right with her. When she felt his hand explore higher, reaching for the clasp on her bra, she pulled away.

"Ross," she whispered, trying to regain her breath. She saw him look at her questioningly, and almost scared. "Look . . . is it okay if we, um, don't have sex tonight?"

"I'm sorry-", he began apologizing immediately, but she stopped him, knowing he would be thinking he was taking advantage of her, or something equally untrue. And of course he wouldn't be. She was just hoping that, maybe, they didn't need to have sex to comfort each other. She was already feeling lightyears better just from talking to him, and just didn't see a need to take anything further right now.

"No, no, don't apologize. I'm just really tired tonight. But, can you just . . . be with me? Just stay here tonight?"

"Anything you want," he said after a moment, smiling a little. She smiled back before getting up to pull back the covers on her bed and settling under them. She watched as he stipped down to his boxers, feeling so incredibly thankful that this man had somehow been dropped into her life. She had no idea how she handled things before he was there. And as he slid into bed next to her, and pulled her into his arms, she couldn't even believe what she'd done without them.

She rested her head against his chest, feeling his hand once again stroke the skin on her back, and feeling sleepier with every passing moment. She'd never felt this comfortable being tangled up with someone. It was like the two of them just fit together. Something about lying in his arms just instantly made her want to curl up and sleep against him forever and a day.

He felt her breathing steady out after a few short minutes, but he continued to stroke her skin. He felt this innate need to protect her tonight, to fight off anything that might come close to hurting her further. She seemed so fragile and frail right now.

And then he realized that this was their first night sleeping together without having sex. He wondered why they hadn't done it before. It was so comfortable, so effortless. They didn't need to take things further. Maybe they just needed each other.

Even though he hadn't been the one with the problem that night, that idea reassured him enough to let him drift off to sleep.