The plinking of strings and the synthesised sound of waves lapping had ceased to be an annoyance and simply receded into the background. Even with his face shoved into the handy massage-table face-hole, he felt wonderfully relaxed. Chandler sighed in contentment and thought that Phoebe really did have magic in her fingers.

'So, things are going well with Rachel?'

His eyes snapped open. So much for relaxed.

'Not the time, Pheebs.'

'Uh-huh. You're pretty tense.'

'You think?'

Silence. He allowed himself, tentatively, to begin to drift back to that happy place of loosened limbs and blank-minded non-thoughts. Then:

'Do you want something for your neck? I didn't think Rachel was a biter.'

'Phoebe!'

Chandler pushed himself up on the table, grabbing at the towel that started a slow traitorous slide to the floor, dragged it up as he twisted around. 'That is so- And will you stop using your creepy masseuse voice? It's like getting a rub-down off Bela Lugosi.'

Phoebe's eyes rolled. 'Okay, fine.'

Chandler arranged himself on the table, glanced up and saw the direction of Phoebe's eyes. 'Are you looking? Stop looking! You are not supposed to be looking.'

'Rachel is a very lucky girl.'

'Phoebe!'

They stared one another down.

'Will you please pass me another towel?'

'Ooh, someone has a big opinion of himself.'

He glared at her. Phoebe passed him the towel.

'Look, okay, I'm growing small humans inside of me - I need to take amusement where I can find it.' She rested, half-sitting, beside him on the massage-table, her hands resting over the swell of her belly. Then looked him up and down again. 'Plus, y'know, hormones.'

'I'd make a joke right now but I'm feeling a little exposed.'

'Eh.' She shrugged. 'I've seen worse.'

'Well, thank-'

'I've also seen better.'

'I hope your labour is prolonged and excruciating.'

Phoebe smiled slightly. They sat for a while.

'So, things are going well?'

Chandler rearranged, with great care, his towels, keeping as much of himself covered as possible. 'With Rachel? Yeah, it's, uh' -he couldn't stop himself from smiling- 'it's pretty good.'

'Are you ever going to tell anyone else?'

'Yeah, sure, one day. I was thinking maybe after Ross dies? Or if I die first it can be read out in my will.'

'Yeah, okay, but what if Rachel is still alive?'

'I'm thinking that Ross is less likely to kill her. Plus, he'll be pretty old by then, he won't be able to get around as fast.' He pulled at a wilfully errant towel. What did she wash them in - some kind of ultra-slippery detergent? 'Okay, okay, we'll have a suicide pact and we'll leave a joint will.'

'Oh, I have one of those!'

He chose not to enquire which.

'I guess this means our back-up plan pact is off?'

Chandler tilted his head at her, offering her one of his nicest smiles. 'Yeah, sorry about that.'

Her eyes drifted down again. 'Yeah, me too...'

Chandler clutched his towels.

ooOoo

There was a thrill in sneaking around that Rachel hadn't expected. The breathless limbo moments when the distance between apartments - between her bedroom and his - had never seemed so vast and there was the tip-toeing attempt to wake neither Monica nor Joey.

It was the sitting in Central Perk and making sure that she was beside him, leaning against his arm and the moments when he would, apparently inadvertently, brush his hand against her thigh. Or when he'd drape his arm along the back of the sofa and she could pretend that she was sitting with his arm around her.

That was where the frustration was, too. When she wanted to hold his hand, or have his hand on her knee, feel his fingers against her cheek when he'd slide the hair back from her face, or just kiss him - hello, goodbye - in front of the others.

Frustration assuaged later, in the safety of one another's rooms, when fingers made clumsy by feverishness would fumble with buttons and zips and belts and when skin finally came against skin the relief was almost unbearable.

But there were always the lunches.

ooOoo

'Hm... I think I'll go for the unagi.'

Chandler dropped his menu and looked at her. 'Word of advice: never ever mention "unagi" to Ross.'

'Doesn't he like sushi? I never knew that.'

'It's not the sushi, it's something to do with his karate. Or I should say kara-te.'

Rachel's lips twitched and Chandler felt a spear of guilt. Under the circumstances it was wrong to make fun of Ross, especially behind his back. But sometimes it was just so easy.

'I'll keep that in mind; I've heard enough about his karate, believe me.'

'Yeah, his wax on, wax off days.'

Rachel laughed. He liked making her laugh. Not in the way he did so many people, as a form of self-protection, but just because he loved the way she laughed. He loved the way her eyes crinkled and her lips curled up and she would toss the hair away from her face. He loved the way she was so open about it. And he loved that he could be the cause of all of that.

Across the table, he took hold of her hand. They sat like that, studying their menus, unnoticed by the rest of the lunch-time customers in the crowded Midtown restaurant. One stolen hour in the middle of the day.

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand and saw one corner of her mouth turn up; her eyes stayed on her menu.

When the waiter came over for their order he said, 'I'll have the rice wrapped in seaweed.'

Rachel smiled. 'He'll have the unagi.'

ooOoo

One of these mornings, Rachel thought grimly, one of these mornings she'd shimmy across the gap between apartments and beat Mr 'Morning Is Here' to death with one of her shoes. One with a really, really pointy heel. She dragged her robe on, dragged her hair back, pushed her door open and wandered blearily into the living room.

Monica was holding something white at arm's length with a pair of tongs.

'Morning to you, too.'

'Where did these come from?'

'What is it? Is there coffee? I thought you made coffee.'

'It's underwear! Men's underwear.'

Rachel blinked, the just-out-of-bed fog clearing rapidly. 'Oh... Oh, uh, well, this was, y'know, the guys' apartment before it was ours. They-they probably belong to one of them.' She tried to keep her voice steady. Was her voice steady?

Monica brandished the tongs; the offending garment fluttered like a truce-flag. 'Well, they weren't here yesterday evening! And they didn't walk over by themselves!'

'No. No. They, uh-'

Think of something. Think of a name.

'They're-'

Any name.

'They're Joshua's!'

Monica's arm fell to half-mast; she tilted her head, frowning. 'Who's Joshua?'

'Oh, the guy I'm seeing. You know - The Guy.'

The blue eyes gleamed. 'His name's Josh?'

'Joshua.' She cringed inwardly.

'He doesn't like Josh?'

'No, I don't.' Honestly, she asked herself, what difference did it make?

'Oh. Okay. Wow, I didn't even know you had anyone over here last night.' Monica thought it over. 'He must have left really early.'

Only at about five that morning, Rachel thought wearily, only about two hours after he'd actually got there. So he could avoid Monica and her ludicrously early rising.

'Yes, uh, yes he-he had to get to work. Early.'

Monica nodded slowly. 'You really are keeping this quiet.'

'Yeah, well...' Rachel played with the frayed end of her belt. 'He's shy.'

Monica nodded again; her smile seemed a little too tight. 'You know, if I was paranoid I'd think that you're embarrassed for him to meet me.'

'Oh, Mon, no, it's just that, well, it's complicated.'

'Why, is he married?'

Rachel hesitated.

'Oh my God, he's married!' Monica stared at her, mouth still open, her eyes wide. 'Rachel! How-how could you do that? After Barry- after Ross? You know what that felt like.'

'It's not like that! They're ... separated. And ... Joshua just doesn't need the complication of people knowing about his relationship with me while they are finalising the divorce.'

Not bad for the spur of the moment. Not the most elegant solution, but still - not bad. If only Monica would stop looking at her like that.

'They were already separated.'

Monica's lips pressed together; she let out a breath. 'Sweetie, are you sure it's a good idea getting involved with someone who's still married? I mean, what if they decide to work things out? It- This might not end well.'

Rachel crossed to her friend, put her arms around her and held her tight. 'You are so sweet. But it'll be okay. I promise you.'

Monica sighed. 'I hope so. And will you please take these?'

'Oh, sure.' Rachel took the tongs gingerly.

ooOoo

'Wait, so now I have to pretend to be some guy called Josh? Some married guy called Josh?'

'Joshua.'

'What the hell does that matter?'

'I don't know,' Rachel moaned, 'I don't know why I keep doing that. Anyway, I don't see why you're complaining, I have to pretend to be Janice.'

'Yeah, okay...'

Her head was in the crook of his arm; Chandler twisted his hand around, catching at the ends of her hair.

'So, this Josh guy... Is he as cute as me?'

Her lips pushed out, forehead wrinkling. A lot of thought going into it. 'Well, he is quite handsome...'

'Yeah, I know I started it, but this isn't funny anymore.'

She grinned up at him, then raised her head slightly and caught his lips with hers. 'No-one is as cute you.'

'Is the right answer!'

'Great. In that case, would you get me a soda?'

Chandler rolled his eyes ostentatiously, pushing her away from him. 'A man's work is never done.' He pulled his robe on, padded across the room. At the door a voice, horribly familiar and wholly out of place, called from behind:

'I'll be waiting for you, Chandler Bing!'

He turned quickly, pressed his back against the door, stared at Rachel in horror. She was grinning at him again, evidently delighted with the joke. 'No! No, no, no, no! Do not ever ever do that again!'

She opened her mouth.

'Ever!'

Rachel held up her hands. 'Okay!'

As he opened the door, Janice's machine-gun laughter caught him in the back. Chandler winced, braced himself, stepped into the living-room and-

'Gah!'

-found Joey's finger in his face, a mutinous glare behind it.

'You promised!'

Chandler knocked his hand away. 'I hope that's not loaded, Joe.'

'You promised me I wouldn't even have to hear her! And I heard her. I heard her real good. You promise this, you promise that- You know what you are? You're a promise-breaker!'

Chandler sighed. 'I know, I know, and I am so sorry. We'll keep it down, I pro-'

Joey's eyebrows went up. Chandler smiled at him weakly. 'We'll keep it down.'

'Yeah, well... You better!' Finger in his face time again. Joey glared at the closed bedroom door, sending murderous thoughts to the woman behind it.

Chandler sent a few of his own and wondered, if the exact circumstances were known, whether anyone would really blame him for killing her.

He retrieved the soda, slid back into his room. Rachel was kneeling on the bed, her hands pressed over her mouth.

'Pity you didn't try that in the first place,' he said.

Her shoulders shook helplessly.

'That wasn't funny, Rach!'

She heaved in a breath; there were actually tears starting to leak down her face. Swamped in one of his shirts, her hair tumbling messily around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with suppressed laughter she looked ... beautiful.

He really should kill her. Or at least punish her. A little.

But he just loved the way she laughed.