Phase Three

Chapter 2: Shades of Grey

So, I know I said I wasn't going to continue this, but…well…I really want to. I love LOVE this as a one-shot, but I'm dying to have a Randler series, and, well, all of my other ideas blow, but this one actually blended nicely with another idea I had, so…yea. Mondler fans-there will be some Mondler action as well if you can stick it out, haha. Anywho, here we go…

~.~

Chandler continued to kiss Rachel as she moved on top of him, his arms securely around her, as if to prove this wasn't just a dream. He wasn't really sure what this was, but he didn't want it to stop now. But, he knew it should stop now. He knew they needed to stop and do some thinking, possibly some talking. A whole lot of talking. And, at the moment, maybe even a little puking on his part.

But this felt too good. Too right. Infuriatingly right. Horribly good. Horribly, horribly, horribly good.

Which was why he needed to stop. Right. That. Second. He knew he started it, he kissed her first, but he also knew they couldn't keep going. This wasn't the kind of kissing that stopped at just kissing. This was the kind of kissing that lead to more, and it was leading to it any second.

Sober sex wasn't quite as excusable as drunken sex. That is, if you even could excuse drunken sex as just that…

Chandler sat up, Rachel still on top of him, leaning up against the headboard. His intention had been to move away from her, but she ran her fingers through his hair, grasping the back of his head as she moved with him, not letting him pull away from the kiss, much less away from her.

God, why did her kisses, her skin against his, have to feel like this? It was very infuriating.

They were naked. Completely naked. And hungover. Naked, and hungover, and very close to an encore performance of the night before.

As Rachel wrapped her legs around his back, he groaned out-loud, somewhere between agony and pleasure, as he tried to muster up some sort of willpower to pull away from her. Just for a second. Because if they stopped, just for a second, they could talk about how stupid and ridiculous this was.

Ross. That's all he would have to say, and it would stop. Ross. Just that word. Ross. One syllable. Four letters.

How ironic that it was a four-letter word.

He tried to think of something, anything, to keep his mind off of the kissing and the touching and the nakedness. Something other than the fact that making out with her, despite still tasting like tequila, was pretty darn close to perfection. He tried thinking of how Joey smelled the day before. Hockey. Doug slapping his ass. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The time he walked in on his parents having a threesome. The time he walked in on Joey having a threesome. Ross kicking his ass.

Ross kicking his ass.

"Mmm…Rach?" he finally choked out, moving so that his face, at least, was a few inches away from hers.

"Hmm?"

"We should…We shouldn't," he choked out, voice audibly shaky.

"I know," she breathed out in a whisper, widening the distance between them as she took a few deep breaths to steady her own shaky breathing. Chandler closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall behind his bed. "God, what time is it?" Rachel groaned, clutching the blanket in front of her as she leaned over to both look at the clock and grab her clothes from the floor. "6:02," she grumbled, standing up to get dressed.

"Well, that explains why I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk," Chandler continued, eyes still closed, both wishing away the awkwardness that had ensued as soon as the kissing had stopped, as well as trying to keep down the contents of his stomach. When he felt the bed shift again under Rachel's weight as she sat beside him, slipping one of her shoes on, he opened his eyes, forcing a small smile.

"Do we need to talk about this?" Rachel sighed, dropping her left foot to the floor as she grabbed her other shoe.

"Probably," Chandler sighed, sliding closer to her as he watched her pull her shoes on. God, how did she make the usually mundane task look even slightly sexy?

"Yea," she sighed. "Because this is bad, right?" she asked, motioning between them, one black high-heel still in hand. "Last night was bad. Really bad. Really, really bad," she continued, sliding the remaining high-heel onto her right foot.

"Well, not all of it was bad," Chandler added, unconsciously moving his hand closer to hers.

"Yea, not all of it," Rachel replied with a smile, letting him play with her hand, her fingers gliding between his. The small movement had her heart racing again, but she tried to push that away, thinking much more clearly than the night before. "No!" She snatched her hand away from his. "Good is bad! This," she dramatically motioned between them, standing up to distance herself from a still naked Chandler, "is bad!"

"Right, bad!" Chandler agreed with an overdramatic nod, kneeling forward as he clutched the blanket in front of him. "I mean, Ro-"

"Don't say it," Rachel interrupted him, covering his mouth with her hand. "Just, don't even say his name, okay?" She dropped her hand back down. "Because we both know that as bad as this is, it would be phenomenally badder if Ross found out about it."

"It might be phenomenally 'badder' if Ross heard you use the word 'badder' in place of worse," Chandler laughed, and Rachel couldn't help but smile. She shook her head at him for a second, picking her purse up from the ground.

"Stop saying things that make you look cute," she warningly pointed the purse at him. "Well," she sighed, "I'm gonna go home now before anyone else wakes up."

"'Kay. So we just…" he trailed off, looking at her in bewilderment. There was no way she could not be feeling exactly what he was feeling at the moment, all of the heart-racing stuff, in spite of all of the repercussions that might occur. She couldn't be that good at faking it in the middle of all of the kissing and touching. She couldn't still be that drunk from the night before if she was speaking so coherently.

"Just pretend last night didn't happen, I guess," she replied with a shrug, nearly whispering. "I mean, I don't think we really have any other choice."

"Right," he nodded, watching as she turned to leave. "Uh, Rach?"

"Yea?"

"Hey, um, thanks for helping me achieve Phases Three, Four, and Five all in one night," he smiled shyly. Rachel felt her knees begin to buckle at that smile, but quickly stopped that thought, reminding herself that this was Chandler, Ross's friend, Chandler. That made them very off limits to each other.

"Three, four, and five?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Ask Joey sometime," he shrugged. "There are seven and a half stages in all, it's-it's complicated," he paused for a moment. "Well, as complicated as something Joey came up with can be."

"Right," Rachel smirked. "Well, thanks for taking my mind off of Joshua at least," she forced a laugh, which she even knew sounded fake. "And ya know, taking my mind off…who we're not talking about," she added as an after-thought as she reached for the doorknob. "See ya later, Chandler," she whispered, glancing back with a half-smile before walking out his door.

Once he heard the front door close as well, Chandler sank down into the bed, burying his face in his pillow. "Fuck," he mumbled into it, hitting the bed beside him with his left fist.

Why had the whole Ross Situation, capital R, capital S, not seemed like such a big deal the night before? Well, obviously, the alcohol had played a rather large role in playing down the Ross Situation, but how did he let this happen? How drunk did he have to be to kiss, to sleep with, Rachel? Rachel! Ross's Rachel! Because even though she wasn't Ross's Rachel at that moment, and even though Ross had an Emily, she was still Ross's Rachel. The entire length of time he had known Ross, from the age of 18, he had thought of Rachel as "Ross's Rachel."

"Fuck," he repeated, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. The room still seemed to be spinning, either from the rush of Rachel, or from the excessive alcohol and small amount of sleep the night before. The former was the more likely culprit, and what he feared the most. He turned towards his nightstand to look at the clock, Rachel's jacket from the night before still haphazardly thrown on top of it. "Fuck," he whispered, once again forcing his eyes shut.

Why did he have to go and sleep with Ross's Rachel? But, more importantly, why was his heart still racing after simply making out with her, from the small contact of holding her hand, when he knew it was all so wrong?

And why the hell did all of it have to feel so right?

~.~

Rachel quickly tiptoed through the guys' apartment once she was out of Chandler's room, eager to get back to her own. Away from the Crime Scene. Back to sanity. Because nothing about that night made sense. Not a damn thing.

She slept with Chandler. Chandler. One of Ross's best friends. Ross, of the former Ross and Rachel. Ross who had been "in love" with her since she was 15. Ross! How drunk and stupid did she have to be for that to happen? And with Chandler of all people. Chandler! She had never once thought of him that way. Joey, maybe. But, Chandler? He was…Chandler. Not that she thought of him as completely unattractive, she had just never even considered the possibility. He was her goofy friend, Chandler. Guy who lives across the hall, Chandler. Drink a couple of beers with Chandler. Even have occasional lunches with Chandler. Not…get drunk, stay out all night with, and then have amazing sex with Chandler.

Rachel closed her eyes, leaning back against her own front door after closing it, trying to decipher what her heart and head were trying to communicate with each other.

Why the hell did he have to go and kiss her again that morning? Why couldn't he have just left them thinking there was nothing between them that wasn't alcohol-induced?

And why, in the hell, did she have to go and kiss back?

~.~

Continue some more? I've got some plans :) I wrote this in the school library today (which may be my new writing spot) in-between finishing up my final paper for my capstone lab class, which is why I'm slacking on I'll Be There For You (the next part is coming, I promise!), so if anyone would like to read a 15-page paper on free-shaping vs luring in training dogs….haha, that was a funny joke. I wrote it, and I don't even want to read it! Nothing is more boring than reading psych articles, and I'm a psych major intending to go to grad school.

Anyway, I can keep going with this, or I think, again, I could just leave it here. Like I said, if I keep going, there's gonna be some Mondler thrown in there eventually, but more Randler as well. Lemme know :) Reviews are a nice little surprise in-between paper-writing and GRE-studying…