Author's Note:

I've received some nice reviews of my story and I'm very grateful for that. I feel like the new chapter will have both disappointed and happy viewers so I'm prepared for that. I hope it is enjoyed overall. I also want to warn that someone is making a chapter early appearance but as a simple mention. Enjoy!

Also, I'm going to note how while I'm rewatching Friends, I noticed that I love Phoebe and Ross together? Both as friends and romantically. I don't know; it's cute, fight me. That being said, don't sweat it; Mike and Phoebe are happy together in my story. I can only change a few things and I couldn't change a couple I love together so much more than the formerly mentioned. Mike is Phoebe's happy ending, or at least in my opinion.

To those who have read my story, Things You Don't Learn in Veterinarian School, never fear! If I don't upload a chapter of it tonight as well, it will be by Saturday.

Some things about people never seem to change. For Joey, it was the fact that he woke up every morning with a white, Hanes shirt on (and boxers, if he felt the need to be modest).

Since he'd forgotten that his things were being delivered today, he'd woken up to the sound of a few knocks on the door. He only had enough time to gather a sheet around his waist and open his bedroom door before people invited themselves in, setting boxes down in his living room.

With a twinge of embarrassment and his grip tight on the sheet, he moved towards the front door, signing off at the agreement that they could be there and he was Joey Tribbiani. He gave a nod before going back to his room and shutting the door from him and the busy workers on the other side. He cursed himself under his breath as he checked his phone; there was an alarm set two hours ago for him to be awake, with the description reading: be ready for movers.

As he slipped on a pair of sweats and an old graphic tee from his early thirties, he sighed at the comfort it gave him. Despite his love of food, Joey was sure to keep himself in better shape over the last few years, finding it more attractive to women that he'd meet along the way. While it was quite obvious he was in his forties now, his charm, smile, and doe, brown eyes had yet to fail him in his conquests. Just a hint of a smirk, a small but suggestive look down, and his key phrase, "How you doin'?" could find him in supply closet of just about anywhere.

His thumb hovered over his contacts icon, pressing down before he pressed the C on the small keyboard. Chandler immediately appeared, causing a small smile to spread to his face. After all this time, he still managed to call his best friend once a week, even if it was for a few minutes. There hadn't been anyone better to bring him out of his disappointment when he had to finally accept that he need to move on from his dream.

He pressed the call icon, the metallic chime in his ear making him more alert to the real world. Just as he was about to hang up, a voice greeted him. "Ding, ding, ding, this is Bing."

If he hadn't been so used to the jokes from Chandler, he would've used the original plan to hang up. "Hey, it's Joey. I'm moving back into our old apartment and I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, yeah, I'd love to. But, as you know, Monica makes the schedule, not me." There was a laugh before the phone was set down and the seconds clicked by; both of them knew better than to cross Monica whenever she had things planned out for the day. She was the most strict, spontaneous person Joey had ever met.

After a few moments, the phone was picked up, a soft sigh being heard over the phone speaker. "I can come over but only if you're coming over for dinner. She promised a meal with ja-"

"Deal!" he replied without a moment's hesitation. She could be a pain in the ass but her jam was heaven sent. With a soft laugh, Chandler told him it would be an hour and a half but he would be there.

They exchanged goodbyes and Joey thought how weird it would be to see his best friend after so long apart. Would it be awkward or would it be like an old glove, comfortable and well fitting?

A mover brought in the new foosball table and he was reminded they'd be just fine. If nothing else, how many conversations had been started with a hand gesture to the table?

Even with their time apart, Joey saw that Chandler had no problem simply opening the apartment door and closing it as if it were still a daily routine.

The door had been swung open, a pair of blue eyes dipped in mischief awaiting him. "Now that you're back in your old apartment, you have to remember that just because you want a sandwich doesn't mean you can go into the neighbor's apartment and take one," Chandler sarcastically clarified.

"Get in here!" Joey demanded, the two instantly sharing an embrace together. It was like coming home to his parent's house for dinner; there was comfort in it, especially since it had been nearly four years since they'd seen each other.

After a bit of small talk, it was off to work, the pair, of course, making a fairly decent start on packing and ended up playing games with something in his things that had become hard enough to act as a baseball. Said item wasn't questioned as to what it had been before; knowing him though, it would be a forgotten biscuit, or something to that extent.

It was lunch time, a sacred time, so packing had dialed down a bit. With two sandwiches on his plate and one on Chandler's, he leaned against the counter, looking up to his old roommate. "So catch me up on everyone. I know that you've probably kept better contact with everyone in the group than I have. Besides you, the last I talked to anyone was Phoebe on New Year's this year."

"Well, Phoebe and Mike are still having some disciplinary issues with their kid but they're doing pretty good. She misses you. A lot. She always talks about how you haven't called her." Chandler laughed before opening the fridge. "I love how you've been living here for less than a day and you've already got it."

"A home isn't a home without it," he replied before motioning for the gossiping to be commenced.

There was a soft clink as the bottle was opened and the cap landed on the counter. "Let's see what everyone else is doing." There was a sarcastic clap, as if they had shared more than four other friends together. "Ross and Rachel are off doing their cycle again."

The Queen-born Italian raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head slightly. "Their cycle?"

"Yeah, their cycle. They've divorced, again. They're currently doing their bit where they stay friends and get jealous of who the other dates. Or that's Ross' side for the moment. Rachel's dating a guy in her office." It was understood that Rachel worked at Bloomingdale's, mainly because her former boss at Ralph Lauren refused to accept her again and Gucci hadn't gotten a good first impression of her. "Ross is in the, 'Can you believe she's with him?' stage again, while I tell him, 'Well, gee, I don't know if I can believe it, even if you've told me twelve times this week.'"

Out of all their friends, Chandler was the most sarcastic and easily annoyed, by Ross for the most part. And while the rest of the bunch seemed to be more patient than the funniest one of them, all of them seemed to have a short fuse with the paleontologist. "I didn't know they divorced. I haven't talked to Rach for a few years now. How long has it been since they divorced?"

There was a moment of silence, as if there were something odd about the timing. "It's been a few years."

While he acted as it was coincidence that chalked up to a scrambled mess externally, some part of him wondered just how odd it was. As long as he hadn't been keeping up with Rachel, things had fallen apart. And even after a sandwich, with turkey, salami, and ham all together with mustard, it still turned his stomach to process the two things that were important: Ross and Rachel had become Ross and Rachel, and he hadn't been there for her when it had happened.