I steal a glance at Monica out of the corner of my eye; she's sprawled across an Adirondack chair, her eyes shut, the breeze coming off the ocean lifting her hair gently around her face, the fading sun dancing across her skin.

She looks pretty breathtaking right now.

The little bikini she's wearing doesn't hurt.

Not that that's the only thing that makes her beautiful; she just looks even more so when scantily clad.

Though that could be my libido talking.

"How's it feel to be able to stare unabashed at a woman in a bikini, knowing there will be no consequence?"

I blink in surprise. "Was I staring?"

"That, or you were perfecting your impersonation of a statue."

"Sorry," I tell her, shrugging, though I keep my eyes on her.

"Not looking for an apology; just wondering if it was nice to be able to stare."

"It is, actually. Thanks for asking."

She turns her head and smiles up at me, my vantage point from the porch swing giving me a great view of the way her face lights up. Her arm reaches out and a finger strokes the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"So." My voice cracks; I clear my throat, hoping for the best. "So, when do the fireworks start?"

She waggles her eyebrows at me and I feel a grin break out across my face. "Probably when we go to bed."

"Okay—what time do the public fireworks start?"

"Oh, those. After sundown, so probably 9:30 or 10." Her finger moves so she's now running it up and down my cheek.

I glance nervously down to the beach. "What about Rachel?" I whisper frantically.

Monica's eyes follow mine to where our friend is standing, chatting with a some people she met today. "Relax. She's not paying attention to us. Even if she sees…I can't be affectionate to my friend?"

I decide not to argue with her and instead run my fingers down her outstretched arm, keeping an eye on Rachel. The finger that had been stroking my cheek turns into a whole hand; I turn my face and kiss her palm, causing Monica to smile even wider.

We almost managed to get away completely alone over the holiday—Monica's parents offered up their beach house for the Fourth, and most of our friends were occupied. Phoebe gave birth a couple of weeks ago and has been spending a lot of time with Frank and Alice; Joey wanted to come but has rehearsals for his latest play. Ross was going to come along, but Monica told him flat out that if spent the entire time trying to contact Emily she would break both his phone and his arms, so he decided to stay in the city. Rachel was the only one we couldn't manage to put off, though she's been spending most of her time laying out, so Monica and I have been able to spend at least some quality time together.

"You know," she says, breaking the contact, but keeping her hand on the arm of the porch swing, "I've been looking through some old pictures lately, trying to find one of us—" I see her eyes grow wide and her mouth slams shut.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, Mon, what? You were looking through old pictures and…?"

She looks at me curiously. "That doesn't freak you out?"

If I were a cartoon character, I'd be scratching my head in confusion. "What doesn't freak me out?"

"Me looking for pictures of us?"

"Nooo…" I answer slowly. "Should it?"

She shrugs, turning her eyes away from me. "That just seems like the sort of thing that would bother you."

"I'd say we're definitely an 'us' by this point."

I can see her entire body relax at my words. "Okay."

"So, if you find a good picture of us, let me know. Maybe I can keep it on my desk at work."

Her head whips around to look at me. "What?"

"What what?"

"You want to keep a picture of us at work?"

"Can we get back to your story?"

"I think your story is more interesting."

I sigh. "I don't think there's much else to my story, Mon. I just think having a picture of the two of us wouldn't be the worst thing. That's okay, right?"

"Of course! I just wasn't expecting it."

I can't entirely blame her for being shocked; I'm usually pretty skittish when it comes to relationship/commitment stuff. Still am, really, but every time I wake up next to her, I can't help but be stunned that she's there. Having a picture of her at my desk might make it all seem more real. Or distract me to no end. Regardless, I remain silent, waiting for her to continue her story.

Eventually, she does. "Right. So, looking through pictures. Anyway, there really aren't a whole lot that have just the two of us, but we do have a lot of group shots from over the years, and know what I realized?"

"What's that?"

"We're ridiculously affectionate toward each other."

"How so?"

"Like, in every picture, we're together, usually with arms wrapped around each other, or sitting on each other's laps, hugging, holding hands, squished together on a couch, or even more often, squished together in chair. Just…always together."

I begin to see where she's going with this…and I like it. "So that means we can probably get away with a lot more couple-type stuff than we have been."

There's that smile that could light up the whole world. "Exactly! I mean, maybe we don't want to push it too much, but…"

"But…" I pick up where she left off. "If we wanted to sit on the same chair to watch the fireworks, no one would think anything of it."

"Right! Because that's how we've always been. I mean, I have pictures that show we've been like this since you first moved in to the building. It almost makes more sense for us to sit together than to sit apart."

"Sounds good to me!" I jump up from the porch swing and scoot down next to Monica on the Adirondack, draping my arm around her shoulders and looking out over the ocean. "When did the sun set?"

"Probably while we were having our awkward discussion about photographs."

I give her a little nudge and press a quick kiss to the side of her head. "That means the fireworks will start soon."

"You seem awfully excited about a little show," she teases.

"Forgive me for being excited about spending an evening on the beach with you. I thought it was romantic, but if you're just going to pick on me—"

I'm cut off when she presses her lips against mine. For a few moments, all worries about Rachel seeing us vanish from my head, and all that exists is this moment.

She pulls back from me suddenly and lifts herself out of the chair, and I realize I already miss her. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go grab a blanket and the sangria."

"I'm all for the sangria, but the blanket? It is July, you know."

"Well, even in July, the beach can get nippy at night. Besides," she leans over, bracing herself on the arm of the chair, giving a great view down the top of her bikini. "There are a few other things we could probably get away with if we have a blanket."

"You're so smart," I whisper, my throat suddenly dry.

"I know," she whispers back, kissing me quickly before heading in to the house.

I make sure she's out of sight before pulling off my t-shirt and tossing it over my shoulder; I want as much skin-to-skin contact as we can possibly manage. As I settle back in the chair, I try to think about all the times Monica and I have been maybe overly affectionate with each other and can come up with nothing. It's not that I don't believe her—it's more that being in constant contact with her is so natural that it's probably never been anything I've done consciously.

I jump as a blanket hits the back of my head, but she's gone before I can say anything. A few moments later, she reappears with the pitcher and a couple of glasses. She puts them down on the porch next to her before squeezing in beside me once more, my arm automatically going around her shoulders again as she pulls the blanket over our laps.

"So, I think I know what you're talking about. With the affection thing, I mean," I tell her.

She tilts her head up to me, waiting.

"Remember a couple of months ago—Joey and I were still in your apartment—but we were hanging out at your place. I can't remember why—ooh! Free porn! We had free porn!"

She pokes my side. "Focus, please. Why are you getting excited about free porn you used to have when you have a real live woman willing to get naked for you pretty much any time, night or day?"

I feel myself stir a bit—she has a point. Real naked woman is much better than the ones on TV. "Anyway, that's why we were at your place. It was you, Joey, and me and the two of us were sitting together on your chair. Actually, we were laying on it. Joey never batted an eye, even though the entire couch was empty. Rachel and Pheebs didn't think anything about it, either. Neither did I until you brought it up, and I still don't know why I thought about that now."

"Uh…maybe it's because we're in the exact same position?"

I pause, considering. "I suppose you have a point."

She rolls her eyes and leans over to pour some sangria into the glasses before handing me one. "Here; drink your wine."

I wait until she has a glass in her hand before clinking them together. She smiles at me over the rim of the glass and I feel my body responding to her, to the look in her eyes. I take slow, careful sips and avoid eye contact for a few moments.

Monica sighs next to me. "I suppose we should invite Rachel to this little party."

I love Rachel, but I can't help but feel disappointed at the prospect of her joining us right now. "Yeah, I guess."

I watch as Monica plasters a genuine smile on her face and waves her hand over her head, not even a little ashamed as I watch, fascinated, as her breasts bounce in her bathing suit. It's like Baywatch in close-up. "Hey, Rache! Rache! Come on up here and watch the fireworks with us!"

I see Rachel glance at us for moment before turning back to her companions. A moment later, she comes plodding up the beach, smiling. "Hey! So, I know we're supposed to watch the fireworks together and believe me when I say I'm super excited about that, but those guys said there's a big party going on a few houses down or so. Wouldn't you rather do that?"

I make a face at the suggestion, happy to see the same look on Monica's face. "Not really."

"What?! C'mon, you guys! Let's go have fun while we're still young! Doesn't a beach party sound great?"

I shake my head. "Not really," I answer, echoing Monica.

"Ugh! You guys are such an old married couple," she exclaims, and I see the corner of Monica's mouth twitch. "Well, I'm going." She stomps in to the house, both of us looking after her.

"Party's the other way, Rache," I call out, earning myself an evil glare as she sticks her head out the door.

"I know that, but I have to change first, don't I?"

I open my mouth to reply when I feel an elbow in my ribs. "Not worth it," Monica mumbles to me, so I close my mouth and tilt my glass toward Rachel.

She sighs in exasperation as the screen door bounces shut behind her. The two of us remain mostly quiet, though I'm feeling pretty giddy right now: Monica and I might get some time together this evening after all. And judging by the hand that stroking my upper thigh, I think I'm not the only one excited.

"Keep that up and Rachel will get to see a whole different sort of display," I warn softly.

She laughs quietly, her hands slowing but not stopping. "I'll take my chances."

"You disappoint me, Mon—I set you up with a great 'keep it up' joke and you just let it drop."

"I like to keep you guessing. Besides, that one seemed too obvious. I think you can do better."

"That hurts. That hurts a lot."

She laughs a little louder this time, then takes another sip of her sangria, and for a few moments, I've never wanted to be wine so badly in my life. "God, I want to make out with you."

She chokes for a second and sputters before regaining her composure. Before she can respond, Rachel comes bursting through the door. "You guys sure you don't want to come with me? Music, dancing, alcohol…"

We both hold up our glasses. "Alcohol part is covered," I answer, "and I'd be willing to bet it's better than whatever cheap beer and mixed drinks they'll have at the party."

She shakes her head at us. "Whatever. I'll see you old guys later."

"Have a swell time, sweetheart," Monica calls after her, and Rachel just shakes her head again.

We watch as Rachel walks down the beach, waiting until she's out of sight, then wait a few minutes longer before our lips find each others. I put my glass on the deck somewhere before wrapping my arms around her, groaning in to her mouth.

"I've missed you," she whispers, and even though we've spent almost the entire day together, I know exactly what she means. I haul her on to my lap and she jumps a bit when she feels my erection pushing up against her insistently, very ready for action.

"I missed you, too," I tell her, running my hands up her back to run through her hair. "So much."

She grinds herself against my lap, biting my lip. I grab her hips, keeping her in place as I rub myself against her for a few moments, watching her head fall back as she sighs happily.

"You want to?" I ask as I kiss my way across her chest.

"Out here?" she asks, digging her fingers in to my shoulders. "Where anyone could see?"

I feel disappointment spread throughout my body, even though I realize sex on the porch is probably a bad idea. "Yeah, I guess we shouldn't."

"Oh. It's a shame I brought this condom out, then," she answers, pulling a little foil packet out of the top of her bikini.

I grin as I grab her face. "You're the best," I exclaim before kissing her. Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer as my hands find the strings of her bathing suit. I give a little tug and it falls away from her chest. I reach up to find the one at her neck before she stills my hands. She pulls it over her head and drops it to the floor beside us.

"In case I need to pull it back on in a hurry," she explains.

"Fine by me," I tell her, my hands moving to grab her breasts, my mouth not far behind.

She moans and grabs my head, keeping my head in place as her hips thrust against mine, our bathing suits causing intense friction.

"We need to be naked NOW," she tells me, and I immediately grab the sides of her bikini bottom and tug down, helping her maneuver around my legs. My bottoms slide off much more easily and in a moment, she's rolling the condom on me, her hands somehow both firm and gentle. She lifts her hips and slides down on me, both of us gasping.

"It feels like it's been forever," I moan, holding her hips gently, helping guide her movements.

"I know," she groans back in answer. Truthfully, it's only been since last night, but it really does feel like much longer. "We should just have sex all the time."

"On it." I thrust my hips in to her faster, fueled by a desperate need to be closer to her. She moves quickly, her hand gripping my arms, her face buried in my neck, muffling herself.

She gasps suddenly. "I'm almost there, Chandler."

My movements speed up. "Jesus, me, too." My head falls back against the chair as I pant; I move my hands to her ass, picking up the pace.

"Need you," she gasps, her eyes closed, her face breathtaking as she gets closer and closer to the edge. "Need you." She falls forward, pressing her lips to mine, kissing me frantically.

I hear a noise overhead and crack an eye open; fireworks are exploding in the sky. "Fireworks, Mon."

"Uhhhhhhhhh," is her only reply.

"We're missing it," I tell her, slowing the pace slightly.

Her eyes fly open as she stares at me wildly, her chest heaving. "I can promise you we're not. Our own little show has fireworks, too. And I can promise you that my grand finale will be spectacular." She clenches herself around me and I moan in response, moving against her even faster now.

"God, Monica." I squeeze my hands around her, pulling her closer, as she moves on top of me.

"Right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthereOHHHHHHHHHH." And just like that, she's bucking wildly on top me, her arms wrapped around me, and I follow her gladly as I thrust in to her almost violently, surprised at the force of my orgasm, grunting wordlessly as it feels like it goes on forever.

Still moaning softly in to my ear, her hips gradually slow down. I stroke her sweaty hair and kiss her neck, pulling the blanket up over her naked back. Our heavy breathing is drowned out by the sound of fireworks over us, bright splashes of color lighting up the night.

"I should probably move," she says softly.

"Eh," I tell her, though I know it's true. She pulls her hips back and I groan as I slide out of her. I grimace as I remove the used condom. "Where should I…"

She leans over the arm of the chair, grabbing a grocery bag that's been doubling as a trash bag for the day from under the porch swing. I toss it in the bag, and she throws it back under the swing. She shifts around until her back is pressed against my chest, settling on to my lap. I wrap my arms around her chest and she places her arms on top of mine. She leans her head back against my shoulder and I lean my head against hers.

Our breathing is still evening out.

That was pretty damn intense. And fantastic. Definitely fantastic.

I kiss her temple, and she tilts her head back; I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, before coming up for air. I rearrange the blanket over our bodies and tighten my grip around her. She sighs happily and I echo the sentiment.

"I think the fireworks are just getting started," she says, looking up at the colors exploding in the sky, the look on her face radiant.

Did she ever just say a mouthful.