A/N: This story is complete I just stopped using and switched to AO3. I will continue to finish posting this fic.
CHANDLER
For a split second, things were as they were before Chandler came out. He shouldn't have let himself hope. At the baseball game, Chandler could barely contain himself. All he wanted to do was pull Joey close and kiss him, but he resisted. When Joey hugged him in the car, Chandler almost let himself believe it was a kiss.
Then things went back to how they were since their friendship changed. Joey was farther away. Chandler felt as though he were wearing a disguise, not truly himself, not even sure who he was anymore.
He constantly debated calling James, but had yet to pick up the phone. The same night that he and Joey went on their almost-date to the baseball game, Joey brought back Angel. In humiliation and self-hate, he listened to the sounds of their lovemaking and stroked himself, imagining that he came in tandem with Joey.
Chandler kept putting the string on his door for several weeks, until he found that it never fell and gave up. His apartment wasn't cleaned again and his things weren't moved.
It was roughly three weeks after the game that Chandler had a dream. It was everything he fantasized, Joey kissing him, sleeping together, loving each other. Then he woke and the world crashed down harder than he knew possible.
He gave in and phoned James.
He made up a lame excuse, something about seeing a movie that no one else was interested in, and snuck out, headed for James's dingy apartment.
"Hi," James gazed lovingly at Chandler as he opened the door.
Chandler breezed by him, scowling like James forced him to be there. In a way, it felt like he had. This was his only option to feel the heat of another person and James wormed his way in by unethical means.
As James shut the door, Chandler pushed him back against it. He kissed James hungrily as he pinned him by his hips. James readily accepted as Chandler's tongue pushed through his parted lips. He rubbed his hardening cock against James's.
He pulled back and James looked like he was about to swoon. "I missed you," he said dreamily.
"Get on the bed," Chandler ordered. James eagerly complied.
He followed James to his bed and pushed him backwards, climbing on top of him and working the button of his jeans feverishly. He was completely hard now and ravenous. He was never like this, confident and commanding, but it was different with James. He was taken advantage of and wanted that power back. James would never reject him and appeared to enjoy the frustration Chandler took out on him.
He fucked James on his back, legs hiked over his shoulders, frenziedly pounding into him. James was loud and called his name over and over.
The worst part was that Chandler felt desired. It was everything he claimed to want, but not like this. He never needed to feel affection from James.
After he came, the furious energy drained from his body. He sat on the bed with his face cupped in his hands.
"What's wrong?" James asked.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."
"I promise you, there's no need to apologize."
"I mean, you said it was a mistake, following me and all. I don't know why I'm still mad. Honestly, it was really nice talking to you when we went out."
"Chandler, it's okay. Don't beat yourself up."
"Have you been in my apartment?"
James said nothing.
"Have you?" Chandler asked again.
"Would it bother you if I was?"
"You can't fucking do that-"
He was struck to silence by a slap across the face. He stared blankly, unable to piece together what had happened. He touched the stinging handprint on his cheek. It was abrupt, with no wind up. He hadn't seen it coming.
"What's wrong with you?" James growled.
"Did you just hit me?" Chandler asked, a genuine question as his brain was still trying to comprehend.
James rolled his eyes. "It was a slap and I'll bet I'm not the first person to do it to you. What the hell's the matter with you? You want me to want you, you ask for me to be there for you, to do whatever you want. And I do! Then you hate me for it. How is that fair? I'm a person too. I deserve love. What is it that you want? Make up your mind."
Chandler was stunned. James was supposed to be the person who put up with him no matter what. Had he really been such an asshole that the one person who loved him was sick of his shit? "I shouldn't have come here."
Chandler could hardly feel himself moving. He found himself on the street. He could take a cab, but didn't want to be trapped in the compact space of a car. As unnerving as he found the walk through Anderson, he thought it would be superlative irony to get murdered on the way home from his stalker's house.
###
When Chandler got home that night, he thought he never hated himself this much before. Which was saying something, considering his self-loathing streak began in middle school.
It wasn't until five days later that he found out he could outdo himself when he broke down, called James, and had his call rejected.
That same week, Joey brought home a new girl. She had perfectly straightened, platinum blonde hair, wore two inch heels, and was dressed in a tight, sparkling dress. Chandler was forced to listen to the sounds of her resounding moans through the thin walls of their apartment. He assumed they must be exaggerated for her partner's behalf, but Chandler didn't question Joey's expertise in bed.
Chandler turned the TV up loud and did his best to drown out the noise, although it was a futile endeavor. When the sound subsided, Joey helped the giggly girl out of their apartment and collapsed in the La-Z-Boy next to Chandler.
"Who was that?" Chandler asked, doing his best to sound casual.
"Um… I want to say Lisa? Leslie maybe."
"What happened to Angel?"
"What do you mean?" Joey asked.
Chandler regretted starting the conversation, but his curiosity took the reins. "Are you still seeing her?"
"I guess so. Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"You think I'm a dog?" Joey's voice was sharp.
"What? I never said that."
"I don't see why you would care. You're supposed to be my friend, not Angel's."
There was nowhere positive this conversation would lead so it was in his best interest to diffuse. "I am. I don't care."
"Why don't you care?" Joey asked, tone still resentful.
Chandler shook his head, bewildered. "What?"
"You don't even ask me about the girls I'm seeing."
"The others don't either," Chandler pointed out.
"Yeah, but you're supposed to be my best friend. Nothing I do matters to you. We don't talk like we used to. You just think about yourself."
"Hey!" that wasn't fair, not after all the things that Chandler did for Joey — repeatedly covering his rent, paying for his acting classes and headshots, supporting him in his roles, maintaining patience at even the most frustrating of times. But on the other hand, it punched him in the gut because he had been self-involved lately. He was so focused on how unhappy he was and keeping his secrets that it made sense Joey felt disconnected now, but the fact only made him more defensive. He jumped up from the chair. "I do shit for you all the time."
"Not recently," Joey stood to match Chandler.
"What about the game?"
"That was one thing! You don't tell me anything anymore. I don't even know you."
"That's bullshit," Chandler growled, but before he could continue, he was shocked by a keen, white light. His body was burning hot, his veins filled with lava, and his knees turned to rubber. He couldn't hold himself up any longer. His legs gave out, but Joey dove in first and managed to catch him in his arms before they both sank to the floor.
"Chandler!" Joey shouted.
His vision swam and he could only blearily see a few inches in front of him. His head ached like his skull might crack open and Joey's skin scorched his already ablaze body.
"I don't feel good," he mumbled.
JOEY
Joey didn't have to hold his hand to Chandler's forehead to know he had a fever. His shirt was damp with sweat and he could see the beads of perspiration as they inched down his face.
"Chan," Joey brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of his face, "Chan!"
"Why yelling?" Chandler asked.
He was awake. That must be a good thing, right? Chandler rested fully against him. "I have to get help. I'm going to move you."
"No," Chandler moaned and pressed himself further into Joey.
"You have to sit against the chair."
"I'll lay down," Chandler offered, already half-asleep.
Joey scooped him from beneath his arms and dragged him a foot to prop him against the chair. He could have allowed him to lay on the carpet, but he found something more upsetting about it.
"I'll be right back. Wait here, okay?" he didn't want to leave Chandler in this state, like he might slip into a coma the second Joey left the room, but he needed help.
Joey raced into the girls' apartment, bursting in so that all heads turned to him. "It's Chandler," he didn't bother fully explaining, certain that they would follow him back to his place and Chandler's side.
He sped back and skidded to his knees beside his best friend. "I'm here," he alerted Chandler.
"'Kay."
Ross, Rachel, and Monica appeared in a circle around the pair. "He just passed out," Joey explained, "I don't know what happened. He's burning up."
"Chandler, can you hear me?" Monica asked.
"Mmm," Chandler hummed.
"He's really out of it," Joey said.
"Did he give any signs or did something happen?" Ross asked.
Joey wondered if he instigated this. Was it possible he stressed Chandler out enough to cause this? No, that was ludicrous. "It came out of nowhere."
"What do we do?" Rachel's voice was steeped with worry.
"We should take him to the hospital," Ross answered. It was the only rational thing to do.
This was the first thing that evoked a real reaction from Chandler. "No hospital," he piped up, "I'm fine."
"Why doesn't he want to go to the hospital?" Monica asked.
"He went a lot as a kid and he hates them," Joey answered.
"I don't exactly love hospitals either, but sometimes you have to go," Ross said.
"If it's just a fever, we could try an ice bath and Tylenol first," Rachel suggested.
"No ice bath," Chandler interjected.
"Ice bath or hospital," Joey told him.
"No," Chandler groaned, "I'm hot."
Joey sighed. "I don't know."
"It's worth a shot," Ross decided, and with that, they started to work. Monica to fetch the Tylenol and a bottle of water, Ross to run the bath, Rachel to gather up all the ice in their freezer, and Joey still hovering anxiously beside Chandler.
Joey stared at Chandler, taking in his sick form. It came on so suddenly that his brain was still trying to fathom it. He knew what they were all wondering: was this a one-off or was this the ANDD returning?
Monica reappeared with water and pills and Rachel with a bowl full of ice. She went to the bathroom and Monica stooped beside Chandler. He obediently accepted the pills, swallowed them, and then took hearty gulps of water. They remained quiet until Ross returned and informed them the bath was ready.
"We're gonna pick you up, okay?" Joey informed Chandler tenderly. Together, he and Ross lifted him and carried him to the bathroom where they set him on the closed toilet lid. He rested against the wall.
"I've got it from here," Joey said.
"Are you sure?" Ross asked.
"Yeah."
"He's going to be okay."
"I know," Joey replied with zero conviction.
Ross took a last look at Chandler before closing the door. Joey let out a breath, both relieved and afraid to be alone with Chandler.
He realized that Chandler was sleepily watching him. "Hey," Joey smiled softly.
"Hi," Chandler smiled lazily back, "'M sleepy."
"I know you're sleepy, but you have to take a bath first," Joey carefully lifted Chandler's shirt to pull it over his head, "Arms up," he instructed and Chandler complied, "Jeez, you're sweating like crazy."
"Uh-huh," Chandler leaned forward and clasped his arms around Joey, resting his face on his stomach.
Joey straightened. "What are you doing?"
"You're comfy."
"I know. I'm very comfy, but we have to get you in the tub."
"Don't wanna."
"You said that. Can you take off your pants?" Joey peeled Chandler's arms off of him.
He seemed to register the request and began to fumble with his belt, but his hands were inept and ineffectual in this state. He continued to play with it until Joey gave in. "Let me do it."
Chandler was always uncomfortable with his own nakedness. Joey didn't mind if Chandler were to walk in on him in the shower or nude in his room, but Chandler never reacted well to it.
He shouldn't feel guilty for undressing Chandler; there was nothing predatory or sexual about it. All he wanted to do was help his best friend, but anxiety pressed against his chest.
Joey crouched in front of Chandler, undid the clasp, and lowered his zipper. He froze when Chandler ran his fingers through Joey's hair. He looked up to see Chandler watching him, eyes half lidded and a flirtatious look on his face.
Joey tried to ask what are you doing? but the words wouldn't leave his throat. Chandler seemed entertained with his fluster. He leaned down so that their lips were nearly touching. "Chan-"
Chandler closed the distance, eyes fluttering shut. Even his lips were warm. Joey froze, momentarily shocked to stillness, before flinging himself backwards and banging against the edge of the tub.
Chandler looked mildly disappointed, but leaned back and heaved a deep breath, apparently ready to fall asleep again.
"What was that?" Joey squeaked. When he realized that Chandler was on the verge of dozing off, already having forgotten the kiss, he gathered himself. Now wasn't the time to have an aneurysm. He could obsess later. "Can you take your pants off?"
Somewhere in Chandler's mind, the words connected, and with great effort, he wiggled off his pants and boxers.
"Okay, now tub."
Chandler shook his head. "No thanks."
"No 'no thanks'. You have to."
"I don't want to."
Joey grew exasperated. "I told you it's this or the hospital."
"No hospital."
"So get in."
Chandler frowned, debating this. On shaky legs, he anchored himself to the wall and suspiciously approached the bathtub. He gingerly lifted a foot and probed the water with a toe, but immediately withdrew when he felt the freezing temperature.
"Please, Chandler."
Chandler hugged himself.
No words were going to convince him to get in the tub. Joey was forced to resort to physically forcing him in. He grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to lead him closer to the tub, but Chandler resisted. He struggled and found that Chandler was surprisingly strong, even in this confused state.
Joey watched the shocked look on Chandler's face as he stepped on a stray ice cube that didn't make it in the tub. He slipped forward, clutching Joey's arms, and the pair tumbled into the water. Joey, still fully dressed, banged his knees on the porcelain edge, and Chandler knocked his head onto the tile wall, letting out a groan. Their legs were entangled and Joey hurried to move apart, but Chandler was unfazed and only reached to rub the back of his head.
"Shit," Joey cursed.
"It's not that bad," Chandler commented.
"It's freezing."
It was all so ridiculous. Joey broke out into a grin that Chandler copied. He began to chuckle and held his hand over his mouth as he giggled, but he couldn't stifle it. He tilted his head back and laughed fully. Chandler began to laugh too and they cackled together until tears formed in the corners of Joey's eyes.
When Joey calmed and caught his breath, he asked, "Do you feel better?"
Chandler nodded. "Are you mad at me?"
"What?" Joey looked away, "No. I'm sorry. I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. You didn't do anything wrong."
Chandler studied him. "I'm tired."
"Let's put you to bed."
Chandler yawned. "Okay."
Joey helped him out of the tub, his soaked clothes dripping on the floor. He wiped away the saturated bangs that hung in front of his eyes, then found a towel and helped Chandler dry off. Chandler watched with fascination, like the whole thing was a scientific process he had no grasp on. He reached out and touched one of the droplets that was about to fall from Joey's nose.
Joey paused. They stared at each other, entranced. Joey could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage.
Then he broke from the hypnosis and ruffled Chandler's hair with the towel. "Let's get you to bed."
"Okay."
Chandler followed Joey back to his room. He shuffled through drawers until he found something comfortable and tossed it on the bed. Chandler managed to dress himself while Joey looked away.
"Will you stay?" Chandler's voice was small.
"Sure," Joey waited for Chandler to crawl beneath the covers before climbing in. They faced each other and Joey saw that even in the dark, Chandler's eyes were beautiful. Chandler reached out and wrapped his arms around Joey's back once more, nuzzling into his chest. Joey stiffened, then relaxed into the hold, placing a hand on Chandler's back and running it slowly up and down.