Last night

Kathy was very dizzy. She sat up in bed carefully, waiting until the room stopped spinning before she made her way to the bedroom door. She pushed it open and there was a small clattering.

Kathy froze, holding her breath as if that would take back the sound. Joey rolled over, mumbling, and continued to snore. She sighed and closed the door.

With exaggerated, quiet movements she headed toward the kitchen, dodging lawn furniture, and began searching for a glass in the dark room. The lack of real furniture made it feel like foraging in a cave.

"What are you doing?" came a loud whisper, and she jumped in the air with a squeak, slapping at nothing. Chandler snickered, watching from the other side of the kitchen island in drunken amusement.

"You scared me," she reprimanded him, and his smug smile didn't budge an inch.

"And?"

At a loss for anything clever to say, Kathy did the next best thing and stuck out her tongue. Chandler laughed, flashing his white teeth, and stumbled, catching himself on the counter. His hair dripped flecks of water onto the floor.

"Well if it's any consolation, I didn't mean to," he said, slurring a bit so that 'consolation' sounded like 'conslashun'. "You walked right past me," he said, taking a seat. He nearly missed the chair, but managed to correct himself in time.

Had she really walked right past him?

"Wow. I am drunk," she said. With a shrug, she turned on the lights. She took out two water glasses, filled them, and passed one to him. He shifted on the bar stool.

"N'thanks. Don't wanna pee."

She rolled her eyes and pushed it emphatically toward him. He pushed it back, sloshing a bit over the side. She shrugged.

"Your funeral tomorrow," she said. Chandler watched her suspiciously for a moment, then better judgement won out and he grabbed the water.

"So…" she glanced at him as he tried to funnel most of the liquid into his mouth and not down the front of his shirt.

"Yes?" he asked, taking a swallow of water. He was drunk, slouched onto the counter. Perfect. She had something she'd been dying to ask.

"How's the secret girlfriend?"

"Huh?" he asked, looking confused. Kathy frowned.

"Oh come on, you can't have broken up already."

"Oh yeah, we did," he said, swirling his finger in his glass of water. "She was Rachel's boss. I couldn't do that to her. Not after last time."

"What!?" Kathy couldn't believe her ears. She searched his face for signs that he was kidding. He was staring blankly into space.

Well, she'd thought things between him and Rachel seemed odd. Maybe this was at the root of it all? All Kathy could think was that Rachel and her boss must look a lot alike. She thought back to that night she'd snuck a peek of Chandler's "secret girlfriend."

"So… you broke up. That sucks," she finally remembered to offer sympathy.

"Yeah… but it doesn't suck. I met someone better," said Chandler, giving her a wink. He was slurring a bit, but he shot her a mischievous grin, and something… maybe a continuing reaction from the earlier scare? Something made her pulse pick up.

She laughed and sat a bit straighter.

"Someone better? You'll have to introduce us, we could double!"

Now Chandler laughed, face still flushed from alcohol. Kathy watched him, confused. A feeling of revelation was building in her gut. She felt like she was on the verge of a huge secret.

"We already did…" he mumbled.

"What?" she asked, not hearing the rest of his sentence as he trailed off. He looked up, sullen.

"But we can't date. There won't be any double dates if it comes out. It's impossible…" he said, and his head landed on the counter with a thunk. Kathy's heart rate spiked.

"Why's that?" she asked carefully.

"I would be hurting one of my best friends," he admitted, face still against the counter. "That, and I'm a total screw up when it comes to women." He sat up, looking wistful. "When I'm with her, she makes me feel so…" he gestured with a hand, "…you know?" He looked at her. Kathy flushed pink.

"You've gotta help me," he said suddenly, grabbing her shoulders and staring at her like she was his lifeline. "You're a girl- or woman! How do you talk to someone about your feelings?"

"Um, you just tell them what you're feeling?" she said, and it sounded like a question. Chandler nodded.

"And how do you know 'what' you're feeling?" he asked seriously, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

"Well," Kathy said slowly, "I think if you're that confused, you should wait. Wait and see if what you're feeling goes away. Because if it does, problem solved! And if it doesn't," she took a deep breath, "you'll have to talk to the girl about it."

"You're right," he said. He'd been nodding throughout her speech, looking more and more convinced as she went on. "You're totally right. I should just wait. No need to panic. Thanks, Kathy."

He shook her hand solemnly, and she felt like the President of the United States. Then he downed his water in one gulp.

"I'm off to bed, and to think about what you said." He rounded the island and put his glass in the sink, nearly falling. As he walked back by, he placed a hand on her shoulder, warming her from head to toe. He stared at her with hazy blue eyes, swaying on his feet. "You're a fine woman, Kathy."

Chandler felt better having unloaded to someone about his conflicting feelings for Rachel.

Kathy felt warm. She watched as he stumbled into his room.

This was making her so confused. If he was saying what she thought he was saying, she needed time to consider what to do. He was funny and sweet, not to mention cute, and he clearly didn't want to act on his feelings for her if it meant hurting his best friend, Joey. She thought about how painfully amused he'd looked when she said they could "double date."

She shook her head, feeling more confused than ever as she sat alone in the kitchen.

…

Chandler was having an excellent morning.

Or it would have been an excellent morning if he wasn't trying to avoid the most beautiful woman in the world, and if his head didn't feel like it was full of bowling balls.

He couldn't stop thinking about Rachel. Hearing her voice, feeling her wet gold hair slide through his fingers against her tanned back in the shower, smelling her honeyed shampoo, seeing her scrunched nose as she laughed at his jokes, missing her wide blue eyes that watched him so intently when they made love.

One particular memory was surfacing today; his memory of their first time. She'd looked so beautiful and pissed the night she'd snuck across the hall and into his bedroom. Her eyes had been large with tears. He'd kissed them away. He'd kissed her until all there was in those large, beautiful eyes was need. Her need and his.

Of course, the memory was only making him feel shittier and shittier as he sat across from her ex with a pounding hangover. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but only managed to aggravate his hangover. He clutched his head, wincing.

"I mean, I wanna see her again, but Chandler, you have no idea what hell lies behind that apartment door," Ross said, shuddering. "Garbage everywhere and rotting food-"

"But you like this girl," Chandler said, cutting him off. All this talk of garbage was not good for his stomach. "I mean if Ross Geller of all people, was willing to put up with that amount of garbage, she must be something special to you."

"I mean… yeah," said Ross, tapping his knuckles on the table. That made Chandler hopeful. If Ross was truly with someone else, he wouldn't have to feel guilty for fantasizing about his ex in front of him.

"It kind of sounds like she could be the next Carol, but you know, not a lesbian," offered Chandler, feeding the dull hope in the back of his mind.

"I don't know about that. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Ross, holding up a hand.

"No, no of course not. You don't know that she's 'the one,' but she has 'the one' potential."

"I guess. She's definitely beautiful," Ross said, his expression growing wistful.

"She has the brains, and similar interests," Chandler pitched. "Your kids could watch the discovery channel."

"And she's funny. Even better, she thinks I'm funny," said Ross with a smile.

"That's the spirit! Ow," said Chandler, putting a hand to his head. His own enthusiasm had caused his hangover to pulse.

"That must have been a good time last night," Ross said with a smile.

"Ngh," was all Chandler could manage.

"Come on, I think we need to get you some coffee." Ross took his arm, and Chandler nodded with a wince.

If Rachel was there, at least he'd be too hung over to flirt in front of her ex.

…

Monica's mouth was a perfect "o", her eyes wide in what would have been a comical expression if Rachel's heart wasn't slamming against her chest at a million miles an hour.

She leapt forward, bumping the coffee table painfully with her hip, and grabbed one of Monica's wrists, using the other hand to cover her mouth. Monica was pressed back into the cushions, looking up at her with wide eyes.

The rest of the group stared, although Joey was mostly aghast that she had squished his muffin in the chaos.

"Monica, can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked. Monica stared at her, saying muffled words behind her hand.

Phoebe frowned from where she was sitting on the couch and set down her coffee with a loud thud.

"If you insist on interrupting me, you can share with the group," she said, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. Monica's wide eyes darted to Phoebe before flicking back to Rachel.

"We just need to discuss something… private," said Rachel. She stood, careful to keep Monica's mouth covered, and pulled her friend toward the door. They left, bumping into Ross and Chandler before disappearing around the corner.

Kathy raised and eyebrow, and Phoebe frowned.

"What do you think they're talking about?" she asked Joey and Kathy.

"Beats me," said Joey with a shrug. "But look what she did to my muffin!" He lifted a squished muffin in his hands.

"What was that about?" Chandler asked, holding his head and looking ill.

"Yeah, why is Rachel holding my sister hostage?" asked Ross.

"I don't know. We were just talking about Chandler and last night," said Kathy. "Hey, Chandler." She smiled up at him.

Chandler frowned head swiveling toward the door. That didn't sound good.

"I should probably check on them," he said.

"I can come with. It seemed like something I said caused this mess," Kathy said. She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. Chandler opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a single excuse.

"Actually, I need coffee."

…

"Monica, please," Rachel said.

"You and Chandler!?" Monica squealed, stomping a foot. The girls were back in their apartment, and Monica had not stopped pacing.

"Yes I know, it's crazy, but I really am not ready for anyone to know."

"Oh my God," Monica finally paused her pacing, "what are you going to do about Ross?"

"I don't know, we haven't talked about it yet."

"What do you mean you haven't talked about it yet? Do you love him?"

"I-I don't know."

"Did you think any of this through?" Monica asked with a panicky fury.

"I-" Rachel was feeling very, very small. Of course Monica had thought about all of this in the space of one minute, while Rachel was content to fly by the seat of her pants, not caring what the consequences were.

"Rach, what are you doing?"

"That's why we're keeping it quiet." Rachel felt very fragile. The control, the deliciousness of their secret, was dissipating in Monica's worried look. This thing was spinning away from her, and the beautiful fragile bubble felt like it might pop. "I-I can't do this to Ross, Mon, and I can't break up the group. I don't know what I'm doing…"

"Oh, honey," Monica came forward in all her goodheartedness and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. There, in Monica's kind, familiar hug, Rachel felt herself break a little.

She cried, bottled tension she hadn't known she was carrying dissipating, and let her best friend comfort her.

It probably wasn't too long, but she felt much lighter by the end. To her credit, Monica, who had moved them to the kitchen table during the cry session, looked far less freaked.

"Your secret's safe with me," she said, giving Rachel's shoulders a squeeze.

"Thank you," said Rachel, squeezing Monica's hand in return.

"So, how long has it been?" Monica asked carefully after a few beats of silence. Rachel sat up, feeling put together enough to sit on her own.

"Remember when I hooked up with Paulo?"

"That long?!" said Monica, almost shouting. Rachel laughed, feeling saucy.

"I still told you about it. I just changed the name."

"Oh my gosh," Monica shook her head, and the weight of dread that had built up in Rachel's stomach lifted. Suddenly this seemed, doable.

"You have no idea how long I've been dying to tell you," she said, meaning the sentence with her entire being. She shared everything with Monica, and keeping a secret from Monica, even if it had been a little fun, was the most unnatural she'd felt.

"Well yeah, I need to hear everything from the beginning." Monica sat up straight like a kid ready for gossip. Rachel smiled.

"It's hard to say when exactly the crush started but sometime after-" the door handle rattled and Rachel jumped up like she'd been caught stealing.

"There they are," said Joey, and he, Kathy, and Chandler filed into the room.

Rachel and Monica shared a look that said they'd finish the conversation ASAP, and Monica grinned widely at Chandler.

Chandler, not understanding the look, shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

"So, you two work it out?" Kathy asked, looking back and forth between the two friends.

"Yep," said Rachel, trying to casually place her weight on the kitchen table and nearly falling as she put her weight down on a magazine.

"Good, because Rach," Joey pointed a finger at her, "you owe me a muffin." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Fine. I will get you a muffin."

"Do I have something on my face?" Chandler finally asked, wiping a hand over his features. Monica was still smiling at him in a discomfiting way. "Is it my hair? What?"

"It's nothing," Monica said innocently, and Rachel laughed once before she was able to smother it.

Kathy moved in front of him, studying his face. He frowned.

"Nothing. Just a face," she said with a grin.

"Well we've got rehearsal," said Joey, rubbing Kathy's arm before turning to look at his friends. "You guys are coming to our show this week?"

"Of course, sweetie," said Rachel while Monica nodded.

"Wouldn't miss it, man," Chandler said, clapping Joey on the shoulder.

Kathy watched the boy's exchange with a pained look the rest of them didn't understand. Then the pair of actors left.

"She knows," Rachel said smiling.

"You know?" asked Chandler. Monica nodded. "About-" Chandler gestured between himself and Rachel frantically. Monica nodded again, grinning wider, and Chandler let out a huge sigh and doubled over while Monica cackled from her chair.

"You were really freaking me out!" he said, clutching his chest. "This is not a charitable thing to do to a hungover man."

Rachel and Monica locked eyes and laughed. Rachel didn't know the direction this would take, but she felt infinitely better knowing she would get to keep at least one of her friends in the process.

…

The smell of good food still hung on the air, wafting through the open window. Rachel inhaled deeply, enjoying the night sky and the New York weather.

Chandler was sitting in almost the same position she had been that first night when he'd accidentally given her the Heimlich, a heavy quilt wrapped around him, looking out at the traffic and the twinkling lights of their neighbors. The colorful patchwork quilt looked warm, bathed in the gentle light from her and Monica's empty apartment.

She was standing where she'd seen him, the backs of her thighs pressed against the edge of the balcony. A gust of wind carried laughter up toward them, billowing her sundress. His eyes glowed like gems between the folds of fabric, his lips looking so kissable.

"Hey Batman," she said wandering a bit closer.

"Nice reference." His hands snaked out from the blanket and caught hers, pulling her toward him in the semidarkness. She laughed, her heart skipping.

She tweaked his nose, while he looked up at her from the shadows, drinking her in. She bent forward and inhaled. He'd worn the same cologne. She felt her head growing foggy, and part of her expected Phoebe to appear with pizza like she had that night.

She was so happy. Not just because he was here, looking at her like she was a goddess or something to eat, but because Monica knew about them, and nothing had changed. The possibility that her friends could know, and the group could stay together was a possibility she hadn't entertained. It was too far off to think about, but she'd had a taste with Monica's acceptance, and it made her heart sing. She wanted more.

"It's too bad that we couldn't go to that show, huh?" she said, feigning disappointment in her voice. She reached down and ran her hands through his tousled, sandy hair, tugging a little. His grip tightened on her arms and he smiled up at her, looking wicked.

"Damn. But what can we do?" he agreed. His hands dropped to her legs, toying with the edge of her white dress, fingers tracing up the backs of her legs. His fingertips skated lightly over her honeyed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She was wearing her favorite white sundress, which ended just beneath the swell of her hips. He was still in his work clothes, blue button-down gaping at the collar.

"Guess we'll make the next one. Joey won't mind," she murmured. His fingers inched higher, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath where she most desperately wanted his fingers, and her knees felt like liquid. "I'm a little cold," she whispered, her voice almost embarrassingly breathy.

Chandler pulled her forward, the warmth from his hands on the back of her thigh and waist spreading through her. She stood so his knees were between her legs, and he wrapped the blanket forward around them, warming her. He traced her, one of his hands moving up from her thigh and tracing circles on her ass and around her opening, fingers massaging, while the other moved up the front of her gown, searching the front of her body beneath her dress.

His hands paused, and he frowned as if noticing something. Rachel flushed when he gripped the hem of her dress and bunched it up, around her waist. He froze, eyes growing wide and heated. Her lower half was bare between the folds of quilt. The New York air swirled against her, and she shuddered.

He tilted his head back, watching her with intense fervor. She held herself up, her hands on his shoulders supporting her weight. He carefully stroked her with his thumb. Her already weak knees shook, and she moaned.

He pressed up against her, long fingers moving with quick loops, his fingers not leaving her, and the wet noises filling the space between them. He watched as he stroked her harder, expression almost intense curiosity, memorizing her shaking movements, and she couldn't think of anything except his eyes. He maintained his gaze on her as his fingers left her clit barren. She groaned with frustration, hands bunching his shirt, until he smiled and moved forward, thrusting two fingers up into her, and pressing his perfect, blushed lips onto her clit. The pressure caused her vision to spin. She groaned as she felt the warm texture of his tongue against her. Her head rolled back, and she could feel his lips as he smirked against her, but she didn't care. His fingers curled inside of her, perfectly stroking her g spot as he continued to whip her into a frenzy with his tongue. His fingernails bit slightly into her ass as he gripped her with his free hand to keep her standing, and she gasped and came light a bolt of lightning.

Unable to stand, she fell into his lap, panting in the warm space between them. His arms were around her, and he watched her catch her breath. She hid against his collar.

She smiled, catching the heated look on his face as she brought her gaze back up to his. She couldn't get used to the deep, glittering blue of his eyes. A look had never affected her the way his did, like his gaze was sunlight on her.

She leaned forward, tracing down his jaw with her hands, reveling in the scruff, and pressed their lips together. He sighed, opening his mouth to her, and she let him pull her up in a warm, wet tangle. She could taste herself on him.

She slid her arms around his shoulders. He was hard beneath her, and she pressed down. He groaned into her mouth in appreciation.

"I knew you liked it when I went commando," she said, and he laughed, his voice rumbling through her. It was why the dress was one of her favorites - easy access.

He nipped at her lips, then down to her ear and down her jaw and neck. She used her fingers to tease his nipples through his shirt, raking her nails over his shoulders, and pawing at his hard on through his pants.

He pulled down the front of her dress, baring her tanned chest between them. She was tinged pink from the heat, her nipples tight and needy. His breath fanned over her, sending goosebumps everywhere.

He caught sight of them and gave her a self satisfied grin, which she rewarded by grinding down into him, causing him to bend forward and moan, kissing into her neck. She smiled triumphantly.

He took one nipple with his mouth and cupped her other breast with the hand that wasn't busy holding her against him. His fingers teased. His tongue serviced. She was panting and ready for him.

Her hands tugged at his hair, holding him to her. She used her other free hand to rub him through his pants, then dip down beneath his waistband. He grunted, causing shudders down her spine.

Here she was, wanting and needy and practically naked in his lap, he was entirely overdressed.

She tugged at the base of his shirt, and he obliged, sitting back and letting her pull the fabric off and over his head. She fumbled with the button on his pants, both of their breaths coming heavily as she freed him. He was as ready and hard for her as she was ready and wet for him.

She gripped him and gave him a couple pumps. He groaned and his head fell forward onto her shoulder. He latched onto her collarbone there, sucking and giving her a bite while she worked him.

Finally he thrust her hand away, looking at her with an almost dangerous readiness. She couldn't help but catch her breath and nod.

The night air was cool on her shoulders, but she felt like she was boiling as he pulled her forward and lined them up. His hands were firm on her waist as he pressed her down, joining them together.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and she bit her lip as she tried not to scream. She was so full. Her heart, her body.

She rocked in his lap, her fingers tracing down his chest, her eyes squeezed shut, chasing her orgasm down. She opened her eyes to find his, and his face was so close to hers, she could see the fine haze of his eyelashes, smell the sweat and cologne and sex rolling off of him, taste his minty gum on her tongue. She locked eyes, and barely leaned forward to connect. Their tongues tangled together in a heated oblivion.

The rocking began in earnest then. He gripped her hips and thrust up hard, causing the quilt to slide down and her head to fall back as a shattered cry escaped her lips. He caught her mouth again, thrusting up into her with fervor, as New York air caused her skin to tingle where Chandler's mouth had left marks all over her chest.

She couldn't think.

White fuzz edged in the corners of her eyes, his thumb found her clit and began circling while he pounded her, his other hand massaging the globe of her ass.

She didn't realize she was speaking, but then she heard herself.

"Chandler, Chandler, Chandler-"

She was riding a wave, and when it broke, her vision went with it.

She collapsed weakly onto Chandler's shoulder, folding forward. He was still thrusting up into her, and she could feel a second orgasm building.

"Chandler" she whispered. She came again, her body vibrating, back arching, her opening clenching around him.

He came with a grunt, biting into her shoulder. She felt his warmth spread inside her.

She couldn't bring herself to stand. They remained connected, both catching their breath against each other.

"How did I get so lucky?" Chandler whispered.

The night was full of traffic lights and car sounds, but all the pair of them could see was a greenlight.