Chapter 1: You Are My New Dream
When Monica woke up, she was surprised to find herself in her own bed in Apartment 20. The first thing she noticed was that said bed was wider than she remembered. She could have sworn she had fallen asleep in her guest room in Montauk. Why was she home….?
Through the door to her bedroom, she could hear the sounds of someone cooking, and her temper flared with affront that anyone would dare to invade what had always been her domain.
"Hello? …"
Pushing open the door, she crept out into the living area. But instead of finding her roommate Rachel at the stove, there was instead the profile of a man, his back to her.
From the back of his head alone, Monica recognized him, and she drew up closer, smirking in bemusement. "Chandler…?" In all the years she had known him, she had never, not once, seen Chandler cook. And yet here he was, her best friend, cooking omelets on a skillet.
When Chandler glanced back to her over his shoulder, then turned to face her, Monica felt her heart stutter and skip at adoration in his expression. It was almost smoldering. It frightened and yet oddly thrilled her, a little. Certainly, it left her confused. Never before had Chandler looked at her with such love in his gaze. Sure, he had plenty of times shown her warmth, but never this much. This was something almost…. heated.
"Morning, beautiful. Happy Mother's Day! Sleep well?"
He stepped into her in a way that was far too intimate and Monica shivered at the arm she felt steal about her waist. Chandler dipped towards her and she shied away.
"I slept…. Fine. Where…. where am I….?"
Chandler laughed. "At home, silly. Where else would we be?"
Where would we be…..? Was this somehow Chandler's home too? When had he moved in? And where was Rachel? Chandler just chuckled. "Even with bedhead, you still look beautiful!"
Monica jerked, startled. Chandler had called her beautiful before, but never had he done it with such…. ardor.
"You OK?" he asked her.
"Yes," she lied, trying to cover up her confusion even as she attempted to work out what was going on and where she was here.
Chandler smiled. "The kids and I were hoping to serve you breakfast in bed, but seeing as you're up…. I suppose I can give you your present now."
Monica blinked. "The kids? What….?"
She gasped as Chandler now suddenly swept her into a dip and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Monica felt her eyes bulge and she let out a shocked squeak. Oh my God, her best friend was kissing her!
Uncertain what any of this was, she had to resist the urge to push him away, much less slap him. When his lips left hers and he swung her back onto her feet, all Monica could do was blink dumbly, dazed.
"….. What was that….?"
"Make-Out #3,00-and…." Chandler smirked and shook his head. "Aw, screw it, I've lost count!" He studied her intently. "Mon? Honey? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
Monica peered at him. "Yeah, I'm…. I'm OK…." She lied. "Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Now, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't look after my wife?" Chandler teased.
Hold it – his wife…?! She was his…..?
A door banging open from the direction of Rachel's room caused Monica to turn her head, and she couldn't help but gape in disbelief as two little children – a boy and a girl – came dashing and whooping into the kitchen. Neither one of them looked to be older than six years old.
Chandler wielded a wooden spoon liberally to keep greedy little fingers from reaching for the pancakes. "You two are lucky your mother is an early riser, but that still means she gets first pick on her special day!" He glanced to Monica with a smug smile. "That's chef lingo, by the way. But you knew that."
Monica blinked, stuttering. "That's…. that's right, it is!" She couldn't help but take it all in, mouth agape.
Was this a dream? A vision? She didn't know, except that apparently in this version of reality, she and Chandler were married…. she was married to her best friend….
The little girl now came plowing into Monica's legs and she oofed, glancing down at the child with an impish smile and cherubic cheeks. At first glance, she couldn't pick out whether this girl (who was apparently her daughter) looked more like Chandler or looked more like her.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!"
Monica smiled softly. "Thank you…." she murmured. It was all she dared speak, for she didn't even know this girl's name! She didn't know her own daughter's name!
Thankfully, Chandler unknowingly saved her. "All right, Erica, time to eat up!"
Erica…. A beautiful name, if not Monica's first choice. She had always preferred Emma for the name of her daughter one day….
"Jack! No hogging up all the syrup!" Erica now scolded her brother.
Jack…. Monica studied her son with fascination. Had the boy been named after her own father, perhaps?
She felt Chandler suddenly slip an arm about her waist and pull her into his side. He was grinning with pride. "Beautiful hellions, aren't they?"
Monica had to bewilderingly agree. Turning her head, she peered up at Chandler, studying him. He was carrying himself with a confidence, even suave savoire-faire that she had never seen from him before. Even as this doting, self-assured, amorous side to him left her baffled, Monica also found herself strangely liking it. She smiled weakly.
Grinning down at her, Chandler now hastily pulled out her chair for her. "Madame?"
Blushing, Monica shyly accepted his chivalry daintily taking her seat. For a moment, she basked in the sight before her, as the children she had always wanted began digging into the breakfast that Chandler, of all people, had prepared. Jack's eyes met hers, and he grinned.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy! We love you!"
Monica beamed at him. "I….. I love you too. Thank you…."
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she glanced up into Chandler's adoring face. The way he was looking at her, as if she was the light of the dawning sun.
"I second that. I love you, Monica….."
She was speechless. Didn't know what to say to that, or if she could even find the words.
Sadly, the happy scene started to blur and fade away before she could…..