She opened the letter.

Dear Rachel,

You have always been the brave one. You left behind a comfortable life, a life you knew, and one that would have continued in country clubs and high rises. You took a job waitressing, and when you were fed up, you worked your way into a fashion career.

The bottom line is, you are damn impressive.

The first piece of your gift is waiting at Central Perk.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa L

Rachel's face was flushed bright red. What was this? She was smiling like an absolute idiot after reading it.

She looked around the apartment shyly before sliding the envelope into her bag, careful not to crease the paper.

She checked the time, shrugged, and walked down to the coffee shop.

Her friends weren't there, their usual spot filled with strangers when she arrived, but to her surprise, Gunther seemed to be expecting her. He handed her a hot chocolate to go and another note.

When she tried to ask him about the giver, he pretended not to hear her. She glared at the traitor before reading.

Dear Rachel,

Here is a hot chocolate to keep you warm on your way to your next destination.

You're brave, as we've established, but I haven't been. I hope you don't mind if I protect my identity a little longer.

You're also always beautiful. Head to Bloomingdale's for your next spot. Give your name to the clerk Emily.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa O

Rachel's heart skipped. Bloomingdale's! She absolutely knew this had to be Monica or Phoebe. The extra effort was surprising but who else would send her there? Ross? Ch-? she cut the name off before it finished and her heart stuttered, but the idea stuck in her mind.

She studied the New York landscape as the taxi drove her through the city, pondering. She was regretting their breakup.

Rachel was certain she was right about things needing to change, she'd been emotionally crippled by the secret, but after she shot down his first suggestion to tell everyone, he'd never brought the idea up again. Not that she'd given him much of a chance.

…Could this be him?

When she found the proper store clerk, the girl brought out a series of beautiful coats, three to choose from. Rachel fingered a particular cream one with a silk lining that reminded her of a certain set of piercing blue eyes. She ran fingers down the burgundy and black, but settled on the white, loving the creamy feel against her skin.

The clerk told Rachel she was encouraged by her Secret Santa to wear the coat out.

The clerk must have done something while removing the tags because Rachel felt an envelope in the pocket she hadn't felt before.

Dear Rachel,

You're bundled now. That's another thing you've always been, warm like sunlight. I hope you like the coat.

Speaking of sunlight, a florist shop is your next stop.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa V

Rachel smiled. A business card fell out of the envelope, and she realized it was within walking distance. She finished her hot chocolate, dropping it into a Bloomingdale's trash bin as she left.

She couldn't help but smile in her new coat, even as she tried not to hope, not to think that this was happening. Fighting the urge to run, she slid the letter in alongside the other two in her bag, careful with the delicate paper covered in neat penmanship.

She reminded herself of all the reasons she had to be wary, but her heart sang too loudly for her doubts.

The florist handed her a simple arrangement of Red lilies when she arrived, something that melted Rachel's heart. Lilies were her favorite. A card is tucked in the bouquet.

Dear Rachel,

Come meet me at the best lunch spot in the city, where we explored something special in a private gazebo.

It's my turn to be brave.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa E

LOVE. Love.

Now she was running. She ran to hail a cab, musing her hair and the flowers in the process. When she arrived to the super exclusive restaurant, she was almost turned away by security before she collected herself enough to convince them she wasn't some crazy woman on the run.

They took her to a gazebo, and there behind the columns, beneath the vines, was Chandler.

A dam broke and tears flooded down her cheeks.

"Oh," he said, sounding surprised. He stepped toward her uncertainly.

"What," she sniffed into the jacket, hiccuping, "is, this?"

"I," he spread his arms on either side of himself and smiled softly, "I'm being brave. Rachel, I love you. I want to be with you. I want to sing it from the rooftops, including the rooftops of everyone we love." He took a deep breath. "I told Ross that I'm in love and planning to ask you out, because I want us to be above board. I'll tell him and everyone about our previous secret relationship as well if that's okay with you, because I don't care what anyone else thinks. Life without you, it's unacceptable."

He stepped forward. Her hands had fallen to her sides, and he clasped the one not holding the bouquet, raising it to his lips. She gasped when those lips touched her, shoulders unknotting, heart galloping. His blue eyes, his face, his smell, his narrow shoulders, his long golden limbs, they were all so close it didn't feel real.

The tears were flowing openly. When she pushed forward, into the circle of his arms, he let her, his body warm and flush against her, his smell familiar and deliciously hers.

She buried her head into his chest, wetting the fabric, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I have to tell you something," she croaked out, voice muffled against him.

"Yeah?" he asked, humor in his voice.

"I'm pregnant."

"Right," he said, and he released her. She was shocked when he turned away.

This was her worst fear, he was leaving. He headed back into the gazebo which, if he was leaving her, wouldn't make much sense. She frowned, peering through the darkness, and saw him shuffling something large around.

He eventually gave up moving whatever it was and waved her over. She mounted the wooden steps skeptically, completely baffled by this reaction until she saw the object he was displaying with a large smile on his face.

Her mouth opened with a "pop."

It was a bassinet.

Now she leapt into his arms, and he caught her, handling her gently because he knew. He knew she was pregnant already.

They laughed about how he'd found out later. Laughed about the production of it all when he'd been unable to move the bassinet, but when Rachel laughed, it was rooted in pure amazement. How could she possibly have been this lucky?

"I love you, I love you so much," she admitted, her cheek against his. He pulled back looking her in the eyes while she talked, though her gaze kept dropping. "I couldn't see you in person because every time I did, I missed you so badly I couldn't breathe. I was already pregnant by Thanksgiving, I think it contributed to how broken I felt in the whole situation. I should have heard you out when you said you wanted to tell. I shouldn't have let my feelings-"

"No, hey," Chandler cupped her face in his large hands, thumbs wiping her tears as she nuzzled into them. "You, my love," they both smiled a little at the term of endearment, "are forgiven already. And you had every right to feel how you felt. I should have noticed it before that night. You were so unhappy but I didn't-"

Now it was her turn to cut him off. She did so with a kiss. It was soft, gentle, loving, and chaste compared to their track record, but it left them both a little breathless.

"Forgiven already, my love. Not your fault. We just need to both improve our communication."

He chuckled, and she felt the rumble of his laughter in her own chest, against her own skin, and she fell boneless against him. She wanted to soak the laughter into herself, keep a piece of it to pull out and listen to on dark or rainy days.

Finally everything was right. She was in his arms and she was home.

Her stomach growled loudly, interrupting them.

"Time for lunch?" he asked. She pulled back and grinned up at him.

"I'll pay."

~0~0~0~

Chandler woke with a happy bubble in his chest and a warm body beside him, tangled in Egyptian cotton and askew pillows. He kicked a red thong off his toes. They'd been busy last night. He traced his hand and eyes up her silhouette, down the dip of her waist, over the curve of her hip.

Rachel was in his arms again. Where she belonged.

He curled into her, arm and leg thrown possessively over her sleeping body, his head pressed between her shoulder blades.

"Mine," he murmured, lips trailing over her shoulder blade. The body beside him shivered.

He'd proved that now, to anyone who cared to know. They belonged to each other. It had been the best month of his life, with her openly in his bed, eating breakfast in pjs at his place with Joey, or him bugging Monica at night when he used her toothpaste on accident. Well, Rachel had been a little distracted when he'd asked her where hers was.

He smiled a bit at that memory.

Chandler continued his trail up to her neck, settling behind her ear. They were both naked, how Chandler preferred it, even if Joey and Monica were growing tired of all the makeup sex.

Rachel certainly wasn't.

He nipped and mouthed at her ear, pulling a pleasant sigh from Rachel as she stretched beside him, golden skin and hair and limbs arching. His cock fit snuggly in the cleft of her ass, and she obligingly slid herself against him.

She rolled the upper half of herself toward him, blue eyes sparkling up at him.

"Someone's happy," she ground back against him, emphasizing her point. He hissed at the sensation.

"Not as happy as you're about to be," he said teasingly.

"Promises, promises," she said, feigning disinterest while teasing her legs wider, grinding back again.

Two could play at the game. Chandler stroked her waist, her hips, gripping a cheek of her ass. He spread her thighs and let one of his own slide between her, providing friction for her to grind against. She gasped when a finger circled lazily around her clit.

His other hand stroked up the front of her body, rough hands cupping her thighs, her waist, her breast, thumb tracing along the underside of her nipple before flicking and pinching, coaxing several shuddery moans from her.

Rachel reached an arm back, gripping his hair and his neck. She found her pleasure on his thigh, and also angled her hips to brush her tight ass over his length.

He groaned, bowing his head into her shoulder and biting.

Noting his reaction, and that his hands were continuing their slow, torturous pace at her nipple and clit, Rachel growled and reached down, taking him in her hand.

When she teased her thumb over his head, he moaned and flipped her so that she was pinned beneath him. She smirked up, victorious, until he trapped her arms over her head with one hand.

She looked up at him with a mischievous glint, but that was all going to change soon.

He mouthed down her jaw and over her shoulder, each breast, leaving nips in his wake while she tried to arch and press her breasts further into him.

"Please," she breathed.

He smiled into her skin, his free hand moving down to continue teasing her. She moaned trying to get more friction.

"Do you think this will be enough?" he asked, pressing into her with his fingers. She pushed down on him, groaning as his thumb applied pressure to her clit, and he worked another finger into her, curling his fingers.

"Fuck, please!" she finally cried. She gasped, arching under his ministrations.

"Please what?" he murmured against her skin, looking up at her watering eyes. She was gazing down at him, hazy with lust and want, her expression open and broken and wanton.

"Please, I need you in me," she whispered.

He growled biting her breast, and as she arched, he slid home, locking them both together.

She was sunshine, pure warmth and light beneath him. Her blue eyes closed, she bit her pink lips, turning them red, and overall she looked a mess beneath him.

It was alright. He was a mess above her.

He freed her arms in favor of sliding his hand into her hair, pulling almost all the way out and slamming his hips into hers. He licked into her open mouth, invitingly, groaning at her moans, her eagerness to return his kiss, giving licks and bites into his own mouth.

She widened her legs for him, clamping her thighs tight around his hips.

Her hands traced the lines of his chest and body, down his back and up into his hair. They stayed there, petting and pulling in turn, while Rachel keened below him.

He would never get tired of her sounds. God.

The rhythm of his hips increased, and he enjoyed the closeness of it all. He sat back on his heels, taking Rachel up with him. She cried out at the new sensation.

He gripped her soft skin, massaging her while pounding her, one hand straying to her clit to flick and pinch, while the other held her against him.

Her blue eyes met his, pupils blown wide, and he watched her fall apart. He pumped her through the orgasm, trying to keep himself from falling apart until she fell forward, languid against him.

He gave a last few thrusts and released into her, until they both fell back over into the bed. She was on his chest, hair mused, sleepy, looking adorable. He smiled and nuzzled up into her face, earning him a few pecks and finally a gentle, tender kiss.

The urgency from earlier was gone, but this was better.

"I love you," she said, and his world made sense.

"I love you," he said, and her world was right.

"Do you love me a lot?" she asked, resting her chin on one of her hands.

"Yes," he said, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Enough to bring us coffee? And bagels?"

He sighed beleaguered sigh before flipping her into the mattress and crushing his face into her shoulder, blowing while she squealed.

"Of course," he finally said. He kissed her nose and left the room to grab breakfast, throwing on sweats.

This was perfect, he thought, absolutely perfect.