Chapter 1: Gallant Prince

The pain was excruciating. Unbearable.

It was agony to even so much as try and put weight on her one leg, standing up ankle-deep in the rolling surf. The salt water brought no relief.

Monica squeezed her eyes shut tightly, yet tears managed to leak out anyway, streaming down her cheeks. When she blinked them open, squinting against both the moisture and the glare of the sun, she could see the boys watching her with growing concern. In particular, Chandler looked more than concerned – he looked scared.

"Should we try and get her to a hospital?" he demanded of Joey.

"Chandler, it's the beach! Do you see any hospitals near here?!" Joey barked, seemingly unaware that people who lived near the water might need life-saving care too. Chandler pursed his lips in a tight, glowering frown.

"Screw it, Joe. We'll have to do it your way."

Monica's eyes widened with horror. "Chandler…..?" she warned.

"It'll be all right, honey – Joey…..?" Chandler beckoned to his buddy to come around and stand in his place, allowing Monica to lean on him. Joey stole a comforting arm around her.

"It'll be all right, Mon. It's the only way!"

Monica bit her lip and turned her face away. While it was nice to learn something new every day, and even more so when the lesson came from Joey, of all people, knowing that urine contained ammonia that could take away the pain of a jellyfish sting was something she would rather not have learned from first-hand experience.

Goddamn all the jellyfish. And the Discovery Channel too.

"Chandler…. Hurry up!" Joey was pleading.

"Hold on. Monica…." And she opened her eyes and turned to him. Chandler gestured towards Joey's rapidly-collapsing hole. "If you hurry, you can have privacy. And a little…. dignity."

Monica gaped at him in horror. "I am not pissing on myself!" she seethed.

"Don't think of it as that. Think of it like you're walking into the surf, letting the water lap at your legs. Except, this…. water would be running…. down your legs." Chandler finished lamely.

Monica bit her lip and tried crossing her legs together. After a moment, she shook her head. "I can't. I can't….. bend that way." Her cheeks flushed pink.

Chandler looked baffled. "What's there to bend? I thought you gals just pissed out your…."

Monica cut him off with a sharp look, but couldn't hold it in favor of a look of amusement. "You really don't know much about girls, do you?" Now it was Chandler's turn to flush rouge. Monica groaned in agony and bit down on her lip hard, swaying into Joey.

"You're gonna have to take one for the team, man…." Joey pleaded.

Chandler nodded. To his credit, he looked mortified, on both his own behalf and Monica's. "OK….."

She hadn't expected him to throw down his trunks so fast. At the very least, she figured Chandler would have taken a moment in which to compose himself.

It was too late for her to turn her face away. Not even the glare from the sunlight helped in blocking the sight that Monica now caught a glimpse of.

Well…. more than a glimpse. Monica drew both hands to her mouth to hold in a gasp.

Chandler's stalk was angry and red. Surprisingly large and stiff, too. For a moment, Monica was caught in an odd half-between place, a sort of trance. She wanted to turn her face away, and yet she couldn't bear to look away, even as her face turned crimson.

Her cheeks only flooded with color further once Chandler caught her staring. "We're not in the museum, you know!" he whined, clearly as uncomfortable as Monica felt.

Only now did she turn her face away. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Just…. give a gal a little warning next time."

Chandler cleared his throat and shuffled in the sand, clearly preparing to perform the dirty deed.

"Hurry up!" Joey hissed, and Monica sensed him shift against her, keeping on the lookout for passersby. "Public nudity on a public beach…."

"Don't rush me, Joey!" Chandler's voice had a hard edge to it.

"…. Can you even aim with that thing? Maybe we'd be better off having Monica…. bend that way…." Monica could almost feel Joey's horny smirk, even as she couldn't see it. She refrained from smacking him, if only just barely.

"I can aim!"

"Our toilet bowl at home begs to differ…." Where she had her face turned into Joey's chest, Monica smirked. "You got anything in the tank?"

"Shut up!" There was a pregnant pause, and then Monica heard a trickling sound. She could feel warmth coating her leg. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, and more tears trickled out – these ones of humiliation. Yet, to Joey's (and she supposed Chandler's) credit, the Discovery Channel factoid appeared true: the pain was seeping away, and she let out a tiny moan of relief, in spite of herself.

The trickling finally stopped. She could hear a rustling as Chandler hurriedly yanked up his trunks.

"You can open your eyes now….." Monica obeyed at his quiet voice.

Chandler was standing before her sheepishly, looking truly sorry. Monica smiled at him weakly, reassuringly, even as she knew that their friendship, while not ruined, had certainly been irrevocably altered, notching an embarrassing moment to its history. She had gotten flashed by her best friend! She had seen her best friend's…. her best friend's…..

I'll say this: it was a very fine cock.

Monica!, she scolded her own, traitorous thoughts.

Monica shifted away from Joey, teetering as she remained balanced on one foot. "Can you stand?" the struggling actor asked her gently.

Monica shifted her weight gingerly. There was no debilitating spasm, though she cringed at how she could feel Chandler's pee already crusting against her thigh in the cool, springtime breeze.

"Can you walk?" Chandler floated.

Monica tried to take a step, and whimpered. The pain was less, but it was still there, in the form of a dull, aching throb. "No….." she shook her head. Well, she supposed she could walk, but not for two miles all the way back to the cottage.

"Pee on her aga…."

"No," Chandler cut off Joey's suggestion, for which Monica was grateful. Suddenly, she felt both her feet leave the sand and she let out a startled shriek as Chandler scooped her up into his arms, bridal-style.

"Chandler!" Her arms went around his neck instinctively, and she gaped up at him, caught off-guard by his chivalry.

"Homeward bound!" Chandler tried to sound chipper, and he marched across the sand, carrying Monica off. Poor Joey was left to schlepp all the towels and tote bags, bringing up the rear.

Monica couldn't help but stare at Chandler, bewildered. She had always known he was a generous person, but that he was generous enough to take a whizz on her to take away her pain, then carry her for two miles.

"You, um….. you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she teased, feeling oddly shy. She was relieved when Chandler smirked for the first time since she had been stung.

He didn't have to carry her, certainly not for two whole miles, and Monica felt bad for him feeling like he had to. But Chandler didn't tire; he didn't even so much as complain. Not once did he ask for a rest – poor Joey did, and even when they paused for their hapless buddy to catch up, not once did Chandler let Monica out of his arms.

The trio finally trudged into the beach cottage, looking like shell-shocked war veterans. Seeing Monica cocooned in Chandler's embrace, Ross and Rachel dashed forward from the kitchen island.

"Mon, what happened….?"

"Not now, Rache," Chandler snapped, setting his course for the bathroom. Monica squirmed a little, silently prompting Chandler that he could put her down now, but he ignored her too.

"Did she sprain something….?"

"I said not now, Rachel!" Chandler growled tightly, mounting the steps and carrying Monica all the way up the stairs. Behind them, he and Monica could hear Joey trying and failing to stammer out an explanation, but all he could manage was that melodramatic, bawling whine that got in his voice whenever he was flustered or uncomfortable, his words unintelligible.

Chandler kicked the door in leading to the bathroom and only then did he set Monica down. The bathroom tiles felt ice-cold under her feet and she limped to the rim of the bathtub, taking a seat. She watched, bemused, as Chandler now busied himself over the same bathtub, turning the tap all the way to the warmest setting.

"You don't have to draw me a bath…" she mumbled.

"I want to," Chandler sent her a tousled grin, and Monica felt something odd flutter in her stomach. "After the day you've had, you deserve one."

Smirking in amusement, Monica swung her legs over the rim of the tub and lowered herself into the rapidly rising water, trunks, bikini and all. Chandler still kept his face gentlemanly averted as he slapped about in the cabinets for something. "Thank God!" he finally crowed when he found it, now sprinkling suds powder into the bathwater. The bubble bath quickly rose and foamed.

"Comfortable?"

Close to agog at his gallantry, Monica nodded dumbly. Chandler grinned at her and busied himself over the sink, wringing out a washcloth, then lathering soap onto it. He finally returned to the rim of the tub and sat on the edge next to his best friend.

"Madame? ….. May I?"

Her baby blues expanding, Monica blushed pink. With a shy smile, she lifted her violated leg out of the bubbles.

She watched, almost entranced, as Chandler began to scrub down her urine-encrusted leg with such tenderness that it almost left Monica breathless. She marveled at the concentration and even devotion in his face as he methodically worked, until she was gazing at him as if she had never seen him before.

…. The intimacy of the act was strangely…. Arousing. It was truly bizarre and yet by the same token altogether mesmerizing.

Only about half of her thigh was lifted out of the water, so Chandler wasn't at risk of seeing anything untoward, yet Monica felt the urge to scissor-cross her legs closed anyway, as she felt a powerful, disconcerting urge course through her.

When the silence had stretched on too long, the spell begging to be broken, Monica stammered out, "Um….. you would be really excellent at a career in home care….."

Chandler chuckled at the compliment. "Nah. I don't really have a bedside manner."

She beamed at him. "I don't know what you're talking about." She was tickled to notice how he blushed at her praise.

He finally finished slathering her leg in soap and she shyly lowered it back into the water. "Just soak," he patted her shoulder. "When you're ready to get out, just holler, and I'll pass you a towel."

He had done more than enough already – more than any friend should have to – yet Monica nodded appreciatively. Chandler grinned in that boyish way of his and slipped out.

Easing back into the tub, her thoughts swirled. As much as it should have disgusted her, an image of Chandler's flashed member swam in her mind. Monica was shaken to find how the image, though delivered upon her eyes with no warning, did not repulse her the way she assumed it would. She wanted to be revolted by it, and yet she wasn't – at least, not nearly enough. She couldn't bear to think about what that meant.

If not exactly revolted at the sight of Chandler's….. penis, did that mean she was…. aroused…..? No – no, surely not! Her mind wandered back to the question Chandler had asked of her right before she had been stung:

…. Would you go out with me…..?

She had equivocated, letting out a "Meh," and Monica was confused almost to the point of being disturbed that she had not been able to muster up anything stronger in denial. Friends didn't date, particularly not best friends.

Yet, after all the sweetness and downright gallantry he had displayed today, she couldn't help but wonder…..

"…. Chandler….?" She called out weakly. No answer. "Chandler?!" she repeated, louder this time.

After another beat, the door opened and Chandler poked his head in. Giving herself a moment to bask in his admittedly adorable face, Monica gulped.

"What's up?"

"Um….. I'm ready for that towel now."

Chandler nodded and dutifully passed her one. Lifting the towel so that it did not touch the water, Monica used her free hand to pull the shower curtain closed. Only then did she stand up in the cooling water and pulled the plunger to drain the tub. When the water was finally low enough, she wrapped the towel around herself. Behind the curtain, she could hear shuffling, and then the door closed again.

When she stepped out of the shower, Monica's heart melted at how Chandler had laid out of her pajamas on a corner chair and she gratefully pulled them on, changing out of her wet swimsuit. She felt fresh and clean and warm, the indignity of having her best friend take a whizz on her leg already fading into memory – not fast enough, but even so.

Monica was startled upon slipping out into the hallway to find Chandler waiting for her; she nearly walked right into him.

"Milady…." Before she knew what was happening, Monica was being swept off her feet again and she let out a squeal of slight protest.

"Chandler…. This isn't…. I can walk, you know."

"I know," Chandler grinned bashfully, as he carried her grandly into her guest room, depositing her gently on the mattress. Monica smiled shyly as she turned down the covers and scooted into bed. Chandler nodded once, satisfied.

"Good night….."

"Stay with me?"

The request was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Chandler glanced back, puzzled, but he slowly nodded. "OK…."

He circled the bed and climbed in beside her, keeping a gentlemanly distance back on his side of the mattress. Rolling over, Monica quietly drifted off to sleep…..

DREAM

Feeling the morning sun streaming onto her face, Monica happily rose from the double bed to start her day. Pulling a bathrobe over herself, she exited the bedroom and crossed over to the nursery. The baby was already awake, and had been for quite some time, according to the monitor. She beamed lovingly at how her little girl was now standing up in her crib, making cooing noises.

"Hi, my little princess….." Monica cooed, grunting as she hefted her child up in her arms, balancing her against her hip. Emma shrieked happily and reached out a tiny hand to bat at her mother's dark curls. "Oooh, you're extra giggly this morning….."

Mother and daughter crossed into the kitchen, where a handsome gentleman was standing over the skillet, his back to them.

"Is she bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?" The man's voice sounded familiar….. Monica beamed and glided over to the handsome gentleman, intimately rubbing his back with her free hand.

"She wanted to see Daddy…."

Chandler turned and beamed down at Monica before bending and kissing her softly on the lips. "And how are my favorite girls today?"

Monica hummed and kissed him back, beaming. "Hungry…."

"Not surprised." Chandler ruffled Emma's curls before reaching out a finger to tickle Monica's stomach, which was round and voluptuous, suggesting she was great with child. He pressed a kiss to her belly and murmured to the little person with in. "If you're anything like your mama…."

Emma let out another happy shriek and squirmed in her mother's arms. "Da-da!"

END OF DREAM

Monica snapped awake suddenly, flustered and confused, her mind spinning. In the darkness, she sensed that it was now deep night. She could feel warm, strong arms encircling her. She froze as she recalled how she had invited Chandler to come to bed with her, and at how she now realized she was spooning him back.

However, she did not move to shy away.

That vision…. The lingering contours of it left her feeling warm and gooey inside. She rubbed her thighs together, surprised that it hadn't made her wet as well.

Moisture now manifested itself in a very different place, the subconscious musing leaving Monica feeling so inexplicably…. happy, that she was moved to tears. Snuggling against Chandler, she cried quietly.

"….. Monica…..?"

She sucked in a startled gasp, her breath hitching, and she glanced up sharply to see Chandler's eyes gleaming at her with concern through the darkness.

"… What is it….?"

She sniffled. "It…. it was just a dream. A really good dream….."

A pause as Chandler absorbed this. "Well, then…. why are you crying…..?"

Burrowing herself against him, Monica whimpered out, her heart caught in a tempest:

"….. because I wanted it to be real."