Chapter 2: Beware, My Foolish Heart

Goddamn it. She had fallen in love with him.

It was even worse that she knew exactly when it had started – that day at the beach in which he had stepped up and managed to perform such a disgusting feat as urinating on her and doing so with such gallantry. The neat freak in Monica was appalled at how Chandler could have made something so grotesque appear so sweet and gentlemanly. Hell, the man had even admitted to the deed in front of all their friends, albeit only after Joey had lied and tried to take the blame. Not that she faulted him for that. It was cute how he was trying to preserve what little dignity she had left, even over – and perhaps at the cost of – his own.

Also, even though he had been a little too quick on the draw, now having seen it, she had to admit: he had a nice wiener.

The memory of what he had done for her, how he had cared for her, slept beside her that night and held her as she cried over a dream that had left her disconcerted in as far as how she oddly yearned for it was still leaving Monica discombobulated even a full year later, standing in this reception hall in London following her brother's second wedding.

But Monica supposed that discombobulation came with the uncharted territory of seeing your best friend in a new light.

She set aside for the moment Ross's woes that he had brought upon himself, cursing his marriage by saying the wrong name at the altar, in favor of gazing at Chandler from across the crowded room. He was trying to navigate across the dance floor while coming back from the drink bar, looking so adorable in his flustered state. The man didn't dance, by his own admission, though how much of that was due to insecure self-deprecation Monica couldn't begin to tell. The man had been downright graceful in carrying her bridal-style all over Montauk a year ago summer.

From this near distance, Monica saw how Chandler was now stopped by a bridesmaid, the man clearly having caught eyes besides her own. A weird and even thrilling protective rage burned through Monica's veins and her eyes actually narrowed into slits as she tried to stave off going into a jealous rage. Jealousy she had no right to be feeling.

If anything, she should be taking pity on the guy, even as it seemed far inconsequential for what she felt for Chandler. He might be unlucky with women, again by his own admission, but it wasn't anything to do with his looks or lack thereof. Her best friend had always been handsome, and turned heads. If his dorky and adorable idiosyncrasies managed to draw girls in, even better, though this didn't happen often. He had had his heart broken by that tramp Kathy, whereas Monica had wasted her time dating the son of her ex.

Say it again for the people in the back: she had dated the son of her ex. As in, she had dated a man whose father she had also dated.

Had her desire for a partner, one with whom she could build a future marriage and a family, gone so off the rails that she was desperate enough to actually look upon her dearest friend with….. lust? This was wrong. To lust for Chandler – her Chandler – was disturbing on so many rational, practical levels….

…. But if everyone dealt in the realm of practicality and rationality, love as an institution wouldn't have much room to roam. At least not as far as this trollop of a bridesmaid's hands clearly wanted to roam. Monica found herself crossing the dance floor in seconds, muscling her way in and stealing an arm around Chandler's waist.

"Hey, honey…." She murmured. "Mind if I cut in?"

Chandler seemed only too happy to play along, and all too grateful to be saved. The bridesmaid stormed off, shooting Monica a dirty look that the beautiful chef ignored.

"Thanks," he murmured, furthering the ruse by actually dropping an arm to her hip. Monica unconsciously felt her breath hitch at his touch. She lifted her gaze to his, the lashes fluttering. She swallowed hard. Chandler merely let loose with his trademark, boyish smirk, and her stomach did a flip.

"Might as well take it to the hilt, if I've got other eyes on me."

Monica firmly lifted her palm to his shoulder. "They'll have to get in line." Her voice was breathless, and she had to make herself not growl the phrase, like she was being….. possessive of him.

She was startled into pleasant surprise when Chandler took the lead and glided her with incredible deftness across the floor. A merry old English jaunt was playing, and Monica smiled through a blush as Chandler led her through a kind of folksy European jig – a skipping sort of routine in which the girl was placed in the interior of a circle, moving in a clockwise fashion while guided by the man whose palm remained at her waist. Monica knew there was a Latin term for the dance, but she couldn't summon it from recall – she'd ask her brother, once he was finished moping after his peeved bride.

The music changed, into a sort of crooning ballad. Rod Stewart's raspy and chain-smoking voice came over the airwaves:

The night… is like a lovely tune…. Beware, my foolish heart…. How wise, the ever constant moon…. Take care, my foolish heart…..

Chandler surefootedly spun Monica out and then spun her back in. Suddenly, their dance had taken on the timbre of a sensual conversation – one that Monica understood with no words. She leapt into Chandler's arms and he twirled her, a strong hand gripping her thigh where it was now hiked about his torso. Monica was lifted clean off the ground and they spun, her central focal point being her partner's dazzling blue eyes….

There's a line between love and fascination….. that's so hard to see on an evening such as this. For they both give the very same sensation…. When you're lost in the passion of a kiss….

The spinning slowed and Monica felt her body return to earth, if not her heart, which still felt like it was flying. Gazing up beatifically into Chandler's smoldering eyes, her one palm rested lightly on his chest, the couple lulled into a slow waltz.

She finally had the wherewithal to tear her stare away from his face, focusing in on his expansive chest and she gulped shyly. "You….. you said you didn't dance….." She felt flustered and more than a little aroused.

"I said I didn't – I never said I couldn't…." Chandler rumbled; Monica could feel how his chest rumbled under her touch with the sound. Holy balls, when had he started to sound so….. sexy?...

Was it her imagination, or was he pulling her closer? Monica stared back up at him, and swallowed hard again.

"You certainly dance better than Ross….. we had a dance routine back when we were kids, but never got very far in competition…." She was rambling, prattling, she could hear it in her own voice, only stuttering to a stop when she felt Chandler brush some of her dark locks out of her face. Eyelids drooping, she dared to lean into his touch, if unconsciously.

"Could have fooled me….."

Monica glanced about, shaken to find how there were so few couples still out here on the floor. They might even be the only ones – certainly, it had felt that way while being frozen under whatever spell Chandler had put her under. "People…. People are staring…."

"Let 'em stare." The confident self-assurance in his tone as he held her close was damn near leaving Monica in heat. Curling her arm about his neck, she hovered closer, craving his touch, his warmth. She was thrilled at how Chandler wasn't pulling away. She dared to hope: could he ever feel what she felt? The feelings she had only recently dared to acknowledge?

Oh, her lips…. are much too close to mine…. Beware, my foolish heart…. But should our eager lips combine…. Then let….. the fire start!...

"Monica?"

"Y-yes….?" She stuttered.

Chandler paused, and then smiled bashfully. "….. Thanks for being here for me…."

Her heart damn near melted. "Oh, sweetie….. I should be thanking you for doing the same…. Being here for me…." She recalled with a flood of warmth how he had comforted her at the rehearsal dinner last night when that drunken fool had confused her for the mother of the groom. Her own mother! She could hear, echoing in her brain, what Chandler had said as she had bemoaned her single status to him once again, acting as the perfect sounding board.

….. Who wouldn't want you…..?

Monica slowly rested her head on Chandler's chest as the Rod Stewart ballad eased towards its finale:

For this time, it isn't fascination…. Or a dream that will fade and fall apart…. It's love, this time – it's love, my foolish heart!...

The song ended, but Monica stayed nuzzled in Chandler's embrace even after their own feet had swayed to a halt. A content smile dawned across her face and she basked in the feel of having him near. She loved this man so much!

I love you so much…..

She only realized that she had spoken when she heard Chandler gasp. Felt him draw back, and Monica lifted her head to behold how his mouth was agape. He looked white, even in the dim lighting of the dance floor. "You…. you what…..?" he breathed.

Her face like it was on fire, even as the rest of her body found the chutzpa to stand tall and proud. She hadn't meant for her heart to speak its deepest desire aloud, but seeing as she now had….. well, let it be. Throwing her shoulders back, letting her face collapse into lovesickness, Monica confessed her love:

"Yes, Chandler. I've…. I've fallen in love with you. I love you so much, it hurts." She could feel the tightness in her chest and how it almost brought physical pain, on account of the tenderness and care she felt for this sweet, lovely man. "Stings worse than those jellyfish, anyway."

Chandler was still gawping at her, and Monica felt how her heart was pounding so hard, it was in danger of stopping. She searched his face, on the cusp of pleading. She wouldn't cling, and she wasn't needy – she wasn't that desperate. If he did not feel the same, her heart would be broken, to be sure, and she would suffer in silence. But perhaps some day, she could get over him. This was a little crush that had crept up on her, right? Nothing more….

Except, no. It was more. So, so much more…..

"You…. you love me….?" Chandler repeated dumbly.

"You heard me," Monica whimpered, voice pleading and helpless. Her eyes filled with tears, and in vain, she tried to wipe them. "I….. I didn't want to…. but ever since that day at the beach….. I – I do….." She buried her face in her palms and started to weep, not caring how she was making a scene; if people weren't staring at them dancing so sexily before, they were staring at her now as she took an emotional page from her high school prom. "You….. you did this to me…..!"

Glancing about furtively, Chandler hustled Monica into a darkened corner of the reception hall, far away from the other guests. "Why did you do this to me?!" Monica wept, beating on his chest with her fists. "It's all your fault!"

"Monica!"

Head bowed, Monica sniffled. "What….?" She lifted her face hopelessly, tear tracks streaming down her cheeks.

"Enough talking." Then Chandler was holding her so gently by her waist, and his free hand was in her hair, and his lips were on hers. He kissed her, hard and bruising, long and lingering.

Monica gasped, the sound parting her lips. Whatever she had wanted to say, the words now died a peaceful death in her throat.

Then – she moaned…

"Mmmmmhmmmm…"

Arms looping water-soft about Chandler's neck, her digits wove dreamily into his spiked, chestnut curls and she began furiously kissing him back.

Fireworks. They pealed with an exultant shriek in her mind as she and her best friend embraced and the kiss deepened with a passion that left them both breathless. Tongues frustratingly went to war, tangling and dueling as they pushed through and a full-bore make-out session came in danger of spiraling out of control.

When Monica and Chandler finally broke apart, to come up for air, their arms were still around each other and they were panting, gasping.

"Monica….." She trembled at Chandler's stunned timbre, at how his pupils had dilated into something dark and primal that set her every nerve ending alight. Monica placed a finger on his lips.

"Sssssssh – don't speak. Just…. let it happen….." before she dove in and began kissing her newfound lover once more. It clearly took Chandler great willpower to break the kiss this time.

"Mon – we…. we have to stop….."

"Why are you resisting?" she whispered, trying not to let any hurt bleed through. The thought that he might not want her….

"I'm not resisting, I just think we need to stop…."

"What are you talking about….? – OH!" she cried as Chandler suddenly bared his teeth in a growl and grinded his hips into hers. She could clearly feel the evidence of his desire for her.

"I'm sorry," Chandler mumbled meekly, as if afraid he had done something wrong by humping her.

Monica lowered her head, studying how their bodies were pressed together. "Don't be….."

"You weren't….. afraid of me? Just then?"

"Chandler…." Monica smiled up at him. "I could never be afraid of you….." Her grin broadened encouragingly, amused at the worry in his face. "I trust you…." she cooed. "If I trusted you enough to urinate on me once, then I certainly trust you enough to…."

Her voice trailed off. Wordlessly, she held out her hand. Enthralled by her, Chandler took it, and Monica guided him with purpose out of the reception hall and into the nearest elevator.

Their lips and bodies didn't crash back together until the elevator doors had closed.

Chandler and Monica almost fell through the door to his hotel room, necking furiously. Chandler barely had the presence of mine to lock and latch the door behind him as his hands scrabbled over Monica's svelte body in complete awe, yanking at her dress in his haste and eagerness to help her undress. Knees hitting the mattress, Monica fell back onto the bed in a kind of swoon, bringing her paramour with her. Making out in little, feverish pecks, she groaned into Chandler's plundering lips as she scrabbled back towards the headboard. His hands were reaching, clawing, bunching up the skirts of her red cocktail dress over her hips.

"Chandler….. Chandler….. Oh, God, Chandler…." For but a single moment, oxygen and logic tried to fight its way into her brain, and she gasped out, "My…. my brother! My brother would never forgive us if we…" But then Chandler's mouth was on hers again and she let the last consideration that might stop her from romping with this man in bed fell out of her mind. Monica's head flopped back, baring the soft curve of her neck for him; she was left utterly slack-jawed by his attentions and where in the hell he had learned to worship a woman with his tongue like this. Her fingers trembled as they worked to undo his belt, then throw down his trousers to his ankles. She squirmed in her attempt to help him shuck her dress all the way off and over her head.

Monica caught a glimpse of the man's cock, and she smirked in impressed triumph at it, greeting the sight of the thing like an old friend.

Now both decently naked, Monica and Chandler paused in their kissing to glance down at how their bodies were pressed skin-to-skin. Chandler's jaw hit the floor upon seeing the voluptuous curves of the woman in his arms.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that we just killed off what was left of our friendship. Between this and my pissing on you, it's effectively ruined!" He was red-faced and spluttering out of some misplaced deference.

"Eh, we weren't that close anyway!" Monica sloughed off, and gathering him in her arms, she spread her legs for him.

Chandler mounted her and mated with her.

They made ardent love, moaning and rocking against each other like two beasts in heat, with a passion and in a manner that should have been fits for beasts only.

"Monica… Oh, Monica….." Chandler wheezed into his lover's skin. "I… I love you….. I love you too….."

They say that for a woman, sex is both physical and emotional. Upon hearing the man she loved verbally return her feelings, Monica let out a cry of pleasure and thrashed violently beneath him as, with a shudder, she was brought to orgasm. It was almost sweet how, upon seeing her cum, Chandler once again put her needs above his own in assuming that he didn't need to receive pleasure in return. Monica could feel him readying to pull out, and she clamped her thighs around him, needing him to remain inside her – she would go mad, burn alive, if he did not.

"Monica….. No…"

"….. YES!" she howled, arching her back and throwing her head to the ceiling with a ecstatic shout, lifting her hips to match him thrust for every delicious thrust. "Chandler, I want you inside me….. I need for you to cum inside me….." She held his eyes, making damn sure he knew. "I want you to put a baby in me….. I want you to place your child deep inside me….."

"Ohh…" Chandler moaned, the visage of his Monica, her belly round and great with his child, too much for him to bear. Bearing down on her, Chandler's muscles finally seized and with a grunt, he ejaculated hard into Monica's fluttering, soaked walls. Sweaty and spent as he collapsed on top of her, Monica's arms encircled Chandler lovingly and she held him close, her fingernails digging dazedly into the flesh along his rippling shoulder blades.

"Ahhhhh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you….!" Monica's voice lilted in stunned song as Chandler shifted about inside her, moaning from the pleasure and post-coital bliss. "Ahhhhhh, I know at last the secret of it all…..!" She kissed his face, moisture clinging to her cheeks from the pleasure he had brought her. He had made her cry from how he made love to her so deliciously.

They held each other like that for a long time in the companionable silence, listening to their heart rates slow.

"Chandler…..? I know this is…. new and it's…. amazing….. Someday, if I asked you to, would you marry me? If you'll have me?"

For a second, Monica was terrified that she had overplayed her hand. Scared him off. Though he did know well her desire to one day wed and have a family of her own. It was her dearest dream. Chandler pondered her for a long moment before he came back with:

"….. Would you really carry my baby, if I ever impregnated you?"

Monica nodded. She thought about the little girl – their little girl – from her dream, and she wondered if they had now just conceived her. "Yes," she whispered breathlessly. She would bear and mother Chandler's child willingly, to love and teach such an innocent creature. A helpless child who would be part her and part Chandler, her best friend, her lover.

…. And perhaps one day the father of her child. Perhaps one day her husband. Unlike a year ago in Montauk, the thought of her and Chandler being married and parents together did not leave her shaken to the point of tears. To the contrary, it was her new dream.

And if there was one thing Monica Geller knew how to do, it was pursue her dreams. She held Chandler close, pressing her sweat-slicked body to his as she drew the covers over them both.

"Thank you for making love to me, Chandler."

Chandler chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks for wanting me."

Monica beamed at him with adoration. "Well….. you had me from the second you jizzed on my leg….."

"And yet that somehow does not kill the mood," Chandler quipped. "I suppose we should assume nothing will."

Giggling, Monica drew Chandler closed and kissed him. Kissed him until the last thing she felt before she drifted off to sleep in his arms was his lips on hers.