Chapter 1: It Must Be For Love

"No fair! I don't even have one! How come she gets two?"

Chandler Bing fidgeted awkwardly from where he was perched longways in a waiting room chair. It wasn't as plushy and comfortable as he would have expected from upholstery in a hospital. In the process of shifting, he glanced at his best friend.

It was a strange dichotomy of thought, to marvel at how adorable Monica Geller looked even when in a jealous snit and yet have his heart shatter at how she was in a jealous snit.

"You'll get one!" he reassured her. While not entirely dismissive, his words were still a knee-jerk platitude, enough that even he had to sit up and take notice when Monica pushed back, jeering:

"Oh, yeah? When?"

Chandler steepled his hands in thought. He didn't know much about women, but he had observed how many women went gaga over the sight of a baby, especially if the baby was not their own. Perhaps it was some facet of maternal instinct. At the moment, Monica seemed to have that instinct bad - of course, it had always been there; now it was just heightened in this atmosphere. A waiting room, sitting vigil for news that her nephew had been born.

"All right, I'll tell you what: when we're 40… if neither of us are married… what do you say you and I get together and have one?"

He couched the tone of his offer in something casual, even as he knew, in the midst of the words leaving his mouth, that it wasn't any less compassionate or sincere.

Of course, Monica wouldn't - and didn't - focus in on that part, instead getting hung up on:

"Why won't I be married when I'm 40?"

An awkward beat, and then Chandler chuckled. He had laid down the age as an arbitrary guideline - really, call it a grace period - so she'd have ample, more than enough, time to find someone. "No, I just meant….. hypothetically."

"Hmm," Monica demurred, her lips pursed in barely concealed offense. "OK. Hypothetically, why won't I be married when I'm 40?"

"No, I meant…. You're not going to be unmarried when you're 40! Hell, if you're still single by the time we're 30, I'll be shocked!" He not how this seemed to mollify her, if only just.

For her part, Monica was shocked. Had Chandler just offered to make a marriage pact with her? Setting aside the randomly thrown out age limit, it was actually very sweet, in a quintessentially Chandler kind way.

Deflating, she flung herself into the plush seat next to him and they spent the next several minutes watching passersby moving through this hospital. With every new wheelchair-bound mother cradling a newborn, Chandler watched Monica's lips pout in crestfallen frustration. There was a yearning behind her eyes, the kind of energy that could only be put towards pining after a lifelong dream; he wished there was something he could do to help her reach it.

Not that he thought Monica couldn't chase that dream, reach it, herself. She had always dreamed of becoming a chef, and while her current culinary position was clearly far from what would be the apex of her career, it was a stepping stone in the right direction.

"You're already on your way to chasing your cooking dreams," Chandler seized on these inner musings, voicing them gently.

Monica's lips quirked up softly. "Thanks…" Chandler smirked and waved her off. "No, really: thank you." Monica dipped her head to meet his eyes intensely. "You're the reason I had the strength to go after that."

"I am?" Chandler blinked stupidly. "How?"

Now it was Monica's turn to smirk, as she rolled her eyes. "Don't you remember the first Thanksgiving Ross brought you home?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I would remember if Ross and I ever got that serious," Chandler deadpanned through a wince.

"No. Thanksgiving. The first time we met. You wolfed down my Mac and cheese and told me I should be a chef…" Monica shrugged with a smile. "So I did."

"Yeah?" A tickled smile dawned across Chandler's face. "I did that?"

Monica grinned and nudged him. "Yeah. You did."

Companionable silence fell over the pair. Chandler finally watched how Monica was gazing with longing at a mother with what looked like multiple pink bundles in her arms. Chandler tried to count, and almost gave up. He wanted to groan and even yell at the new mother, for how she was inadvertently affecting his friend.

"Really? Triplets?!"

"My thoughts exactly," Monica sniffed. She actually looked like she was going to cry. Chandler studied her curiously.

"Mon? What do you… feel…. When you see other babies?"

Her lips twisted into somewhere between a smirk and a frown, bemused. "Other babies? As opposed to another, as-yet-undefined category of babies….?"

"You know what I mean! A baby that isn't yours. I mean, seriously, are you gonna be OK when Ross's kid shows up or am I gonna have to protect Lesbians One and Two from you?"

Monica rolled her eyes again, before staring back at the mother with triplets. "I feel like my ovaries are about to burst."

"I don't know what those are."

She snorted, muttering. "Of course you… God, you're as bad as Joey…!"

A beat of silence, and then:

"If you're that close to bursting, there's a bathroom over there…"

Monica giggled. "No, dork. It's not that kind of burst-" She stopped abruptly. "Am I really going to have to explain the female reproductive system and sexual urges to you?"

Chandler flushed scarlet. "No, ma'am!" he squeaked.

"Excellent."

They were saved of any further mortification by Rachel. "Monica, your dad is on the payphone asking for you. I left the line open. He figured you'd have more information on Carol and the baby…."

Monica dashed over to the payphone and spoke quietly to her father. Chandler followed at a moseying amble, leaning against the wall and watching Monica.

It was a good thing he was so in tune with her, because before he knew it, Monica was suddenly crying so hard she couldn't speak. She couldn't even hang up the phone, her palms were shaking so violently; Chandler had to hang up for her before pulling her into his arms.

After several moments of rubbing her back, Chandler motioned for her to follow him. He led her into one of the corridors spilling out from this waiting room, and patrolled for an empty room where they could talk privately.

The first and only empty space he found turned out to be a supply closest and he ushered Monica in, closing the door behind them.

Chandler faced his best friend to find her blinking at him both confusedly and expectedly.

The expression on her face matched the roiling of Chandler's heart. He was shaken by the resolve to say what he felt compelled to say, and yet he didn't know how to say it.

"Look, I may not much about ovaries and maternal instinct or what-have-you…"

Monica frowned. "Chandler…."

"But I get how you harbor this - having a baby - as your dream. You have a biological clock, and all that." He grasped for her hands, hearing Monica suck in a breath, startled. "I could tell you it will be OK, that you just need to be patient and wait for the right guy to marry and give you a baby. Oh, I could do that! But I see how much this is affecting you, and you're no doubt jealous Ross got to reach parenthood first, and if this is your dream… well…" He smiled weakly. "I like hearing about your dreams, Mon. How they mean something to you, because they mean something to me. And… apparently I've had a hand in helping you pursue your dreams before; you said so yourself."

Monica's sapphire blue eyes were expanded in the dim light of this supply closet. "Chandler….?"

"I want to help you make this dream come true, Monica."

She blinked, bewildered. "What… what are you saying…?"

"I'm saying we should move up the schedule to that marriage pact we made out there."

She gaped. "Sweetie, you're not making sense….!"

"Let's make a baby, Mon. I'll help you make your dream come true, whatever it takes. I want to have a baby with you."

For a moment, Monica was too stunned to speak. She had drawn a hand to her mouth in awe, disbelieving, hardly daring to believe that he….

"What did you just say?" Her voice was a breathless whisper.

"Let's have a baby together," Chandler insisted. His face was flushing and he had an adorably boyish smile on his face, almost bashful. Monica would have thought it cute were it not paired with the words that had just come out of his mouth.

There was a long pause in which Monica stared at her best friend, speechless. Then, she broke into a strained smile, accompanied by a shaky laugh. "You're making a joke, aren't you…?"

"I'm not," Chandler insisted, in a voice so soft and earnest she staggered back, because holy smokes, he really….

"Oh my God…." She whimpered, drawing both hands to her mouth to hold in her gasp. "You're…. You're actually serious…"

Chandler nodded gravely. "If you really want a baby so badly…"

"Not that badly!" Monica blurted out, before she winced, for fear she had unintentionally insulted him.

If Chandler did take her outburst as some sort of rejection, he didn't show it. He lifted his hands in peaceful surrender. "I'm not saying we have to…." He turned crimson. "There are a number of ways we could go about it: sperm donation, IVF. Or if you wanted to go the all-natural route…" He waggled his eyebrows, maybe for no other reason than to try to get a laugh out of her.

In any other instance, Monica would have laughed. But not now. Not when Chandler seemed to be, for once in his life, not joking.

That's when it hit her: "Are you trying to sleep with me?" she demanded, hotly.

"N-no," Chandler spluttered. "I'm just saying let's leave all the options for conceiving on the table…"

"Oh my God, you are trying to sleep with me!" she gawked at him, outraged. Most of all, stung and hurt. If this was a joke, it had gone far past the point of being funny.

"No," Chandler stated. "I'm merely leaving you every option available, so you can choose which avenue to use or not."

"Good," Monica clipped. "Because if I were to even consider this insane idea, I would not act on it by sleeping with my best friend! I thought we cared about each other more than that!"

For some reason, she regretted saying these words, fearing she had hurt his feelings in her rejection. Besides, Chandler hadn't propositioned her with amorous and lustful intentions. He had offered himself in such a carnal manner purely for reproductive purposes.

…. Right?

It was true that couples went to bed together for meaningless intercourse all the time, with no feeling involved. Monica studied Chandler's wounded expression. Even if they…. came together with the sole intention to make a baby and then never spoke of the act again, how was there any guarantee that feelings would not be involved? She tried to picture herself mating with her best friend and found it…. difficult.

Not repulsive, necessarily. But still…. difficult.

"There are other ways to… impregnate you, Mon," Chandler was explaining.

"Hmm," Monica demurred, folding her arms. "I'm surprised you haven't floated 'forcibly taking me against my will' yet."

She was struck and heartened by how fiercely Chandler frowned at her. "Don't even joke about rape like that. It's not funny!"

"So sleeping with me to make a baby is on the table but forcing yourself on me is where you draw the line," Monica quipped. "Got it."

Chandler took a cleansing breath through his nose. "So you don't want to do this the old-fashioned way. Fine."

Monica sighed heavily. "Honey, I still don't know if I want to do this - make a baby - at all! I mean, Chandler, do you even hear yourself? You're suggesting…."

"Yes," he cut her off. "I am."

There was a pregnant silence as they gazed at each other.

"OK. So: if I have read this right, there are two options: I could make a sperm donation. Or we could… implant my sperm in you using IFV. I'm assuming surrogacy is off the table because you clearly would want to carry the baby yourself…."

"Chandler…." Monica sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Stop."

His voice trailed off and he gazed at her. When Monica lifted her head, her face was bewildered, her voice shallow and strained.

"Why are you doing this….?"

"Because…. I want you to be happy…" Chandler murmured. "You deserve to have your dream…"

She cocked her head admonishingly. "Chandler…. Have you even thought what this would mean?"

His answer surprised her. "I have."

She pondered him skeptically. "It means we would be best friends - next door neighbors - who have a child together. Do you have any idea what that would involve for us? For you?"

Chandler furrowed his brow in thought… then nodded. "Yes. No matter how we made the baby, I would be fine with however much or little involved you wanted me to be. I'd leave that up to you."

Monica lifted an eyebrow, deciding to test him. "And if I said I wanted no input from you?"

Chandler grimaced. "I would be sad…. But I'd understand, if that was what you wanted."

Monica had to admit: she was impressed by his answer. She took a deep breath again.

"Chandler…. This is…. Very sweet of you to want to…. But I've always thought that when I had my own child, I'd want it to be conceived in…" She couldn't finish. She stilled when Chandler took her hand.

"If you want your baby to be made with love, conceived in love….. I could help you with that."

She gaped, turning pink.

"If that was how you wanted it to happen!" Chandler amended quickly.

Monica spluttered. "Chandler, we…. We're best friends! I could never ask you to… be with me…. Like that, and conjure up feelings that aren't there just to give me pleasure, let alone make a…."

"What makes you think those feelings aren't there?"

Monica froze. They weren't having this conversation, they weren't….

She shivered as she felt Chandler's palm on her cheek. She didn't recognize the look in his eyes. It was…. smoldering. Full of heat. And unmistaken….

"I love you, Monica. I… I have for a long time." He grinned bashfully and blushed at how she gawped at him. "I know. Shocking coming from me, isn't it? But I love you. And it's because I love you that I want to give you this baby, however it happens." He glanced, down shifting his weight a little. "Someday, whenever and however it happens, I would want a kid. And when the time comes, I'd learn how to be a good dad. But you…" he gazed at her with something that could only be love. Admiration. "You're already there. You're a mother… without a baby."

Monica swallowed hard. His hand was still cradling her cheek. Moved, with tears in her eyes, she leaned her face into his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. Her sapphire eyes fluttered open, revealing the unshed tears.

"Chandler… I don't want to lose you…." She moaned. Holy God, was she actually considering allowing the two of them to….?

"You won't," Chandler promised, taking her hand in his free one. "I'd be there for you and the baby. I promise."

"It isn't that," Monica whispered softly. She gazed at him brokenly, beseechingly. "I don't want to lose our friendship." There wasn't anything he could possibly say to refute that.

"I don't either," Chandler agreed.

"But…. But if we did this…." Monica began to cry. "Wouldn't we?"

"Not if we got together and stayed together." There was such hope in Chandler's face that Monica's heart howled.

"For whose benefit? For the sake of the baby or because we… wanted to be together?"

She had him there. Monica watched as he worried his bottom lip. If he truly loved her as he said, then he would surely love her too much to risk their friendship on a relationship, especially one pressured in the crucible of sharing a child.

"What if we had a baby and then tried to be together only for it to…?" Monica couldn't finish, sniffling. "I couldn't bear to lose you the way I lost Kip."

Chandler flinched. But then he took a deep breath and stepped into her. "Except I'm not Kip," he pointed out. "…. Am I?"

Monica shook her head, aware at how both his hands were now cradling her face. "No," she breathed. "… You're Chandler."

"Yes. And?" He was much too close to her now; the blood was thundering in her ears from how her heart was pounding.

Monica's eyelids grew heavy; her breathing became shallow. "You know…. Chandler…" she whispered. It was the last thing she got out before Chandler closed the gap and their lips met in a fierce kiss.

The moment his lips sealed over hers, Monica gasped at how she felt fireworks.

They pealed with an almost triumphant shriek through her brain, as she closed her eyes completely, and with a plaintive moan, looped her now-water-soft arms about Chandler's neck. Her fingers wove themselves dreamily through his bronze hair as she, with shocking abandon, kissed him back.

A tiny part of her was astonished with herself, to the point of fright, at how she was responding to this unexpectedly magical kiss. She was kissing her best friend…. which should have been all kinds of weird…. and yet Monica was struck dumb by how it actually wasn't. As warmth flooded her, as a heady, giddy sensation that could only be love overflowed its banks through her body, Monica tenderly framed Chandler's face in her hands and kissed him…. kissed him…. again and again, she kissed him, dazed by the feel of his lips on hers and the words that had come from those lips before joining with hers:

This man had told her he loved her. This man had offered willingly to give her a child, because he loved her so much. Chandler wanted to have a baby with her! He wanted to give her everything she had always wanted even though he wasn't entirely sure of his own abilities or readiness as a parent! While some might consider that foolish, the selflessness of it made Monica nearly lose her breath, and tears flooded her firmly shut eyes anew. The moisture leaked from beneath her lids and slipped onto her cheeks as she and Chandler firmly embraced and the kiss deepened further still.

They were making out now, practically, in this little supply closet, and Monica swayed into Chandler's arms with a swooning hum. The passion was fueling a fire throughout her limbs, unable to be put out…. and Monica was gobsmacked to discover that she wanted to just let that fire burn.

Chandler and Monica finally broke the kiss sharply, if also sensuously and more than a little reluctantly. Monica trembled at how Chandler's arms were at her waist and in danger of dipping lower. She was shaken and anxious all at once to feel what it would be like if he did touch her there, or anywhere else truly intimate.

Chandler gentlemanly refused to let his hands wander. His own eyes lidded with want, his breath washed over her face like a warm wave as he rasped out:

"Monica…. Tell me to stop…."

Blue eyes wide, Monica dumbly shook her head No.

Kissing her again, gently this time, Chandler let his palms caress and cup the round globes of Monica's ass – first one cheek, and then the other. When he dared to take his one hand and grip the inside of her thigh, Monica stunned herself when, in perfect harmony, she dared to help him hike it up to his waist, her calf curling about his torso at the back of the knee. Monica wound her arms tightly about Chandler and held him close, kissing him harder, even viciously. She shuddered with pleasure as her new lover bent her back, kneeling so that they both lowered themselves to the floor of this closet without once breaking contact.

Monica felt herself being laid down on something soft, if also a little itchy – perhaps supply sacks of some kind. Squirming underneath where Chandler hovered above her, she unconsciously opened her legs. Spread them for him.

Chandler's lips left hers suddenly, and Monica whined at the loss of contact.

"Ch-Chandler…." She gasped. "What…. what are you….? – Ooooooh….."

Flopping her head back and lolling it to one side, she was all at once turned on by how Chandler was kissing her neck, blazing a trail with his lips down to her clavicle, then her jaw, kissing her face before diving back into the soft curve of her neck and suckling the pulse point there.

As Chandler and Monica kissed and rubbed themselves, clothed, against each other, hands wandered. Monica bunched up the hem of Chandler's sweatshirt, their lips needing to part as she helped him pull the garment over his head and cast it aside. Chandler's fingers scrabbled for the belt at Monica's jeans, and she lifted her hips while moving to help him; he shoved them down past her ankles.

They were both breathing heavily now, as Monica, her pupils darkened and dilated, took her gray blouse and shucked it over her head, tossing it away. Embracing and kissing heatedly, their palms now clasping and sinking into skin, Monica quivered in delight as Chandler deftly unhooked her bra and let it fall away.

They broke apart only once more, softly, gazing into each other's eyes. Whatever happened next, there was no turning back. Monica gulped.

"Will you make love to me, Chandler? Will you…. give me a baby….?"

The love in Chandler's gaze was so crippling, her heart melted. How had she not seen before that he…?

"As you wish, my love….."

Monica flopped back into whatever bed this was beneath her, as Chandler kissed her. She spread her legs for him, guided him to line up their entrances.

When she felt his…. his…. what made him a man brush up against the inside of her thigh, she hesitated, but only briefly. He…. he felt so big….. How was he going to…. fit…..?

Kissing her deeply, Chandler mounted her and mated with her. He pushed inside her, stretching Monica to her limit.

"Are you all right….?" Chandler paused.

"Y-yes….. I'm…. I'm fine…." Monica gazed into his eyes, as if she had never seen her Chandler before.

The best friends made love. As a paramour, a partner, Chandler was a perfect gentleman, going slow – almost too slow – in his deference to please Monica and not hurt her. It was she who had to encourage him to fuck her, take her "harder… faster…. Faster….."

Chandler picked up the speeds of his thrust, his face buried dazedly into the valley of Monica's breasts. He kissed the swells of them, his tongue curling around her pebbled and aroused nipples as he continued to jerk his hips into hers. Arching her back, Monica purred and met him slam for slam.

"That's it….. more….. more….. Harder… HARDER, Chandler, fuck me harder! Put a baby in me, please! Make a baby with me! Make… make love to me….. Love me…." Monica was sobbing now, from the pleasure building in her core. "Please, just love me….. place your child deep inside me! Make me cum! Make me c-ahhhh….. Ahhhhhhhh…. AHHHHHHHHH…. AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She was brought to orgasm abruptly and her muscles clenched as she let out a scream of bliss. Her toes curled as she was sent careening over the edge and immersed into a pool of pure warmth and love that made her head spin dizzyingly.

"Monica….." Chandler groaned, and her name had never sounded so beautiful on his lips, like virtue and sin itself. "I love you…"

"I know…. I know you do…. I know you love me…." Monica wept, babbling, she was so delirious with the care and affection she felt for this wonderful man who she didn't deserve, who she didn't deserve to make love. The thought that he might have just conceived his child – their child – deep within her womb…. Monica suddenly felt unworthy of the honor, to carry and bear it.

And yet….

Drawing back, she gazed into Chandler's clouded eyes. Monica swallowed.

"…. I want your child deep inside me, Chandler."

He nodded, in awe of her.

Pressed skin to sweat-plastered skin, Monica held Chandler to her chest, letting him feast on her breasts as she stroked his hair. She murmured sweet nothings to him, still floating on the blissful high his lovemaking had catapulted her to.

She sang to him, of how she loved him, how at last she had found him, in praise of his courage to confess his love to her and that he wanted to have a family with her.

It was a wonder and miracle that no one found them, these two lovers who lay together in all their nakedness and with true love in its purest form lingering in the musky air between them. At last, Monica stirred.

"The others will be wondering where we are…. What if…. what if the baby has been born and…?"

"Huh?" Chandler blinked. Then, he got it. "Oh! You meant…. Carol's baby…."

Chandler and Monica both roused themselves and redressed, both pink in the face. Turning to look at him shyly, Monica breathed:

"What have we done?"

Chandler was quiet for a moment. "What we've wanted to do for some time. At least, I have." He searched her eyes. "Do you regret it….?"

"No," she breathed. A long pause. "Chandler – if…. if this time…. doesn't take….. I want you to make love to me again….. until it does…."

Chandler blinked at her in amazement, then his face illuminated into a beaming and boyish smile. "OK….."

They embraced and kissed tenderly one last time, before Chandler opened the door to the supply closet, and Monica followed him out.