Be My Number Two

Chandler paused drying the plate Monica had handed to him and tilted his head, almost appearing like a confused dog. "So, wait a minute, you're telling me there was a party here with a bunch of women in their underwear, and I missed it?"

Monica, in an attempt to ignore him, pointed at the plate in his hand with an incredulous look on her face. "Don't stop drying it, that how you get streaks and water spots!"

Chandler shook his head like a teenager annoyed at a nagging parent, and yet, he immediately resumed drying the plate to avoid further conflict. "I'm serious! You mean to tell me I sat in Phoebe's stupid cab all night and missed some crazy, drunken underwear party?" He put the plate down in the rack and reached his hand for another one to dry.

Monica handed him the next plate and couldn't help but let a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth, amused by his antics. "Oh, don't say that, what you and Joey did was sweet. It's probably the only reason why I didn't bean you in the head with a box of condoms earlier."

Chandler winced at the image of getting crowned by a pack of Trojans, but then straightened up once her specific compliment sunk in. "Sweet? I don't want to be sweet. I want to be surrounded by a bunch of drunk women in their underwear. Do you know how long it's been since I, you know, was alone with a woman in her underwear?"

Monica rolled her eyes and handed Chandler another plate to dry. "Do you really think being at the party tonight would have helped you in that department?"

Chandler scoffed as he dried the plate, trying to appear offended at her dismissive tone, but then reluctantly agreed with Monica's assessment of his ability to pick up women at parties. "Okay, maybe you're right. But at least I'd have something to think about when I went to bed later."

Monica screwed her face up at the crass image that Chandler's offhanded insinuation put in her head. "Gross."

"Not like that!" Chandler shot back indignantly, but then he looked off to the side, as if coming to terms with what his night alone might entail. "Maybe like that."

Monica, realizing he was enjoying making her squirm with his innuendo, elbowed him gently in the side to change the subject. "Just help me finish cleaning these dishes Casanova."

Chandler looked around the empty apartment as if suddenly realizing he was the last one there. "Why am I the only one helping again?"

Monica shrugged her shoulders. "Because...you're sweet. And because everyone else was smart enough to leave and go to bed before I started cleaning."

Chandler shook his head. "There's that word again. Sweet. I think I need to rebrand. I want to be foxy!"

Monica couldn't help but chuckle. "Good luck with that." She then sighed as she thought about her own lack of a romantic partner. "You feel bad about missing the party. I was there, with the cute guys in their boxers, and yet, once again, my night ends with a sink full of dirty dishes and no cute guy in my bed."

Chandler puffed his chest out and affected his voice to make it sound deeper. "Well, you're getting to spend your night with a foxy guy!"

Monica rolled her eyes. "I don't think foxy is going to stick. And I don't think using that weird voice is a good idea."

Chandler nodded in agreement and dropped to fake voice. "How about hunky?"

Monica contemplated her reply for a few seconds and smirked. "How about dorky?"

"How about I'm going to leave you alone with these dishes in a minute."

Monica glanced over at Chandler and shared a teasing smile as she continued rinsing out a glass. "Is Joey really going to turn the heat up now in your apartment whenever you have a party?"

"Or whenever any girls are over. You and Rach may want to avoid our place for the next few weeks until that idea goes away."

Monica shook her head and chuckled as she handed Chandler the last dish. He dried it and placed it down on the rack and then tossed the towel over his shoulder.

He turned around and leaned on the counter, folding his arms and looking at Monica. His expression going from sarcastic to sincere. "I was thinking, why don't you let me tip the paper guy for you?"

Monica scoffed. "I'm not some charity case…or…you know…Joey."

Chandler silently chucked and nodded.

Monica stepped around the kitchen table and leaned against the back of the couch. "Besides, the cookies were a success. They worked with Treeger. I'm sure the others will come around."

"I don't know if one out of three should be considered a success story."

Monica looked down sheepishly. "Well, more like one out of five."

Chandler shot her an exaggerated, incredulous look. "Five?"

Monica shot Chandler an embarrassed, crooked smile. "I may not be welcome at the hair salon anymore."

Chandler covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle some cutting remark or poorly timed joke at her expense. "Just let me help you out."

Monica shook her head, "No! I don't need any help. I'll be fine. We will be fine!"

Chandler looked around the empty apartment and stepped over towards her as he searched his brain for some way to convince Monica to accept his help.

"You know, it'll actually help me if you let me do it."

Monica eyed him suspiciously as she folded her arms. "How exactly?"

"Well, if every paper you get for the next few weeks gets turned into confetti, then you'll just start taking ours and I won't get to read the paper until Rachel gets done with it…so…that means, I'll never get to read the paper."

Monica narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his newfound excuse. "We're not going to take your paper."

"Yes, you will! And you'll mark up the want ads looking for a job. Rachel will mess up the crossword puzzle. I'll never see the lifestyle section again. It'll be chaos. I'm just trying to restore order here."

Monica shot him a doubting look. "The lifestyle section?"

"I like to read about...lifestyle stuff." Chandler bounced his head side to side trying to figure out what that meant. "Okay, maybe I don't know what's in the lifestyle section. But I'd still like the option to find out."

Monica smiled as her features began to soften. "All right. If it means that much to you, I guess I can do you that favor."

Chandler wrinkled his brow. "The favor of letting me tip the paper guy for you?" He couldn't help but lace the question with his sarcastic tone.

Monica shot him a pair of bulging eyes, and Chandler raised his hands in surrender. "No, you're right. It would be a huge favor." He chuckled to himself and placed the towel on the back of a chair at the kitchen table.

Chandler then looked at the Christmas tree. The living room lights were low, and the night sky through the window behind it created the perfect backdrop. The lights on the tree twinkled and caused the garland and ornaments to shine like a river of diamonds running alone a green sea. The room no longer smelled like it had been packed with hot, sweaty bodies, and now was enveloped in the scent of pine and cinnamon. And in this moment, here alone with Monica well after midnight, it finally felt like Christmas. He would have almost started to hum a Christmas Carol if he didn't think it would draw some joke from Monica. Or wake Rachel up. Instead, he stepped towards the tree and tilted his head as he inspected the decorations.

"I think your star is crooked."

"That's impossible. I put the star up. I don't put up crooked stars." Monica followed him over to the tree, slightly affronted by him, until she took a closer look. "Oh no, you're right! It is crooked! Has it been like that all night? I bet everyone at the party was talking about it!"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Yes, the place was like a sauna, and everyone was in their underwear, but the real center of attention was the star being crooked."

Monica made a mocking face at him as her only retort.

Chandler decides to hold his tongue instead of making more jokes at her expense. "Well, I don't think it was crooked when we decorated. Maybe the heat made the tree wilt or something." Chandler reached up and straightened out the star, looking over at Monica for approval. She nodded, letting him know it looked good and he stepped back placing his arm around her shoulder. Monica instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist and the two of them looked at the tree in silence for a few minutes. Almost as a meditation. Exhaling out the chaos of the day and letting the magic of Christmas in the city was over them.

Chandler looked down and broke the silence, speaking softly. "So, you and Ross going to your mom and dad's tomorrow?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm going to Joey's for dinner with his family."

Monica nodded. "You aren't going to see your mom? Where is she going to be?"

"I don't know, but I imagine it is somewhere sandy with a tanned 20-something cover model and a lot of drinks with those little umbrellas in them."

Monica looked down and smiled at his joking tone. Chandler looked around the room one more time. "I guess I'll get going, unless you need help with something else."

"No. I'm good."

They walked over into the kitchen and Monica stopped him, leaning up and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Chandler gently rubbed at his cheek and smiled as he looked down at her. "That better not be because I'm sweet."

Monica couldn't help but chuckle at his stubborn resistance to that word. "Well, it definitely wasn't because you're foxy." She then gestured up with her head, nodding at the hanging green plant from the ceiling. "Mistletoe."

Chandler looked up and nodded. He then frowned. "You mean there were women in here, in their underwear, drinking, and you had mistletoe?"

Monica started to push him towards the door. "Get out of here before you get any more ideas in your head about what kind of party this was."

Chandler opened the door and then turned back to face Monica. "Merry Christmas."

Monica hesitated and let herself bask for a moment in the sincerity of his tone. "Merry Christmas."

Chandler then offered her a crooked smile. "You and Rachel weren't in your underwear too by any chance, were you?"

Monica rolled her eyes emphatically as he ruined the moment and gave Chandler one more playful shove, pushing him out into the hallway. "Good night!"

A/N – I want to start writing (and reading) again, and I have been banging how to start back up again for a while. I feel like I needed to sort of work these muscles out a little before I tackled some of my unfinished stories, so I thought of a little scene taking place after the end of "TOW Phoebe's Dad". It's a silly little nothing of a chapter, but like I said, I need to get back in "writing Mondler" shape before I can do anything more substantial.