AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies if this chapter felt too introspective! I promise the next chapter will have a lot more Mondler content! But again, love isnt gonna come easy for these two lol. Enjoy!

Finally, for the first time in his life, Chandler is able to wake up in the morning and tell himself: what a joyous day to be alive!

He's learnt to appreciate the little things in life; such as the golden sun on his skin, the smell of grass after a rainy day, or the face Monica makes when she falls asleep– all great things that make him realise that life is worth living. This friends-with-benefits thing has been working wonders for both his and Monica's wellbeing. Being free from the responsibilities of a serious relationship but having sex available to you at any time? You couldn't ask for more!

Pretty quickly, however, the rules they set in place to keep everything running smoothly came undone. At a certain point, their hunger for each other became too strong to ignore. Chandler would make up lies to Joey about having to get something he forgot at his office, only to run across the hall when Rachel was gone and meet with Monica. Their quick and messy sessions now had order and coordination. They were both fast learners, and had become experts on what made the other feel good. While Chandler worried about constantly running out for long periods of time, his desire for Monica's touch was too strong to resist. It's safe to say that Monica probably felt the same way too, because she eventually overcame her fears of storage rooms and public restrooms, opening their canvas to the whole world.

And the longer this continued, the sloppier they got with keeping up their facade. The two would join their friends in Central Perk together at the same time on multiple occasions, which sprung a lot of questions from everyone else. Their excuse was always the same: "We're neighbours, we always come from the same place!". They were the luckiest people in the world, because very quickly, the conversation shifted to somebody else's problem of the day. So they could sit down, drink their coffee, and giggle when no one noticed Chandler's hastily done tie or Monica's unkempt hair.

They were always sure to avoid cuddling or any non-sexual touch on the nights they spent together, because that was a boyfriend thing, and Chandler is no boyfriend. That is until one early morning, when he wakes up to find Monica's arm curled around his, and he doesn't have the heart to push her off. Her pale, warm skin trumped the softest of blankets, and he found himself wishing to be wrapped in her skin even when they weren't having sex. These embraces became a regular part of their routine– but this was the bleeding Chandler was worried about. Becoming too intimate in a way friends normally weren't. As a tradeoff, he began sitting farther away from Monica in public.

Their most important rule remained fully intact– sort of. They promised each other that their sex had absolutely no strings attached, and the unbound friends were free to explore the people of New York; but in the time that they've begun this arrangement, neither party found a date. Neither party seemed to make any sort of attempt to do so. Chandler walks by Elaine's cubicle every day to get to his office, and she always gives him the same melancholic smile of a girl who never received her long awaited call. There was absolutely no reason for this lack of a call other than he simply didn't want to, is that so wrong? His sexual desires were being satisfied by Monica already, there was no need for a relationship. Sure, he misses the comfort of romance, but that wasn't something he required. That's what he tells himself, at least.

The truth is a bit more complicated: simply put, no other girl could compare to Monica. If he dated someone new, he'd have to go through the whole process of getting to know them and growing that close bond before taking things more seriously– and that was assuming they had good chemistry past the first date. Monica knew him better than anyone else, loved him longer than anyone else, and offered the sexual perks that come with a relationship without expecting any of the deeper aspects– it was easy. After the hardships Chandler has gone through in the dating scene, he needed easy. It's funny, because at any point in time, Monica could end their partnership and pursue a real romance. The one thing she lacked was the security that came with official relationships, yet he never felt the fear of infidelity that became so familiar to him; like somewhere in his mind, he knows she won't leave him. Not harshly, anyway. Maybe it's the idea that even if she got her own boyfriend, she'd still be in his life as a friend. Her presence alone is all he really needs, probably.

So until he has the fairytale romance moment of love at first sight, he sees no point in moving on from Monica.

He's been ignoring the horror stories that came with pursuing sexual relationships with friends. Monica and him were probably the closest a man and a woman could get outside of a relationship– it would take something horrific to ruin what they have. Yes, their initial hookup drove them apart for weeks, but they were smarter now. They know what they're doing. And their friendship was no different than before– another thing he tells himself.

It's what he repeats in his mind when he's sitting in the purple-walled apartment with all of the girls, and his eyes are stuck on only Monica.

Phoebe sat on the arm chair, explaining the situation with her and the mysterious sound in her apartment that's been tormenting her. A constant beeping coming from who knows where. Chandler sat in between the residents of apartment 20 on the big white couch, who were explaining to the blonde why she must get it checked out.

"Phoebe, what if it's your fire alarm? You have to make sure it's not broken!" Monica insisted. In the time that she and Phoebe lived together, there were many close moments involving Phoebe and a body of fire that could have burned their apartment down. The only way she could sleep at night is knowing that Phoebe has something to protect her from those flames.

"But, I mean, it's not entirely the worst thing in the world. It's kind of like a fun little metronome. Great for guitar!" Phoebe justified.

Monica let out a deep sigh, sinking back into the couch. "One of you take her. I'm tired."

Like a guardian angel coming for her rescue, Ross entered the unlocked apartment and waved hello to everyone. He walked over to Rachel on the couch and gave her a quick kiss, before turning to see that there was not enough space for him on the cushions.

"Hey, Chandler, scootch over."

"Why?"

"Um, because I want to sit with my lovely girlfriend?"

Chandler looked to his left where Monica sat, worry in his eyes. Despite having explored every inch of her body by now, the thought of sitting so close to her felt foreign. It had been a long time since their bodies pressed against each other in a non-sexual context, and he can't remember how to handle himself in that scenario. He declined Ross' demand, explaining that he'd be squeezing into Monica if he were to move any more.

Rachel had a problem with his excuse. "Oh, please! You two always stack on top of eachother like Jenga."

Which was entirely true, and for the first time in history he curses his close bond with Monica. After seconds of his eyes darting between every person in the room, and landing on the woman on his left who had never looked more confused in her life, he reluctantly slid closer next to her, making room for Ross.

It wasn't a tight space by any means, but Chandler felt out of breath. All of a sudden he can't recall what was normal and what wasn't. Is it fine for him to put his arm around her for comfort? Did he usually stare longingly at her when she talked? If he leans into her side to laugh, would anyone question it? They had set so many rules for their sexual relationship, but if only there were some guide on Male-Female friendship he could follow.

As Rachel filled her boyfriend in on Phoebe's situation, Monica whispered to Chandler. With so little space between them, it really felt like they were alone. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Never been better!" He croaked.

Her pensive expression made him nervous, because if there was one thing Chandler hated, it was having to explain himself.

This whole thing has been about their needs. Never about whatever connection they have or however being together might make them feel, but simply their wants and desires. Keeping themselves satisfied in the downtime between relationships. However, there has to be more than that. What exactly did Monica want? She has always been the yin to his yang; where Chandler was afraid of commitment, Monica yearned for it. They were polar opposites when it came to the dating scene, their only similarity being their failures– but even then, they are fundamentally different. It's Chandler's blatant flaws and fears that keep him from sustaining romance, but Monica? She was perfect. The only thing stopping her is some sort of karmic misfortune.

So how is it that the girl who's number one dream is to get married and have children, is in the least romantic partnership with a man who stayed far away from those specific goals? What was Monica getting out of this besides sexual satisfaction? Well, maybe that's all it is. They explicitly stated there would be nothing else; but how is she okay with it all? She's always complained about men who use her for her body, but was Chandler any different?

Interrupting his dreadful train of thought, Monica whispered another question. "What are you doing with your hands?"

Without realising, Chandler's arms were tucked in between his crossed legs; an unconscious attempt in keeping himself far from Monica. He treated her warm skin like lava, afraid of the burns he'd face if he even graced her arm. There was no guarantee that if Chandler was close enough, he wouldn't try to kiss her again. Hopefully no one else noticed his constant shifting in his seat– to the unknowing eye, it might just look like he really needs to go to the bathroom.

"Okay, okay, fine! I'll get it checked out! But if you see me living in a cardboard box sometime this week, know that it's your fault!" Phoebe cried, folding her arms and turning her face away like a tantrum-throwing child.

"Pheebs, you're really over-estimating how expensive it'll be to get your apartment checked." Ross attempted to rationalise.

"Well, not all of us get your dinosaur cheques." Phoebe muttered under her breath, just quiet enough to be unintelligible to Ross. He turned to Rachel for translation, but she simply shrugged and kissed his cheek, figuring it'd be better to leave the conversation behind. Then, she turned to the squirming boy on the couch.

"And Chandler, what's wrong with you?" Rachel spoke in an almost harsh tone, because it's a question she's had to ask a lot in the recent months. As his friend, she has a duty to inquire about his well being, but it gets tiring at a certain point.

He didn't need to be looking at her to tell, but Monica shifted in her seat to face him and observe just how he'd answer that question for the audience. The slight movement of her arm electrified his body; somehow, every touch with her felt like the very first one.

Abruptly, Phoebe saved Chandler from any sort of explanation. She jumped out of the arm chair and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him out of his seat on the couch and flailing Chandler around like a flag in the wind behind her. "Chandler! You'll come look at my apartment! Save me some money!"

Without a chance to protest, she dragged him out of the apartment and into the hallway. Phoebe let go of her unreasonably tight grip on his arm, which now had a red mark.

"Ow, ow, ow? What was that?" He winced.

Phoebe squinted at him, scanning every part of his body. The sweat that dripped from his pores, the heavy breathing evident from his chest, the frantic and worried look in his eyes. She pointed to the door behind them, then swung her finger towards Chandler in one dramatic motion. "I know what's going on between you two!"

It's like a bomb went off– no, like a volcano erupted– no, something somehow even louder rang in his head. Phoebe had always been weirdly intuitive and supposedly psychic, but how could she have figured it out? He and Monica haven't been as careful as they were initially, sure, but they still covered their tracks well. Nothing could have been big enough for Phoebe to connect the dots and discover their secret– unless, Chandler being so close with Monica just now tipped her off that they had a new type of relationship; or maybe he was too far, and the lack of the casual touch they usually shared was sign enough that something was wrong. God, why can't Chandler remember how to sit with his own friend!?

Say something. Something. Anything! Anything is better than nothing! Nothing is more suspicious than silence!

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about you and Monica! For weeks, there was this weird tension between you guys! It was so thick I could cut it with a knife! No, you know what? I can't even cut it with a knife! It would just get stuck!"

"Clever metaphor, Pheebs." Chandler inched back, trying to escape to his own apartment in the most natural way possible. Suddenly, the distance between the two doors felt like several football fields.

But Phoebe wasn't going to let him get away. She took a step forward, "You're avoiding my question, which means something."

Entirely true, bravo to her for figuring that out.

Before he could come up with a defence, Phoebe continued speaking. A big, knowing smile on her face as if she were about to crack the case wide open. "You two got into a huge fight, didn't you? You had a big, messy argument and now you won't even sit near her!"

Relief rained over Chandler like a waterfall, because frankly, Phoebe was a couple stages behind. Now, he had two options; he could continue to deny these accusations, only to let them pile up until Phoebe caught on and figured out the real truth– or he could take this new opportunity that's been presented with him and run with it. The latter sounded a lot more fun.

Putting on his best sorrowful expression, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I can't believe it. Is it that obvious?"

"Aha!" Phoebe exclaimed. Her glee was instantly replaced with mournful curiosity. "Why? What happened?"

He did not plan that far ahead. Would it kill him to ever think for more than two seconds before making a decision? With no time to ponder over his own uselessness, he gives the most vague description he can think of. "Ohh, it's a long story, really. I said something I shouldn't have and now she won't speak to me."

"That's so weird– you guys seemed a lot more talkative recently."

So she's noticed that they've made up, but still came to the conclusion that something was wrong with them? It's a blessing to every criminal in the world that Phoebe didn't work in the police force. "That…is true! Because we didn't want to worry anyone! But my dearest Phoebe, you see right through us."

With one eyebrow raised, Phoebe took a moment to contemplate. The longer Chandler stared into her eyes, trying to find her thought process and follow along with it, the more his head hurt. This was a rare moment for Phoebe– seconds passing where the eccentric blonde did absolutely nothing. A blank face that you'd rarely see from a girl who never got tired of smiling. She just stood there, thinking over his words, and possibly how she's going to announce their secret to the whole world.

Instead, her eyes filled with worry. A culpable frown tugged at her once confident lips; she had been correct, but that wasn't a good thing. "What could you have possibly said that you're still on bad terms?"

"Look, Phoebe, it's personal– but we'll figure it out. Don't worry so much."

It's a bit difficult having to keep up all these different ruses; first Chandler had to pretend that Monica wasn't upset with him and now he has to pretend that she was. He's sick of having to tip-toe around his friends, carefully picking his words so as to not reveal their private affair or rouse any suspicion; Chandler sucks at that! His mouth always moves faster than his brain, how could he trust himself to not mess up and say something that was contradictory? Or incriminating? Or the straight up truth, as a flag of surrender?

Thankfully, his answer seemed to be enough for Phoebe.

"Well, then I hope you work it out. And quickly– I don't want to have two Christmases!" She said with a smile, before leaving the hallway to truly return to her own apartment.

Chandler re-entered the girls' apartment, the conversation slowly quieting down as everyone turned to the boy at the door with questioning looks. Monica was the first to speak.

"That was awfully quick?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah– she's a runner, that one". Chandler sat down in the arm-chair, feeling much more comfortable now that there was good distance between him and Monica. "We never did figure out what that sound is, though."

Rachel's skin went pale, before speaking in a quiet and shaky voice. "You don't think…her place is…haunted?"

"Oh, come on! You can't be listening to Phoebe's ghost stories!" Ross reprimanded. He put one arm around his girlfriend, bringing her close and rubbing her side for comfort. Rachel seemed to have been spending a little too much time with Phoebe recently.

While the couple had their quiet, intimate moment on the couch, Chandler and Monica were having their own silent interaction. She raised her eyebrows, which Chandler recognized as her way of asking one more time if he was alright. He nodded, but in all honesty, he had his doubts.

The most appealing thing about their friends-with-benefits situation was its simplicity, but now they're setting all these specific rules and jumping through hoops to not get caught. It was starting to affect the way he perceived Monica too, finding it nearly impossible to contain himself when he's near her. He was addicted to all of this, to her. Was it true that she was his best friend's little sister? Yeah. Was it true that he was sabotaging Monica's dreams of commitment? Absolutely. Was it true that had they not been two damaged people incapable of holding a proper relationship, they would never dream of even kissing each other? Sure. All of these things are true, but when they're playing footsies under the table and relish in the thrill of secrecy, the rush of excitement washes away all those other factors. Every thought he has of putting an end to this arrangement immediately disappears when she's undressing him, replaced with wonders of why they hadn't done this sooner.

It's okay. They're smart people. They can handle this. They've been handling this. This is only the beginning, and once they get more used to this, he'll feel perfectly comfortable sitting next to her again. He can control his sexual thoughts. Their friendship will stay fully intact, as if nothing ever happened between them. It's just another thing he'll need to tell himself: everything will be okay.