Rachel stood at the dining table and opened the mystery letter with her name on it.
Dear Rachel,
You have been the brave one. You left behind a comfortable life, a life you knew, and one that would have continued in country clubs and high rises. You took a job waitressing, and when you were fed up, you worked your way into a fashion career.
The bottom line is, you are damn impressive.
The first piece of your gift is waiting at your first New York job, Central Perk.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa L
Her face flushed bright red, the paper innocent and unidentifiable in her hands. She flipped it over, looking for a clue. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but then she didn't really think she could recognize any of her friends' handwriting. If she had to guess, she'd say one of the boys.
She was smiling like an absolute idiot after reading the paper.
She looked around the apartment sneakily, as if someone invisible would judge her, before sliding the envelope into her bag, careful not to crease the edges.
She checked the time and walked down to the coffee shop.
She had expected her secret santa to be sitting in the ring of her friends at their usual table holding a gift, but her friends weren't there. Their usual spot was filled with strangers when she arrived.
She hesitated in the middle of the shop but, to her surprise, Gunther seemed to be expecting her. He handed her a hot chocolate to go and another note.
Part of her deflated a bit. This was a pretty small Christmas gift. In fact, if they'd only spent 3 on her, she was going to have serious qualms about the friendship.
She tried to ask Gunther about the giver, but he pretended not to hear her. She glared at the traitor before reading, slowly sipping her hot cocoa. It was delicious.
Dear Rachel,
Here is a hot chocolate to keep you warm on your way to your next destination.
You're brave, as we've established, but I haven't been. I hope you don't mind if I protect my identity a little longer.
You're also beautiful. Head to Bloomingdale's for your next gift. Give your name to the clerk Emily.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa O
Rachel's heart skipped. She absolutely knew this had to be Monica or Phoebe. The whole letter set up was surprising, but who else would send her to Bloomingdale's? Ross? Ch-? she cut the name off before it finished and her heart stuttered, but the idea stuck in her mind.
She pondered that idea and studied the New York landscape as the taxi drove her through the city. Her eyes watered and it wasn't entirely the pungent cologne of her driver.
She had to admit it to herself. She was regretting their breakup.
She had been right about things needing to change when they'd split up, the secret emotionally crippled her, but maybe she shouldn't have shot down his desperate suggestion to tell everyone.
She tried to clear her head, he'd never brought the idea up again. Not that she'd given him much of a chance. She was afraid he hated her, but…
…Could this be him?
When she found the store clerk, the girl brought out a series of beautiful coats, three to choose from. Rachel fingered a particular cream one with a silk lining that reminded her of a certain set of piercing blue eyes. She ran fingers down the burgundy and black, but settled on the white, loving the creamy feel against her skin.
The clerk told Rachel she was encouraged by her Secret Santa to wear the coat out.
The clerk must have done something while removing the tags because Rachel felt an envelope in the pocket she hadn't felt before.
Dear Rachel,
You're bundled now. That's another thing you are, warm like sunlight. I hope you like the coat.
Speaking of sunlight, a florist shop is your next stop.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa V
Rachel smiled. A business card fell out of the envelope, and she realized it was within walking distance. She finished her hot chocolate, dropping it into a Bloomingdale's trash bin as she left.
She couldn't help but smile in her new coat, even as she tried not to hope, not to think that this was happening. Fighting the urge to run, she slid the letter in alongside the other two in her bag, careful with the delicate paper covered in neat penmanship.
She reminded herself of all the reasons she had to be wary, but her heart sang too loudly for her doubts.
The florist handed her a simple arrangement of Red lilies when she arrived, something that melted Rachel's heart. Lilies were her favorite. A card is tucked in the bouquet.
Dear Rachel,
Come meet me at the best lunch spot in the city, where we explored something special in a private gazebo.
It's my turn to be brave.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Santa E
LOVE. Love.
Now she was running. She ran to hail a cab, musing her hair and the flowers in the process. When she arrived to the super exclusive restaurant, she was almost turned away by security before she collected herself enough to convince them she wasn't a crazy woman on the run. Once they took in her clothing beneath the frazzled exterior, they let her stay.
They took her to a gazebo, and there behind the columns, beneath the vines, Chandler stood.
A dam broke and tears flooded down her cheeks.
"Oh," he said, sounding surprised. He stepped toward her uncertainly.
"What," she sniffed into the jacket, hiccuping, "is, this?"
"I," he spread his arms on either side of himself, "I'm being brave. Rachel, I love you. I want to be with you. I want to sing it from the rooftops, including the rooftops of everyone we love." He took a deep breath. "I told Ross that I'm in love and planning to ask you out. I'll tell him and everyone about our previous secret relationship as well if that's something you'd be open to, because I don't care what anyone else thinks. Life without you, it's unacceptable."
He stepped forward. Her hands had fallen to her sides, and he clasped the one not holding the bouquet, raising it to his lips.
She inhaled shakily when his soft lips touched her, knees weakening, heart galloping. His blue eyes, his face, his smell, his shoulders, his long golden limbs, they were all so close it didn't feel real.
The tears were flowing openly. When she pushed forward, into the circle of his arms, he let her, his body warm and flush against her, his smell familiar and delicious. He traced a thumb over her cheek, wiping tears and making low, comforting noises.
She buried her head into his chest, crying all over the fabric, but he didn't seem to mind.
"I have to tell you something," she croaked out, voice muffled against him.
"Yeah?" he asked, humor in his voice.
"I'm pregnant."
"Right," he said, and he released her. She was shocked when he turned away.
This was her worst fear, he was leaving. He headed back into the gazebo which, if he was leaving her, wouldn't make much sense. She frowned, peering through the darkness, and saw him shuffling something large around.
He eventually gave up on moving whatever it was and waved her over. She mounted the wooden steps skeptically, completely baffled by this reaction until she saw the object he was displaying with a large smile on his face.
Her mouth opened with a "pop."
It was a bassinet.
Now she leapt into his arms, and he caught her, handling her gently because he knew. He knew she was pregnant already.
Later, they'd laugh about how he'd found out, the sonogram plucked from its pocket by the winter wind. They'd laugh about the production of it all when he'd been unable to move the bassinet, but when Rachel laughed, it would be rooted in pure amazement. How could she possibly have been this lucky?
"I love you, I missed you so much," she admitted, pressing her cheek to his, tangling her arms over his shoulders. He pulled back, looking into her eyes while she talked, though her gaze kept dropping. "I wouldn't see you in person because every time I did, I missed you so badly I couldn't breathe. I was already pregnant by Thanksgiving, I think hormones contributed to how broken I felt in the whole situation without me knowing it. I should have heard you out when you said you wanted to tell. I shouldn't have let my feelings-"
"No, hey," Chandler cupped her face in his large hands, thumbs wiping her tears as she nuzzled into them. "You, my love," they both smiled a little at the term of endearment, "are forgiven already. And you had every right to feel how you felt. I should have noticed it before that night. You were so unhappy but I didn't-"
Now it was her turn to cut him off. She did so with a kiss. It was soft, gentle, loving, and chaste compared to their track record, but it left them both a little breathless.
"Forgiven already. It's not your fault. We just need to both improve our communication."
He chuckled, and she felt the rumble of his laughter in her chest, against her skin, and she snuggled against him. She wanted to soak the laughter into herself, keep a piece of it to pull out and listen to on dark or rainy days.
Finally everything was right. She was in his arms and she was home.
Her stomach growled loudly, interrupting them.
"Time for lunch?" he asked. She pulled back and grinned up at him.
"I'll pay."
~0~0~0~
Chandler woke with a happy bubble in his chest and a warm body beside him, tangled in Egyptian cotton and askew pillows. He kicked a red thong off his toes. They'd been busy last night. He traced his hand and eyes over her silhouette, down the dip of her waist, up the curve of her hip.
Rachel was in his arms again. Where she belonged.
He curled into her small body, arm and leg thrown possessively over her, his head pressed between her shoulder blades.
"Morning," he murmured, lips trailing over her shoulder, her spine, nipping the base of her neck. She shivered.
He'd shown they belonged to each other, to anyone who cared to know. Including Rachel. It had been the best month of his life, with her openly in his bed, eating breakfast in pjs at his place with Joey, or him bugging Monica at night when he used her toothpaste on accident.
Well, Rachel had been a little distracted when he'd asked her where hers was.
He smiled a bit at that memory.
Chandler continued to spread goosebumps as his mouth moved up, settling behind her ear. They were both naked, how Chandler preferred it.
If Joey and Monica were growing tired of all the makeup sex, Rachel certainly wasn't.
He nipped and mouthed at her ear, pulling a pleasant sigh from the angel beside him with his teeth as she stretched and rolled, golden skin and hair and limbs arching. His cock fit snuggly in the cleft of her ass, and she obligingly rocked back against him.
The upper half of herself rolled toward him, blue eyes sparkling happily, hair tangled around her head like a halo. Her body was glistening, full and narrow and perfect.
"Someone's happy," she ground over him, emphasizing her point. He hissed at the sensation, digging fingers into her hips
"Not as happy as you're about to be," he said teasingly.
"Promises, promises," she said, feigning disinterest while spreading her legs wider.
Chandler ran his hand lightly down her waist, her hips, gripping a cheek of her ass, before pressing into her inner thigh. He spread her thighs and let one of his own slide between hers, pressing up and providing friction where she was needy for it. She gasped when one of his fingers circled lazily around her clit.
His other hand stroked up the front of her body, rough hands cupping her thighs, her waist, her breast, thumb tracing along the underside of her nipple before flicking and pinching, coaxing several shuddery moans from her. His mouth lathered her neck.
Rachel reached an arm back, gripping his hair. She found her pleasure on his thigh, and also angled her hips to brush her tight ass over his length.
He groaned, bowing his head into her shoulder and biting.
Noting his reaction, and that his hands were continuing their slow, torturous pace at her nipple and clit, Rachel growled and reached down, taking him in her hand.
When she teased her thumb over his head, he moaned and flipped her so that she was pinned beneath him. She smirked up, victorious, until he trapped her arms over her head with one hand.
She looked up at him with a mischievous glint, but that was all going to change soon.
He mouthed down her jaw and over her shoulder, each breast, leaving marks and shivers in his wake while she tried to arch and press herself further into him.
"Please," she breathed.
He smiled into her naval, his free hand moving down to continue teasing her. She moaned trying to get more friction, hips bucking wildly at his teasing.
"Do you think this will be enough?" he asked, pressing into her with a finger. She gasped and pushed down on him, groaning as his thumb applied pressure to her clit, and he worked another two fingers into her, curling and twisting until she screamed.
"Fuck, please!" she finally cried. She turned her head, seeking something, and when she only found the pillow beside her, she bit into the cotton, arching and growling underneath him.
"Please what?" he murmured against her skin, looking up at her watering eyes. He ached at the sight. She was gazing down at him, hazy with lust and want, her expression open and broken and wanton.
"Please, more… I need you in me," she whispered.
He growled, and as she arched, he slid home, locking them both together.
She was sunshine, pure warmth and light beneath him. Her blue eyes closed, she bit her pink lips, turning them red, tears escaped at the corners of her eyes, and he bent down to kiss them away before looking her over again. She looked a mess beneath him.
It was alright. He was a mess above her.
He freed her arms in favor of sliding his hand into her hair, pulling almost all the way out and slamming his hips into hers. He licked into her open mouth, invitingly, groaning at her moans, her eagerness to return his kiss, giving licks and bites into his own mouth.
She widened her legs for him, clamping her thighs tight around his hips.
Her hands traced the lines of his chest and body, nails digging down his back and up into his hair. A hand stayed there, petting and pulling in turn, while Rachel keened below him, the other drifting to graze lightly over his lower back, fingers running like a whisper along his spine.
He would never get tired of her sounds. God.
The rhythm increased as he bowed over her, and he enjoyed the closeness. Her smell, flowers and honey, filled him. Her wet lips and skin were sticky sweet.
He sat back on his heels, taking Rachel up with him, pressing her naked flesh to his chest and stomach. She cried out at the new angle.
Her soft skin was warm and pliable. He massaged her hips between his hands, drawing her down on him again and again as she shuddered, clenching around him. He captured her mouth, driving up in intensity, one hand straying to her clit to press, while the other held her against him, fingers biting into flesh.
Her blue eyes met his, pupils blown wide, and he watched her fall apart a second time. He pumped her through the orgasm, trying to keep himself from falling apart until she dropped forward, languid and liquid against him.
He dropped her so her shoulders were on the mattress and her hips were angled up toward him, kissing her deeply while he drove his hips. Her eyes flew open and she cried out beautifully as another, weaker orgasm crashed through her on top of her last one. He gave a last few thrusts and released into her, until they both fell back over into the bed. She was on his chest, hair mused, sleepy, looking adorable. He smiled and nuzzled up into her face, earning him a few pecks and finally a gentle, tender kiss.
The urgency from earlier was gone, but this was better.
"I love you," she said, and his world made sense.
"I love you," he said, and her world was right.
"Do you love me a lot?" she asked, resting her chin on one of her hands.
"Yes," he said, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
"Enough to bring us coffee? And bagels?"
He sighed beleaguered sigh before flipping her into the mattress and crushing his face into her shoulder, blowing while she squealed.
"Of course," he finally said. He kissed her nose and left the room to grab breakfast, throwing on sweats.
This was perfect, he thought, absolutely perfect.
~Fin~
Final A/N: Thank you everyone who read this far!! I appreciate you all so much, with special shout out if you've been here since 2018 when this story began. This was my first fanfic I ever posted, and it feels surreal to have published the final chapter. The story is far from perfect, but I've loved sharing it with y'all. Double fisting dayquil finally got us there! It's bittersweet to say goodbye after so long.
It was a real life event that prompted me to publish our couple's happy ending as soon as I possibly could, because my need for their fictional happiness was higher than my need to tweak and edit until I was satisfied. My heart goes out to Matthew Perry's family and loved ones. I hope for some of my readers, this provided a little comfort or escape. That was the goal for myself.
Wishing all of you the best, and a surprise 20 in your pocket See y'all in another corner of the internet.