One-Shot: Good Talk
"Well... I've never done that with you before!" Chandler Bing chuckled awkwardly. He couldn't look at the lovely face of his best friend, sitting up in the bed they had shared last night, the covers pulled up to nearly her neck, covering the swell of her bare breasts.
Monica shook her head. "Nope." She popped the 'P' in the word, and Chandler nearly groaned. He could still feel how he captured that full and bottom lip of hers between his teeth last night, as they'd writhed against each other.
As... as they'd...
"So: how - how are you?"
"Fine!" Monica chirped. "You?"
"Oh, yes! You?"
Their eyes finally met, as she sent him a bemused look, and he flushed. "We did you..." he mumbled.
To his surprise, Monica smirked. "Damn right you did."
Those words nearly caused him to pitch a tent in the bedclothes. The sight of her looking all mussed and her cheeks rouged like that... had he done that?...
Monica was still smiling, but before Chandler could break the silence with something, anything, she replied to his last question, as if he hadn't just asked it of her twice in the last as many minutes.
"I feel...wonderful!" she bubbled, her beaming grin breathless and exhilarated.
Chandler stared at her. "R-really...?"
"Mm-hmm," Monica bobbed her head eagerly. Her expression now grew thoughtful, almost solemn. Wordlessly, she shifted under the covers, swinging a creamy thigh over Chandler's hips as she moved to straddle him. He choked, whimpered.
"Monica..."
"Ssssssh..." She sultrily dropped a finger to his lips. She replaced it with her own mouth a moment later, moving on to kiss his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. His mouth once more.
"Monica..." Chandler grunted, baffled. "What are...?"
"We need to talk..." Monica murmured into his skin, lathering his pulse point with her lips and causing it to race.
Chandler chuckled. "Don't you think maybe we'd stand a better chance of talking if you weren't...?" He cleared his throat. "Not that I'm complaining."
He felt her nod against his neck and she halted in her worship of him, sitting up and back. Biting her bottom lip adorably, she appeared quite contemplative - an odd descriptor, considering she was currently astride him in a suggestive manner that usually didn't require that much thought at all.
Monica began slowly, breathlessly, her lashes fluttering under lidded eyes. "When we get home..."
At those four little words, Chandler felt his heart sink. Howl. Honestly, though, he should have seen this coming. Better prepared himself for it. After all, this had all the trappings of a one-night stand. Monica had been half-drunk, for heaven's sake! Why shouldn't things look clearer in the morning with a sober head?
"... I'm staying with you."
Chandler started. His cock gave a sort of jump, brushing against Monica's wetness and he nearly let out a hiss. What did she mean by 'staying with him'? Did... did she want to move in? He had to keep his face from blanching as he caught a whiff of what sounded to his ears like commitment. Even if that wasn't what was making him afraid, how was she supposed to 'stay with him', logistically speaking? Would Joey have to move out? He didn't know how his roommate would take that, even if he understood the reasoning: sex. Lots and lots of sex, oh please God...
Monica was worrying her bottom lip, and looking so cute and stressed that Chandler just wanted to kiss that mouth right off. He swallowed, hard. "What do you mean, Mon?"
She exhaled a long breath. She was still enthroned on his lap, and it was torture - all Chandler wanted to do was shift his burning erection just a little bit and plunge into her warmth once more. "I mean... when we get home, I want to keep this..." She pointed shyly between herself and Chandler. "You and me... going."
This had to be a dream. Hell, last night had to have been one impossible dream, and he just hadn't woken up from it yet. Chandler felt his heart hammering in his chest, both from terror and elation all at once. It sure sounded like she was advocating for a... a...
It was almost too much to take, and all Chandler could think to say was "Why?"
"Why?!" Monica threw back her head and laughed.
Chandler blushed and dumbly nodded his head. Monica beamed down at him, coquettish. There was something sparkling in her sapphire eyes that Chandler had seen before, but never known quite how to name until now:
Love.
"Because... Last night... Being with you was the best sex I've ever had in my entire life!" She croaked raspily at the end, as if she was trying to stave off emotion.
Chandler giggled - actually giggled! - a little, stunned and pleased with himself. "Really...?"
"Yes!" Monica laughed, actually through... were those tears?...
"But... but we only did it..."
"Seven times!" Monica chuckled, and she fanned herself. "I know."
"And... and that's enough for..."
"For me to know? Uh... yeah!" Monica huffed through another chuckle. "For God's sake, Chandler, this is pillow talk, not a sample size!"
The words sample size made Chandler think of scientists, and scientists made him think of...
Ross. At the thought of how close her brother had come to walking in on them in bed together, Chandler went a little pale. Sensing where his thoughts were going, Monica shook her head.
"I don't care what Ross has to say about it."
She was lying; he knew it. "I think you do," Chandler countered. "Hell, I certainly care!"
Monica smiled down at him. "That is so sweet..." She combed her fingers through his bronze hair. "But this has nothing to do with my brother."
"Doesn't it? I mean, God, honey, we did it at his..."
Monica snorted. "So did at least half a dozen other couples, probably!" Pursing her lips pensively, she finally shifted off of where she'd been practically in Chandler's lap. The couple turned to face each other.
Chandler ogled her. Glancing down, Monica flushed and, realizing she was flashing him, started to pull the bedclothes back up to nearly her chin...
... but then she stopped and let them fall away once more. Chandler whimpered. She winced at him weakly. "I hope I'm not torturing you."
Chandler shook his head.
Monica snapped her fingers in his face. "Hey, stud - my eyes are up here!" she chortled. Her paramour jerked and blinked.
Monica took a deep breath. What she said next had to be parsed extremely carefully, yet still communicate clearly what she wanted.
For, to her ever pleasant surprise, what she wanted actually seemed clearer in the light of day than it even had last night, when she'd drunkenly jumped the bones of her best friend. The question was: would Chandler want the same thing? Or, when she communicated her desires, would she frighten him off?
They knew each other as intimately as two people possibly could... Monica glanced down at their naked bodies and flushed crimson... now in every way one could know another person. Monica wanted a husband and babies; Chandler was skittish when it came to making commitments.
She didn't want to scare him off - not after he had made her feel more loved than any man ever had.
"We have to talk about..."
"Are you always this articulate after...?"
They spoke simultaneously and collapsed into giggles.
"You first," Chandler gestured to her deferentially.
"No, what were you going to say?" Monica grinned at him, surprisingly at ease.
"Nothing, I was just... did you have this much discussion with Richard after...?" He grimaced saying the big tree's name, then tensed, for fear he had offended Monica by bringing up her ex while lying in bed with her!
To his relief, Monica bit her lip cutely and shook her head. Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, "I tired him out in other ways... which you now know about."
Chandler's eyes expanded. Moving on: he most definitely didn't want to think about Monica doing to Richard - or any other man! - what she'd done to him last night.
Monica took a deep breath, pensively playing with a piece of lint on the bedsheets. She seemed to be counting each thread.
"We need to talk about where we go from here."
Chandler nodded slowly. Monica glanced at him.
"In case I haven't made it clear: I... I loved being with you last night." Monica choked up, trying in vain to swallow the lump in her throat. "Last night meant a lot to me, Chandler. You were there when I needed you the most, so... thank you!" She seemed to actually wrestle down a sob.
Chandler nodded. "You're welcome." He reached out to stroke his thumb along her cheek; Monica leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and she pressed an earnest kiss to his palm.
"Monica?"
"Y-yes...?"
Chandler gulped. "What did you mean? When you said you wanted to stay with me?"
Monica took a deep breath. "I mean..." and she raised her eyes to his. "That when we get back to New York... I want to keep sleeping with you. Share a bed with you."
He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. "... I want to keep sharing a bed with you too," he found himself getting out slowly. Had he really just said that? It took everything in him not to tremble with ecstasy, and also a weird kind of giddy terror. Were they moving too fast? What were they even moving toward, or into? He forced himself to calm down and let Monica say her piece. With how deliberate she could be, likely she could find the words for the both of them. He side-eyed her, finding her watching him dolefully, almost expectantly. He shrugged. "That's it; that's all I've got."
Monica chuckled, stroking her fingers up Chandler's bare arm. There was a brief silence, but not an awkward one as there had been earlier. Now it was actually... companionable. It was them. Chandler didn't know what it portended, if anything.
"All right, then..." Monica breathed at last. "So... we're on the same page, then." This was good! You talked about these things with your partner when... when you were in a...
She slapped herself. Did she want to be in a relationship? And with Chandler? Slowly, Monica's lips curled into a smile.
Yes. Yes, she did! But did Chandler want that? Knowing the man as she did, she couldn't put him on the spot and ask him straight out, even if that's what she'd probably have to do in order to get the clearest picture of where exactly they stood. She'd frighten him off, and she most definitely did not want that. She couldn't lose last night - not after what it had made her feel, not after the pleasure it had brought her.
"Aren't you scared?" Chandler whispered, sounding and looking like a lost little boy.
"About what?" Monica blinked at him.
"Losing our friendship."
Monica swallowed. "I'm terrified..." she whispered, though only her eyes betrayed her fear. Her mouth, on the other hand, was lifted into an exhilarated smile. "That's all the more reason why I don't want to lose this. I... I want to make this work, Chandler."
"This? What is this?!" Chandler squawked, barely refraining from his usual flapping of arms.
Monica smiled at him gently. "That's what we're going to talk about, sweetie." She propped herself up on one elbow, catching Chandler's eyes and holding them. "I want to keep having sex with you when we're back in the city." She lifted an eyebrow. "Do you want to keep having sex with me?"
There was, should be, only one answer to this, and yet it still amused her how fast Chandler nodded his head, like a bobblehead toy. "Oh, yes! Uh-huh! Sure! We love sex! I mean, I love sex! Sex with you is awesome!"
Monica smirked. "Good answer." Now for the harder questions. She bit her lip, cringing. "Now, let me ask you this: are we still friends?" Her wince deepened, bracing herself. She had already dated a close friend, once upon a time, and it hadn't worked out. But Kip hadn't meant even a fraction of what Chandler meant to her.
Eyes roving over her, Chandler swallowed hard. "You'll always be my friend, Monica," he whispered hoarsely. "And I'll always be yours. No matter what happens." He swallowed through a lump in his throat. "I... I can't lose you..."
"I don't want to lose you either!" Monica clasped his hand.
"But in doing... this... haven't we lost what we had already?" Chandler studied her, pained.
Monica gnawed on her bottom lip before finally shaking her head. "I don't think we have. Not necessarily." She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. She felt Chandler begin to comb his fingers through her dark hair. "Which I suppose begs the question: what are we?" She shifted her head along his chest to peer up at him.
Chandler appeared not to trust his own mouth to say anything verbose. So he went back to what they had already established. "We want to keep making love when we get home... which makes us..." He let the statement hang.
Monica sat up and turned to face him. "... which makes us whatever we want to be," she finished for him.
Chandler's eyes widened, his expression easing with relief. "Yeah?"
Monica nodded. "Yeah..." she whispered. She shrugged. "We don't have to put a label on it, honey."
"Don't we?" Chandler stared at her.
Monica gazed at him softly. "Chandler." Her voice was gently chiding.
"How can we communicate effectively if we don't have a label for what this is?!"
"Who says?" Monica grinned at him. "Who says we have to have a label?"
"Everyone! Everyone says we have to!" Chandler babbled.
Monica arched another eyebrow. "Is everyone in this bed?"
Her lover giggled awkwardly. "No, that... that would defeat the purpose of fire codes."
"Hmm," Monica smirked demurely. "Among other things." She grinned. "And, no. Everyone isn't in this bed -we are. So only we get to say what this is." She paused. "OK, how about this: we go back to New York, and we keep having sex."
"Good plan! I like that plan!"
She smirked. "We don't label this as anything. It can be whatever we want it to be."
"But what if 'Whatever we want it to be' isn't what it is?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what if we have no labels for this, but everything else, optics included, is saying it is one thing?"
Monica's eyebrow and mouth quirked. "So, you're saying you're going to need to bring a dictionary into bed with you whenever you make love to me."
"No, I mean..." Chandler sighed. "Isn't what you just said you want - what we want - isn't that just friends with benefits?"
"Not if we don't want to call it that. And we don't have to conform to what others think we're doing. Let them think whatever they like!"
"No," Chandler shook his head vehemently. "They can't think whatever they like. They can't know. None of our friends, especially not your brother!"
Monica stiffened. "So you're afraid to be seen with me? Seen being with me?"
"No, that's not what I meant...!" Chandler huffed. "I just think we should keep this..." He pointed between them. "Between us for now. If we're not going to put a label on it, then we shouldn't make a big deal out of it as if it has a label when it doesn't! If we don't want to label it, then we shouldn't allow others to be in a position where they can label it for us! Does that make sense?"
Monica nodded. In truth, she liked the way Chandler thought. "I agree."
"So how about this?" Chandler smiled boyishly, bashful. "We're just... two friends who... care a lot about each other and... enjoy spending time together."
Monica beamed. "I like that." And she did. It didn't include any of the words that she knew could be a trigger for him: dating. Relationships. Friends with benefits.
There need be no label on what this was outside of the fact that it was just them. Chandler and Monica. Monica and Chandler.
True, one thing was clear: no matter how amorphously they described it, 'just friends' was one label that did not describe what they were now. They had crossed that rubicon the moment they had flashed each other under the covers. Just friends was insufficient. They were something deeper than that now...
... but they didn't have to be under any sort of pressure to name what that something deeper was. And if there came a time when they wanted there to be pressure to name this as something... well, she and Chandler could discuss that too. Like adults.
There was a small silence, saturated with relief and a kind of peace in the knowledge that they were on the same page. Monica looked askance at Chandler shyly. "I really did have a wonderful time, Chandler. So... thanks."
"Well, you're welcome. And it's not because last night I was in a weird place or anything. It's just... you're really hot."
Her laughter pealed like bells and his lips squirmed towards a smile. "Is that OK?"
"That's OK!"
"And I'm cute too?"
"And you're cute too!" She affirmed through a giggle.
Chandler grinned. "Good." Slowly, he bent forward. Getting his intent, Monica stretched towards him, and sweetly, their lips met.
Then their hips met as well.
Ten minutes later, after Chandler had returned home into her warmth and filled his partner with his seed, Monica rose daintily off of him, her body slicked with sweat, her hair windswept. The wedding! She would barely have time to get changed. Rising languidly from the bed they had shared, Monica slipped her red patterned dress over her head. She watched admiringly as Chandler began to dress in his tuxedo. She licked her lips hungrily at how it hugged his finger.
Chandler glanced up and noted with a rush how Monica's impossibly blue eyes had darkened, and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Maybe if you're a good little girl, you can rip this off of me later."
Her heartbeat quickened. "Later?"
Chandler cocked an eyebrow and sauntered over to her, dropping his hands to her hips. "I'm coming over again tonight, right?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely!" Monica chirped through a pursed smile. "Unless... you want me to come to you?"
"I don't care where we do it, as long as you cum for me..." Chandler murmured along her earlobe and Monica shivered in delight.
"OK!"
Chandler walked her to the door, opening it and standing aside to let Monica pass.
A slight beat, and then turning back, Monica rushed into Chandler's arms at the same moment he seized her waist and yanked her close. They kissed heatedly, passionately for almost a full minute, breaking apart sharply and panting as their eyes darted up and down the hallway to make sure no one was watching.
"So... good talk." Chandler quipped.
"Yeah. Yeah..." Monica had to force herself to tear herself away. But not before diving back in for another indulgent kiss. And another. And another after that.
"All right..." She gasped finally. "No more kissing. Not until we're alone together tonight."
Chandler nodded, in awe of her beauty.
As he watched his new lover perform her personal Walk of Shame with dignified grace, Chandler steeled himself.
Tonight. He could hold out until tonight, safe in the knowledge that she wanted to make love to him again and again. Secure in his, in their... whatever-this-was-which-didn't-have-a-label.