This was, without doubt, Monica's favorite part of any given day: There was quite simply nowhere she would rather be, and nothing she would rather be doing than lying spent, quiet, and lazy in Chandler's arms, ragged breath calming, ecstatic heat evaporating rapidly from her skin, wild fervor lulling to the gentlest bliss.
She granted her eyes and mind the freedom to drift away from the rest of the world for as long as they were able, wanting nothing more than to keep reality at bay and prolong the peace of her untroubled afterglow.
The December air, which had felt refreshing and welcome at first, soon began to bite, causing her bare skin to pucker and tremble, so she circled her arms tighter around the heavy rise and fall of Chandler's chest in an attempt to soak up the remaining scorch of his exertion. He returned her embrace avidly and pulled the sheets more snugly around them both, hoping to regulate her suddenly shivering flesh.
"Have you seen the time?..."
Chandler's soft and reluctant prompt felt unduly brutal, ripping Monica ruthlessly from her idyll and drawing a loud growl of frustration from her throat.
This was the part she hated.
Saying goodbye, knowing that this was it for the whole day. It never got any easier, and the idea that she would have to do without him until tomorrow always felt like a painfully impossible feat.
She was emotionally exhausted by all of this now, desperate for the day when she finally had it all figured out, and her life could fall into the blissfully mundane rhythm she craved; one where she would collapse into Chandler's bed every night and open her eyes to his face each morning, knowing that so long as she was with him, all of the stuff in between would be just fine.
"Ugh! I don't wanna go to the restaurant!" she complained in a petulant whimper, "Maybe I should just call them and say I have some kind of horrific communicable disease?"
He smiled softly and tempted her lips towards his, where they began a languid, mutual caress.
"Yeah, why not? And whatever it is you have, you've probably given it to me. Maybe we should both quarantine ourselves and stay in bed all day?" Chandler proposed optimistically, between mellow kisses.
She gave a dreamy hum as she raked idle fingers through his hair.
"You have to go, don't you..." he accepted, sensible but morose.
Monica gave a glum nod and an aggrieved sigh, accompanied by one final bone-crushing squeeze. She really did have to go.
As she began to peel her body away from his, and dragged her unwilling limbs from the bed, she suddenly remembered some potentially good news she had to share, and a flash of positivity lit up her face.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you! I spoke with that headhunter, Nancy, yesterday, and she said there is a really exciting job coming up at a brand new restaurant that opens at the end of January. I'm meeting with her next week to chat about it!"
"That's great!" Chandler beamed, knowing only too well how the reduction of her working hours had been playing on Monica's mind. The threat of financial insecurity was the last thing she needed at this time of impending personal upheaval. "I told you, didn't I? Every restaurant in town will be queuing around the block, waiting to snap you up."
"Hmm, let's hope so", Monica fretted doubtfully as she started to pull on her clothes and tie up her hair. The idea of ending her marriage, when she had not yet secured viable employment with which to support herself, was really quite terrifying, despite her having every faith in Chandler's unwavering promise of support.
He jumped up from the bed and snaked his arms around her waist, spooning her back and peppering divinely unhelpful kisses against the curve of her neck, as she attempted to fasten the last few buttons on her shirt.
"Hey, can you come over before we meet the others for the Secret Santa thing tomorrow?" he murmured against her jaw "I have a little something that I want to give to you first."
She turned to face him slowly, a cheeky smirk emerging on her lips as she made a hopeful guess, "The same thing you gave me today?"
"Well, yeah, there will certainly be an element of that" he conceded with a grin, "But I do have an actual present for you too."
"Count me in." She looped her arms around his neck ready to steal one last melting kiss before work. "I miss you already ".
"Joey, have you seen the scotch tape?"
Chandler's words might have failed to rouse Joey from his vegetative state, but when the hunt for tape saw him rummaging around in front of the TV and blocking the view of ESPN, an irritated frown bothered the Italian's brow, his neck straining, as his glazed eyes sought an unimpeded view of the screen.
"Hey! I'm trying to watch this!" he grumbled.
"Have you seen the tape?" Chandler repeated testily, "I need to wrap my Christmas presents."
"Oh yeah, Ben and I used it all up last week when we pranked Ross with those invisible trip wires" Joey reminded him with a snigger.
Despite the inconvenience, Chandler could not help but join in Joey's amusement as they jointly recalled Ross's various comedic stumbles and consequent fury.
"I'm guessing you used all of Ross's tape too?"
The web of sticky trip hazards had been so extensive that Chandler knew the answer before Joey confirmed it with an apologetic nod.
"OK, I'll steal some from the office. We're handing out our Secret Santa gifts tomorrow, remember?"
"Aw crap!" Joey moaned with a weary sigh, his gaze still firmly glued to the TV.
Chandler rolled his eyes when it became apparent that this forthcoming festive event had, predictably, slipped his roommate's mind.
"You've bought your gift right?"
Joey's mournful-eyed silence spoke on his behalf.
"Who did you pick?" Chandler asked sternly.
"Monica." Joey admitted, looking momentarily guilty before a flash of inspiration hit, "But you know what? That's perfect, because yesterday I heard her tell Richard that she'd almost run out of that pine-scented cleaning fluid she likes, and I'm pretty sure they have some in the hardware store down the street, soooo..."
"You can't give her floor cleaner!" Chandler's instant outrage faded somewhat when he privately mused that Monica was actually the one person he knew who might be genuinely appreciative of such a gift, so he slightly revised his rebuke, "At least, you can't just give her floor cleaner! Why don't you come with me now? I'll help you find something else for her."
"I can't!" Joey rejected sorrowfully, "I'm waiting on a call from Estelle!"
Chandler shook his head, aggravated by Joey's lack of organization.
"You can be a real jerk at times, do you know that? You've had two weeks to sort this out, everybody else will be giving out nice, thoughtful gifts, and you think it's OK to hand Monica a bottle of floor cleaner? Think of all the times she's cooked meals for you; read through lines with you; sat through your plays -"
"Alright, alright!" Joey turned in astonishment, taking huge offense at Chandler's uncharacteristically harsh castigation "I'll pick her up some flowers or something too! God! Calm down! It's just a stupid Secret Santa! Mon won't care what I get her."
Chandler eyed Joey coolly as he gave a dismissive shake of his head.
Joey was right, of course. Monica would accept her floor cleaner with good grace and a hug. At worst she might give an affectionate roll of her eyes. She would not care that Joey had given her present minimal thought or consideration, because nobody ever minded that kind of thing when it came to Joey.
Joey was one of those golden humans who had enjoyed a lifetime of being adored and indulged by all who encountered him, from his doting mother and proud gaggle of sisters, to the seemingly never-ending line of girls waiting to hurl themselves into his bed. He possessed the kind of effortless and uncontrived warmth, likeability and confidence that meant his intrinsically good heart shone through without him ever having to try too hard, or worry too much.
As such, he could get away with anything: one innocent, hangdog expression from Joey, and all was forgiven; he was immediately off the hook.
And not just with women. It even worked on Chandler.
But not this time.
Chandler was determined that Monica was not going to be short-changed with a gift of cleaning fluid and one of his roommate's infamous vouchers for "Joey love".
"Maybe she won't care, but that's not the point, Joe" he asserted firmly, "She's your friend and you should get her something nice! Look, if you can't be bothered, I'll find something for her and you can pay me back".
"Hey! Of course I can be bothered!"
If he had known how to correctly use air quotes to dramatic effect, Joey would have used them here. The insinuation that he was somehow lacking in the friendship department had severely ruffled the actor's feathers.
"I just never know what to buy for women!" he argued defensively. "They're really tricky!"
Chandler eyed him sardonically.
"Do you know what to buy for men?"
He strongly suspected that Joey's enthusiasm for Secret Santa would have been similarly lukewarm no matter whose name he had picked out of that hat.
"No" Joey admitted grumpily.
"Look, meet me outside my office at around 4:00, OK? I'll help you find something for her." Chandler half offered, half commanded.
"Thanks man. You're the best". Joey's face melted into a relaxed grin, and he gave a luxuriant stretch as he rose to his feet and padded towards the refrigerator in search of sustenance.
"Hey, what have you bought for Stacey?" he asked with a smirk.
Chandler automatically tensed as Joey twisted the conversation, as he so often did, towards Chandler's mysterious new love-interest.
"Nothing" he muttered dismissively, swigging back the last of his chocolate milk and grabbing his coat "I told you, it's just a casual thing with her. It's not like she's my girlfriend or anything. Anyway, I've gotta go, alright? I'll see you later."
Joey's eyes grew pensive as he watched his roommate leave.
For a man who had finally put an end to a sexual drought that Joey privately suspected may have lasted the best part of a year, Chandler was being curiously cagey about this new relationship with his apparently gorgeous colleague.
Consequently, Joey was struggling to believe that it was all quite as casual as Chandler was making out.
For a start, Chandler didn't really do casual. He might be notoriously cautious, overly-picky and outwardly commitment-shy, but on the rare occasions he had managed to get past all of that, and actually allowed himself to fall for a girl, he tended to go all in.
Joey set down packets of pastrami and cheese, and a large jar of pickles on the countertop ready to prepare a sandwich, but he found that he was short of space thanks to Chandler's abandoned Christmas wrapping. He began to shift the paper and bags along, condensing everything into a more compact pile, but one of the bags tipped over, spilling its contents across the counter. Joey cursed as he gathered everything up, his eyes falling upon a small jewellery box from an iconic, high-end store; a jeweler so well-renowned that even Joey had heard of it.
He gingerly observed the robin egg blue box and ran a thumb across the embossed lettering.
Casual, huh?
Curiosity dictated that he take a small peek inside before he had even had time to stop to consider whether or not he should, and he glimpsed a delicate silver necklace with a classic and elegant infinity pendant.
Joey's eyes grew thoughtful. He realized now, that though he had not taken much notice, there had been a discernible difference in Chandler of late: A faraway look in his eye and an air of secrecy perhaps, but more than that, he suddenly carried an air of fulfillment and self-assurance that Joey did not think he had ever seen his generally anxious and somewhat insecure roommate exhibit before.
When coupled with this extravagant gift, it was pretty obvious to Joey that Chandler had been hugely downplaying the importance of his new relationship.
He felt suddenly terrible about the humor he and Ross had derived from what must have been an incredibly embarrassing incident for the couple, when they had inadvertently interrupted their filmmaking exploits, and he really hoped that incident had not caused problems between the two of them. It certainly seemed to have made Chandler reluctant to share what was clearly a significant attachment.
As Joey carefully replaced the jewellery box, nestling it between the rest of Chandler's ready-to-wrap gifts, he resolved to be more supportive of his friend from this point on, and hoped that he could find a way to make things right.
It was the shortest day of the year and by the time Joey leaned back against a pillar outside of Chandler's office building that afternoon, the sky was already taking on the bluish hue of night.
His eyes focused on the pristine glass and chrome doors, just inside of which stood a depressingly corporate Christmas tree, ready to pick out his roommate from the steady stream of well-heeled, busy-looking individuals who were filtering out into the cold.
When he eventually emerged, Chandler greeted his friend with an affable nod and came to pause at his side, taking a little time to ask about Joey's call with Estelle, before moving on to the business of Secret Santa.
"I thought of the perfect gift for you to get Monica," he began confidently, "You know how she always says she wants to go to Paris someday?"
Actually, Joey did not know that, but he nodded along like he did, determined not to give Chandler any further cause to question his attentiveness towards his friends.
"Well, I saw this book -" Chandler stopped abruptly and his breath seemed to hitch, his face suddenly awash with panic.
Joey regarded him with puzzlement, automatically turning around to follow his friend's alarmed gaze, finding himself catching the eye of a tall, shapely woman with long golden hair, who was chatting to an unremarkable man just behind them.
Joey felt his full lips begin to curve into a seductive smile, as was his instinctive reaction whenever he made eye-contact with an attractive female, but right as he was in the middle of doing so, realization slapped him in the face, and Joey suddenly understood the reason for Chandler's consternation.
He whipped back round to face his friend, his eyes wide with incredulity, and hissed, "Is that Stacey?"
"Yeah. I mean, no! I..Uhhh..Shhh!"
Joey glanced back at the stunning blonde, impressed and amazed, before regarding Chandler's stricken face with gentle eyes, and placing a consoling hand on his shoulder.
"I was kind of hoping we might run into her" Joey admitted in low tones, "I've been feeling kinda bad about that whole videotape thing: the way Ross and I reacted was really insensitive. I honestly never wanted to make either of you feel uncomfortable. So, I thought that maybe if I apologized to her -"
"No!" Chandler grit his teeth as he grabbed Joey by the elbow and began to steer him adamantly away, but Joey shook him off with a frown.
"Look, I don't want you to feel like you have to keep her hidden away from me, Chandler! You're my best friend! I know that you really like her, and I swear, I'll be more supportive from now on. I'm not gonna do anything to ruin this for you, man, I promise! Just introduce us - "
"Joey! No!"
There was real desperation in Chandler's eyes now and his distress only worsened when Stacey and the man she was talking with turned to eye the furiously whispering pair with mild curiosity.
Chandler acknowledged her with an awkward nod of apology and a rasping kind of half-chuckle, that was met with nothing but apparent bafflement, and he made another fierce grab for Joey's elbow, bundling him away from the building as hurriedly as he was able.
"Stacey has a fiancé!" he spluttered, as soon as they were a safe distance away, "That's why it was a secret, OK? Me and her, it was just a stupid fling. It's all over now!"
"She's engaged? You were having an affair with her?" Joey looked shocked and Chandler swallowed hard, not daring to imagine how his friend was going to react when he finally found out the truth.
"Yes! I know! I'm a terrible person! But it doesn't matter anymore, OK? It's all over! You saw the way she looked at me just now, it was like she never even met me before! She wants nothing more to do with me, OK? So please, can we just forget about it?"
"Did she end it because of the videotape thing?"
Joey's guilty brown eyes made Chandler shrivel up inside, and he felt his cheeks flush warm.
"No, it wasn't that, she just... wants to make things right with her fiancé. It was all a big mistake".
Joey stopped and turned to look him dead in the face, his eyes intense and full of scrutiny.
"And you're OK with it being over?" he asked doubtfully, his mind firmly fixed on the expensive Christmas gift he had happened upon.
"Yes! I'm fine with it!" Chandler insisted "It was just... meaningless sex, OK? It was never a big deal! And now it's over. So please, please, can we stop talking about it".
The look on Joey's face told Chandler that he had much more to say on this subject, and there were many questions he would like to ask, but instead he gave a slow, respectful nod and spoke with empathy, "Alright. But if you ever want to talk about this, I'm here for you, man. You won't get any judgement from me. OK?"
Chandler's shoulders slumped and his gaze dropped shamefully to the ground. He paused, scuffing an anxious foot against the asphalt before responding in hoarse mutter.
"Thanks, Joe".
Pulling the wool over their friends' eyes might have felt somewhat exhilarating at first, but it was impossible for Chandler not to feel hugely guilty when forced to bear witness to Joey's genuine concern..
Joey might not be the most perceptive of individuals in the traditional sense of the word, but he did care about Chandler, and it felt like he was right on the cusp of reaching conclusions that were not a million miles away from the truth.
Chandler had always known that keeping something of this magnitude from Joey, for any length of time, was going to be nigh on impossible, and he hardly even dared to imagine how Monica was managing to hide everything from Richard. The idea that he might work it all out and confront Monica, spurned and enraged, was something that made Chandler's stomach lurch with anxiety on an hourly basis.
They were living on borrowed time: Every new thread of complexity that they added to their web of lies was a fresh burden that weakened its structure, and Chandler knew that they had to start treading far more carefully.
When Monica arrived at his apartment the following morning, Chandler had meant to immediately update her, and recount the unsettlingly close encounter between Joey and Stacey.
He wanted to speak gravely, to urge vigilance. Under no circumstance could there be a repeat of the video camera incident; caution was imperative, and the recklessness had to stop.
But as was generally the case these days, no matter what their intention, when Monica and Chandler found each other, they quickly became lost in each other.
No sooner had she stepped through the door than her fist had grabbed a handful of his shirt collar, heaving him close, and attacking his lips with a hunger so ferocious that it suggested that the two of them had been parted for months, not hours, and rather predictably, all thoughts of Joey and Stacey began to dissolve into the ether.
Despite the ardor that coursed immediately through his veins, a residual urge to speak sensibly with Monica about this latest scare must have remained with Chandler in some form, because he found himself making an attempt to pause her passionate onslaught by seizing hold of both of her hands and pinning her arms back against the door, drawing her wrists parallel with her shoulders.
It was an unexpectedly assertive move that only served to thrill Monica, sending her wild with abandon, and painting the most compelling picture of shock, excitement and raw lust on her face. When Chandler gazed back into those fervid eyes, he was unable to do anything but meld his lips to hers once more. His senses began to feel quickly overwhelmed. The pillowy softness of her lips made his flesh tingle, and the flicker of her tongue was like peppermint, all at once fire and ice, and when her sensual groan reverberated in his mouth, any remaining intention of anything that remotely resembled "sensible" was completely eviscerated. He was a lost cause.
It was abundantly clear that Monica was in no particular mood for prudence either, and her body made a writhing bid to draw him closer, her right knee blazing its way up the outside of his leg, hooking him towards her, and crushing his pelvis against hers.
He was not really sure if he lifted her up, or if she climbed him somehow, but either way, she was suddenly in his arms, her thighs clamped avidly around his hips and her fingers tangled in his hair, their lips still engaged in some wild dance, as he maneuvered her away from the door to perch on the kitchen counter.
Desire swiftly evolved into aching need, and as Monica kicked off her shoes, Chandler wasted no time in reaching beneath her skirt to slide insistent fingers beneath the elastic of both her pantyhose, and the underwear beneath them. She lay back on her elbows, helpful and compliant, lifting up her hips to allow him to peel both garments from her legs simultaneously. He then hitched her skirt right up to her waist with rough eagerness, as he kissed his way back up her legs to the satin soft skin of her inner thighs.
"I missed you"
The first words spoken between them emerged muffled and humid, his parted lips trailing a path of kisses across the lily white dip between her hipbones.
She would have replied, but with one slow, savoring sweep of his tongue, she lost the power of lucid speech, and her back arced strenuously against the countertop, toes splaying then curling, digging into his shoulder.
Her arousal was like a drug to Chandler, and when he heard his name tumbling from her lips, a broken and desperate cry, he convulsed with a violent surge of desire that caused his hands to tighten their grip on her buttocks as he struggled to rein in his urgency.
Low growls of pleasure rumbled against her flesh as he continued to stroke her with languid, liberal laps, and Monica was soon drowning in a tidal wave of liquid heat. Perfectly attuned to her rapidly intensifying need, and urged on by her progressively loud incoherence, he gradually increased both pace and friction, the swirl of his tongue unrelenting as he edged her ever closer to the precipice.
The sublimely timed gliding push of a finger had the same effect on her as a detonator, setting ablaze a final wave of nerve endings, sending flying her over the edge, and propelling her into a paralyzing euphoria that stiffened her muscles and stole her breath. The moan that finally exploded from her throat coincided with the sound of the phone clattering to the ground, a casualty of an ecstatically flailing elbow that went completely ignored by them both.
Hypersensitivity blurred Monica's sensory boundaries, and it was all suddenly too much for her to bear. She had climbed to a level of pleasure that was so utterly overwhelming, it almost transcended into pain, but it was also so addictive that she never wanted it to stop. Her conflicted body did not quite know whether to clasp him tight or wriggle away in search of recovery.
Chandler winced when she thrashed so violently that her head impacted with the microwave, and he took hold of her calves so that he could pull her back towards him, nestling his hips between her thighs, coaxing her into a tight embrace, examining her head and placing a tender rub and kiss where she had bashed it.
Unhurt, unbothered, and heavy-lidded with bliss, Monica simply leaned back a little and grinned, ready to devour his glistening lips, and setting her irrepressible fingers to work on the buckle of his belt.
That was all the permission Chandler needed to proceed, slipping her sweater over her head and unhooking her bra, his lips and fingertips exquisitely gentle as they roamed her still roused and quivering flesh. Her panting breath continued to chase her racing pulse, but no matter her exhaustion, the worshipful attention being paid to her breasts made her desperate for more.
Chandler was yet to remove a single item of clothing, and Monica almost made a grab for the waistband of his vest ready to strip it from his body and even up the score, but she found herself deriving an unexpected kick from the disparity in their state of undress, so she refrained, and eased his pants down over his hips instead.
She shuffled her bottom right to the edge of the counter, her fingers forming a reverential frame around his beautiful face, her eyes holding his with avid intensity, as she guided him towards her and drew him in deep, their open mouths colliding as she engulfed him, root to tip.
They kept their motion subtle at first, eye-to-eye, langorous and intimate, each feeding off the dilation of the other's pupils, absorbing each other's gasps and moans with wet kisses, watching and reacting, breathing endless proclamations of devotion and love.
But mutual fervor began to build, and they began to move with greater urgency and depth. Chandler began to look pained in his attempt to stave off the inevitable, burying his face desperately into her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. At this point, Monica threw herself back against the counter once more, a firm grind of her hips a wordless assurance that she was ready for what was to come; ready to be driven to oblivion. She could not take her eyes from him, thrilled by his unbridled fire, as he took his cue to grasp her by the hips and abandon all restraint.
The sight of her clenching and twisting and throbbing beneath him spelled the end for Chandler, his head fell back with an earth-shattering groan, then he collapsed on top of her, rocking slowly as he rode out his release, encircled and soothed by her enraptured limbs.
She stroked his damp hair and he gazed into her eyes, gracing her supple lips with a series of closing kisses: the kind that started frantic and plentiful before slowing and softening; like popcorn erupting in a pan.
As they continued to cling, and caress, and embrace their way back to reality, Chandler's hazy eyes came to rest upon the front door, and he noticed that in the blazing heat of the moment he had forgotten to slide the safety chain across.
Again.
His sigh of satisfaction changed to one of self-reproach.
How the hell could he have been so remiss, after what happened last time?
And what the hell were they thinking, going at it in the kitchen anyway?
He had gone from making a silent pledge to reaffirm with Monica their need to be careful, to winding up with her stretched out on his kitchen counter wearing nothing but a skirt. A pointless skirt at that. A skirt that was ruched up around her waist in such a way that it served no purpose besides confirming her nakedness.
Where the hell was his self-restraint?
Her brother was most likely pottering around his own kitchen just a few perilous strides away, for God's sake. He might have heard their cries. He could knock at any minute. And it was not inconceivable that Joey could arrive home earlier than expected.
But despite his self-chastisement, as he gazed back into Monica's glowing grin of gratification, in his heart of hearts Chandler knew that if he could travel back in time he wouldn't change a single second of what had just happened.
He really was a lost cause.
"Hey, let's go to my room" he hurriedly suggested through panting breath, "It's cold in here".
"How would you know?" she mocked, giving his ribs a vigorous tickle of reprimand as she leaped down from the counter, "You didn't even take off your sweater vest!"
"Yeah well, it's December! What kind of animal strips naked in the kitchen in December?"
"I'm pretty sure it was you that took care of all the stripping!" she pointed out with a laugh.
"Just get in there!", He smirked as he swiped at her bare behind with a playful palm, ushering her towards the bedroom and helping her to gather up her trail of discarded clothes, bags and shoes along the way.
She launched herself onto his bed, swaddling herself cosily in his sheets, before asking with a lazy sigh, "How long do we have before we have to meet the others?"
Being sequestered in the privacy of his bedroom eased Chandler's anxiety somewhat, and he felt his shoulders relax as he climbed onto the mattress next to her. They had gotten away with their kitchen romp. There was no harm done.
"I'd say, long enough for me to give you your Christmas present."
Her heart skipped a beat as she looked back into the twinkling smile that lit up his keen blue eyes. He reached under his bed, producing two tiny boxes, both meticulously wrapped in matching silver paper and adorned with surprisingly neat bows.
"Are you sure you want me to open them now?" she checked, "Shouldn't I wait until Christmas Day?"
He placed the first box in her hands and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"I want to be there when you open them" he asserted gruffly, correctly predicting the wave of sadness that would temper her smile when she remembered that they would not be spending the day together, and squeezing her accordingly.
He smirked fondly as her expression rapidly changed, quickly shaking off her wistfulness and tearing into the wrapping paper with the determined zeal of a small child. She looked up at him in excited anticipation when she revealed the turquoise jewellery box that had been concealed within, her lips parting as she carefully eased open the lid.
"Do you like it?" Chandler checked, his eyes eager and anxious. He had not bought much jewelry before, only really for Janice in fact, and you did not have to be particularly perceptive to know that her style and taste were somewhat divergent to Monica's.
"Oh my God, Chandler. I love it. It's absolutely beautiful",
Emotion creased her brow as she delicately removed the necklace from the box, cupping the pendant in her palm and outlining its shape with her index finger.
"I really love it," she whispered again, kissing him adoringly "And I love you. Thank you so much."
She undid the dainty clasp and held out the two ends of the fine chain for him to take in each of his hands.
"Will you please put it on for me?"
She swept her hair to one side to allow him access to her neck, and he leaned in close. She watched fondly from the very side of her eye as his tongue poked out and he focused hard. His fingers felt far too clumsy for such a dextrous task, but he finally managed to fasten the tiny clasp, smiling and bringing his lips to the feathery tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck in celebration of his success.
"You look beautiful." He confirmed with intense adoration as she turned to show him how the necklace looked framing her glistening collarbone.
"I know you can't wear it yet. Do you want to leave it here in my room?" he suggested sagely "Until.. you know..."
Monica shook her head decisively, "No. I really want to wear it."
Chandler almost interjected with a stern objection but as he watched her stroke the pendant with gentle fingertips, the shy smile on her lips made his heart take pause.
"It'll make me feel closer to you when you're not there," she rationalized in a soft murmur, "Nobody needs to know where I got it from. I'll leave the box here though? If that's OK?"
"Of course it's OK" he assured her, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, "I told you before, I want you to feel... well... at home here".
She hugged him so tight she had to hold herself back, worried for a moment that she might actually be hurting him.
"I always feel like I'm home when I'm with you", she told him truthfully.
He hugged back, just as tight.
"Well that leads on quite nicely to the other present" he told her, tapping the lid of the second box as he placed it on her lap. "Don't get too excited, it's just a small thing really. In fact, you had one before when you lived in your old place, but I guess you left it with Ross.."
Monica had torn her way through the silver paper, and had time to spare, in the time it took for Chandler to conclude his shy ramble.
"Keys to your apartment?" she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with overwhelm.
"Yeah," Chandler looked down at his lap and his voice became low and serious "I just need you to know that you always have a place here, you know? The next few weeks are probably going to be pretty tough, and I guess we don't really know how things will pan out yet... but just know that you can come here whenever you need to, OK? You don't ever have to ask."
He kissed away a salty tear that had escaped her watery eyes and settled like a tiny jewel on her cheek.
"You and your little dog too". he added with a soft smirk.
She held him close and nestled into the crook of his arm, burying her face against his neck.
"I wish I could tell you how much I love you"
They lay peaceful and ruminant for quite some time, and after a while Chandler felt his eyes begin to drift, lost as he was in the steady rhythm of her breath as it flowed soft and warm against his skin.
"We should get up before we fall asleep," he declared firmly, for his own benefit more than hers, "We need to get down to the coffeehouse."
Monica gave a sleepy sigh and a lethargic stretch before reaching down to the foot of the bed to retrieve her bra.
"Do you think Joey is going to be OK with me and Tilly turning up here unannounced?"
Her tone was airy but he knew she was concerned.
"Are you kidding? Joey loves you: there's no way he'll mind," Chandler reassured, rising from the bed. "And if he does, we'll just distract him with a sandwich".
He tossed her sweater towards her and reached for the rest of her clothes.
"Anyway, who cares what Joey thinks?" he added imperiously, "We all know who the alpha male is around here".
He puffed out his chest and stretched his arms in a manner reminiscent of a posturing bodybuilder, responding to Monica's amused giggle with a glare of mock-outrage, then eliciting a loud squeal by aiming and catapulting her thong towards her head with impressive accuracy.
"Oh wow, Chandler! These are so great!" Rachel's eyes shone with gratitude as she leaned over to give Chandler a hug, before relaxing back in the armchair, and inspecting her new gloves more closely, "I love the color, they'll go with anything. Perfect for apres-ski in Vail!"
Rachel's excitement for tomorrow's ski trip had reached frenzied new levels, lending a bright, singsong quality to her voice.
Chandler beamed, delighted and rather impressed with himself for apparently succeeding where so many people had failed before him, choosing a present that was deemed befitting of the most discriminating member of their group.
"Yeah? I wasn't sure you'd like 'em!" he exclaimed, adding as a casual aside "There's a gift receipt in the box if you need to exchange them."
Rachel shot him another dazzling smile as she slipped the receipt carefully into her purse.
Chandler's proud smile faded to a look of suspicion and he caught the eye of Ross, who raised his eyebrows and threw him a look that clearly said, I told you so.
"OK Monica, your turn!" Phoebe directed excitedly, "I guess you must have Chandler, since you're the only two not to receive a gift yet..."
"That's right," Monica confirmed, butterflies fluttering through her belly as she finally had justified cause to look him in the eye. She leaned across Joey, who had forced his way between them on the sofa, and handed over two elaborately wrapped gifts.
"Merry Christmas Chandler," she told him with a gentle smile.
"Two presents? Wow, what did I do to deserve that?" he asked flashing her a loaded glance that made her eyes gleam.
He opened the largest parcel first, revealing an expensive jacket he had mentioned that he liked on one of their recent secret wanders, and his face melted into a wide grin.
"Wow! Thanks so much, Mon! I love it!" he exclaimed, his eyes meeting hers lovingly.
Rachel leaned over to run an investigative hand over the garment, inspecting it from stitching to label, her eyes narrowing as she did so.
"Well somebody's blown the budget! " she remarked, side-eyeing Monica a little accusingly.
"It was on sale!" Monica stuck out her chin defensively, her cheeks flushing warm. She should have known that her extravagance would not go unnoticed by Rachel, with her uncanny ability to spot a luxury brand from a mile away, no matter how obscure.
Rachel arched a doubtful eyebrow, but she asked no further questions as Chandler slipped his new jacket on and modeled it for the group. Instead, she stood and cast her professional eye over the jacket, appraising the fit and smoothing out his collar with a look of approval.
Monica sat perfectly still, pasting a generic smile on her face and working hard to freeze it solid, terrified that she might betray herself further with a swoon.
Chandler's eyes became soft as he sat down and opened the second gift; a book of artistic, black and white photographs of Paris, as well as a leather-bound journal and a fancy-looking presentation box containing a sleek lacquered pen.
He looked deep into her eyes with grateful comprehension.
Frustrated as they were by current circumstance, Chandler and Monica had spent many a happy hour in each others arms, concocting far-fetched fantasies of escaping their problems by running away to some far off place or other; somewhere they could cast off the shackles of adultery and exist pure and serene, unbothered by the judgemental eyes of world.
Sometimes these fantastical flits would see them heading for a remote lakeside cabin, hidden deep in secluded woodland, where nobody would ever find them;
Other times it might be a deserted tropical island, where they would live off fresh mango and make love in the sand, with warm turquoise waves lapping at their toes;
But their favorite scenario of all was Paris.
Paris was the one they could picture so vividly that it actually felt tangible: Monica would study French cookery, Chandler would write, they would stroll, hand-in-hand along the Seine, spend their weekends wine-tasting in Bordeaux.
Chandler's aspirations as a writer were not something he often shared; not least because he had spent his entire life avoiding any path that took him anywhere close to resembling either of his parents; but it came as no surprise to Monica that a man so intelligent and skilled with words might have at least considered such a vocation, and knowing how little creative fulfillment he derived from his current career, she really hoped that one day he might consider pursuing it.
As Chandler ran a finger over the buttery leather of the notebook, he felt rather overcome.
The meaning and significance of this second gift was entirely lost on the rest of the group, but Monica's quiet and unobtrusive commitment to the secret dreams and ambitions he had so readily dismissed as unfeasible meant the world to him. He knew that with her, anything was possible. Just being with her made him feel more capable, more accomplished, a better, more confident man.
Chandler had never been one to feel excited about the future, but he was now.
"Thanks Mon," he managed, gruffly "That's such a great gift."
He nudged Joey's leg from its resting place on the coffee table so that he could get close enough for a hug. He even went so far as to squeeze his eyes closed and press his lips against her velvet cheek, worrying for a moment that he may have let them linger there too long, but if he had, nobody seemed to notice.
"So Joey, you must be Monica's!" Phoebe concluded, clasping her hands in front of her face with childlike anticipation.
"Yeah, I am! Merry Christmas, Mon!"
Joey presented Monica with a bulky gift bag, before leaning back and folding his arms across his broad chest, a presumptive smile on his lips, apparently prepared for what he assumed would be a positive reaction.
Monica reached into the bag and pulled out an extra large bottle of her preferred brand of pine fresh floor cleaner, her smile wry but genuine.
"Aw thanks Joey, I just ran out!"
"Oh my God, Joey!" Rachel scolded, with a frown of utter disbelief.
"There's something else in there!" he assured the group, exhibiting a level of offense he had not really earned, as Monica fished out the hard-backed book he had only brought following strict intervention and explicit instruction from his roommate.
A small choked laugh escaped from Monica's throat as her eyes roamed the cover: A Gastronomic Journey Through Paris.
"I love it," she confirmed softly as she leafed through the thick matte pages with careful fingers.
She drew Joey into a hug, but as she rested her chin on his shoulder her eyes locked intensely with Chandler's, not doubting for one second that it was his input that had led to this gift.
"Thanks so much, Joey" she murmured gently.
She suddenly realized that lost as she was in Chandler's eyes, she had been embracing her Joey for what was probably an inappropriate length of time, so she hurriedly released him from her arms and delivered a companionable back-slap.
"Ménage à trois du jour, mon frère" Joey accepted her thanks with a gracious nod and his best French accent.
Amused glances and sniggers were widely exchanged, but nobody bothered to correct him.
"That is so weird that both you and Chandler got books about Paris!" Phoebe remarked with a smile of wonderment as she examined the volume over Monica's shoulder.
Chandler's eyes flitted anxiously towards Joey, to see if he had forged any connection between the gift Chandler had suggested for Monica, and the one she had chosen for him, but fortunately Joey seemed oblivious.
"Ha! Yeah I guess it is a little weird. Maybe we should arrange a trip," Chandler dared to suggest, his tone light and jovial, but his eyes darkening as soon as they reached Monica, causing every inch of skin on her body to tingle with want.
She brushed off her reverie with a small, polite chuckle and quickly tore her gaze away, refocusing her attention on Joey.
"I can't wait to read this, Joey" She told him with another grateful smile, tapping the cover of the book, "Although, I've gotta say I'm surprised, and maybe even a little offended, that I didn't get a "Voucher for Joey love" this year.."
Joey met her teasing smirk with an understanding smile.
"There's one inside the front cover" he assured her, gesturing towards the book, "I thought you could use it as a bookmark until you're ready to cash it in."
She responded to his lascivious wink with a chuckle and a fond pat of his thigh.
"Although, I don't think you cashed in the one I gave you for your birthday yet?" Joey suddenly recalled, another lurid grin lighting up his face as he guessed, "Saving 'em all up for something big, huh?"
She rolled her eyes in amusement as she rose from the sofa with the intention of visiting the bathroom, but before she could leave she was halted by Rachel.
"Ooh! That necklace is gorgeous, Mon! Early Christmas present?"
Monica's fingers automatically moved to her beautiful new pendant and a sentimental smile spread immediately across her lips.
"Kind of," she replied with a coy shrug, "A Christmas present to myself."
"It's really pretty" Phoebe agreed, examining the jewelry with admiration.
"I know," Monica allowed her eyes to flit towards Chandler, and a brief seductive glimmer caused the air between them to crackle, "I just had to have it, you know? The longer I looked at it the more I fell in love with it. I couldn't resist".
Her loaded words caused a tense knot of need to twist and tighten in the pit of Chandler's stomach, building sensations that were so thoroughly absorbing he did not even notice the weight of Joey's cogitative gaze.
Chandler brought his knuckles to his lips, maybe in some sort of subconscious attempt to cover his face, but he could not prevent his adoring eyes from following her, drawn like magnets, as she wove her way through the slalom of coffee-drinkers towards the bathroom. It was only when she had completely disappeared from his view that he took a deep, grounding breath and mentally returned to the group, his face settling into a content, lovestruck smile.
It was a contentment that lasted only seconds, however, because when his eyes met those of his best friend, a churn of dread took hold of Chandler's gut.
Joey was staring back at him, wide-eyed and stupefied, an incredulous and accusatory index finger pointing in Chandler's direction. His lips dropped open, the cause of his preoccupation ready to overflow at any minute.
Chandler froze and gaped back mutely.
This was it.
The game was finally up.