A/N: Hello everyone! I am glad that the last chapter did help to answer a lot of questions about that particular night for Monica and Chandler. That was a scene that had stuck with me for weeks before I sat down to start writing this story. Of course, we're not done yet. Let's call it the end of Part 1 and we're entering Part 2 of this story.

Now, there has been quite a spirited debate in the reviews, and it's a shame that doesn't allow a direct reply. At the end of the chapter, I have included my response and hopefully that will put to rest some of the concerns.

Lastly, I didn't think that this needed to be said as I feel this should be common sense. While I appreciate the time my readers take in reading my stories, and as a reader myself, I can understand that patience can be difficult. I have followed stories where updates can be sporadic. No matter how long it takes… I'm going to read it. I'm not going to berate the writer. I'm not going to give them statistics over how long updates are or predicting when the story is going to finish. I'm not going to send messages saying, "this seems like a good time to update." That's so pointless and ridiculous. You can't base the length of time on an old story to a new one. There are so many factors involved that you don't know, or you don't even consider.

Do NOT ask me to update. I will update when I DECIDE.

Other writers have left similar author's notes, and I guess I need to as well. One, this is a hobby. I do this for fun. When I write, I write because I have an idea that I want to pursue. If other people read what I write… bonus! I'm at an age where I don't care if I get reviews or not. It's lovely and nice when I do, but that is not why I write.

Two, I have a full-time job. Like most of you, I'm sure you have to work for a living. Wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to. For me, that is not an option. There are times when I'm exhausted and the last thing I want to do is write. Shocking, I know.

Three, I have other commitments in my life. I'm not writing 24/7. So, writing this story or any story is going to happen on my time. You don't like it? Well, you don't have to keep reading right now. You can wait until I finish the story. It doesn't matter to me in the slightest. Or hell… I could just take it down and re-post when it is done. Can't say how long it will be though.

Four, the stories I have published on this site and AO3 are completed. I have personally made it a goal for me to finish what I start. Unfortunately, there is 1 exception and that is my OUAT series. I prefer to let that be the only unfinished tale. As a consolation, I did leave in my profile my intents and plans for the last story. At least that way it won't be "unfinished" in a sense.

I said it before, and I will say it again: the story will be completed. Whether it's in a month, two months, five months, or another year. I can't predict the future or how my muse might feel. By readers who think this is okay, you're doing the complete opposite. It's making me less likely to click on the file to write this story. You may make me break my promise about leaving stories unfinished. Right now, I don't know.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to those of you who have been supportive and are continued to be entertained. I really appreciate you!

Chapter 12

"I left because I wanted you so fucking much!"

Chandler's startling confession reverberated in the air of his office, drowning out the faint sounds as the office Christmas party was picking up. His hands were no longer cupping her face but moved down to fist the folds of her dress, the smooth material oddly calming his nerves and helping his blood cool down. His head was still slightly buzzed over the fact that he had kissed Monica again just seconds ago. It felt so surreal… unreal almost considering how all these months have been keeping a respectable distance and working to rebuild the tethers of their former friendship. Only for him to find himself in the throes of feelings towards her that was better left in the past where it belonged, and that he was trying to thwart those feelings from becoming something else… only to wind up grabbing her in his arms and kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Ordinarily, Chandler would be freaking out. He should be panicking. He crossed the line—not once, but twice with his kiss and confession. Hadn't he been trying to avoid this very predicament? Hadn't he been trying to keep his feelings under lock and key?

With each passing second, he was anxiously waiting for that inevitable meltdown.

Yet, nothing.

Instead, he was still running on the adrenaline of the emotional outburst and the very real physical contact of Monica being in his arms. She should have broken away by now, but she—like him—seemed to be frozen.

Maybe the reason he hadn't gone quite Chandler yet was due to her courage in sharing the anguished truth about her dream profession. Though that didn't compare to the awful fact that she had been carrying this burden and contempt for herself all these years. All this time… it never crossed his mind that Monica would think she was the reason he stopped.

Well, yes and no.

But not the reason she apparently had thought it was. Her weight was never a factor. Even before leading up to that night at the bar, Chandler hadn't considered her weight as an identifying feature. Why would he when he knew her inside and out? But he had forgotten that her weight wasn't a problem for him. How many times had he been there for her when she struggled with maintaining her diet? How many times had he been there with her mother's constant critiquing? How many times had he been there due to the callous words and actions of others?

Or how could he forget that on that Thanksgiving in 1987 that he almost let it slip that he had seen her as fat?

He had been an idiot. First impressions weren't a final judgment. That night he had seen the real Monica. The wonderful, incredible, and amazing person who had a big heart and wanted to comfort her brother's roommate for no other ulterior motive other than she had recognized a kindred spirit also struggling with himself.

She never made him feel bad about his insecurities or about his fucked up relationship with his parents.

And… he ended up being the one that drove her to obtain that weight loss goal. Not because he was a supportive friend during the process, but because she saw herself as undesirable in his eyes.

He didn't just fuck up. He royally fucked up.

He did something he never wanted to do with his friend.

He became another notch on the list of people in her life that contributed to her negative self-worth.

No wonder she had been putting up those barriers around him. No wonder she had been amused at his reaction when she sauntered into his office for that interview.

She knew he had to have been mentally punching himself for rejecting her long ago. No doubt she savored that stunned and flabbergasted response.

As perfect as that revenge was for Monica, she hadn't forgotten her objective either. The job was a necessity, and she was desperate to work. So much so that she swallowed whatever resentment and anger she had for him to show up and put on the best interview she could so he would choose her to be his assistant.

Oh, God… he couldn't imagine what thoughts were flying through her head that her livelihood depended on him if she would be hired or not.

But that was for another time.

Chandler fucked up big time. She was honest with him, and he needed to be honest with her. And that meant he needed to come clean with his actions from the past.

If only he could unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth to start speaking.

As it was, Monica was the first to break the ice.

"What?" she squeaked. "You… what?"

Chandler moistened his lips, running the tip of his tongue across the chapped skin. Of course, he also tasted the waxy traces of her lipstick as proof that he had kissed her. It was the sheer force of his willpower not to clutch her to him or to resume the activity and let words be damned.

But wasn't that how they ended up here in the first place?

Once more, Chandler cleared his throat and dislodged the lump that prevented him from talking.

"I left because I wanted you, Monica. It had nothing to do with your weight or thinking you're undesirable. It was because I found you too desirable—"

She was about to scoff, but he soldiered on. "—It was wrong for me to want you as I did. Think about it. You were my best friend. You were also my best friend's sister. I-I couldn't control myself. I wasn't thinking clearly. I know alcohol didn't help the situation. But that dress… you hated it, but Monica you had no idea how good you looked in it. Combined with the fact that I had less than friendly thoughts towards you off and on over the course of our friendship… I was disgusted with me. Hell, I tried convincing myself that I was rebounding after Kelly—"

Monica choked in disbelief or she was doubtful. He could see in her eyes she was mentally comparing herself from back then to his ex-girlfriend.

"I never told you after we broke up… she suspected that I liked you, Monica. She hated it when you and I were hanging out, even when it was wedding stuff for Ross. She knew it and I was an idiot to ignore it. I assumed it would go away, and I wouldn't feel so guilty that I was lusting my best friend. And then we played that stupid game, and I couldn't stop—I couldn't stop, Monica! Even when you told me that I was your first kiss… It was terrible because I took that from you and that wasn't enough to stop me. I wanted to fuck you so badly. Seriously, how fucked up is that?!" He let out a derisive snort as he shook his head. "So, yeah, I was out of my fucking head, and it wasn't until a shred of clarity finally had me snapping awake on what I was going to do. I couldn't do that to you, Monica. I couldn't take something else from you.

"I realized I didn't… couldn't trust myself around you. I didn't want to hurt you, and if Ross ever found out… I would be betraying his trust too. I did what I thought was the right thing to do. I stopped myself and then I started to think how this was going to change everything. I couldn't bear it if I lost your friendship, lost your respect. So, I-I convinced myself that you would be better off without me in the picture. It would be easy to do since Ross was recently married. He was going to be busy with Carol and less likely to want to hang out with his best friend. I also thought you would prefer it if I wasn't around either. So, I left. I really thought it was for the best. Now, I'm starting to see how cowardly that was and that I should have stuck around. I never should have left you."

He was breathing raggedly, his chest tightening as he waited for the final verdict. Waited for Monica to shove him away, slap him, rage at him. He deserved it. Yet, she still didn't move from his embrace during his confession. Rather, Monica was intently staring at his chest as a myriad of emotions flitted over her countenance.

"You wanted me?" she said so quietly, bewildered.

Chandler nodded. "To be perfectly honest, you had me since our late-night warm milk conversation."

That had her chuckling in spite of herself and he did too, easing some of that tension. She had already extracted her hands from his hair to have them pressing lightly to his shirt. Then she reached for his tie, slowly stroking it.

"And now?" she asked almost timidly, as if this whole scenario was unreal.

"I thought I could be your friend. Yes, I know I'm your boss too, and that should come first, but I was so grateful to see you again… I really missed my best friend. I never had a friend like you, and if I could reclaim that friendship, then I would be satisfied with that," he explained. "If you only knew how difficult it was to keep everything platonic, then there was Becker and Joey—"

"Joey?"

Chandler sheepishly shrugged. "I know now Joey is only a friend. But I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to date him."

"Joey is cute, but we would be completely wrong for each other."

His lips twitched humorously. "Not even if he offered you lemonade?"

"Definitely not." Her face was beginning to beam. "You didn't answer my question, though."

"I don't even know your answer. I never really asked you about your feelings for me."

Monica tilted her head in contemplation.

This was it, he thought. The cards are down. I told her my side. It's only fair she decides.

"Monica, what do you want?"

Her cobalt blues shifted to look at his own sky-blue ones. Whatever she tells him next… he was going to honor it. If she wants them to stay strictly as work friends, then he will find some way to kill the crush on her. If she was okay with them finding that friendship they once had, then the crush would have to go, and he would be the best, best friend he could be for her. If she decided she never wanted to see him again…

It would be tough, but he would abide by it. Even if she decided to quit being his assistant too. He would accept that resignation and do everything in his power to find her a suitable position. As for his friendships with Ross and Joey, he wouldn't want to make Monica uncomfortable or make it where there had to be a choice. He would step aside, walk away. That would probably burn the bridge with Ross altogether, and Joey… Well, the actor was a wildcard in how he might react.

Best to wait until he had a better understanding of his place with Monica—

All thoughts flew out of his brain. He had at least half a second to process when Monica jerked on his tie hard and he was at her level. Then he had a millisecond to realize that she wasn't strangling him as her arms wound around his neck and her mouth captured his.

Now, it was his turn to gasp in surprise, and it was all she needed to glide her tongue between his lips and flick the tip of his own appendage.

That woke him from his stupor.

Chandler leaned into the kiss, his left hand bunching her dress as his right slid to the curve of her lower back. He was on autopilot as he moved to cup and squeeze her ass. Monica moaned as he dipped her, chasing her to explore the contours of that delicious mouth.

She might not have spoken the words, but her pulling on the back of his hair and her slanting into the kiss was certainly screaming volumes.

"I'm still angry and this discussion isn't over," she murmured against him. "Don't confuse this as forgiveness."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he rejoined, nuzzling her into another fever-inducing kiss.

He continued groping her backside as Monica bumped his groin, causing him to shiver and groan. Two steps… Two steps and he had her pressed into his desk. She released his bottom lip by dragging her teeth along the fleshy bit.

"You're a really good kisser," she said, her hot breath washing over him.

"Well, I have kissed over four women now," he quipped.

Laughter danced in her blue eyes before they turned serious. "Don't you dare stop, Chandler," Monica demanded, her words taking a direct route from his brain to his lower brain.

Oh, he was totally fucked.

xxXXxx

Chandler was stuck with a group of several suits with Doug telling another story that toed the line of being offensive. Right on cue, Doug gave the punchline, and they all responded with the raucous laughter as expected. Chandler hated going along with it, but it was part of the corporate culture. While he had a good position within the company as vice president, he still had to kiss ass on occasion with those higher on the food chain than him.

It was a damn shame that Doug Murray was one of them.

Another reason why he detested this job.

But if he could convince anyone about reconsidering the contract with Allesandro's, then Doug was the ass that needed to be kissed.

As far as Chandler could tell, Doug did like him (a big point on his side), and if he had to sit through and laugh at the raunchy jokes, then it would be worth it to cancel that contract and cause the restaurant to lose a good chunk of profit. That should put an end to any more trouble for Monica.

His eyes surveyed the party, and he caught sight of Monica talking with Howie and Carla. He had to raise his cup to hide his smile, especially when she held his gaze with a smirk of her own before returning to the conversation.

No one would have known that ten minutes ago they had sex in his office. Even he couldn't believe it happened. Yet, his memory kept replaying that glorious moment after he deposited her on top of his desk.

He was on his knees, her legs slung over his shoulders, hands clutching her inner thighs with his face buried in her folds. There was no gentleness, just a quick race to the finish line. Monica's nails were in his hair, digging into his scalp as she tried to quiet her whimper by biting down on her lips. Yet, it didn't take long for her whimpers to turn into moans and then a keening wail.

Chandler forced himself to move from his position to silence the growing volume of her pleasured noises. As much as a turn on it was to hear her, he didn't want to catch the ears of anyone else. With her mouth now occupied with his, Chandler used his fingers to continue where he left off, plunging one then two digits, mirroring the movements with his tongue.

Monica curled her tongue around his, making him gasp as he added a third finger to move in and out of her faster and faster until her inner muscles clenched and she screamed in their kiss. Her body spasmed, her hips bucking until her tremors subsided.

Chandler needed another sip of his drink, but it couldn't compare to Monica's sweet taste. Or what came afterward that renewed the heat in his blood. Another glance at Monica and he watched as she polished off an hors d'oeuvres, licking her fingertips as the last treatment to clean them off.

He shivered.

It took a miracle for Chandler not to blow his load right then and there when his wrist was seized, and his fingers were immediately enveloped in Monica's wet and warm mouth. She sucked his fingers clean; her tongue circling around to ensure nothing remained.

The noise he made sounded almost pathetic to him—a cross between a whine and a strangled garble—and he blurted out: "You're so hot!"

She let him go with a resounding plop and blushed. Yet there was nothing shy in the way her gaze drifted over him, making him harder.

"Your turn," Monica said huskily, pushing him to sit down in his chair.

Chandler snapped to attention when he heard his name being called. Now everyone was looking at him expectedly, especially Doug.

Sonofabitch. "Um… what was that?" he winced, hoping no one could tell what he was thinking or rather who.

Doug chortled and elbowed Walter Desmond, one of the company's directors. "See? I told you… distracted. I was saying how difficult it is to work around some of these young beauties. Seriously, Bing, how do you get any work done with that assistant of yours?"

Chandler's hackles rose. He should have known Doug would bring up Monica. The man had no filter when it came to the opposite sex. Raunchy stories and jokes were one thing, but Chandler lost count on how many sexual harassment suits were filed against Doug. It was sickening how he had been getting away with it. Even worse… Doug was married with twin girls. The ring was still on his finger, and it didn't seem the wife would be leaving any time soon. Of course, whether or not she knew about her husband's philandering was something else. Chandler couldn't imagine how much Doug settled out of court with those lawsuits, and how he managed to cover it up from his wife.

As far as he knew, Monica hadn't crossed paths with Doug, and he wanted to keep it that way. Even if he didn't have a history with her, Chandler recognized Monica's work as being one of the best assistants he could ask for. He wouldn't want to have that jeopardized.

At the same time, Chandler wanted to make sure Doug would hear him out about Allesandro's.

Careful how you tread. Guardedly, he asked, "What do you mean? If anything, my assistant has kept my department efficient."

"C'mon, Bing. I know you're not blind or dead. Look at her!"

Naturally, the others all looked in her direction, and Chandler did too. Doug let out a low whistle. "She would be worth a $25,000 settlement."

Chandler gritted his teeth. You know he was going to say something like that. It's Doug, remember? He might be a pig, but he's a pig you need his help. In the end, this is going to help Monica. Forcing himself to grin, he said, "I think we all know how difficult it is to find a decent… let alone a good assistant. I wouldn't want her to suddenly quit."

This sent a flutter of nervous chuckles among his colleagues, but Doug slowly shook his finger and gave a hardy hoot. "Hearing you loud and clear, Bing!"

Chandler had to resist rolling his eyes at the crude wink that followed. Thankfully, Doug liked him plenty to not even realize the underlying implication Chandler made. And no one else was going to call Chandler out or explain to Doug what he meant with his remarks. Besides, this was a Christmas party, and Doug's wife was in the same room.

"On Monday, Doug, I wanted to talk to you about our contract with Allesandro's. I know now's not the time since they're catering us, but…"

"It's a party, Bing. Let's not think about work. All business with this guy," Doug joked. "Tell you what. Have your assistant contact mine, and we'll pencil in a meeting."

It was pretty much a done deal. Chandler smiled, even endured a parting smack on his ass. Definitely a done deal. That only happened when Doug was praising a job well done or he was willing to meet with you. No ass slap meant he wasn't going to entertain what you had to say.

Chandler made a mental note to have Monica call Janet first thing Monday morning. The sooner they have that meeting in the books, the sooner the unpleasantness will be over.

While he self-congratulated himself, Chandler didn't expect the clap on his back from his colleague on his left.

"That was gutsy of you Bing, but I get it. That assistant must be really something special, huh?" Edgar Doyle said. He was a decent enough guy. Family man as well and didn't appear to mess around with his subordinates. "You're a good man in looking out for your people."

"Thank you, Edgar." Chandler didn't think he meant anything else by it, but it did get his mind into overdrive.

Doug was right about one thing. Chandler wasn't blind or dead, and neither were the other men and a couple of the women here. He couldn't forget how often some of them flocked to her after she was hired. Yes, there were plenty of attractive women in their early to mid-twenties, even a few in their thirties and forties, but Monica was a whole different level of hotness. Of course, she drew a lot of attention in those early weeks.

Now, she was part of the company. She became accepted, and while some of the tech support guys still couldn't string a coherent sentence around her, she was no longer a brand-new attraction. But that didn't mean she stopped receiving attention altogether. There were several swiveling heads in her direction when she first arrived at the party.

Chandler hadn't considered how others might perceive their interactions being boss and assistant until that instant. He was feeling hyper aware and quickly swallowed a huge swill of his drink. The last thing he wanted was to set off the rumor mill if there was a whiff of tantalizing impropriety.

Though, would it really be a rumor when it was actually true?

He needed to keep it together. He couldn't make it look like he and Monica were up to something suspicious.

However, his traitorous mind didn't get the memo. Not when he saw his knuckles and had to quickly put his hand in his pocket.

"Oh my God!" Chandler groaned, his head lolling back as wave after wave of sweet pleasure crashed over him. His hands twitched as they twisted their hold on the armrests of his chair while Monica's hand worked him.

He wasn't going to last. That was the whole point, but he was slightly embarrassed that it was too short of a timeframe from her touching him. Hell, he was almost ready to pop when she unbuckled his belt and dove under his pants and boxers to grasp him.

"Mon…ica," he hissed, dragging out the syllables in her name. She had a devious grin, her blue eyes alit with mischief. She was planning something and he barely had time to put a coherent thought together when her head lowered.

The sudden change from her fist to her mouth caused the very thin thread within him to snap. His head reared back as his body exploded.

Chandler jammed his right fist in his mouth to keep from roaring his release. And holy moly… there must be a God as Monica milked him until he was spent. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this out of control. Hell, even when he lost his virginity, he didn't feel like this.

He could tell he broke the skin from the slight metallic taste of blood. Yet, Chandler didn't pull it away as she rocked back on her heels to stand. Her eyes were on him as she swallowed.

Chandler bit down harder to keep from whimpering, but holy crap that had been fucking hot!

Fuck, he wanted more.

"I guess we should go back," she said.

The party. How long were they gone? Did anyone noticed? Would there be anyone looking for them?

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "You go ahead. I, uh, need a minute to recover."

Monica smirked. "A minute?"

"Maybe two."

She laughed.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. No more thinking of sex with Monica. Think of something else… Anything else! Chandler grimaced when he could hear Doug's roisterous laughter again. Well, that stopped his thoughts cold. Then a chilling thought came to him.

Was he any different compared to Doug?

It hadn't occurred to him, but Chandler now was worried if he was just as bad.

He had prided himself on his only rule when it came to office relationships. He avoided them, refused to give in. Even when the temptation was right in front of him… Chandler found the resolve not to cave. It was why no one wanted to leave his department. He treated everyone with respect, and as a result, there were no rumors or gossip or covered up lawsuits.

Chandler may have the jokes, but he was strait-laced when it came to these matters. Everyone knew that.

Hell, he had been fooling around with his assistant not long ago! And afterwards he put on a good show how he wouldn't do something like that.

The hypocrisy churned his stomach. Was it obvious he had lied? Did it show? Did they sense he was one of them?

But this was Monica. She wasn't just his assistant.

Did that make it better or worse?

Oh, dear God, am I becoming a corporate cliché?

The worry continued to gnaw at him. He would need to talk to Monica about this.

Whatever this was between them.

A new thought entered his mind. Was she freaking out about sleeping with her boss? Would this be too weird? Did he seriously fuck things up? That was the last thing he wanted to do. Fuck everything up.

While they did clear the air about that night at the bar, there was still plenty of what wasn't spoken. Did he ruin that because he allowed his dick to overrun his senses? No, no. It was mutual. She had been burning with the same pent-up desire as he was.

Did she regret it?

It was hard to tell. Even with their history, Monica could be an open book or a closed off wall. The latter especially if she wanted to keep certain things private. He had counted himself lucky to be a good friend to her so that she could talk to him about those private matters. He knew he had lost that privilege, and she didn't owe him a damn thing. He lost it the moment he had decided to walk out of her life.

There was no way in Hell he could go storming over to Monica to drag her somewhere quiet to discuss this. Not without causing a scene. That would only create speculation and people would talk.

He had to wait.

He could do that. No problem. Just wait for the right moment to casually stroll up to her and talk casually as he would casually with anyone else.

Totally normal. Not like they each went down on each other.

"Dinner is ready!" came the announcement.

Chandler found his chance.

He found Monica again as the entire room shuffled to the conference room where the buffet was finally set up. He was able to time it, so he was standing behind her in line. Her former Allesandro's employees were keeping a respectable distance. Even those who hadn't been part of cornering Monica also kept away.

At least the message was loud and clear.

They wouldn't be bothering her now. Not when their entire contract was on the line.

"Hey, Mon," he said quietly. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but what we did was…"

"Stupid?" she offered, picking up the large spoon to scoop a vegetable medley on her plate.

He followed her with reaching for the spoon next with a nervous tickle. "Yeah, I mean totally crazy stupid." Honestly, it was crazy stupid. In his office of all places?! During a company Christmas party!? Why not hang a sign around his neck to say he got the best blowjob in years? Okay, he would admit that it was going a tad far. The door was closed, and it was dark. They were alone, but there might have been a chance someone could have discovered them. He didn't relish being called out or Monica about their conduct.

Chandler Bing would not be besmirched as another Doug Murray.

"What were we thinking?" Monica murmured under her breath.

"Yeah. We work together… Well, you work for me, and I value your friendship so much."

"I know. I never… Well, I never," she left the comment unfinished as she used the tongs to pick up a piece of breaded chicken. "How could we let this happen?"

The million-dollar question.

All the signs pointed out how bad an idea this was. They weren't thinking. That was the problem. Maybe being around their colleagues allowed that clarity to penetrate them. Sex complicated things. It was a complication. Didn't he learn anything from his mother's god-awful romance novels?

Oh, God… he was living one of Nora Bing's god-awful romance novels.

No, no. This was the real world. He and Monica weren't characters participating in a plot about second chances and all that.

Chandler felt her fingers brush against his as she passed the tongs to him. The touch was delicate… a soft whisper of skin on skin. Yet, it sent a warm tingling sensation up his arm and all over his body. Her nostrils puffed out, equally affected by the mere innocent touch.

Screw it.

"We made enough an appearance here and with the alcohol consumed already… we could leave early." The suggestion wasn't suggestive, but it could have been. Did he mean it as such? They needed to talk. That part was true. Still, after talking… They could—well, he wasn't going to assume there would be a repeat of their previous activities.

"Yeah?"

Was it him or did she sound interested? Or wishful thinking? Or she could have been just agreeing. He didn't know if she had plans after this party. Why wouldn't she have plans? He shouldn't make any assumptions.

"My apartment isn't far." Fuck. Chandler couldn't help himself apparently. He really should get a neon flashing light at this point. Could he be any more obvious?

"Meet you downstairs in ten?"

"'Kay!"

TBC…

Addressing the college mixer kiss: I do want to remind everyone that this is a fictional story, set in a fictional world. Because it's the Friends world, there is nothing malicious or criminal happening. However, in the real world, where there are real consequences, it is different. I have family members who work in law enforcement, and they have been great consultants when I'm in need of it for a legality issue in a story. Technically, what Chandler had done was sexual assault. He kissed her without her consent while she was sleeping. Touching her breast was an accident, but if Monica wanted to press charges… she could.

Now, because this isn't the real world, Chandler had honorable intentions on trying to make a horrible night for her better. He was trying to be the hero as misguided and ill-advised as it may be. It was only meant to be a quick peck on the mouth. What changed? Monica. She was sleeping but she did wake up. She didn't want to open her eyes because she didn't want the dream or illusion to be shattered. Part of her was hoping it was Chandler because she does have a crush on him. And in her romantic and youthful mind, she figured he would tell her the next day of his feelings and that he kissed her. Her returning the kiss was her way of telling him she reciprocated. When it didn't happen, Monica convinced herself maybe she was wrong, and it wasn't Chandler. Or if it was him, he was being nice as her brother's friend and that was it.

Nevertheless, Monica kept silent on the kiss for years. Why bring something up when the truth could lead to pain? The night in the bar changed since they were drinking and opening up about things, and she was done being silent.

As for the staff at Allesandro's… despite how terrible they were to Monica, they are not mafia. Not even close. They held a grudge and were nasty people. Families can do that and not have any ties to the mob.

Now, some guest reviews to respond to:

Bacchus Playhous: I appreciate the request, but no. This is not that kind of story. However, the smut that I have planned, I hope will suffice.

Phased Out: Likewise, I appreciate the request for a Roschel fic. While I do ship them, it's not the same for how I feel about Mondler. Fear not! I do have plans for Ross and Rachel. It's just not vital at this time.

Guest (chapter 11 – Jan. 11): Thank you for the support! All writers are people and have their own pacing with writing. That meant a lot to me.