AUTHOR'S NOTE: when i say this is gonna be slow burn, this is gonna be slow burn...

March 16th, 1995

Chandler was a one-in-a-million man. Not because he was an extraordinarily talented driver, but because he was the only man on Earth who could sit in a private jet and not enjoy it. Unlimited champagne and a luxurious view was not enough to bring a smile on his face, but at least he got the window seat.

The Sunday before race week was spent travelling to the Sauber-Ford headquarters in Hinwil, Switzerland. Chandler slouched in his seat, shaking his knee like an impatient child.

"Somebody's excited." Monica teased. In fact, she very well could be talking about herself.

She sat sophisticated across from him, looking out to the clouds, stars of excitement sparkling in her eyes. It was hard to believe that Formula 1 wasn't something she was always passionate about— the two knew each other since teenhood, with Monica stumbling upon Chandler after he ran away from one of his practice sessions. Finding a sulking boy in a racing jumpsuit alone in a park definitely piqued her interest, and she offered the miserable child a listening ear. He loved her presence, how she didn't force him to go back to practice, how she saw his tears.

But the present Monica had new responsibilities. She would make sure he made it to every race, practice, meeting, public appearance— all kept track of in the notebook sitting on her lap, accompanied with her signature red pen. The present Monica would have dragged that sulking boy to the track by his unfortunate hair. God's worst gift was the passage of time.

"Where's Kip?" Asked Chandler, the empty seats in the jet became much more apparent to him by the second. "Why isn't he flying with us?"

"He's coming later in the week."

"Why? What happened to punctuality? I thought you loved that stuff."

"Well, I'm your manager," she pointed her red pen towards him, "He can do whatever he wants. He can quit if he wants— oh, wait."

She searched his face for a semblance of a chuckle, but found nothing. "Too soon?"

Chandler rested his chin on top of his palm, looking out to the same sky that seemed to intrigue Monica so much. All clouds look the same. They weren't any different than the clouds he saw the last time he flew to Hinwil, or the clouds he passed on every flight before a race week. What could she see that he couldn't?

Monica pouted for a moment, debating speaking the dreaded name, but ultimately decided to do so. "I really think you're going to like your new teammate. A lot."

He didn't say anything. What he meant to be an end to the conversation, Monica saw as an invitation to continue.

"He's young, you'll probably get along better than you did with Kip."

"What else can you tell me besides the fact that we're both kids?"

Now it was her turn to keep her lips tight.

Chandler sighed, instinctively reaching for his pant pockets, only to be met with empty space. With Monica's help, he was able to quit his smoking habit a long time ago; and though he hadn't smoked a cigarette in years, the itch never left. It grew stronger on days like these, just moments before the season's beginning. Sometimes, Chandler wants to ask her if she tried so hard to support him out of genuine concern as his friend, or if she didn't want to compromise her star athlete. He's afraid of how she'd answer.

Chandler liked to pretend like he had been here for years, as if the walls of the headquarters moved in accordance to him— but he was still just the new guy, now with a year of experience under his belt, but a year of experience was not enough for him to learn his way around the Sauber building.

Every corner he turned took him to a new, never-before-seen hallway. It was a labyrinth he could not figure out. How did he manage to stray so far from Monica? If this were a grocery store, he could ask a cashier to make an announcement. But now he was a full grown adult, responsible for himself, and lost in a building he's been to hundreds of times. It's incredible they let him drive a race car.

Monica was most likely speaking to the team principal, Gunther, discussing what the plans were for Chandler this coming year. Kip was naturally the driver they always focused on— a decision that occasionally stung Chandler when he was ordered to stay put and let the other pass, but one that made sense. With him gone, it meant that it was Chandler's turn to shine. He'd have to prove to both his own team and Williams; to the people who knew him and to the people who didn't; to his mother who loved racing and his father who never attended one that Chandler was championship worthy. He just needs the opportunity.

Eventually, Chandler landed back in a familiar hallway, but still Monica-less. Instead stood a man with similar jet black hair, carefully expecting the grand portrait of the Sauber-Ford team from the year before; back when they were partnered with Mercedes. Every strategist, executive, and technician gathered together with their two star drivers in the middle, hands empty of a trophy but faces filled with joy. The black haired man took great interest in the framed picture— he saw in it what Monica saw in the clouds.

Then, he averted that attention towards Chandler. Though the distance between them went far, his face was as clear as day. Even through his clothes, Chandler could tell he was carrying lots of muscle, with his strong and defined arms confidently at his hips. And through the black strands that fell over his eyes, Chandler could tell he was beautiful. He wasn't like anyone else Chandler had seen before— nothing about him felt insignificant. An eraser would not get far hiding his beauty, traces of his graphite eyes would still peak through. He was bold, with hard edges that made up his figure, like God drew him with purpose.

His gaze was strong, face chiselled with care, shadows under his jaw that Chandler could hide in— but he was far from intimidating. Honey filled his brown eyes.

"You— you're Chandler Bing, right?" His voice startled him. Chandler could only nod.

The bright man took a couple steps forward, eating up the space between them. "I hope Monica told you, I'm going to be your new teammate next year."

Was this really him? "Joseph Tribbiani?"

"Please," His face warmed with a smile, as he extended an arm to the stunned boy. "We've raced with each other so many times, I'm Joey to you."

Chandler packed an extra couple inches above him, yet Joey still looked larger than life. Reluctantly, he shook his hand, the Italian's skin nearly burning him.

"I'm Chandler—"

"Already knew that." Joey chuckled.

The words came out of Chandler like a cough. "Right, my bad."

Now that they were closer, he could really breathe in the other man's features. The only thing about him that wasn't beautiful was Chandler's reflection in his big, caring eyes.

Joey pulled his hand away, leaving Chandler's palm feeling significantly more empty now that he knew what it was like to hold him. He then pointed back to the photo. "It's so cool that you get to drive with Kip Allagash. I mean, he's awesome!"

The words weren't any different than what Chandler told himself once he first joined the team, but hearing it come from the man taking away Kip's seat left him sour. "I guess it is, yeah. You'll probably get to see him around here."

"Maybe." Joey said, but it seemed his eyes were locked on the team's second driver pictured in the frame. "But if we're being honest, I was more excited to meet you."

This made Chandler's heart skip a beat. "Why?"

"Well, we're going to be working together soon."

Chandler scratched the back of his neck, feeling guilty for thinking so harshly about someone so kind. It dawned on him how little he really knew about Joey. Would it have killed Monica to prepare him a little further? No, but it probably would have killed Chandler.

He said the only thing that came to mind. "I hear you're good."

Joey laughed, and the hallway grew lighter. "I'm alright. I mean, I'm nothing compared to you. You're, like, lightning."

Chandler was taken aback at the compliment, not expecting praise so quickly. "You really think so?"

"Dude? I know so." His voice was filled with familiarity, the sort of comfort you only heard from a long-time friend. It already felt like they had known each other for years— well, it seemed Joey did. Chandler truthfully did not remember much from their karting days. He always stayed within his own lane, but only metaphorically. "What, do you doubt yourself?"

"It's hard not to when all everyone can talk about is the size of my trust fund." Chandler muttered, looking down to the floor, surprised at how easy the words slipped out. Something about Joey drew honesty out of him.

He placed his hand reassuringly on Chandler's shoulder. "Those guys don't know what they're talking about. Seriously."

"And you do?" Chandler smiled modestly.

"I've been in a car. Those reporters haven't. I know skill when I see it." His eyes scanned Chandler up and down, "And you're great. No, you're amazing."

Joey had an earnesty to his voice that his usual companions lacked. Monica and Nora and everyone else Chandler knew all sang the same tired songs of praise regarding his racing ability, but to hear it come from a stranger— someone who clearly admired him, too, it felt honest. It was the only time Chandler could say "thank you" and mean it.

"And you'll be just as great." Chandler commended, the words did not come as a formality but as a genuine prediction. "The other teams have no idea what's coming for them."

Based on Joey's angelic grin, he couldn't agree more.

From the other end of the hallway, Chandler saw the woman he had been looking for peek her head around the corner, before charging towards the two men.

"There you are!" Monica said with a sigh of relief, then noticing the shorter man next to him. "Oh, you already met Joseph!"

Joey looked at her puzzled. "Have…we met?"

She returned his lost expression. "We spoke on the phone? I'm Monica Geller?"

"You're his manager?" Disbelief washed over Joey. He whipped his head between Chandler and the alleged Monica. He looked her up and down, smirking as he said "but you're so…" and as he searched for the words, the flame in his eyes died down. "...young."

Monica laughed. "Yeah. It's a funny story."

"One that I'm gonna have to hear one day." Joey smiled, now looking back at Chandler, who felt as if he were melting. If Chandler was his senior, then why was he so nervous around the soon-to-be driver?

"Oh, right, Gunther wanted to speak with you, Joseph." Monica mentioned.

"Please, call me Joey." He reiterated, and Chandler felt slightly less special. The black haired driver rushed to find his new boss, and gave Chandler one last look before disappearing behind the corner.

"Hope to see you around, Bing!" He bid farewell with a wink, and was gone with the wind. Without the glow of his halo, the only light in the room was the fluorescent one above.

Monica turned to Chandler, an inquisitive expression that asked for his opinion. Unfortunately, she was right. She always was.

Chandler could not go in depth about how he perceived the angel that graced him, because they'd be here until the sky fell, so he chalked it up to just "He's great."

She did not need to speak. "I told you so" was written all over her face.

"I know, I know, I was a prick for no reason. He's actually…" Simple words could not come to mind, but a thought he never had did. "I'm looking forward to next year."

"Good." She hummed, but with her red pen acting as her sword, she pointed towards him again. "But don't get too close with him."

"What is too close?"

"You know, don't get attached. Don't make him your best friend." She said, "He may be your teammate, but he's still someone you have to beat. And now that you're on a much more even playing field then you were with Kip, you can expect some actual competition."

It was a sad reminder. As friendly as Joey was, there was no true way to make friends in this sport while honouring competition. Chandler made it this far without any true companions, and he'll continue doing just that.

"And also, I'm your best friend. I refuse to be replaced." She smiled.

"I could never replace you." Chandler grinned. "Where else would I find such a hot manager?"

Monica rolled her eyes, her red smile still intact. "Don't get distracted, Bing."

Only Joey could make a dirty name like Bing sound heavenly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Butterfly effect! Since Chandler didnt meet Ross through college in this universe , i like to imagine the thanksgiving disaster never happened and that Chandler wouldn't have told Monica to become a chef. I think i'll spill more and more about these three's past in future chapters but its nothing super special anyway. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are always appreciated ^^