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London was supposed to be fun. Alright, and while some people may have different definitions of what exactly qualifies as "fun", Chandler is pretty sure that not a single moment of this trip has been in any way, shape or form fun. He was promised excitement, entertainment, exotic sights and foods, and potentially fancy British women who could make his Keira Knightley fantasies a reality.
Chandler can attest that it is in no way fun.
From the second he stepped off the plane, everything just felt wrong. Maybe it's homesickness. Maybe he's coming down with a real sickness. Who knows. But what he does know is that every second more he spends in "London, baby" has him wishing that he had never met Ross.
He glances around the room, sitting in a chair off to the side, watching everyone else talk and laugh. Completely alone. Like always. He's sure that somewhere in the great beyond, Mr Heckles is...well, heckling him. Especially after that flop of a rehearsal best-man speech.
"It was a good joke," he mutters to himself bitterly.
The girl sitting within earshot of him shoots him a weird look. He flashes her a forced grin, nodding his head at her, and pulls at the front of his jacket. She gets to her feet and leaves without another glance.
"Nicely done," he says to himself under his breath.
His eyes move back around the room, picking out his friends. Ross is talking to Emily, of course. The happy couple.
Don't be bitter, he scolds himself. They're sickening, romance is pointless and happiness is overrated.
Monica's sitting a few tables away from him. She's got her chin in her hand, her elbow leaning on the table as she smiles at the woman sitting next to her. By the looks of it, she's having a great time charming one of Emily's friends. Even she's having better luck with women than he is tonight. Fantastic.
He continues to search through the unfamiliar faces, his brow furrowing until there's a familiar sigh from next to him.
"Hey," he greets Joey gently, trying to conceal the surprise in his voice. "Are you talking to me again?"
Joey glances at him, his lips pressed together in an expression that says he most definitely is not. Chandler nods slowly as he leans back into the couch and turns away from him.
"Got it," he says and tries to pick his heart back up as it sinks. If Joey's still not happy with him, then there's nothing he can do about it, and he isn't going to push him. Maybe things will be easier to fix once they're back home.
Joey sighs again, rolls his eyes, and surprises him by saying, "I'm not not talking to you."
Chandler looks back up at him, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
"I'm just..." Joey gestures at him, "I'm not happy with you, and I definitely don't forgive you for how you've been acting the entire time we've been here. But...I have no one else to talk to, so."
Secretly, Chandler is pretty damn thrilled. If Joey's talking to him, that's a good sign. The forgiveness follows quite soon after, usually, but in the meantime, he's perfectly fine with what he can get.
"Really?" He nods vaguely to the rest of the room, partially out of curiosity, partially of pessimism that anything can ever go well for him for too long. "What about the bridesmaids? I heard some of them are single. Your favourite kind."
Joey shakes his head and shrugs helplessly. "I tried! But I struck out with them."
"All of them?" He tries not to seem so nonplussed by that but it's a pretty difficult feat. This is kind of new territory.
"Yeah. I'm telling you, it's London! I wanna go home! I'm totally off my game here, and everything's just wrong."
"Hey, we're only here for two more days," Chandler reminds him, turning to properly face him. "Have you tried calling Phoebe? Or Rachel? Maybe hearing their voices will make you feel better."
Joey shakes his head again. "Nothing's gonna make it better. I'm homesick. I just want this stupid wedding to be over."
"Join the club." Chandler sighs, staring back out into the room. "I can't wait to go home. London officially sucks."
"I was so excited when we got here as well," Joey says, throwing a hand up as genuine disappointment creeps into his voice. "I've always wanted to visit London, you know? It seemed so exotic. But it's the worst. The food sucks, it's always raining, and it makes people mean."
Chandler grimaces. Guilt gnaws at his insides. So, maybe he could have been a little less cruel about Joey wanting to enjoy London. He can't help but feel partially responsible for his homesickness. He hasn't exactly made it feel less... unfamiliar.
"Look, Joe, I know I've already said it, but I'm sorry, okay?" he tells him earnestly. "I seriously didn't mean any of that crap I said earlier. And...for the record, the hat didn't actually look so bad."
Joey's face lights up, and he even sits up a little straighter. "Really?"
Chandler thinks back to the giant, union jack hat, sitting lopsided on Joey's head. It wasn't a great hat. But Joey was happy about it. He was beaming at him and practically proud of it, clearly thinking that he looked like the epitome of a cool, local Brit.
"Yeah," he says, telling himself it's not a lie if Joey's happiness made the hat look less hideous. "Totally."
Something flickers in Joey's eyes, and Chandler has a feeling that he isn't entirely convinced. But he doesn't press it or call him out on it. That's progress. At least it means he doesn't want to keep arguing with him. That's another step closer to forgiveness.
They go quiet for a moment as a small smile spreads across Joey's face, and his gaze falls to the floor. Chandler watches him with a smile of his own. It's maybe the first time since getting here that he's actually felt any kind of happiness. Seeing Joey light up at least makes him feel good in some way.
Joey's silence doesn't last long. It never usually does, and Chandler is glad because he's not sure he could handle overhearing one more comment about the unfunny best man who shouldn't be allowed to give a speech at the actual wedding tomorrow. He's already well aware that Ross is probably going to regret that decision for the rest of his life, thank you very much!
The conversation shifts from the bridesmaids, to how Rachel and Phoebe are probably doing back home, and then inevitably to pizza. It doesn't take much longer after that for them to decide on having one sent to their room.
As they go to leave, Chandler decides to offer a branch to Monica, just in case she's secretly dying to get out as well. He taps her shoulder gently and briefly takes her attention away from her new friend to let her know they're slipping out. She flashes him a smile and nods rapidly, then waves him off, already turning back to her new friend.
Guess not, then.
Joey's waiting for him by the doorway. He indicates his head in the direction of the exit and they both go to quietly slip away when a waiter passes them with a bucket of ice and a bottle of some fancy British alcohol. They exchange a quick glance, raising their eyebrows and a shrug.
Stopping the waiter, Joey says, "I'll just take that, thank you," and pulls the bottle out.
"Sir, that's for th—"
"Oh, we're the best men of the groom, he won't mind," Joey cuts him off.
He pats him on the shoulder, shoots him a smile, then turns and motions for Chandler to quickly follow. No one notices their hasty exit, nor does Chandler imagine anyone would care even if they did. The waiter is left standing uncertainly with a bucket of ice.
Joey's already pulling his jacket off with one hand when they get to their room.
"This thing is so uncomfortable," he complains, groaning when he frees one arm to shut the door.
Chandler chuckles and takes the bottle from him, letting him take the jacket off completely. He tosses it aside without a second thought, not even looking at where it lands. Chandler raises his eyebrows and places the bottle on the table.
"Monica's going to kill you if she sees one wrinkle in that tomorrow," he comments.
"Yeah, well, she'll be lucky to see me tomorrow at all," Joey says. At the sight of Chandler's alarmed expression, he raises his hands in assurance. "Relax, I'm kidding. I would never skip out on Ross's wedding. Even if he'll probably be having another one in like two months anyway."
Chandler doesn't disagree. As much as he is hoping and metaphorically praying to whatever cruel god rules over this universe that this one actually sticks because all he really wants is for his friend to be happy... he is about eighty-nine percent certain that something is bound to go wrong at some point. Maybe in a month, maybe in a year, but at some point.
Still, smiling through it and being happy for him is all he can really do.
"Well, he should make you best man of that one then," Chandler states, pulling off his own jacket. He discards it on his own bed, though more carefully than Joey, already fearing the wrath of two pissed-off Gellar's tomorrow. "At least you wouldn't give the worst speech in the history of best man speeches."
“Hey, no,” Joey says. “Ross was right to pick you, man. I mean, come on, those jokes?”
Chandler starts unknotting his tie and looks back over at him with raised eyebrows.
But there isn’t even a hint of mocking him in Joey’s expression, his laugh absolutely sincere seemingly just at the thought of the failed joke that Chandler may or may not have spent weeks on. Here's a hint: he did, and he now hates himself for it.
“They were hilarious!” he tells him, shaking his head.
“Really?” Chandler says sceptically. “You thought it was funny?”
Joey looks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you kidding? Of course I did! Who didn’t?”
When Chandler just stares back at him, Joey rolls his eyes.
“All right, so maybe a lot of people,” he admits, and Chandler just makes an embittered noise in reply, finally getting his tie undone. “But, who cares what they think? They’re a bunch of strangers that you’re never going to see again.”
He does make a good point. Still, it doesn’t erase the crippling humiliation and lingering anxiety about making a fool of himself in front of all of them. Especially considering he’s going to have to repeat the whole thing tomorrow. Maybe he can just rework the joke. Or get rid of it completely.
Tossing his tie aside to land on top of his jacket on his bed, he pauses and looks back over at Joey, the corners of his mouth curving up. “You really thought they were good jokes?”
Laughing again, Joey nods. “Yeah! Come on -- Monty Hall? You can’t get funnier than that.”
Chandler narrows his eyes. “You didn’t laugh at that one at the table.”
Joey shrugs. “I laughed after, remember? I didn’t wanna interrupt you. I mean, I knew how important being best man was to you, so getting to make your speech first was a big deal. I wanted to wait until you were done.”
Chandler ducks his head and smiles to himself. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to him; he just hadn’t thought that Joey fully grasped how important being best man was to him, even if it is the second time. And knowing that Joey wasn’t just giving him a pity laugh when he said he didn’t have all of the jokes like Chandler did actually makes the whole fiasco seem a bit less… well, mortifying.
There’s a pause, Chandler just standing there while Joey takes off his own tie. Something about it has Chandler watching him silently, eyes flickering from the cuffs of his shirt sleeves to the backs of his hands, to his fingers deftly working the knot undone.
A bubble rises up between Chandler’s ribs and pops. That shouldn’t be attractive to him. They’re hands -- and Joey’s hands, no less! There’s nothing inherently attractive about that. At least, there shouldn’t be. Yet he can’t help watching them as Joey casually discards his tie on top of his jacket.
Before he can get caught, which he’s sure he was a second away from, he clears his throat and gestures vaguely at the door. “So…”
Joey raises an eyebrow. “So…?”
“The, uh, bridesmaid?” Chandler says the first thing that comes to mind, immediately regrets it, but plays along with it as the only thing he has going for him. He scratches his chin and shrugs, asking, “The one from the table? You two -- you didn’t hit it off?”
Joey sighs. He sinks down onto the bottom of his bed.
“Not even close,” he says.
Honestly, Chandler’s expecting more. Usually, whenever Joey has been rejected (which is a fairly rare occurrence), he doesn’t spare a detail because it means he gets to whine and seek assurance that it really had nothing to do with him, it was just “one of those things.”
But Joey is keeping his mouth closed, now just working on the first few buttons of his shirt. Clearly, he’s in a hurry to pretend that today never happened and move on to tomorrow. Which leads Chandler to become even more suspicious.
Sensing something isn’t right, he prompts him, “Really? You seemed pretty into her, and she was… definitely into you. At least I thought so.”
Joey shakes his head. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”
Chandler’s eyebrows jump up now because that’s definitely not like Joey. But he thinks he’s starting to understand the problem; he’s been complaining about London since their fight, his mood gradually getting lower and lower. And his whole thing about home in the middle of his own rehearsal speech?
He takes a step closer and Joey instinctively shifts over to let him sit down beside him. Chandler takes the opening with a thrill of relief. Openly inviting him to sit with him is definitely edging closer to forgiveness territory.
“Because you’re homesick.” Chandler nods knowingly, and with a twinge of guilt for being part of the reason why. “I get it.”
“I guess you haven’t been having much fun here either, huh?” Joey says with a sad smile for them both, patting Chandler’s knee sympathetically.
He squeezes lightly as Chandler swallows, his eyes drawn back to Joey’s hand. Just sitting there. Close to his thigh. Fingers flexing, veins pushing up against the skin on the back of his hand. What is it with this place? Do they put something in the air in London?! It has to be all of the fumes from the buses or something.
Forcing his eyes back up to Joey’s, he sucks in a breath and plasters on a grin before he has to look away again. “Yeah. Uh, I guess I just haven’t been… feeling it. Which is really inconvenient, because being around all of this lovey-dovey attitude is like a giant neon sign telling me that I am destined to forever be alone, so... no, not much fun, to say the least.”
He forces another chuckle but when he glances back up at Joey it dies in his throat.
“You know that’s a load of crap, right?” Joey says, and Chandler wishes he didn’t notice the way he softens his voice. “The whole… destined to be alone thing? You keep saying it, man, but it’s not true.”
“Maybe it’s not,” Chandler agrees with a light shrug, “but it certainly is tonight. I mean, it’s a wedding, this is the time you’re meant to hook up with one of the bridesmaids. Or at least a distant cousin of the bride! Instead, I’m--”
He turns to gesture at Joey then stops short, feeling bad. After all, this could be a lot worse. He could have been left sitting at a table on his own, watching everyone around him having a great time while he drank himself into blissful oblivion. While, on the plus side, he wouldn't remember any of tonight, this still feels somewhat preferable.
Joey doesn’t take any offence. He grins and raises his eyebrows.
“You’re sitting here with me,” he finishes for him, nodding, still with no trace of hurt even though it would be greatly justified right now. “Hey, I get it! This is not what I planned either. But…”
He trails off like the blank is just supposed to fill itself. Chandler’s eyebrows draw together.
“But…?” he prompts.
Joey shrugs, a small remnant of his smile still twitching the corners of his mouth. Suddenly he’s sheepish? London really is like some weird parallel universe where nothing is the same because all of this is just -- Chandler can barely wrap his mind around anything that’s happened since they got here.
“Bridesmaid… Best man…” Joey looks back up at him. "Not really too much of a difference, is there?"
Chandler has only just noticed that his eyes keep flickering down. To Chandler’s lips. He’s not exactly subtle, he notes to himself, and then it really kicks him. The thing he isn’t being subtle about, the way that Joey is gazing at him, eyes wide and questioning and a little worried because Chandler is taking his sweet time wrapping his mind around this one.
“Wha...?" Chandler begins to say. He cuts himself short and really thinks about the situation he's currently in. A few minutes ago, he was fully expecting to end tonight alone and depressed, maybe drunk. Now, he's being... well, there's really no other word for it -- propositioned.
By Joey, but he's not putting too much thought into that part or he might just scare himself right into the bottom of a bottle. Why do that when he could he let himself feel... not so alone? Just for one night, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let himself feel certain things that he spends so much of his energy on pretending don't exist.
He gently wets his lips, then shakes his head slowly. "No," he breathes softly. "No, you're right. Not much at all."
It's the permission that Joey was waiting for, it would seem. He's so painstakingly careful and gentle as he leans in, cupping the side of Chandler's neck, that it makes him want to pull away and shut the whole thing down.
And then he's kissing him. And Chandler can't imagine wanting to do anything else.