Chapter Text
It was one of those rare, quiet Sundays when Monica and Chandler had nothing planned—no family dinners, no errands, just a whole day to themselves. And yet, instead of lounging around watching movies or indulging in one of their famous, competitive board game marathons, they found themselves in a much more... adventurous situation.
“Okay, so the instructions are... extremely simple,” Chandler said, holding up a small box with an impressive amount of parts strewn across the living room floor. “It’s just a bookshelf. How hard can it be?” He flashed a grin at Monica, who was already bending over the pile of wooden pieces with a look of intense concentration.
Monica raised an eyebrow as she picked up a metal bracket. “Famous last words, Bing. Do you remember what happened the last time we assembled something together? You almost decapitated yourself with a chair leg.”
“That was a fluke, Monica! It was the chair’s fault, not mine,” Chandler protested, waving his hand dismissively. “This time, I’ve read the instructions thoroughly. I’m ready.” He put on a mock serious face and adopted a stance like he was about to give a TED talk. “We shall build this bookshelf with precision, teamwork, and minimal frustration.”
Monica snorted, crossing her arms. “Teamwork? Chandler, you almost lost your cool trying to put together a coffee table last month. What makes you think this is going to go smoothly?”
Chandler gave her an exaggerated smirk. “Monica, I’ve had practice. Also, I’ve got you as my partner. There’s no way we won’t succeed.”
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got,” Monica said with a challenging smile. “Let’s build this thing.”
Chandler nodded enthusiastically. “Right! First, we—” He glanced down at the instructions, squinting at the tiny print. “—um, okay, so step one is… uh… attach part A to part B using these little screws.” He held up a handful of screws that were way too small to see clearly. “Not my fault these instructions are in hieroglyphics, by the way.”
Monica took the screws from him and examined them, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been looking at this for five minutes. Just give me the screwdriver, Chandler.”
With a dramatic sigh, Chandler passed her the tool. “Fine. You can do it your way. I’ll just supervise and look really good doing it.”
Monica gave him a playful glare but smiled despite herself as she got to work. Chandler, meanwhile, found a more comfortable position lying on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
“How’s it going, captain?” he called out, watching as she expertly tightened the screws into place.
“Why do I feel like I’m the one actually building this?” Monica shot back without looking up, clearly having taken charge of the situation.
“Because you are,” Chandler said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m like your assistant—your loyal sidekick, always here for moral support.”
Monica let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m doing this with you. I’m literally doing all the work while you get to sit back and… supervise?” She could feel his eyes on her, the way he was looking at her like she was the most amazing person in the room.
“Hey, you don’t hear me complaining,” he said, still lounging on the couch. “Plus, my emotional support is invaluable. You’re lucky to have me.”
Monica rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll admit—having you around does make it a bit more entertaining.”
“See?” Chandler leaned forward, grinning. “I told you. I’m here for moral support and comedy relief. You’ve got the full package.”
As Monica continued assembling the bookshelf, Chandler watched her with a soft affection. There was something about the way she concentrated, how every movement was precise, even when she was frustrated. It made him admire her even more. It was something small—an everyday moment—but it made him fall in love with her all over again.
After a few more minutes of “supervising,” Chandler stood up, stretching. “Okay, okay. I’m starting to get the hang of this. I’ll take over the next step.” He picked up a large wooden plank with a flourish and walked over to Monica.
Monica raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Absolutely,” Chandler said with a confident nod, trying to sound more like he had control than he actually did. “How hard can it be?”
As he bent down to try to fit the piece into the already half-built frame, he struggled to align the holes, the wood not cooperating in the slightest. “Uh... Monica?” he called out after a moment, his confidence evaporating as the piece refused to fit.
Monica glanced over, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Oh, I see. Now you need my help?”
“Maybe,” Chandler admitted sheepishly. “But only because, you know, teamwork and all that.”
Monica chuckled, setting down her screwdriver and walking over. “All right, let me fix this before you accidentally turn the bookshelf into a fire hazard.”
…