Work Text:
One-Shot: European, Go-to-Working, Goodbye Kiss
People often spent their whole lives wondering what peace was. Searching for it. Seeking it the way some chefs zealously seek the answer to what is the perfect creme brûlée.
Well: now Monica knew what peace was, and in spite of her profession, it wasn't discovering the perfect recipe. It wasn't Heaven, or at least Heaven as imagined by some as being some ethereal plane of existence after this life.
If heaven was anywhere, it was right here - the warm body pressed against her own. Peace was Chandler's arms, and getting to remain in them, whenever and for however long she wanted.
Which would be forever. She might not know exactly where this was heading, but Monica at least knew that.
Her wristwatch beeped and glancing down at it, Monica sighed. Unfortunately, getting to repose in Chandler's arms for however long she wanted was going to be dictated by the never-ceasing imposition of daily schedules. Forever would not be nearly as long as she hoped.
She was leaning against him, snuggled up if not quite in his lap then all but, on the orange couch in Central Perk. Cuddling with her secret lover like this, surrounded by her brother and all their friends, it felt so thrilling. Hiding in plain sight. Even back when they had been merely best friends themselves, she and Chandler had canoodled like this all the time, always platonic, and no one else had batted an eye.
They still weren't batting any eyes, even now. Though given the slip-ups and unforced errors that had permeated her and Chandler's attempt to hide their secret romance and celebrate their new love privately, Monica couldn't help but wonder if any of the others were re-examining the way she and Chandler were holding each other. If Rache or Pheebs or Joey were beginning to suspect that her and Chandler's snuggles had taken on a new tenor.
If they were, they weren't saying. Although the way Chandler had kissed her goodbye smack on the lips when leaving for work the other day, kissing her like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd been kissing one another for years, kissing her like she was already his wife, and he was her husband..... a gooey giddiness started to flood Monica at the very thought, of her and Chandler.... married.... and she almost had to physically slap herself to get her mind back on track.
What had she been thinking about.....? Oh, yes: the way Chandler had kissed her goodbye at the breakfast table the other morning should have given at least the girls, and perhaps even Joey (...... OK, maybe not Joey) pause. Chandler had covered well, astonishingly well, even if how he had chosen to improvise had debased himself in the other girls' eyes.
Monica wriggled further into Chandler's warmth, burrowing with a content smile. Then again, of course Chandler would have done what he did, even if his reputation did suffer a hit: he would far rather and sooner prefer their friends think less of him than they did her. If he had to humiliate himself in order to protect her, Chandler would do it without a second thought.
And to her own credit, she had been pretty nimble herself in covering for him, defending him and his wanton, liberal kisses. Phoebe had even seemed to buy it - the whole "European thing."
Just the same: it didn't change the fact that she and Chandler were still hiding, having to conceal their affair, their love, from the ones who loved them almost as much as they had come to love each other.
And, despite how heady and thrilling a secret it was when still known to only the two of them, Monica was beginning to tire, if only a little, of having to hide her new relationship from the rest of the world. Not when she was starting to feel sorely tempted to shout it from the rooftops. To kiss Chandler openly, in public, whenever, wherever and for however long she wanted. Hell, she'd take him for a round of coital, baby-conceiving lovemaking right here on the cushions if only to relish in the smug satisfaction and head-swimming ecstasy she'd been feeling for the past five or six weeks, ever since Big Ben had opened the gates of Heaven.
I'm in LOVE with Chandler Bing! Chandler Bing is my boyfriend! My man! See this, ladies? He's MINE! He's TAKEN!!!
Monica's wristwatch beeped again, and she glanced at it. If she didn't extract herself from his embrace and start walking in the next minute, she ran the risk of being late to her Alessandro's workstation for food prep of the lunch rush. From where she was resting her head almost sleepily against his chest, Monica lifted her eyes to ponder Chandler's sharp jawline and exquisitely handsome face. He was all but spooning her, with one arm draped casually over the couch's backrest and his fingers dipping to brush along her own forearm.
Should she kiss him goodbye? And in front of everyone? Over the course of the next sixty seconds, Monica debated how she should kiss him goodbye in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion.
Should she do what he had done, the other morning? Go in for a deep peck so casually that later, she could brush it off and plausibly claim being caught up in some moment? Or should she pretend to give it thought, like she was genuinely testing out some nebulous waters that had already been good and tested over the course of the past month?
It was second-guessing of the worst kind, even worse when she considered that no matter how she went in for a kiss, it would have the added effect of gas-lighting their friends. While that might keep them off the scent for a bit (or maybe not), that still wasn't fair to Rachel or the others.
And what would Ross think? So far, he'd been the only one to whom she and Chandler hadn't risked showing their hand before they were ready. And her brother was sitting right there, on the far-left easy chair.
Monica's eyes flicked to her watch. The minute was up.
Screw it.
She sighed, pushing off of Chandler's firm chest and stretching, reluctant to leave him at noon on a Wednesday morning. "OK..... I gotta go to work..." She said this with pained regret she fully meant, before turning back to his crestfallen eyes, and, before she could talk herself out of it, without even taking that considered beat to think about it, she leaned in and, with full intention and in full view of their friends, cradled Chandler's face in her hands and kissed him goodbye deeply on the lips.
She watched how his face slackened in panicked fear, his cerulean eyes bulging and blaring WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! at her as her own eyes fluttered open through her drawing away with a smile that was becoming involuntary whenever she kissed him like this, involuntary enough that it risked giving the whole game away. Shouldering her purse as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, Monica rose and prepared to leave.
At the armrest of the couch, however, she glanced back. Pretended to take a beat to think about it. Then, circling back, she framed Chandler's face in her palms once more and softly kissed him goodbye again.
She made a show of appearing curious, thoughtful, when they broke apart this time, and she licked her kiss-swollen lips in contemplation. Rearing back to her full height, she regarded her secret paramour pensively, then let out a soft "Huh." A curious hum.
Then, for extra effect as she took her leave, she decided to take a page out of Chandler's improv book and use the same technique for cover.
"Bye, Joey!" She ducked her head and kissed him goodbye on the mouth too. Joey's eyes started to pop, and then after a moment, swoon shut, but one glance towards Chandler's gobsmacked expression that was quickly turning into something puzzlingly murderous and Joey nudged Monica away, spluttering.
Flouncing around the back of the couch, Monica did her best to hide her smirk. There! Let them all try to wrap their heads around what the hell that means!
Oh, wait:
She doubled back, going for Ross on the easy chair even though it was out of her way en route to the door. "Bye, big brother!"
Seeing her coming, Ross squirmed in his plush nest, trying to scrabble back and avoid what was coming. "No, no, no! No!"
Monica huffed. "Will you relax? I can't very well kiss you on the lips!"
It was to lull him into a false sense of security. In spite of the incestuous implications, she kissed goodbye squarely on the mouth anyway, then instantly wished she hadn't. There was something... unnervingly familiar.... about the taste of her brother's lips that she couldn't quite place. This time, there was no pretending to the curious, thoughtful flicker that passed over Monica's lovely face when she drew away, though unlike with Chandler, her inner musings were far more disconcerted. "...... Hmmm." She quickly about-faced and scurried away, out the coffeehouse door.
Spared for once, Rachel and Phoebe were nonetheless slack-jawed.
"OK, that's it! What the hell is going on?" Rachel gawped around at them all, though she reserved most of her bafflement for Chandler, rounding on him first for an explanation.
Blushing beet red, Chandler squirmed. "Well...... it's, uh..... it's sort of rude to receive a European smooch and not give one in return!"
Rachel cocked a caramel eyebrow. Ross's face was comically scrunched up. "It's rude to give a European smooch at all! Especially when we're in America!....." He drawled out this self-evident point slowly, as if he was speaking to a dullard.
A kind of spitting, twittering hiss drew the paleontologist's ire and scrutiny momentarily away, and his head snapped to where Joey was now snickering through a dopey grin. Given time to recover, the horny actor was no doubt pleased he had gotten a kiss from Monica at last. "Joey Tribbiani, you stop that laughing!" Ross barked, bawled.
Still feeling everyone's expectant gazes on him, Chandler cleared his throat and wriggled to sit up a little against the couch cushions, as if that might make him taller and thereby more believable.
Even Phoebe, generally the most unruffled of them all, was eyeing him warily, curiously. "Chandler, seriously, what is with you two lately? Why are you and Monica kissing each other all the time?"
Ross, who had been the only one not to witness the kiss goodbye in the kitchen some days ago, jerked sharply. "What?! You mean they've done this before?!" He giggled, uncomfortably. "When-did-they, when-did-they, when-did-they.....?" He spluttered to a halt, his stunned question babbled in the tempo of a horse's gallop. He appeared progressively more queasy as the girls breathlessly chittered to him, telling him about Chandler's departure for work the other day. His face collapsing into a thin, annoyed scowl when Rache and Pheebs got to the part about Chandler kissing them goodbye, his glower caused Chandler to turn white.
"I..... um...... Well..... it really is European!" He threw out, all but flailing, concaving meekly at the others' skeptical, judgmental looks. "Something we picked up in London! It's a..... go-to-working, goodbye kiss!" His face creased awkwardly, as though he had just tasted a sour lemon.
Ross's frown only deepened. "A go-to-working, goodbye kiss," he deadpanned, unconvinced.
"Yeah! Those Londoners do it all the time." A beat. "And the French!"
Phoebe scoffed. "Well, we knew that!" She started to shoulder her own purse. She started to rise off of her perch on the couch, then paused, hovering in some halfway squat as she gave voice to a random thought: "Huh. I wonder why Mon didn't kiss us goodbye too...." She tilted her head back over at Rachel. "I'm kind of bummed she didn't....." At everyone's flabbergasted stares, she turned into herself, blushing. "Oh, no....."
Seeing her preparing to take her leave, Chandler glanced at his watch and moved to depart himself, get out ahead of Pheebs. He jerked up from his seat so sharply that Phoebe jumped, startled, and she peered at him leerily, as if bracing herself for a repeat farewell performance similar to the other day.
But Chandler didn't, figuring that too much smooching would just bamboozle everyone (and humiliate him) even further. Besides... barely five minutes and already he felt the urge to scratch that itch. The bane of his addiction. He had to see her again.
"Well, I'm off! Good day, all you lovely people!" Chandler turned away, frowned at the mangled British accent he had affected for absolutely no reason at all, and hurried out of the coffeehouse.
He had memorized the walking route she took to the restaurant, so aside from risking his own life and limb by traversing several crosswalks after the orange hand had appeared but before cross-traffic had started moving, it didn't take long for Chandler to catch up with her. Ahead, he spotted her, just approaching the corner on the final block before she'd arrive at the loading dock bay door behind her restaurant. Chandler lengthened his stride.
"Monica!"
He was nearly to her when she turned; she barely had time to blink in surprise before Chandler was sweeping the beautiful chef into his arms and kissing her breathlessly. He shivered violently as he felt how she immediately melted, sagged into his embrace and kissed him back, clutching at him.
As the couple embraced, the sea of Manhattan humanity surged around them. Ironically, it was here, on a bustling street corner, surrounded by hundreds, that they could kiss and no one would give them a second glance. Oh, but share a have-a-good-day kiss in front of their four dearest friends and suddenly it was the Spanish Inquisition.
When Chandler and Monica broke the kiss at last, sultrily, reluctantly, her fingers were carded through his bronze curls, combing them; his palms were at her waist and venturing southward, with digits already petting, groping the accentuated curve of her tight bum.
Panting, gasping, the lovers gazed at each other. "..... Have a good day," Chandler finally managed in a rasp.
"You too." A beat, and then with twin, breathless sighs, the pair mutually plunged back in for one more kiss, agreed upon with no words.
"We've..... Mmmmm..... gotta think about when....." Chandler mumbled against her insistent lips.
"I know...... I know....." Monica reassured him, catching his eyes and holding them. Rearing up onto her tiptoes, she tenderly kissed him goodbye one last time before willing herself to turn away and lunge across the last crosswalk to reach her building.
At the entrance to the small alleyway leading to the loading dock for kitchen staff, she glanced back and beamed at how he was still watching her, no doubt waiting until she had disappeared from view before heading for his own place of business across town.
He was right: they would have to have that conversation very soon about how, where and when to come out together to their friends. Claiming a newfound interest in European greeting culture might work just enough for right now, but not in another month, when a fixation on and pining for London would, in the absence of true context, just come to be viewed as tiresome by Joey, Ross and the girls.
But for the present, Monica decided to just enjoy the moment. The thrill of indecently kissing her boyfriend in public and yet somehow still managing to keep their love anonymous. Hiding in plain sight.
There'd be time to publicly celebrate her good fortune. Share with her loved ones the miracle that had visited her. Tell the world of her love. Right now, however, sharing it with just Chandler (he was her miracle!), left her content enough. Biting her lip around an in-love smile, Monica finally ducked into the alley and out of sight.
Chandler watched her go fondly, his heart soaring and surging with a feeling he was only just beginning to name. The feeling still terrified him, though not as much as it used to, with other women, in the past.
He wasn't sure why that was, or what it portended. Maybe there was real magic in those European, go-to-working, goodbye kisses.