Author's note: Well, it felt incomplete without Monica's version, so here it is. :)

Her day off had been surprisingly busy, the gang being around all day long. Chandler had gotten home and they were still there, hanging out through the night, all six of them eating and talking as usual up until the point they decided it was time to leave.

Monica remembers the day they came back from their honeymoon, a moment when Chandler was away and she not so subtly hinted at the possibility of their friends leaving the couple alone for a while. She was actually surprised to notice they've complied; their apartment was emptier than usual for a couple of months. It didn't take long though, and soon they were all barging into each other's door as usual. She couldn't really resent her friends for it – the aforementioned couple loved them very much, and felt like they could enjoy their company even after having a new married routine.

At the moment, the apartment's dark already. She's just getting ready for a relaxing bubble bath; Chandler had gone to the bathroom first, the recent acquired skill of preparing a bath completely perfected. He was a fast learner.

This was one of their most recent together activities. She thought about taking a magazine with her to the bathroom, but decided it wouldn't be needed. The last times they took a bath together she'd preferred enjoying the silent company or the talking that would eventually ensue.

Monica smiled at that. They've been together for what? Over three years? And they truly were still best friends. There wasn't a moment she felt like they didn't have anything to talk about, and the silent moments were comfortable instead of frightening. This was actually one of the things she noticed right after the first times they've slept together – she just knew that having that strong friendship basis would make the relationship much more comfortable than she could ever imagine. It was just sex and talking and sex and talking for a long time, and it remained pretty much the same – when they could have their alone time, that is.

She notices she's still standing there in their bedroom for some minutes now, ready to go however doing nothing but thinking; so she finally leaves the room.

When she gets into the bathroom, Chandler's already inside the bathtub, resting his body, closed eyes and everything. She chuckles at how cute he still looks in bubbles, and gets into the tub herself. He opens his eyes for a second, smiling at her, and gets back to closing his eyes. He looks as if he's about to fall asleep anytime soon. Monica just sits there and lets her mind wander.

Yeah, they were really comfortable around each other. She felt like she didn't really need to hide anything from him – she wasn't nervous about any aspect of her personality, and that was definitely new for her.

Just a few days earlier, he had broken into her secret closet, which made her feel anxious, but it wasn't much about his reaction toward her secret but much more about herself feeling uneasy with that side of her life. Somehow, he was more okay with "that side" than she was. And that situation presented itself quite frequently.

She knew her friends – especially her girl friends –, didn't really see them as a great romantic couple. Sometimes they would even suggest she could do better. It used to sting when she heard those comments, but it doesn't anymore. Their relationship was theirs. It belonged to them only. It had nothing to do with their friends, as much as they loved the gang. If they couldn't really see how supportive and sweet he was to her, she couldn't care less about it. The important thing was being together with her husband, creating new memories, being able to feel safe, to feel at peace, in a way she had never expected before. Their love was strong and steady, and even though she always saw herself as a romantic woman, she'd noticed, as time went by, that big romantic gestures could be empty – she needed the real thing. He gave her the real thing. Every day.

"What?" His amused voice got her out of her musings. "Like what you see, huh? Want some sweet loving?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but actually moved to get closer to her man.

Monica rested her back on his chest, her head on his shoulder, feeling his arms move to wrap around her. His long hair was dripping wet, tickling her face a little. She was so, so, so comfortable it was almost scary.

"Shut up and just hold me." She answered, with an annoyed tone she knew he would recognize as fake.

Monica is not used to feeling peaceful. She's not used to being calm and relaxed. She's not used to happiness. It is a little bit unsettling, a little bit unnerving, and a whole lot surprising. She doesn't take it for granted though. She knows he works hard to make her happy, and she works hard to keep him feeling safe; they complete each other. Everything she needs to be okay is wrapping his arms around her – and it isn't going anywhere.