The One With The First Night

By Monnie Geller, otherwise known as F-B's one and only Gale Weathers

Ah, fanfic contests. And I'm not even late yet! I'm sure this one's going to turn out exactly like the rest, but I guess there are only so many realistic (and "board appropriate") things that you can do your first night moving in somewhere. For any of you who actually read the stuff, I'm working currently on the update for Dawn, so keep your hats on!

I want to specially thank my beta girls. I have a couple of you – and I love everything you do to make my head swell bigger than my small halls. xx

- - - - - - -

She tapped the glass several times. "Chandler, are you sure these windows are safe?"

"Monica, we've been over all of this a thousand times – will you calm down?"

Another tap. "I know, but – what if one of them breaks, and we get a draft in here?" She moved on to the next pane, inspecting it carefully. Her husband hugged her from behind, delicately bringing her hands down from the windows.

"Sweetie, I realize you're worried about the kids, but this is the best house I've seen around here. We're gonna be fine."

Monica let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry. I just want everything to be perfect."

"As usual," Chandler joked, and helped his wife turn around in his arms.

"Hey!" Her nose crinkled, "It'd do you good to worry sometimes!"

"Nah, I think you do enough worrying for the both of us." He kissed her gently on the forehead as her eyes swept over the great room for the umpteenth time. "You ready?"

She nodded against his shoulder, and slipped an arm around his waist, as his draped across her neck. Inspecting the rest of her surroundings as they left the house, the Volvo they'd rented clicked quietly, unlocking itself as they approached it. The doors swung open and shut, and Chandler ignited the engine hesitantly. The drive back to the village was in comfortable silence, as Monica stared out the window at the world she'd soon immerse herself in.

- -

"They were just the sweetest little children," Rachel cooed, holding Erica gently in her arms as Monica took Jack in hers.

"Yeah, sweet as salt," Ross muttered, his girlfriend rolling her eyes at him.

Rachel turned away from him to speak with Monica. "Don't mind him. He's just bitter because he had to be on diaper duty while the two of you were in Westchester."

Monica laughed airily, and kissed Jack on the top of his head. "I don't ever mind him, Rach." Her eyes shifted from one twin to the other, the warm smile drawn across her lips never wavering. "So, are you guys coming over in the morning?" She asked, her focus fixed on her children.

"I dunno. Do you want us to come?"

"Of course."

"Then yes, I suppose we will be. Did you talk to Phoebe and Mike?"

Monica nodded. "Uh huh – I think they'll be stopping by, too."

"Then all's well that ends well."

She finally looked up and into her best friend's sparkling eyes. "I suppose you're right."

- -

Monica entered the living room with a heavy sigh, staring around at the boxes that surrounded her. The room was dimly lit with a lamp plugged in on the floor, meticulously steadied on a flame-retardant blanket. She saw the back of her husband's head, and could tell he was looking at something intently. She came up behind him quietly. "Okay, I got everything up in our room in some sort of organized chaos, and the twins' things are all together in the corner. I figured it'd just be easier for them and for me if they slept in our room, at least for a little while. Jack and Erica are in the crib, and I think they might finally be a – Chandler, are you listening to me?"

Chandler looked up from the book sitting in his lap, his eyebrows raised. "What's that now?"

"Do you know the phrase 'pay attention'?" She threw her hands up in frustration and joined him on the plastic wrapped sofa, laying her head on the crook of his shoulder, his arm instinctively holding her warm body to him. "You truly are a lost cause." She sighed.

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "A lost cause you're stuck with for life."

She snuggled closer to him, not caring that the material she was sitting on was ruining the romantic mood they'd set, and she ran her hand down his cotton work shirt gently. "What're you reading?" She asked, looking pointedly down at the book laying facedown on his knee.

"Oh, I'm not reading, it's a photo album."

"Ooh, mind if I take a peek?"

"Not at all – though I can't remember the last time someone said 'peek' to an adult."

She brought her far hand over to pick up the album, 'accidentally' hitting Chandler on the back of the head on her way. She flipped it open, smiling at the pleasant memories preserved on its pages. Photos were never taken of sad moments, of moments one wanted to forget. Perhaps that was why she loved them; they would remind her always of the happy times.

"When was this?" Monica asked, pointing to an unfamiliar picture. She was the subject of it, smiling into the lens with sweat lacing her face, and melted chocolate on the tip of her nose.

"Don't you remember?" At the shake of her head against him, he reminisced, "it was about three or four years ago, back when we were betrothed." Monica laughed when he tried especially hard to pronounce the word correctly, remembering how much it used to frustrate her. "You were making chocolate candy for the neighbors, you know, as a treat to help us get to know them. You were so devoted to finishing every batch you started, and you decorated them all by hand. Ringing any bells yet?"

She thought for a moment. "I think so."

He let out a small chuckle, "I remember when someone knocked on the door in the middle of the night, and he said the candy was like –"

"'Little drops of Heaven'," they said together, and Monica looked up and into his eyes. "I remember now."

"Yeah," he said unnecessarily, his tone sobering as their eyes wandered back to the page. They flipped past pages and pages of photos of the two of them together, and with their friends. The morning of the wedding – as Rachel helped Monica do her hair before heading to the Plaza hotel. There was another shot of them on their honeymoon; they asked a passerby to take a picture of them in their swimsuits together, their arms around each other.

Their hands met as they turned the page, smiling at the picture of them dressed up for a Halloween party; Monica in her slimming Cat woman costume, Chandler in his furry bunny suit. Chandler laughed at the photo of Ross dressed up as a potato, and Phoebe as Supergirl.

"Oh look," Monica giggled, pointing at the picture in the top right corner, "it's Joey dressed up as you."

"I still don't think I sound like that." Chandler remarked, obviously bitter.

"Oh please!" She laughed, and mocked him, her tongue protruding from her mouth as she gurgled and gestured. "He was right on."

"My funny noises can't be as bad as you doing a British accent." He nudged her playfully.

She nudged him back. "Oh, shut up! I can do an Irish accent better than you can."

"Right," He chuckled, "But you know you'll never top my impersonation of our house boy –"

"'More turkey Mr. Chandler?'," Monica interrupted, "I think I've got it down pretty good."

He nodded. "I guess we're even, then," he observed with a smile.

"Not so fast, my friend!" She adjusted her position in his arms, slipping against the plastic of the sofa, "I believe I can do more accents than you can."

"You and your ridiculous obsession with winning!" Chandler rolled his eyes, and turned the page. "Speaking of which..." He pointed to a picture in the middle: Barbados. Monica's hair had doubled in volume, and she wore a cap on her head that hardly tamed it.

She covered her face in shame, laughing, "Oh god, what a trip!"

"Yeah – I totally wiped the smirk off Mike's face that night."

Monica sobered at the memory. "You really did, didn't you? I was so happy that night. Didn't we almost...?"

"Yeah. But I wouldn't, cause of, y'know, cause of your hair."

"Right." She shook her head, and turned to the last page.

There, near the middle, was a photo of her and Chandler, sitting in Central Perk, holding hands, and sharing an obviously passionate kiss. She didn't recognize it... "Who took this?" She asked, smiling crookedly, wondering if he had anything to do with it.

He leaned forward and squinted at it. "I dunno." His voice hinted curiosity, and he carefully pulled it out of its sleeve. He brought it up to study it carefully, and turned it over. "There's a note on the back," he said, and read it aloud. "Thought you guys could use this in your photo album. Surprise! – Phoebe."

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Monica took it from him, and reread the note herself, then looked at the picture again. Slipping it back in its sleeve, she smiled inwardly at how compromising their position was. "Wow," she whispered, and looked up at her husband.

Chandler shut the album and nodded, just as surprised as she was. "I know. We were pretty good at that." He chuckled, and looked down at her. She wore a wryly suggestive smile, as she took the album from his lap and set it down on the plastic covered coffee table, stealing a soft kiss from him. Her arms slid tentatively around his neck as it grew deeper, a beautiful reminder that their flame was still brightly burning.

Laying back on the sofa, Monica's eyelids fluttered shut as she shared an intimate moment with her husband, his hold on her never loosening, nor inspired to. Yet, right at the moment when a sweet kiss became a seductive one, the soft whimpers of stirring children floated down the staircase. The couple froze, their eyes open, their mouths still fused together, and waited for the second sign that their son and daughter had indeed awoken. When they thought it hadn't come, they resumed their liplock, until another infant cry echoed across the landing.

Monica broke first, caressing his cheek with hers. "We'd better go check on them," she whispered.

Chandler groaned and nipped at the flesh of his wife's neck. "Just one more minute." His tongue flicked sensually across her skin, and she let out a soft moan.

"Sweetie, I really don't think that's what the kids are going to allow."

His lament was muffled against her, and he held her close as they trudged up the stairs. Entering their bedroom, they immediately found their children squirming and awake. Monica picked up Erica, as Chandler took Jack in his arms. They rocked their fussing children silently, the mere attention they were getting soothing to them as it was.

Monica looked up over her daughter at her husband, who was holding Jack's tiny hand with his thumb and forefinger. She smiled, close to tears herself that he could go from being so romantic to so paternal in the space of a minute. He was a father already.

Several minutes passed, and they had changed their children and put them back down to sleep, cleaning up and washing their hands. As they emerged from the bathroom, Monica quietly told him, "I'm gonna go on downstairs and start unpacking the kitchen." And with that, she turned to leave the room, but Chandler caught her by the arm.

"I'm not letting you get away again," he whispered, his words having so many meanings.

She bestowed to him a promising peck on the lips, and whispered an equally meaningful response. "I don't want to be anywhere but here."

- - - - - - -