A/N: If you expect action - and/or smut for that sake - stop right here and save yourself the disappointment. These are just reflections, musings if you like :-) about what the others think after finding out about Monica and Chandler. Nothing with Mondler here actually - in the time these thoughts are thought they are probably doing it somewhere again - but it's all about them. I actually had this idea this very morning, after waking up, one of the best times for ideas really. I was wondering why Ross hadn't told their parents right away, and why Phoebe would always look down on Chandler, but eventually get together with a guy much like him, and then one thing led to another until there was something for all of them. I had fun writing it and I hope it's not too boring for you.

ROSS

I'm telling Mom! I'm so gonna call Mom! She has to know that! I'll call them, or I'll go to them – a phone call doesn't quite cut it with something like this. I'll go to them and tell them: Mom, Dad – Monica is doing it with Chandler! Monica and Chandler are doing it! And they didn't tell me! They kept it secret! I just found out! They were doing it in the living room right under the window! His ass was right in my face! My boss saw them too!

Except I can't really. I can't tell Mom that. She'll ask me right away about why my boss was there and if everything at work is alright, if I'll get a promotion soon, why I lost my apartment, why did I give in to Emily, why didn't I try harder to keep Emily, why did I marry Emily in the first place, why did I say the wrong name at the altar …

And never once asking me why I can't control my sister AND my best friend. She would know that there was no need to ask that, that I keep asking that myself all the time ever since I saw them.

And Dad would be even worse. He'd get everything wrong of course, get mad at Chandler and swear to kick his ass and make him look bad and I can't let him do that, because Chandler is still my best friend after all. Even if he's doing my sister.

So I can't tell them.

But I have to tell someone. Man, this is so unbelievable! My best friend and my little sister! Hooking up! Doing it! And in love on top of it! And I have to admit, even though I still can't just wrap my mind around the fact that they're doing it, that they are having sex all the time, have been doing it since London – oh god, they had just been doing it when I barged in, doing it all night, naked and hot in that hotel bed … Stop it right there, Geller. Down boy. There. That's better. I have to think of something else. Like the fact that they love each other. Even though they knew each other for so long. Well, they've always been weird with one another. Always close, always good friends. I still remember how happy Chandler was when I told him that the old lady who lived right across the hall from Monica had to go live in a nursing home and that her apartment would be free soon. He didn't even ask about the rent. He took the apartment before the landlord even had a chance to put it on the market, before the old lady's stuff was cleared out. I don't think it was only because of Monica – after college he was desperate for a place in the Village where he could get away from his parents and live a normal and quiet life. But he hated the thought of starting a new life all alone, with no one nearby that he knew. So Monica being there made it perfect, no wonder he jumped at the chance. And Monica was happy to have him as her neighbor too. She always had a soft spot for him, no matter how much he annoyed her. And he for her, although she did get on his nerves more than once.

But still, to be so close for almost seven years and never to realize that they could fall in love? How weird is that? But maybe that was the only way it could work for them. They had to get to know each other first. Show each other exactly what they were. No chance for any misconceptions, no turning a blind eye to each other's weaknesses and quirks and failings. No idolizing, no false image.

And no cause for jealousy either. I know Chandler well enough to know that he's always been a one-woman-guy – happy to have even one woman for himself at all. Once he's with a woman, he never even thinks about what it would be like with someone else. He doesn't even look. It's strange considering how promiscuous and wild both his parents are, you'd think someone with such parents would be just the same instead of the complete opposite. I guess he decided early on that theirs was not the way he wanted to go. And I admire him for it. I've always wanted what my parents have, the way they keep having it, maintaining their relationship so effortlessly and unquestioningly, as if it never even occurs to them that there could be trouble, problems, obstacles and pitfalls, anything that could bring them apart. They always make it look so easy, even though they are so different. They told me so often that at first nobody believed they would make a go of it, that nobody believed them even when they told everybody they were engaged, and not even when they announced their wedding date. And some people even refused to believe in them afterwards. I think Nana only came to accept it – grudgingly at that – when I was born. And maybe that's their secret. That they are so different – and use that to complement each other. Take each other as they are and make each other whole.

If Monica and Chandler have that – if they ever achieve that – then they have my blessing.

And man, how I wish I could have that too.

.

PHOEBE

No, no, this can't be Chandler. Not the Chandler I know. The guy who takes one look at my breasts – still in my bra even – and wants run away. Or freezes on the spot, gibbering nervously. The guy who stumbles through life totally clueless, gets everything wrong and still makes fun of everybody. Especially me. The guy who can never shut up. Who's kind and sweet, but so insecure about himself it makes you want to scream. The guy who makes my foot itch because it wants to kick him so bad. The guy no one in their right mind could ever take serious.

I guess this isn't the same Chandler, the one I used to know. This is Chandler plus Monica. Chandler with Monica to back him up. To keep him erect so to speak. Pun fully intended – though I can't help but wondering about that, can he really be that good in bed? Maybe Monica has lowered her standards a little by now. Though I can't really believe that of her. Not of Monica. So he must be good. Good enough for her. But only with her, and because of her. She must have trained him well by now, considering how often they do it.

And I hate it that they fooled me for so long. How dare they? I knew there was something, but never in my wildest dreams would I have hit upon the truth if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. It makes sense really, at least for Monica, in her place I would have done the same until I was sure that Chandler could be trusted not to freak at the first scare – or at least not to freak too much. And she has the nerve and the discipline it takes. I mean to keep a secret for five months! But I really don't understand how Chandler managed that.

So yes, this is really Chandler, the guy who is so scared of me he was stiff as a board when we kissed – or brushed our lips at least – and then had the guts to push me away and loudly declare that he loves Monica in front of everyone present. He could never have done it on his own, if she hadn't been there. And not only once. Twice! Three times! And then to take her in his arms and kiss her right there before our eyes, and you could see so clearly that they belong together, that they are one, in the way their bodies molded against each other, and how they looked at each other, and their voices changed when they spoke to each other, and how they were just the drop of a hat away from doing it again. This time right there, maybe on one of the barcaloungers, or on the kitchen counter. Though they probably did it there already. I bet they could do anywhere though, and a hundred times in the same place and still make it look good. I do admit I jumped to the wrong conclusion there. It was never just about sex. If it had been only about sex, it wouldn't have lasted beyond London, no matter how horny Monica was. Maybe a few times here. But she would have kicked his ass the second he started dancing on the table. The second she realized that he wasn't taking her seriously. So he really must have been serious about her right away.

I want someone like him. I don't want him – he's Monica's now anyway, and I know he's only good with her, he could never be what he is with anybody else. If we were together we'd totally screw each other up. Also I think he's incapable of falling for blondes in the first place. But I want someone like him. Someone I can look in the eyes and see myself there. Who sees me. And only me. The way I really am. My dark side too, the bitchy side. And who's okay with it. Someone who doesn't put me on a pedestal and only sees my beauty and my kindness. Someone who knows I'm not perfect. Far from it. Someone I can be bitchy with. And crazy. And weird.

Someone I can trust with Ursula too. I never dared to even tell David about her, for fear she would gobble him up and spit him out whole once she was done with him. And ruin him for me. Like she almost did with Joey. She would do that just to spite me, even though she wasn't interested in him at all. I just couldn't risk it. If I had told David about her, he would have wanted to meet her, expecting someone like me, someone he could like, and when as soon as he realized what a bitch she is, he would have started to wonder about me. Or maybe not, but how could I risk that? So that guy, my own Chandler, would have to be pretty strong, strong and smart enough to see through her, and know that she was a totally different person.

And it would have to be someone who's funny, and even a bit sarcastic like Chandler, but also sweet. God knows he's too funny often, even annoying, but still good for a laugh. And laughs are so important. I can't imagine going through life without laughing.

But someone who's vulnerable too, but also strong because of it. Who isn't afraid of making an ass of himself once in a while, if it's for a good cause. And who would take care of me. And who's great in bed. Naturally. But not so great that I can't teach him a little more. Someone who listens too and knows what I need and doesn't think he knows better than me what I need.

Someone who's my lobster. And I hope I'll know that he is when I meet him. And don't let him get away from me again.

.

RACHEL

Wow. I still can't believe it. Monica really went and got herself a man, just like that. She was horny and decided she wanted sex, and she just went and – took it. Went across the hall practically. Didn't even make an effort to look further than just over her doorstep. Without considering the pros and cons first, without thinking of her reputation, the risks …

I mean, how can you do that and not lose all self-respect? Or the respect of the guy in question? How can you just go and have a one night stand, have hot animal sex over and over and over, do it right there … oh god, I'm getting horny just thinking about it. And this is Monica! Tough, stern, no-nonsense, strong, independent, Monica, Monica the neat-freak, Monica who broke up with Richard because he didn't want babies and didn't cave in, even after that relapse that they had. When it comes to sex she's really on top of it. She knows what she wants. And she got it now, even if it was by accident. She was really lucky, but she also made that luck work for her. And put in a good deal of work herself. It can't have been easy, even with all the great sex. You can't base a relationship on sex alone, no matter how great it is.

I mean, it's not like I didn't try. I was there once too, had sex with a guy on our first date. Raw, animal sex. Paolo took one look at me and knew he could have me whenever, wherever, however, he wanted. For him sex was always enough. More than enough. And heaven help me, for a little while I thought that too. But then Phoebe opened my eyes and afterwards I felt so – low. Slutty. Used. I wish I had kept that thing with him secret like they did. I never had a one night stand again after that. (Well, except that relapse with Paolo, but I wasn't myself that night, so it doesn't really count.) Because really, what are the chances that you have it with someone who will still respect you afterwards? Still fall for you? A guy for whom sex is the start and not the end?

I want that too. I want a guy who's there for me for the asking and who doesn't have to be wooed and courted for weeks, someone I don't have to play games with, a guy who turns out to be everything I want even when I don't know what I want, who gives me what I need even when I don't know what I need.

And who's great in bed of course. Especially great with me and still respectful of me. Who doesn't think I'm a slut just because I fell into his arms right away, without even thinking of playing hard to get. Where I don't even need to pretend that I'm not interested to spur him on. Who only looks at me and looks no further, acquires an immediate case of serious tunnel vision. With only me at the end. And never anybody else. Who believes me when I tell him that I love him, who trusts me. And who is willing to sacrifice everything if I want him to. His pride first of all. A guy for whom I would always come first, who would insist that I come first even if I don't want it. Is that really too much to ask?

But it looks like there simply aren't any guys like that to be found. Not for me. And I've tried so hard.

But maybe I've been going about it the wrong way. It's something to think about.

.

JOEY

Man, who would have thought that Chandler of all guys could get so lucky? Well, lucky for him. It wouldn't be lucky at all for me if some woman threw herself at me and made me her own so much I could never ever again even look at another – it doesn't bear thinking. Even if the woman in question was as hot as Monica. But still the price would be too high. For me at least. For Chandler it's not even low, it's not a price at all, but a gift, a one-in-a-lifetime-chance, a win in the lottery of love. And he's not one of those guys who only want more when they already have so much, who are never satisfied with what they have. He's happy with her, more than happy, delirious almost. I know he always wanted that, wanted that complete happiness. He tried so hard to have it with Janice and then with Kathy too. I could have told him that it would never work with her – both I mean, with Janice it was never a question anyway, but I could have tried to warn him about Kathy. Should have done really. But I was still so mad about his lying and he wouldn't have listened anyway, he was too busy wrapping himself into his illusions about her. Thank god she cheated already when they were still so early in their relationship, before it had a chance to get really serious. She wasn't right for him, he would never have been happy with her.

And he deserves so much to be happy. I've never seen a guy go through so much crap. The things he had to put up with. His crazy parents that kept embarrassing him. It would drive me bonkers to have a mother like that, as hot as she is. Add to that a father in drag with a gay burlesque show in Vegas and I'd be ready to kill myself. Or take another family name and pretend I'm an orphan. Oh yeah, yet another thing, imagine going through life with a name like Bing! Then that joke of a job of his where you have to go to every day and deal with numbers - I don't know what he does with those numbers, but it sounds pretty boring to me. Imagine having to go to work every day, sit at that desk, bored out of your mind, wear a suit and tie every day, 5 days a week, with an ugly secretary who orders you around and never takes any crap from you, and bosses who can tell you what to do all the time, fire you if they want, just like that, just when you got used to getting all that money and having a secure life. I couldn't do that. If I had to deal with crap like that I'd have jumped out of that window with the fancy view in his fancy office years ago. And then all that trouble he had with women. I kept telling him that he always tried too hard, always overdid it. Even thinking about hitting on a woman would make him shake or even puke – well, not later on, after I took him under my wing, but I remember one occasion early in our acquaintance where he almost didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Makes me really wonder how he managed to lose his virginity at all. The woman probably got him drunk, and then kicked his legs from under him and beat him to the floor. It's the only way it could have happened. I'm glad I was able to help him a little in that area. Jeez, what a mess he was when I moved in. With that ridiculous goatee that he thought made him look so sophisticated and experienced and really only made him look gay. And older than he was, I mean he was really barely 24. But above all gay, and arrogant, and smug, and when you looked closer he appeared all the more vulnerable and nervous and messed-up for it. But man, the look on his face when we first watched Baywatch together and had us some beers. It must have been the first chance in years for him to relax and just enjoy the simple things in life. I'm glad I was able to help him there too, and that he turned out to be the best buddy a man could wish for. And I'm so proud of him that he managed to get Monica to continue to sleep with him even back here in New York, and that she fell for him and that they are so happy now, and that he did all that on his own, without any help from me. Thank god I had my bridesmaid in London. If I hadn't been away, who knows what would have happened. Nothing really. They'd still be searching for the right person, and failing, and get more and more frustrated and end up like Mr Heckles downstairs, before he went belly-up I mean. I'm so happy for them that that didn't happen. Even if it means that I lose my best buddy before long. And the sight of them so happy together always makes me wish I could have something like that too. This – connection. This ability to be happy with just one other person.

But then I just can't do this. I just can't imagine that one woman alone could give me all I want, be enough for me. I'd always wonder if there was something more that I missed only because I was with her. She'd have to be one hell of a woman, a real scorcher, and smart too, so much smarter than me. A woman like my mom. Who would be okay with it even if I cheated on her. Who would know if it really mattered or if it could be ignored or tolerated. I don't know if I could limit myself to two women, like my dad, but if my main woman, the one who counted, could be like my mom – yes, that would be so worth it. Who knows, maybe if I found such a woman, I'd never bother about cheating on her anyway. With such a woman I wouldn't need to.

I'm almost sure about that.