Okay, I hadn't planned on finishing this fic in such a rushed manner, but I realized I posted at the beginning of July, updated at the beginning of August, and thought "why the hell not finish it at the beginning of September?" because my brain is like this. So... Here's a final chapter, because it was fun to write, and poor Chandler deserved some good in his life!

I have no idea of when this birthday (or the previous one) take place so I tried to stay neutral about time indication. Thanks for all your reviews on this story, though, I hadn't planned on writing more after the first chapter, initially ;)

Just as Chandler was about to leave for work, Joey got his head out of the fridge, frowning.

"Where're you going?"

"Work. You know, that thing some of us have to go to. Sometimes..."

"W-work? Why don't you call in sick?" Joey was visibly panicking, and Chandler studied him.

"You okay, man?"

Joey nodded eagerly, and tried to casually lean against the table, apparently thinking. "It's just, er... What if we played some foosball?!"

Chandler stared at him, then shrugged and abandoned his briefcase on the ground. "Okay," he grinned, thoughts about work long gone.

They played for a while, even when Ross came in. He usually tried not to play if Monica wasn't around to be on his team, so he watched them, commenting all their movements until it got annoying and Chandler decided to call his work and pretend to be sick. It amazed him how much he could call in sick, considering how easy his job was to him and how much money he made. He might hate it, but it made good money, allowed him to do almost nothing when he actually was at work and was safe, at least.

"Oh I've got an audition!" Joey suddenly said, hitting himself a bit too harshly on his forehead. He winced, rubbing the spot, and ran out.

"You know, I don't think an agenda is enough for Joey. It should speak, tell him what to do and when to do it," Chandler said to Ross who laughed.

They sat, simply talking for a while, until the phone rang and Ross almost threw himself on it. "HEY!" he shouted, and Chandler sank slightly more into his seat. What was wrong with Ross? "Monica wants to talk to me," he said once he had hung up, "about a family thing... er... I'll see you around?"

"Sure," Chandler answered, but his friend was already out of the apartment.

He sighed, turning the TV on and resting his eyes, just for a minute.

"I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed as the door was slammed and he woke up suddenly. He turned, blinking a few times, only to see Phoebe grinning, her guitar in her hands.

"Someone did something," she smiled.

"What are you doing here, Pheebs?" He stood, noticed it was way past lunchtime, and opened his fridge in the hope of finding something in it. "Do you think the girls have something ready to eat? I'm starving."

"No! No! They have nothing!" Chandler just stared at her, shocked by her outburst. "I mean, I am starving! Should we order pizza?"

"Didn't we eat that last night?"

"Maybe."

Chandler nodded thoughtfully, but still picked up the phone, ordering a vegetarian.

"So, why are you here?" he asked again as they were finally eating their well-deserved lunch.

"I wanted your help to write a song!"

He looked at her, expecting her to joke, but she seemed serious. She finished her slice of pizza, washed her hands, and picked up her guitar.

"See, I was going for, er, someone who is hiding something from his friends... Can you help?"

Chandler froze, wondering if anyone was hiding something from them in the group, as Phoebe's song usually reflected on situations she was familiar with. He couldn't think of anything, so he just helped her, even if most of the times he just joked and didn't help her that much. He managed to suggest a few jokes that she liked enough to actually put them in her song.

Rachel came by later, Phoebe leaving them together. Chandler joked, before she left, that it almost looked like a relay race, how one stayed with him until another came. They didn't laugh, exchanging a confused – or scared? – look, so he chuckled awkwardly, alone.

He simply sat and talked with Rachel, liking spending time with her, too. He learned new funny things, and confessed some secrets too – although Joey and Monica already knew, so he wasn't sure it was much of a secret anymore – both slumped on the barcaloungers.

As they were throwing pistachios at each other and trying to catch them with their mouths, Chandler's stomach made a noise. He smiled sheepishly, putting his hand on it.

"I think I'll need something more solid than this," he pouted.

Rachel chuckled, but seemed to be hungry too. "What time is it anyway?"

"After eight," Chandler shrugged. "Where are the others? Joey should be back by now."

"Fuck!"

"What?"

"Nothing! I gotta go see Monica!" Rachel shouted, standing abruptly, ignoring the empty shells and missed pistachios that fell from her top, and ran to the door.

"Wait, I'm coming too," he said, but she seemed to ignore him.

He sighed once the door closed after her, and stood up, briefly cleaning the room before he made his way to Monica's. Why were his friends acting kind of weird?

Chandler frowned when he opened the door and found that it was dark, turning on the lights quickly.

"SURPRISE!" was yelled by a lot of people across the room and he let out a very girlish scream.

Oddly enough, his first thought was that he was in his socks in front of all these people. Then, he finally started to wonder why they were having a surprise party. "Wh-what are we celebrating?" He turned to Monica, because she usually had the answers for that, and she was always the hostess of a party.

"Your birthday!" some people answered enthusiastically.

Chandler frowned. "My birthday? It's not my birthday before..." Chandler was trying to calculate, then it came down to him. "Oh." It was his birthday. "I can't believe you guys did that," he grinned, going to hug his five closest friends, as he knew they all had planned this.

He hadn't been thinking about his birthday much, usually not liking the day excessively. The fact that his friends had thought of it and done all that moved him.

"We didn't forget it this time!" Joey smiled, and Chandler nodded, holding back a laugh as the others glared at him for bringing that up.

It hadn't been their most glorious moment, indeed, but they all had erased the memory, or pretended to.

Chandler's thoughts about the disaster during his birthday they had all forgotten disappeared when he noticed a guest he wasn't expecting to see. "You got my mom for my birthday?" he asked, whispering to Rachel who was the last of his friends he hugged.

She nodded excitedly, clapping her hands like a child, and Chandler remembered that she was a big fan of his mother.

"If you keep going, I'll start inviting her to your birthdays, you seem to want to see her more than I even do," he nudged her playfully. When she seemed ready to agree – or even beg him to do so – he laughed out loud.

Nora didn't stay long – enough for Chandler to wish he was dead, once again – but Chandler still appreciated her dropping by. The other guests cleared out gradually, and soon it was just the six of them, sitting in the living-room. Well, five of them sitting and Monica already gathering some stuff up, which was fine as long as she didn't scold them for putting their feet up on the table. She looked like she would say something, but eventually simply sighed.

Chandler looked up at her and smiled, showing her the small space beside him on the armchair. She hesitated for a second, then gave up on cleaning up – for now! – and sat next to him, putting her legs on his lap. He grinned, looking at his friends who were currently arguing about whether this party was the best yet or not. For Chandler, it probably was. First, it was one of the few surprise parties that actually were a surprise, as he had completely forgotten about his birthday – they all knew that a surprise party was coming when a birthday was coming. And it had just felt so good, to lay back for an evening – well, a whole day as he hadn't gone to work – and enjoy his friends' presence, without even drinking himself to death – or, at least, without embarrassing himself.

All in all, Chandler was pretty happy with the group of friends he had managed to make.