The Adjustment Bureau

Chapter One

~.~

I realize I need another story going like I need (insert cliché here), but I saw the movie The Adjustment Bureau (with Matt Damon and Emily Blunt) the other night, and I got the urge to base a Mondler fic on the premise of the movie. I've never done anything like this before, so…bear with me. This won't be very long, about 5-ish chapters, and it's based on the premise of the movie (which I'm not going to say, but if you haven't seen it, you will understand as the story goes on). It will, of course, tie into events from the actual show. And…I think that's what you need to know.

Disclaimer? Sure, why not. I don't own the Friends characters. Or the premise of The Adjustment Bureau. If one were to sue me, they would get absolutely nothing since I'm a poor grad student.

~.~

Thanksgiving 1988

~.~

Nora Bing paused as she got into her car, having a feeling she was forgetting something. Digging through her purse, she frowned, unsure as to how she could be missing her wallet. Sighing, as she was running late, she got out of the car, going back inside after it.

~.~

Monica, clad in pajama pants and a tshirt, stopped outside of the guest bedroom on her way downstairs to get a glass of water, the door slightly ajar, light still shining from underneath. She felt bad, terrible, for cutting off Chandler's toe. She just wanted to make him feel bad, not maim him. He probably didn't even remember what he said the year before. He was a teenage guy; teenage guys say stupid things all the time.

Monica sighed, lifting her hand to knock, but then letting it fall. She felt like she needed to apologize, but wasn't sure what to say or how it would be received.

As the door suddenly opened, Monica jumped backwards, Chandler on the other side jumping, as well.

"God, you scared the shit out of me," Chandler laughed.

"Sorry," Monica replied quietly, not moving from the doorway or offering any other explanation.

"I-um-did you need something?" Chandler finally asked, Monica not moving making him unable to leave.

Monica shook her head. "I just…I wanted to apologize. For, ya know, the whole cutting off your toe thing." Chandler laughed out loud at that. "Okay, I know it was a horrible thing to do, but you don't have to laugh at my apology!" Monica turned to go, but Chandler reached out for her shoulder.

"No, sorry, that's not why I was laughing," he limped forward, Monica turning back towards him. "It just sounded really, really ridiculous. "'I'm sorry for cutting off your toe.' How ridiculous does that sound? Who does that happen to?" he laughed again, Monica smiling slightly.

"I am sorry," Monica again said quietly.

Chandler shrugged. "It happens."

Monica laughed at that. "No. No, it doesn't."

Chandler grinned at finally making her smile. "You're probably right."

"How-how's your toe?" Monica finally asked, Chandler leaning against the doorframe.

Chandler nodded. "Mostly gone. Kind of painful. I was actually going to go take something for it…I think I left my painkillers downstairs."

"I can grab them for you, if you want," Monica offered.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I was going down there anyway. For a drink. Then you don't have to limp all the way down there."

Chandler finally conceded. "Okay, thanks."

"Be right back," Monica headed downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing his bottle of painkillers off of the counter and filling up two glasses of water before heading back upstairs. She returned to the guest room to find Chandler sitting on the edge of the bed. "Here you go," she handed him the bottle and glass of water.

"Thanks," Chandler took them from her, opening the bottle and taking a pill, swallowing it with a drink of water. "How?" he looked up at her, setting the water on the table beside the bed.

"What?"

"How?" he laughed. "How did you cut my toe off? Like…what were you doing?"

Monica reddened, looking down at the glass of water still in her hands. She shook her head. "It's embarrassing."

Chandler laughed. "Well, as the one sitting here with only nine and a half toes, I think I deserve an explanation."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Monica again apologized, taking a seat on the bed.

Chandler smiled. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. Just trying to guilt you into telling me."

Monica shook her head, trying to hold back a smile at that. "It's embarrassing. I'm not going to say it."

"My father headlines a gay burlesque show in Vegas. When I was younger, I once performed in 'It's Raining Men' with him. That's an embarrassing story," Chandler paused. "Okay, now you go."

Monica laughed. "You're making that up."

"How do you make something like that up?"

Monica again laughed, shaking her head. "I'm still not telling you."

Chandler shrugged, standing up and limping over to the door, closing it. "Well, I'm not letting you go until you do."

Monica raised her eyebrows at him. "You're holding me hostage in my own house?"

"Something like that," he grinned, again sitting down on the bed, scooting back and leaning against the pillows.

Monica set her glass of water down on the bedside table. "Does your dad really headline a burlesque show in Vegas?"

Chandler nodded. "And my mother writes erotic novels. I feel like any questions of 'God, what's wrong with him?' can be answered by knowing those two facts."

"Wow, your parents seem so much more interesting than mine," Monica said, moving next to him.

"I'm not sure more interesting is better."

Monica shrugged. "At least they don't hate you."

Chandler scoffed. "Your parents don't hate you."

"Well, they do like Ross more than me." Chandler shrugged at that. "No, they don't, Monica. They love you both the same," she prompted him.

"No, they don't, Monica. They love you both the same," he echoed, grinning, and she laughed. "Who is spending Thanksgiving with their parents, and who is spending it with his roommate's family and is now missing a toe thanks to his roommate's sister?"

Monica's face again fell. "I really am sorry…."

Chandler laughed. "I'm just going to keep saying that for as long as you feel guilty about it."

Monica shook her head, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "You're a jerk."

"Yea," he nodded. "But did you hear what I said my parents did for a living? I had a really messed up childhood," he laughed as she again shook her head at him.

~.~

Monica looked at Chandler, who was now lying beside her on the bed, both of them on their stomachs facing each other. "So, what, you want to write erotic romance novels like your mom?" she teased after he said he had always wanted to be a writer.

"God, no," Chandler scoffed. "Maybe something more satirical."

"Why? It's not like you have the sarcastic tone down or anything," she grinned at him, and he took the pillow from beneath his head, hitting her in the face. She shook her head. "Completely uncalled for."

"Was it?" he asked, and she smacked him back with a pillow. "That was completely uncalled for," he laughed, taking the pillow from her, placing it, with the other one, beneath his head. "Have you always wanted to be a chef?" he asked, getting back to their conversation.

Monica shrugged. "Yea, kind of. I can remember always being fascinated with cooking and baking since I was a little kid. I'd been thinking about it all through high school, but I felt like no one would take me seriously about it since I was, ya know…heavier… And my parents…it's not that they're terrible people, they just…aren't very supportive, and I think my mom kind of thought of me being a chef as a bit of a joke. And, god, I can't believe I'm actually telling you this," Monica paused. "Last Thanksgiving, when I made you dinner, and you were like, 'oh, you should be a chef,' that was, like, it. And you were probably joking-"

Chandler shook his head. "Not joking. What was in that mac and cheese? Like ten kinds of cheeses? God, that's like something you order at a five-star restaurant…."

Monica laughed, blushing slightly at the complement. "Not quite, but thank you."

"Yea, I was kind of disappointed that the whole going to the hospital thing kind of put a damper on me getting to have it again…."

Monica smiled, nudging him to move over so that she could share the pillow with him. "I'll make it for you some other time."

Chandler returned her smile, heart beating quicker as she moved closer. "Deal."

~.~

"Hey, do you think," Chandler touched Monica's side lightly, and she laughed, flinching slightly. "Did that tickle?" Monica shook her head, so he did it again, this time purposefully tickling her. Monica laughed, rolling away from his touch. Chandler moved closer, tickling her again. "Are you ticklish?"

"Chandler," she said in between laughs. "Chandler, stop," she continued to laugh.

"Shh, you're going to wake up your parents," he warned teasingly, his fingers digging into either of her sides as she continued to laugh, squirming beneath his touch.

He paused, face close to hers, as her laughing subsided slightly. She smiled slightly, but took the moment to get revenge, nearly pouncing on him, knocking him onto his back as she tickled him.

Taken by surprise, he laughed, hard, squirming beneath her now. "Stop, stop, I'm really ticklish…"

Monica grinned. "Shh, you'll wake up my parents," she echoed what he had said to her, continuing to tickle him.

Chandler was stronger that she was, though, and rolled on top of her, both of them still laughing, pinning her beneath him, holding one of her arms in each of his hands, their faces inches apart. She stopped fighting back as he released her arms, touching her cheek lightly, running his thumb down it. She stared into his eyes, all but holding her breath, knowing what was coming next.

He pressed his lips to hers, softly, just for a couple of seconds, pulling back to gauge her reaction. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her again. She parted her lips, feeling his tongue with her own, his hand moving beneath her tshirt on her bare lower back, then farther up her back, realizing she wasn't wearing a bra. She moved her hands beneath his tshirt, as well, kissing him harder before tickling him again.

Chandler pulled back, laughing as he rolled away. "Mean. That was mean."

Monica laughed, as well. "Who is holding who hostage?"

Chandler smiled as she again moved closer to him. "Monica Geller, I think you're here by your own free will…."

~.~

Chandler lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, Monica's head on his chest, as he glided his fingers between hers.

"I think I'm ready to tell you why," she said quietly.

"Why what?" Chandler looked down at her, confused.

"Why you now only have nine and a half toes. How that happened," she explained slowly, sitting up so that she was facing him.

Chandler sat up, as well, leaning back against the wall.

Monica looked down. "Well, last year, I kind of overheard you and Ross talking after dinner, and…you told him you didn't want to be stuck here all night with-with his fat sister…."

"Oh my god, I called you fat? I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry," Chandler grabbed her hands. "That's terrible. God, I don't even remember that." Monica shrugged. "God, why don't you hate me right now? I kind of hate me right now..."

Monica again shrugged, still not looking at him, but not pulling away from his touch, either. "Anyway, Rachel was trying to help me come up with a way to get back at you for that, and I wanted to do something that would humiliate you and make you feel as bad as you made me feel last year-"

"I'm sorry-"

Monica shook her head, moving away from him. "This is so embarrassing I can't even look at you and tell you."

"More embarrassing than me not even remembering calling you fat? We just made out for a good half hour and have been flirting for a good three hours, and, I swear to god, I don't even remember that last year. God, I feel like a jackass."

Monica shrugged. "Different kind of embarrassing," she said quietly, still looking away. "Anyway, Rachel basically said to try to seduce you, to get you naked, and then somehow in our grand scheme I could get you outside and lock you out there naked for everyone to point and laugh at, and," Monica laughed at herself. "God, I don't know what happened, with the box and the knife, or how we thought the whole thing was going to work," she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she finally looked up at Chandler, who laughed. "What?"

"That is the most ridiculous way to get someone back, ever."

Monica nodded. "Can we just never talk about either of those things again, ever?"

"If I can apologize a few more times…."

Monica smiled. "I cut off your toe. We're even."

Chandler laughed at that. "Touché." He paused, awkwardly. "Can I kiss you again now?"

Monica nodded. "I was kind of hoping you would…."

~.~

"Dude," Ross smacked at Chandler's feet, walking into the guest room the next morning to find Chandler and Monica sleeping there together. "What the hell?"

"Why? Why would you smack my foot?" Chandler groaned, his toe throbbing, his arm still around Monica, who he was spooning.

"Why are you in bed with my little sister?" Ross countered, trying to keep his voice down so that their parents didn't come in there. "Please, please tell me you're both fully clothed…."

At that, Monica pulled back the covers for a moment to reveal that they were, before pulling them back down around them. "Go away, Ross," she grumbled.

"You're lucky I came in here, not Mom and Dad," Ross scoffed, not moving.

"We'll be down for breakfast in a minute, Ross," Monica looked up at him, Chandler also silently pleading for him to leave them alone.

Ross huffed. "Fine, but this conversation is not over," he finally turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

~.~

"For the seventy-fifth time, no, we did not have sex last night," Chandler groaned as he and Ross walked back towards their dorms.

"Well, what the hell happened?" Ross asked, having kept quiet on the drive back since he was freezing Chandler out, angry with him for whatever happened the night before.

"You want, like, details?" Chandler quipped, and Ross made a face of disgust. "Look, I really like her, okay?" Chandler added, more seriously as he opened the door.

"So, what, are you guys going to date or something now?" Ross asked, following Chandler inside. Chandler froze, his sight landing on a man sitting on the benches beside the elevator, a few feet from the front desk. "Dude, I asked you a question."

"Dad," Chandler said, not even hearing Ross's question, the sight of his father, in street clothes instead of in drag, waiting for him, catching him completely off guard.

Charles stood up, walking over to the boys. "Let's go find somewhere to talk, son," he said quietly, placing a hand on Chandler's shoulder. Chandler froze, knowing at once that something was wrong.

"Later, man," Ross said quietly, also getting that feeling as he headed onto the elevator and away from them.

"Chandler," Charles said, Chandler still glued to the same spot he had been standing in, his stomach dropping. "Chandler," he repeated, and Chandler finally looked up at him. "Your mom was in a car accident…."