More Chandler/Joey fic!
She’s doing ok so far. It’s been six weeks and she’s managed to not jump on him and shove her tongue down his throat, not make any suggestive remarks, and that one time she walked in on him in the shower really had been an accident.
Monica doesn’t believe her, and Chandler knows she’s developing quite a crush herself. Of course she won’t do anything about it either, but for different reasons. Chandler saw him first; that’s their rule, no exceptions.
She must resist the temptation.
They’re building a pretty solid friendship, which is worth so much more, and he fits in with the whole gang so well. Ross likes him, and even Monica’s new roommate likes him.
They’re all pretty used to the weird shit that happens in their lives, so Chandler is thrilled that Joey seems to take it all in his stride; Ross’s divorce from his pregnant lesbian ex-wife, Monica’s old friend Ray turning up out of the blue, having just left his fiancée at the altar. It’s been an eventful few weeks and of course she tries her hardest to support her friends, but when she comes home at the end of a long day, she can’t help but wonder how nice it would be to find someone cooking dinner, someone to cuddle up with in front of the TV.
But no, she has to forget this, resist this; she doesn’t want to jeopardise what they have right now.
She slumps against the door as she turns the key in the lock. She’s had a hellish day, her feet are killing from the impulse-buy new shoes she got on sale at the weekend, and her whole body aches. When she lurches through the door with a heavy sigh, the tempting aroma that hits her nose makes her groan and her mouth water.
He’s cooking.
He’s in her kitchen, cooking dinner and wiggling his ass from side to side as he sings something in Italian.
Oh hell.
She swallows as he turns around and gives him a weak smile.
He doesn’t seem to notice though, grins at her and lift the wooden spoon out of the spaghetti sauce.
“Here taste this,” he offers. Eyes fixed on his, she moves her mouth to the spoon and sucks a bit of the sauce into her mouth. And if she leaned forward a little bit more, she’s sure she would be able to brush her lips across those fingers...
She pulls back quickly. No Chandler! She scolds herself You have to resist it. Fight it.
“Good?” Joey asks and she nods her head dumbly and gestures towards her bedroom.
“Gotta go change,” she mumbles and hurries out of the room.
Later, she sits back in her chair and lets out a satisfied sigh. “That was delicious!” she says and he grins proudly.
“Well, you can thank my mother for that,” he says, getting up to clear the table. They do the dishes together and it easy and comfortable as they banter back and forth. He turns the TV on right afterwards and she settles herself at the opposite end of the couch.
“What’s on?” she asks.
He grins again, “Baywatch!”
“Baywatch?” she exaggerates a groan.
“You like it too!” he protests, “I know you watch it even when I’m not here.” She’s about to ask how he knows that, but gets shushed as the opening sequence rolls and is content to just sit and watch, letting her brain shut down for the first time today.
During the ad break, he gets up to use the bathroom, and when he comes back, his hand rests gently on her hair as he walks past.
“You ok?” he asks.
“Tired,” she answers, smothering a yawn. He sits closer this time and before she knows what’s happening, her feet are in his lap and his fingers are expertly working the aching arches.
And hasn’t that just woke her up!
Her breathing quickens a little and she tries her hardest to control it.
“Better?” he asks, and she swears there’s a glint in his eye. Does he know what he’s doing to her? Is he doing it on purpose? She stops that train of thought before her imagination runs away from her.
Go to bed Chandler she tells herself Alone! Go to bed alone. Resist the temptation to throw him down on the couch
“ ’m gonna go to bed,” she mutters, but her body won’t move, completely hypnotised by Joey and his talented fingers. It would be so easy to just move her foot a little higher, right up into his crotch... She pulls her feet away with a jerk and hastily says goodnight, retreating to the safety of her own room.
The final straw is when she comes home early on Friday, happy to be out of her office, looking forward to a relaxing weekend. When she walks through the front door, she almost drops her briefcase.
He’s in the living room and has pushed all of the furniture to the edges of the room.
He’s shirtless. Wearing miniscule shorts. Little rivulets of sweat runs down the groove between his shoulder blades. She can only see the back of him, but when he curls his bicep, lifting the dumbbell with a small huff of breath, she can’t do anything but stand and watch.
She’s so tempted to walk right over there and run her tongue over that delicious expanse of rippling muscle.
How the hell is she supposed to resist this?
She takes a couple of steps forward and her heels click on the hard floor, alerting him to her presence. He turns, smiles, and the front view of his naked torso is even more amazing than the back.
Grinning, she steps around the counter, making up her mind. The temptation is too much, resisting it is driving her (and her friends) crazy and if this all goes to hell...well, she’ll just have to get a new roommate. She hops up onto the counter, crossing her legs at the knee to hitch her skirt up and reveal a little more thigh than usual, and leans forward on her hands, grateful she’s wearing her push-up bra today and the shirt that makes her cleavage look good.
“Hey Joe,” she says, “How you doin’?”