The One With the Fake Friends

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Title: The One With the Fake Friends
Fandom: Friends
Character/s: Like the show
Word Count: 5,200
Rating: PG
Summary: As the last remaining two, Phoebe and Joey try to cope with being a Group of Two.
Warnings/Notes: Ignores Joey. Takes place two or three weeks after The Last One.

writingvixen and I were talking about how we’d have liked to have seen how the show might have progressed, had it gone on for more than ten series. This is the first of 24 planned instalments in this arc.



It was still all so hard to believe. Everything looked the same as it had before, but the feeling was completely different. Gunther still kept the reserved sign permanently on the coffee table, and everyone respected the small black sign, despite the fact that the rather large sofa area only ever seated the same two people anymore. Occasionally, there would be a third, but Mike would stick around usually just long enough to fetch Phoebe for whatever they’d had planned for the evening.

“God, I can’t believe we’re the only two left,” Phoebe declared over her cup of tea.

She did this every day over her cup of tea. It was like a new tradition, but even she had to admit that it was a fairly depressing new tradition.

“I know!” Joey agreed. “I keep going over to Ross and Rachel’s, and they keep saying that they’re ‘too busy’ to do anything. I’ve actually started learning my lines at night, I’m so bored.”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows, but decided it best not to comment. “We can’t just keep coming here by ourselves like this,” she pointed out, getting up from the wingback and moving next to Joey on the sofa. “Look at us. We’re here every day, just the two of us. We’re pathetic.”

Joey scoffed. “Speak for yourself.”

“We’re worse than Kip,” Phoebe realised suddenly. “We at least had the courtesy to phase him out. All those other guys just cut us out in one, violent chopping motion!” She whipped her hand through the air, nearly smacking Joey in the chest.

Secretly, Joey agreed. As much for Phoebe’s comfort as his own, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Holding Phoebe in his arms, an idea slowly dawned on him. Suddenly, he lunged forward, holding his hands at the sides of his head while everything slowly pieced together.

“Hey, you remember Estelle, right?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” Phoebe ventured cautiously. “Didn’t she die or something?”

Joey waved his hands in the air. “Yeah, but no. Listen,” he insisted. “She was always sending me to those auditions, right? Well, when she remembered, that is. Anyway, what if we auditioned some new friends?”

Phoebe blinked. “What? Like tryouts?” she asked.

“This isn’t football,” Joey pointed out.

After a few moments contemplation, Phoebe shrugged. “Okay,” she agreed. Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out her address book and began flipping through the pages. “No, I phased her out... She phased me out... He’s in prison...”

Cringing, Joey gently shut the address book. “Maybe I should take care of the auditions, Pheebs.”

“Okay.” Without a second thought, Phoebe handed Joey her address book. “But just remember: anyone with a red X next to their name? It means they’re dead.”

*   *   *

The bedside clock read half ten as Chandler very carefully and very quietly crawled out from under the blankets. Grateful for carpeted floors, he quietly made his way down the stairs and through the house to the back door. Phoebe had been right about one thing, as it turned out. Chinese at five in the morning? Biggest sacrifice of his life.

He still had his own treasures squirreled away, where he knew Monica would never think to look. He let himself out to the back patio, where he’d convinced his wife to let him keep The Dog. Checking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been followed, he crouched beside The Dog and reached between the porcelain animal’s legs, where a pack of cigarettes and a lighter had been carefully taped.

He quickly pulled one out of the pack, lit up, and slid the lighter back into its hiding place before standing back up. He still found it a little hard to believe that he was standing outside his house and was able to see more than just the planes flying into JFK. He became so involved in looking at the stars, that he didn’t hear Monica coming down to find him until she slid the patio door open, a baby monitor clutched tightly in her hand.

Chandler let out a startled bark as he jumped into the air, flicking his cigarette somewhere into the dark. Smiling in what he thought was an innocent manner, he turned to face Monica, taking a few moments to figure out what to do with his hands before he finally settled on resting them on his hips.

“Hey, honey,” he said, casually as he could manage.

“What was that?” Monica asked, not bothering to hide the accusation in her voice.

Chandler shrugged and shook his head. “What was... what was what?”

Monica nodded in the direction Chandler’s cigarette had gone. “Trying to start a forest fire?” she asked.

Chandler considered that for a moment. “What forest?”

“Go put it out.”

At that, Chandler knew he’d lost. “Okay,” he said simply as he stalked off to find where his cigarette had landed.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Monica asked, watching him from the patio. “Besides the obvious.”

“Oh, just... thinking,” Chandler responded blankly as he prodded around the garden unsuccessfully. “I can’t find it!”

“Keep looking!” Monica told him. “And thinking about what?”

Chandler found his cigarette and picked it up, holding it in his hand so that Monica wouldn’t be able to see it. Still, he pretended to keep looking, hoping to be able to actually finish it without her catching him.

“Oh, just,” he started, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Maybe it’s too soon for me to go back to work. The babies are only a couple weeks old, and we still haven’t found a nanny.”

With his back turned to Monica, he took a drag off his cigarette. His cigarette which was now wet and tasted funny from sitting in the ground, so he snubbed it out anyway, taking advantage of the dark and silently retching.

“Chandler, they told me to take as much time as we needed,” Monica reminded him. “You can’t just stay at home forever. You tried that once already, remember? You got hooked on Oprah and Cosmo.”

“Yeah, those were the days,” Chandler mused as he made his way back to the patio. He wrapped his arms tightly round Monica, resting his head against hers. “It’s just that you’re gonna be here with the babies, and you won’t have any help. Maybe we should wait until we get a nanny before I go back to work.”

Monica smiled up at him. “Look at you,” she said. “Being a big, protective daddy.”

“That’s my job,” Chandler reminded her. He kissed her lightly on the neck and sighed. “And damnit, I’m gonna do this right.”

“Well, then you’re going to work tomorrow, because the savings account’s only gonna go so far,” Monica said simply.

Chandler bounced up and down, not quite pretending to whine. “Oh, do I have to?”

“Yep,” Monica said simply. “And while you’re down there, why don’t you go ahead and stop by the old place and pick up Joey? I’m sure he misses you.”

“Really?” Chandler asked, smiling. “Okay.”

“But you have to actually go to the city and go to work,” Monica warned.

Sighing, Chandler swung his fist in the air. “Kay.” He leaned in to kiss Monica, surprised when she backed away slightly.

“I thought you said you’d quit smoking once we moved,” she said accusingly.

“I only said that so you wouldn’t try to find my hiding places,” Chandler admitted. He again tried to kiss her, and she again backed away.

“Brush your teeth first,” she said, stepping back inside. “And then we’ll see what happens.”

“Okay!” He rushed past Monica and up the stairs, leaving her to lock the back door.

*   *   *

Ross checked his watch. It was two minutes and thirty five seconds since the last time he’d checked. With Emma sound asleep, he had nothing else to do but pace around the apartment and check his watch, and that got pretty boring after the first forty five minutes. The next forty five minutes weren’t much of a picnic, and the last forty five minutes were just downright angering.

Finally, he lost his patience and picked up the phone. Just as he started to dial, the door opened and Rachel walked into the apartment, dropping her handbag and several shopping bags down on the floor.

“Where the hell have you been?” Ross demanded, putting the phone back on the cradle.

“I had to work late,” Rachel answered simply.

Ross waved angrily at the shopping bags. “And what’s all that? Doesn’t look like work to me.”

Rachel looked down at the shopping bags; classy white paper with “PINK” written on. “Oh, that?” she asked. She bent down and began looking through them. Finding the one she wanted, she picked it up and handed it to Ross. “They gave these to me as a sort of promotional thing.”

Frowning, Ross peeked into the bag, finding an obscenely bright pink tie, and a not quite as obscenely bright pink striped shirt.

“I don’t know what else I should have expected,” he said flatly, looking at the items. “Do they only come in the one colour?”

Rachel shrugged and shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “I just thought you’d like it, since you’ve got that other pink shirt.”

“Salmon,” Ross muttered under his breath. “But this still doesn’t make up for you not bothering to tell me that you were going to be late tonight.”

Rachel began taking off her coat. “Left you a message,” she said simply.

“Answering machine had no new messages when I got home.” Ross put the shirt and tie back in the bag and tossed it onto the sofa.

“On your cell,” Rachel clarified, making her way to the kitchen.

Frowning, Ross snatched his jacket from the hook and pulled out his phone, annoyed to see that there was a new voice mail waiting for him. Without bothering to listen to it, he crammed the coat back on the hook and followed after Rachel.

“Still, I’ve been waiting for you all evening,” he spat. “I have to get up early. I don’t really have time for anything now.”

“I didn’t know you had plans tonight,” Rachel said, her head in the refrigerator.

“I didn’t!” Ross insisted. “But that’s not the point!”

Finally, Rachel turned to face him. “Then what is the point, Ross?” she demanded. “I just got home from my new job. I’m tired. I wanna find something to eat and go to bed. But if you want to stay up and fight, then fine.”

“The point?” Ross scrubbed his hands over his face. “The point is that when you got off that plane, you said you wanted to be with me. But so far, we haven’t been ‘we’ very much at all.”

“What about Thursday night?” Rachel asked simply. “With the pizza and that movie?”

“That you slept through?” Ross asked.

“Yeah,” Rachel confirmed. “What was it called?”

“That’s not the point!” Ross hissed. “No, wait. That is the point! I don’t feel like we’re being a couple, here. It’s like we’re just back to being roommates that happen to have a kid together.”

“Well...” Rachel looked away, pretending to be searching for supper in the cupboards. “That was fun too, wasn’t it?”

Ross scoffed in disbelief. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Rachel continued to avoid eye contact with him as she ran out of places to pretend to search.

“Rachel, tell me,” Ross said, daring to step closer to her. “What is the problem?

Finally, Rachel cringed and turned to face Ross. She smiled awkwardly, wringing her hands together. “You remember when Joey and I were going out, right?” she asked. “And you were ‘fine’ with it?”

Ross choked. “What?” he asked. “You... You... What are you saying, exactly?”

“No!” Rachel insisted. “It’s just... that’s what it feels like right now. With us. Like... Like all of our history and our friendship is getting in the way of everything else.”

She cringed, feeling completely alone in the universe despite Ross standing only a few feet away. They looked at one another for a long while, neither daring to move or say anything. Finally, Ross brought his hand up to his face, holding it up nervously.

“So, what are you saying then?” he asked.

Rachel covered her face with both hands. “I don’t know,” she said, before quickly rushing back to the bedroom.

*   *   *

This was a good idea. It was going to work, and they both knew it. Phoebe and Joey both wore hopeful smiles as Mike led them to a small diner on the other side of Central Park. It was a small, intimate sort of place with original artwork mixed in with 50s kitsch. Something about it just felt right, which was a good sign.

“Right over here,” Mike said easily, leading the pair to a large table in the far corner.

The table was already occupied by four people engaged in casual conversation about nothing at all. Something about them seemed familiar to both Phoebe and Joey, but neither of them could place any of them directly.

“Guys,” Mike started easily. “This is Phoebe and Joey. Pheebs and Joey, this is Rose and Michael—” He pointed at two people that bore a striking similarity to one another.

“We’re twins,” Rose offered up quickly. “Not identical, obviously!”

“—This is Chester,” Mike continued, pointing at a bored-looking man with a backwards ballcap and glasses, who just waved idly, “and this is Ricki.” He pointed at a blonde woman with her hands covering her mouth.

“Oh, my god,” Ricki gasped. “You’re Joey Tribbiani! From Days of our Lives!”

Joey graciously took her hand, smiling. “How you doin’?” he asked.

Ricki laughed nervously and fanned herself with her hand. “Mike, you never told us you’re friends with Joey Tribbiani,” she scolded.

Mike shrugged as he helped Phoebe into a seat. “I don’t know him all that well,” he admitted. “I only met because of a blind date with Phoebe.” He blinked, realizing how absurd that sounded, but no one seemed bothered enough to call him out on it.

Ricki suddenly turned her attention to Phoebe. “So, who else do you know that you can introduce us to?”

“Oh, uhm…” Phoebe thought for a moment. “Oh! You know that guy on 53rd and Ninth? The one with the eye patch and the stuffed dog? Yeah, I know him.”

“As opposed to the guy on 54th and Tenth with the pirate hat and the stuffed cat?” Chester asked.

Phoebe shook her head. “Oh, no. He’s mean. You wouldn’t want to meet him.”

Chester looked at Mike in disbelief, unable to figure out why he would have married this woman. Sensing the tension, Joey clapped his hands together.

“So, uhm, what do you all do?” he asked, feigning curiosity. “I mean, you already know I’m an actor, and Pheebs here’s a masseuse.”

“I’m an actuary,” Chester said boredly.

“I own a chain of restaurants here in the city,” Michael responded. “Romano’s. Ever been there?”

“Yeah, I think Monica worked at one of them for a while,” Phoebe said. “Or maybe it was Raymundo’s. I don’t know. I just blank out when she starts talking about her work, honestly.”

The group exchanged more nervous glances before Rose tentatively offered forth her profession. “I teach high school geology,” she said.

Joey shrugged and laughed. “Hey, least it’s not something boring. Like rocks,” he said.

“Actually,” Rose started, but she was cut off when Chester threw a balled up napkin in her direction.

“Nobody cares,” he said.

Joey ignored Chester, and turned his attention back to Ricki. “And what about you?” he asked smoothly.

Ricki just laughed. “Oh, I don’t work!” she said, laughing slightly. “My husband takes care of all that stuff for me.”

This time, Joey and Phoebe exchanged nervous glances of their own.

“Oh,” Joey said, not sure where to go from here. “Uhm… So, were you guys doing anything Friday night? If not, I’m in an off-Broadway play. I could get probably you tickets.”

Michael shook his head. “Friday’s my night to clean my apartment,” he said. “I’m constantly having to go behind this guy, because he doesn’t do anything.” He glared at Chester for a few moments.

“Oh. My. God,” Chester said blandly. “Someone call the cops. I forgot to vacuum last night. Could you be more anal?”

“You’ll have to ignore him,” Rose said softly as she leaned across the table. “He’s trying to quit smoking again. We go through this every couple of months.”

Joey moved closer to Phoebe. “Sorry, Pheebs. I don’t think these guys are gonna get the part,” he whispered quietly in her ear.

*   *   *

Rachel sat behind her desk, mountains of paperwork surrounding her. She inhaled deeply and covered her face with her hands for a few moments before reaching for a folder. Reaching out for a nearby cup of coffee, she began thumbing through the paperwork. Her new job was slightly disconnected from the whole reason she’d gone into fashion in the first place, but she had a plan. Keep doing the boring stuff, and eventually get promoted to something a little less mind-numbing. Maybe.

She became so involved in combing through every line on every form that she didn’t hear her office door open.

“Knock, knock?”

Rachel jumped at the voice, nearly spilling her coffee. She looked up to see Ross standing in the doorway, holding a large paper box in his hands.

“Oh, my god,” Rachel gasped. “Ross, what are you doing here?” She began to tidy the papers she’d accidentally pushed across her desk.

“Are you busy?” Ross asked tentatively.

“Very,” Rachel answered honestly. “We’re opening a new store on Madison, and we’re behind on everything. This should have been finished before I even started working here.”

“Oh.” Ross stepped inside the office, setting the box on a chair near the door. “So, I take it lunch is out of the question?”

“Yes, Ross,” Rachel said tiredly. “Lunch is out of the question. I’m sorry.” She looked up at him suddenly, and then at the basket on the chair. “Where’s Emma?”

“With my parents.”

“Oh, god,” Rachel gasped, getting to her feet. “Ross, I’m sorry. I know she’s your mother, but—”

“Dad’s there too,” Ross assured.

“Oh, good.” Sighing, she sat back down and picked up the folder she’d been previously reading through.

“The reason I left Emma with my parents,” Ross started as he made his way to her desk, leaning easily against the edge, “is because I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Rachel didn’t look up. “Oh?” she asked. “About what?”

“About us.”

Rachel forgot all about the folder in her hands and looked back up at Ross. “Oh, my god, Ross. You are not going to do this,” she warned. “I gave up a big thing in Paris so I could stay here in New York, and—”

“It’s not that,” Ross assured.

“Oh,” Rachel said dumbly. “Then... what?”

“About what you said last night,” Ross clarified. “About how this – us – feels like... you and Joey. You guys were friends for almost nine years when you got together.”

Rachel laughed nervously. “Yeah, don’t get me started on that,” she said. “No amount of soldering through could have made that work.”

Ross sighed lightly. “Well, what about us?” he asked. “How long have we known each other?”

“Oh, god,” Rachel gasped. “You don’t think... do you?”

“I don’t know,” Ross said honestly. “But I think the only way for us to find out is to completely start over.”

“Completely?” Rachel asked. “So, you want me to go back to completely ignoring you, and you’re going to back to harbouring a secret pre-pubescent crush on me for nine years?”

“Okay, maybe not completely.” Ross stepped back away from the desk, and moved toward the door. “But just take things from the beginning. Forget for a while that we have this history behind us, and stop trying to pick up where we left off. Do you think you can do that?”

Rachel considered this. “Ross, I don’t know. Do you really think it’ll work?”

Ross only shrugged. “How should I know? But it’s worth a shot, don’t you think? Aren’t we at least worth trying?”

Rachel bit her lip while she thought about everything Ross had said. “Yeah, I think it’s at least worth trying,” she said after a few moments.

Ross loosened up suddenly, as though he’d been slowly winding up ever since he’d stepped foot in Rachel’s office. “In that case,” he said, picking up the box from the chair. “Are you free tonight?”

He handed the box to Rachel, smiling hopefully.

“What’s this?” She opened the box, finding two dozen long-stem roses inside. “Oh, Ross.”

“What time are you off?” Ross asked. “I don’t have any more classes today, and can come pick you up when you’re ready.”

“Ross, I...” Rachel started. She looked down at her mass of papers and folders and contracts and everything else. “Ohhhh...” She looked back down at the roses in her hands. “I can probably get out of here around six, but I really have to get back to work, then.”

“Okay,” Ross said easily. “I’ll... see you at six.”

He bounced lightly on his heels for an awkward moment before reaching for the door and letting himself out.

*   *   *

The duo carefully peered across the coffee house before making their way over to the sofa. The big area, reserved for a party of two, yet again. Phoebe and Joey both collapsed into the sofa at opposite ends, both groaning loudly.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into that, Joseph,” Phoebe moaned.

“Hey, what’re you real-naming me for?” Joey asked. “It was partly your idea, too.”

“How was that partly my idea?” Phoebe asked. “You’re the one that said we should hold auditions.”

“And you’re the one who let Mike pick out the people,” Joey said. “He’s your husband, so it was partly your idea.”

Phoebe groaned again. “I can’t believe Mike actually hangs out with those people. How can they stand to just sit around listening to that Rose lady just talk about rocks and dirt all the time?”

“Yeah!” Joey agreed loudly. “And what the hell was up with that Chester guy? What’s he think, he’s some sort of comedian or something? Always has to be the guy with the joke.”

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure he was gay,” Phoebe said easily. “Did you see the way he kept looking at that Michael guy? I bet they’re secretly doing it.”

“Oh, god,” Joey said, holding his hands up in the air. “Don’t even get me started on him. Who gets up after lunch to go brush their teeth? If you’re that concerned about it, don’t eat lunch!”

As they talked, neither of them noticed the figure walking across the coffee house to the counter. He paused slightly behind the sofa for just long enough to get the gist of the conversation, before continuing to the counter.

“Well, it’s better than that other one,” Phoebe said. “Ricki. ’My husband’s a doctor. He drives a big fancy-pants car’.” She wretched slightly.

“Hey, she was pretty all right,” Joey defended.

“You’re only saying that because she felt you up under the table!”

Joey chuckled lightly and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

With a muffin in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Chandler quietly slipped into the chair at the end of the sofa, watching as the other two went on about something he could only pretend to understand.

“No, I have a feeling she’s nuts,” Joey said suddenly. “Ya know, I’m learning real fast that sleeping with fans is a bad idea.”

“But you’re still gonna do it, right?” Chandler asked.

“Oh, yeah. Like that’s ever stopped me before.”

Joey and Phoebe’s attention shot suddenly to Chandler, both gasping loudly.

“Oh, my god, Chandler!” Joey shouted. “What’re you doing here?” He lunged over to Chandler, embracing him in a very awkward hug.

“Joey, stop it!” Phoebe demanded. “You’re killing the poor man! We only just got him back!”

Over the initial shock, Chandler managed to push the other man off him and got re-settled in his seat. “Well,” he started, “my train doesn’t leave for another hour, so I figured I’d come in here. Unless you’d rather I go somewhere else?”

“No!” Joey and Phoebe both protested at once.

“What’re you doing here though?” Phoebe asked. “You guys moved out to boring old Westchester to be near a Volvo dealership.”

Chandler blinked. “Yeah, but there’s still that pesky little hang-up called ‘work’,” he pointed out. “What did you think? Monica and I just quit our jobs?”

Phoebe and Joey both muttered something dull at the floor.

Chandler couldn’t believe it. He shook his head, scoffing lightly. “Guys, come on,” he said. “We’re not just going to leave and forget all about everyone. In fact, Monica wanted me to ask you guys if you wanted to come over for dinner. It’s killing her, having this big house and not being able to be the hostess.”

“Why don’t you have your new suburb friends over for dinner?” Phoebe asked bitterly.

“Oh, yeah right,” Chandler said. “Like she’d let Old Bird Lady or Crazy Loud Family in the house.”

“Awh!” It was Phoebe’s turn to violently hug Chandler. “You guys haven’t changed at all. I’m sorry I judged. So, tell us about Crazy Loud Family.”

“I’m not really sure what their deal is, yet. We’ve only been next to them for a few weeks,” Chandler pointed out. He checked his watch. “But they do start to get going around seven.”

“Yeah, okay!” Phoebe said, jumping up. “Let’s go! We can take my cab.”

The three of them got to their feet, and Chandler held up his muffin. “Anyone want this?” he offered. “I don’t even like raisins.”

“Me,” Joey said, snatching it out of his hand.

As the three of them made their way to the door, it was pushed open as Ross and Rachel walked in.

“Oh, my god!” Rachel squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? You guys moved to Westchester.”

Chandler reciprocated the hug and then gently pushed her off. “It’s a half hour to the north,” he pointed out, deliberately neglecting to mention that his commute was over an hour on the train. “It’s not like we moved to Spain.”

“Hey, we’re going up there right now for dinner,” Phoebe offered. “We can all fit in the cab. We’ve done it before.”

Ross and Rachel both shook their heads lightly. “No, sorry,” Ross said. “We’ve already got plans for tonight.”

“We’re gonna go spy on their new neighbours,” Joey said, as though trying to tempt them.

Ross and Rachel both looked at one another and then shrugged. “Yeah, okay,” they said together.

“We can make the reservations for another night,” Rachel pointed out.

“Great!” Phoebe said, reaching for the door again. “My cab’s parked just up the road!”

*   *   *

They stood huddled around the large windows in the front room as Chandler pointed at all the houses in view.

“Right next to us over here,” he started, trying to hold a squirming Erica in his arms while playing tour guide, “is Quiet Gay Couple. They moved in the same week as us. Then, across from them—” he pointed at a squat, one-story house across the street “—is Old Bird Lady. She’s got about two dozen parrots in there.”

“Is that even legal?” Ross asked, craning to try to see into the old woman’s windows.

“Hey, we kept a duck and a rooster in the city,” Chandler said. “I’m not in any position to judge.”

Everyone nodded at that, mumbling in agreement.

“Across from us is Creepy Swingers Couple,” Chandler continued. “I’m not allowed to talk to them.”

“Every married couple we’ve met, you’ve scared away by talking about swinging!” Monica defended. “They’ll take you seriously, and that guy ain’t so great-looking.”

Everyone looked at Monica.

“I mean...” she started, before rushing back to the kitchen. “Oh, dear! The lasagne’s burning!”

The group watched her before returning their attention to the neighbourhood.

“These guys next to us is Crazy Loud Family,” Chandler continued. “We haven’t really figured much out about them, yet. But one of them’s a cop. Or a security guard. It’s hard to tell.” He pointed to the house across from Crazy Loud Family. “And that’s Crazy Family’s Parents. They seem to leach on to anyone who talks to them, so don’t. Ever.”

“Man, your new neighbours are so much more interesting than at your old place,” Rachel said. “No wonder you like it out here.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Ross started grimly. “You’ll never guess who moved into your old apartment.”

Chandler considered this for a moment. “Cameron Diaz?” he tried.

“Ugly Naked Guy,” Ross said flatly. “Apparently, he’d had his eye on that apartment for years.”

Chandler grimaced. “Eugh. Don’t tell Monica. She’ll flip. Probably go over there and insist on disinfecting everything, like she did to your place when you moved in.”

“Oh! Oh!” Phoebe pointed out the window at Crazy Family’s Parents. “Movement! I think they’re going to bed.”

The group all rejoined the huddle to watch.

“Awh,” Rachel said, tilting her head. “How cute. She’s helping him take off his shirt... And his pants.”

“And his...” Joey gasped loudly.

“Oh! No!” Phoebe shouted. “Get some thicker curtains in your bedroom, old people! No one wants to see that!”

To spare everyone from the sight, Chandler quickly closed the blinds, and then turned away sharply. “Honey, I’ve kind of lost my appetite,” he called before sitting down on the sofa.

Everyone slowly echoed the same sentiment as they sat down as well, staring blankly at anything but one another.


 
A/N: The company Rachel works for is Thomas Pink. Predictably, they carry a wide range of pink menswear, but they do have other colours as well. Not the sort of shop I’d really recommend, though, since Ross’ tie would put you back about £60. I chose Pink because it’s the only designer name I’m at all familiar with, and it’s different and fun.