Joey&Chandler

don't

Chandler Bing looked at his watch and groaned. Another hour and a half till six o'clock and his team was nowhere near finished with the W.E.N.U.S. He was going to be late again; Joey was going to kill him! With a heavy sigh, he took out his cell and made the call.

Joey sat at a table the gang had set up on Monica's balcony. It was a beautiful set up: a perfect table for a perfect romantic evening. Flowers and lights hung in streamers suspended from fishing wire tied above, creating a soft glow in that way that seemed to make couples want to draw closer together, and filled the air with intimacy-perfect for a one-year anniversary. Joey, however, was not feeling intimate. He was feeling the exact opposite of intimate-bored, with a stiff shot of annoyed thrown in. Joey hated being annoyed, and he really hated being bored. Those were the two worse things in the world.

This was the third night in a row, the seventh over all, that Chandler had called and changed plans an hour before they were supposed to meet. And, like always, he would manage to still be late. He sighed as he put down the phone and put the wine back in the fridge. "It's gonna take him another hour to get here, better watch some TV."

Chandler rushed into the apartment, breathing heavily. Damn it! He was supposed to have been there half an hour ago! He gave Joey an affectionate kiss, and then collapsed in his chair across from him. "Sorry," he gasped.

"The scallops are warming in the oven, everything else is done." Joey pointed to the salad and steaming soup before them. "When we're done with this, the scallops will be ready."

"How did you...?"

"I've had a lot of practice." He gave a crooked grin. "You give me a time, and I plan for things to be half an hour after you say you'll be there." He shrugged. "It's why I always bring porn or a script to read for our dates."

"Sorry, work held me up. We had to have the W.E.N.I.S. report in first thing tomorrow. Which wouldn't be too bad, but Mark deleted last Monday's data entries, which threw off all of our calculations. And, it added another 3 hours to our workload. I only thought it would take two hours, and I'd be here at eight..." Chandler felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"That's the way it is every time," he sighed.

"But, I'm a manager; it's important." Chandler barely spoke above a whisper. He looked down at this plate and pushed his salad around its bowl with his fork.

"What's more important than meeting your boyfriend for dinner?"

Chandler paused, sweat dripping down his brow.

"This isn't a question that needs a lot of thought, Chand." He laughed, incredulously.

"N-n-no it isn't. Joey, you're important to me, more than work, more than anything." He cupped his hands in his, imploring him not to say the words he knew were coming.

"Aww, c'mon Chand! You hate that job! But, you spend more time there than with me. What am I supposed to think?" He jerked his hands from Chandler's grasp.

"Please..."
"No Chand, no more excuses, no more waiting." He walked over to Chandler's side of the table, and kissed him fondly on the cheek. "Bye, Chandler."

He nodded dumbly unable to form a thought, or chase after him as Joey stepped out of the apartment. He wanted to tell him that he would change, that he would spend the time with him that he deserved. But, the lies would not come. A few moments later, he tossed the roses he bought for Joey into the trash-fat lot of good they did for him. He didn't really like flowers, anyways. He'd have to return the bracelet tomorrow.

He got up and walked over to his apartment, still numb inside. Joey was sitting on the couch, beer in hand. "Can... can we talk about this, Joey?"

"What 'us', Chand? There is no 'us'. There never was an 'us'." He took a long swallow from his beer, and thumped it on the table.