[Joey x Chandler] COMPILATION OF SHORT STORIES FROM AO3

Lucky for Me

A bitterly cold wind was blowing as Joey and Chandler stepped out of Central Perk. Joey was still going on about last weekend's acting seminar, as he had been all day. Chandler was only half listening, focusing more on keeping his hands warm by cradling his coffee-to-go.

"So the instructor gave us a tip about motivation that I thought would be really helpful," Joey said. "She said, 'Think about what your character would do in an emergency. Like, if there was a fire, what would they grab before they ran out of the house?'"

"I think she got that from a Sherlock Holmes story," said Chandler.

"Yeah, she's very literary," said Joey, taking the comment as a compliment, which wasn't quite how Chandler had intended it. "Anyway, it tells you what your character really values. What they really love, even. Like you, what would you grab?"

"This," said Chandler, impatiently, holding out the coffee.

Joey stared at him in disbelief. "Your coffee?"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Coffee? You mean this libation, this nectar," he said. He made an theatrical gesture of lifting the lid and sniffing inside. "It is made from precision-ground gourmet beans and seasoned with just a hint of nutmeg and a soupcon of full-fat cream." He sighed. "Gunther is a true artist."

"You're not taking this seriously, man!" Joey said, a frown building up between his eyebrows.

"Look, Joey, I'm happy for you that the seminar went so well," said Chandler. "But I can appreciate your enthusiasm without sharing it. You know?"

Joey looked down, not quite pouting. "Yeah. I guess." He put a hand out suddenly, stopping Chandler, and pointing with the other hand to the sidewalk. "Patch of ice. Watch out."

"Thanks," said Chandler, following Joey to a slushier part of the sidewalk, closer to the street. The coffee was not doing an adequate job of keeping his hands warm; taking his gloves out of his pocket, Chandler handed Joey the coffee and said, "Would you hold this for a sec?"

Chandler was pulling on his gloves when time froze. He saw a car, going too fast for conditions, skidding on the glassy ice that coated the road and veering straight toward Joey. It was just about to jump the curb when time started moving again and Chandler threw himself against Joey, knocking him out of the way. He wondered whether his momentum would carry him out of the way, too, and realized he hadn't even considered that before moving.

There was a harsh, cruel sound like machinery slamming into flesh and bone. Chandler lay on the sidewalk, idly wondering how he had gotten there and what had made that ugly sound. And why did his leg hurt so much? He tried to sit up. A hand pressed against his shoulder, keeping him down. "Don't move, Chandler," said a worried voice. "Lay still. There's an ambulance coming."

Chandler turned his head and brought Joey's face into focus. "Why?" he asked, puzzled. His mind was working sluggishly. Joey had to be cold, kneeling on the sidewalk next to him. "Did you . . . drop my coffee?" He watched in fascination as a tear rolled down Joey's cheek. "It's okay, Joe. It's okay. Gunther can make more."

His leg really did hurt. Maybe it would hurt more if it wasn't so cold; the sidewalk was like a giant ice pack. Chandler's mind wandered briefly to envisioning people storing chunks of concrete in their freezers in case of bumps and sprains. But this felt worse than a bump or a sprain. How bad was it? He started to turn his head to look at it, and felt Joey's hand on his cheek, tugging gently so that Chandler was looking at him again.

Joey was shaking his head. "You don't wanna see that," he said quietly. A siren sounded faintly in the distance, gradually coming closer. Chandler closed his eyes. "Hey, stay with me," said Joey.

"Sorry," said Chandler, opening his eyes again. He tried not to drift, but it was hard. "Talk to me, okay?"

"Um . . . well, at least you answered my question!" Joey said with forced cheerfulness.

"Your question?" Chandler groped for the thread of their previous conversation.

"You know, from the acting seminar? What you . . . value. What you'd grab in an emergency."

"What you love," Chandler added, remembering, and grinned at Joey. "It was totally the coffee."

Joey patted his cheek. "I know, man, I know." He smiled back. "Lucky for me."

"No, man," said Chandler, thinking of what he had almost lost. "Lucky for me."

Notes:

This story now has an illustration, thanks to the incredible talent and generosity of Your Royal Madjesty! Go check it out at !!!

This story idea popped into my head when I learned that the REVELcon slash pajama party (where short fics are read aloud) will have a theme this year, namely, "hurt/comfort." I usually try to read something at the slash party, but most of my fandoms are weird little fandoms that hardly anyone else is into. So I thought of Friends, because even people who aren't fannish about it have usually seen it. The rest was inspired by the weather.

The Sherlock Holmes story that Chandler (and Joey's seminar instructor) are referring to is "A Scandal in Bohemia."