#my first actually finished art in uh....*checks post it note on my wrist acting as a watch* *sweats*

[spookywriters]

New avatar time hehe

[escapismprison]

stutter- c.b.

a.n.- hey y’all, i wrote this a little while ago and i thought i might as well post it. there’s nowhere near enough friends fics, especially for chandler so. i listened to stutter by maroon 5 while writing it so if you wanna get the vibe, listen to that. this is set around season 1 of friends bc that’s the best chandler look tbh. also i would die for mondler. enjoy ✨

the first time you opened the door to central perk you noticed two things:

one, the smell of your saviour, your messiah, your own personal jesus (although depeche mode was never really your thing). coffee.

two, a group of six twenty-somethings, making slightly too much noise, hanging around a collection of comfy-looking sofas and chairs near the centre of the café.

now fairly obnoxious groups of friends wasn’t something you weren’t used to, often being a member of said groups meant you were surrounded by them in clubs, work etc. however, this particular group caught your eye. seating yourself at the bar and sneakily inspecting them further, it’s instantly evident there are six very different personalities within the collection.

you see one girl with short-ish blonde hair (who’s conventionally attractive looks pen her to be the princess) playfully poking a cute, cheerful, mixed-raced guy who appears to be enjoying the attention. the player, you assume. next, you cast your eyes over to the worn sofa and see a woman with black bobbed hair and sharp cheekbones, sat with her hands placed carefully in her lap, listening intently to her wildly gesticulating other-blonde-friend. the mom friend and the weirdo, of course.

finally, the last pair in the bunch contains a dopey-eyed, tall guy- the brainiac- who is trying to get the attention of his floppy-haired, attractive- very attractive actually- friend; who just so happens to be glued to his spot on the chair, staring at you with wide-eyes and mouth agape.

his brain seems to catch up with the rest of him, however, as he jerks himself out of his trance, meets your inquisitive gaze, and realises his current predicament. you watch with amusement while he desperately attempts to hide his ever-worsening blush with his hands, leaning on one with his elbow on the arm of his chair, then frantically switching to sitting upright and covering his mouth with the other.

quietly conversing with his friend, he covers the side of his face with one hand, acting as a shield to protect his cheeks from the burning sensation your stare has inflicted on them. despite his concerns, the gesture is pointless as, regardless of his make-shift barricade, the racket from the remainder of the shop would prevent you from hearing his impromptu confessional anyway.

you quickly note you haven’t thought of the role this man has in his friendship group and bring your gaze down to survey his fashion choices. these, unfortunately, don’t reveal a lot to you as baggy clothes and untucked shirts are typical current fashion. a trend follower maybe? though he hasn’t quite mastered the cool and collected persona of many men you had met before. (admittedly, these men had an 100% chance of ending up being dull as dish water.) but curiously, he didn’t seem to be a ‘many men’ kind of guy.

in your reverie you hadn’t noticed the man, as discreetly as possible, (so not very), pump himself up to approach the mysterious woman who had been observing him so carefully. you panic a little as this handsome figure hastily finishes his conversation with his, presumably, wingman companion. he has also managed to achieve the support of the group surrounding him, who award him with not-so-subtle thumbs ups and pats on the back. you clock a few evaluative glances thrown your way. turning your head to avoid their inspection, you manage to fumble into your handbag and pull out your round pocket-mirror, for a rushed last-minute appearance check. the mirror being an item that has been heralded as a life-saver many times in previous desperate situations.

by the time you have closed the mirror, placed it back in your bag and zipped it up again, the man is half-way to your stool at the bar. his friends watch his movements eagerly, waiting for the outcome of his brave decision.

you scan him as he nears you and re-affirm that he is definitely very attractive. a stab of nerves materialises in your stomach.

‘hi,’ he says ‘c-chandler is, my name.’ horror washes over his features while he visibly attempts to pull himself together. his hand twitches and hurriedly runs itself through his hair. you internally scream at this gesture because, amazingly, he has managed to make himself ten times more attractive with a single action.

you were fucked.

chuckling lightly at his apprehension and as a result of your own nerves, you reply with ‘hey chandler my name is (y/n)’ in an slightly incomprehensible mumble.

you all but giggled at your equally embarrassing anxious state. the childish sound made your cheeks heat up instantly and you meet the eyes of the man standing in front of you.

he seems to have somewhat regained his confidence as he gently laughs in relief at the realisation that his target is just as unsure as himself.

‘that wasn’t a great start was it?’ he sighs.

‘maybe not,’ you respond, smiling brightly at him, ‘but it was a start at least.���

a cheeky smile adorns his face that you’re pretty sure gave you heart palpitations for the few seconds proceeding it.

after a moment of eye-contact, chandler snaps himself out of his second trance of the day.

‘mind if i sit there?’ he asks, anxiety still lingering in his words while gesturing towards the empty seat to your right. you curse yourself for forgetting basic manners.

‘yeah of course.’

pleasant silence, with a twinge of awkwardness, settles over your end of the bar. you play with your hands and don’t quite notice the fascinated look chandler has. eyes fixated on your hands as they dance around each other in uncertainty.

‘so, hey.’

you gently break the quiet and hope to restore some momentum into your encounter.

‘oh, yeah sorry, hey.’ chandler gives you a lop-sided grin and adds ‘not really on my game today.’

you laugh.

‘so, uh i was just wondering if, yknow, possibly, maybe s- sometime? going out? would be nice?’ he bites his lip and reckless-you wants to jump into his lap, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

but you don’t do this, much to reckless-you’s disappointment.

instead, your eyes widen slightly, the sudden request taking you by surprise, but the warm feeling from his adorable vulnerability and openness overpowers any shock.

‘yeah, sure.’ you give a kind smile.

‘oh, i’ll give you my number.’ he briskly pats his trousers and recognises his lack of phone.

‘shit, sorry don’t have it. i’ll go check over there.’ he gets up to leave and you reach for his wrist.

‘no it’s fine’ you assure, tugging him back to his seat gently.

quickly grabbing a notepad from your bag, you scribble your number with a stray pen lurking at the bottom of the bag.

‘a lady that’s prepared huh?’

you shake your head playfully as you attempt to rip the paper in a straight-ish fashion. you’re suddenly aware you’re under scrutiny of the man in front of you and your heightened nerves cause you to tear haphazardly and make a huge mess of it. tiny scraps of paper fall from your hands as you sigh at yourself.

he chuckles and you meet his eyes. ‘god they’re right about blue eyes’ you think. as the saying goes, you found yourself drowning in them.

you jump slightly when he clears his throat and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed about being entranced. he’s wearing a smirk that you’re not sure if you should hit him or kiss him for.

‘here,’ he says, holding out his hand, palm faced-down onto the table in front.

‘you could write your number on there?’

‘yeah. good idea.’ you hold out your dominant hand and place the tip of the pen on the back of his sacrificial hand. you shakily inscribe your number and it’s a miracle you could remember it in the melt-down state you’ve found yourself in.

‘there.’ you pat your handiwork and fleetingly admire the natural art of chandler’s hands. you decide his faintly protruding veins and bones make for a particularly pretty exhibition.

‘thanks.’ he says.

‘no problem’ you reply.

sharing equally sheepish smiles, flushed cheeks and all, you look at each other. you look down at your watch and realise with regret you need to get to your job interview.

‘shit. i gotta go, job interview.’

‘oh wow. good luck, you’ll do great.’ he smiles kindly. ‘way too cute.’ you think.

he leaves his seat and you stand up next to him, putting your jacket on.

‘until next time?’ he proposes.

‘yeah of course.’ you gesture towards his hand containing your details. ‘call me.’

‘definitely.’ he grins at you and you grin back.

‘see you.’ you say, not really wanting this to end, but deciding that you’d like to have means to pay rent.

‘mhm.’ he replies, not seeming to be paying much attention, eyes casting over you as if he was trying to burn you into his memory. in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, you get on your tip toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.

he blushes at this and gives you the biggest smile yet.

‘bye chandler.’ you squeeze his hand and make your way to the door you entered through, when you were completely unaware of the adorable guy sitting in the group of six obnoxious twenty-somethings. when walking out the door and past the windows of central perk, you don’t notice chandler sinking to the floor and clutching his heart. and you also didn’t know that this was a telltale sign that he had, literally and figuratively, fallen for you.