"Mon," Chandler whispered in the darkness of their bedroom. It was 2 AM and something was bugging Chandler so much it kept him from going to sleep. "Mon, you awake?"

"No, go to sleep," came the grumpy response from underneath the covers. Chandler smirked and lied on his side so he could watch his sleepy fiancée. A soft moonlight was coming out of their shut blinds and fell perfectly over Monica's face. It was just at the right angle so that Chandler could see her open one eye to glare at him before rolling on her back. "Okay I am now," she rolled her eyes and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. "What's up?"

"You know, you never really answered my question from earlier," he said, propping himself up on one elbow and squinting due to the sudden burst of light.

"Honey, can you just get to the point?" Monica complained. "I mean, it's 2 AM for god's sake! And you ask a lot of questions," she accused with a pointed finger.

"When you were making all that candy and I asked if the reason why you became a chef was because you wanted people to like you. Is that it?" he asked softly.

"You know Chandler, I don't really want to talk about this in the middle of the night, can't that wait?"

"Oh my god, I'm right. Am I right?" He was looking at her expecting a response this time and Monica could not avoid it, not matter how much she wanted to.

"Maybe?" she answered sheepishly. "I mean can you blame me?"

"What do you mean?" he asked tilting his head, a bit confused.

"Oh please, don't act all innocent mister. You can't pretend that all those times Joey and you barged into the apartment was for my dazzling personality." Chandler realised she was beginning to look mad and wonder what he could have managed to do wrong. "You came for breakfast and lunch and dinner. You came for snacks. You came for the amuse-bouches !"

"Monica, I'm not even sure what amuse-bouches really are!" he cried back. "I mean sure, they're small and easy to fit into a mouth but I don't get what's so amusing about them!"

"Chandler, why did you need to know?"

Chandler sighed and stroked Monica's cheek. "I don't know about Joey, but me? The food was just a great excuse to spend as much time as possible with you. I mean, it was a win-win situation for me, you know?"

Monica smiled shyly. "And why is that?"

Chandler smiled softly right back at her. "Well, you see, I got to be fed and make you laugh all day long. And that's really all I need to be happy." He reached for a loose strand of black hair and tucked it away behind her ear.

"I love you," Monica whispered gently before pressing a soft kiss on Chandler's lips.

"I know," Chandler sighed happily. "And I sincerely hope you didn't become a chef just so people would like you because you have so much more to offer. You're sweet and caring and you're always there for us when we need you. You're warm and maternal and you'll make a great mom someday," he admitted, intertwining his fingers with Monica's. "And you're my favorite person in the whole world." He leaned down to kiss her knuckles.

"You wanna know why I became a chef?" Monica's voice was just above a whisper, fragile and uncertain. Chandler simply nodded. "You remember that first Thanksgiving? Back in 1988?"

"Yeah?"

Monica chuckles softly. "I made you macaroni and cheese because you wouldn't eat any of the pilgrim food."

"That does sound like me," he replied. Monica rolled her eyes.

"That night, you told me my mac and cheese was great and I should be a chef. So that's what I did," she said shyly.

"Wait…,"

"I didn't become a chef so that people would like me, Chandler. I became a chef so you would like me." A shade of red tinted Monica's cheeks with the confession and Chandler was reminded all over again how lucky he lucked out.

"Well, I like you Monica," Chandler smiled and pressed a kiss on Monica's nose. Monica giggled and wrapped his arms around his neck to bring him down into a kiss, laughing while doing so.

"I think I like you too Chandler," she said, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Well that's good," he beamed. "So you feel like going back to sleep or you wanna have sex?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively to which Monica laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Goodnight Chandler," she said while she turned off the lamp.

"Okay," he answered as he reluctantly gave up. "Goodnight sweetheart."

He gently pecked the back of her neck and wrapped an arm around her so he could squeeze her against his chest. Sleep would come easier to him with her little snores and the knowing fact that no matter how much Monica wants others to like her, she wants Chandler to like her the most.