Word Count: 1700
Summary: Phoebe was his babysitter, because you can never leave him alone. [Phoebe's POV]
Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or the characters.

If someone asked me of the five who was my favorite, I would honestly not know who to answer. Joey, maybe? Yeah, I'm 99% sure that Joey is my absolute favorite. That 1% that is not sure is because of the whole 'teaching him French' disaster. I still have nightmares about that.

But there was a time, a long time ago, that my favorite would have to be Chandler. And maybe then, if I was asked why I would have to say because he was my idiot little brother.

Let's go into the past for more understanding.

Way back when Joey wasn't a part of our lives and Carol was unaware of her interest in women, Kip was a part of our lives, and Monica and he were too busy hanging out to care about the two people – Chandler and me – that were single.

Now, I was okay with Chandler by that point in time. I used to hang out with him all the time and liked the fact that he used to ask me a lot of questions. But we didn't hangout so much until after Kip and Monica started going out.

Chandler was used to just enter the apartment to grab something to eat and maybe chat. Staying in the apartment 5 – before the numbers changed one day without anyone knowing why – was normal for him. But being kicked out of his apartment was NOT normal.

And that happened a lot during those months. And so, if neither of us had dates that night, we would spend the night together, playing games, talking, watching tv.

We have stories about those months that no one knows about. Things we tried to hide from Monica and the others, like the why things mysteriously disappeared from the apartment to show up later – Chandler would tell Monica that he had that in his bedroom and would eventually give it back to her; the truth was that the item was being purchased due to destruction.

Once, Chandler decided to put something in the toaster. I don't remember what it was, all I remember was him telling me that he thought that the toaster was broken while I was washing my hands in the bathroom.

"Why do you think that?" I had asked.

"Because it's on fire." Was his answer. Reason number 1 as to why I think that he needed a babysitter. And to never be left alone.

That night we threw the toaster away, deciding that the next few days we would ask Monica to make pancakes and eat cereal – that is until the new toaster showed up.

Once we showed up to the apartment, I realized that we had locked it. I asked Chandler for the key he had told me he would bring. When he looked at me slightly panicking, I added another reason for him to need a babysitter. I made almost a vow to myself after that day to never allow Chandler to do something as important as bringing a key.

That night, as he fell asleep on the couch, I couldn't help but smile at how cute he looked. Even though I have a twin sister, it was as if I never had a sibling. She and I weren't really close. But it was different with Chandler. He didn't have any siblings – that he knew of – but he was my honorary little brother. As I took the blanket from the back of the couch and put it of top of him, I couldn't help but wonder what the next night would bring.

I didn't think it would end up with both of us in the hospital.

To be honest, he was at the hospital, I just took him there.

Reason number 3 as to why he shouldn't be left alone.

He brought to the apartment a box of old toys of his so that we could play after he heard me say I never had real toys growing up. He showed me the box and we played for hours. Our game was weird. A monster truck and a pink pony – that Chandler swore was his father's – and those two ended up having Krog as a child.

And for the first time since I met Chandler, he swallowed the sonic blaster gun. I only realized that when I grabbed Krog and it didn't have that gun. And Chandler looked like he was in pain.

(Which is why I didn't think it was a big deal when, years later, as we took care of the triplets, he swallowed the gun again. At least then he wasn't in much pain.)

I worried the first time though. He kept saying it wasn't a big deal, that it didn't hurt that much – his face betraying his words. All I could think of was taking him to the hospital, hoping it wasn't a serious injury, and praying that Monica wouldn't kill me for allowing Chandler to be that idiot – she and I had spoken about it and thought it was best to watch over Chandler at all times.

The next few nights were easier. Chandler was calmer to the outsiders' eyes. In reality, he couldn't talk because his throat was sore. He kept drinking fluids and he barely ate – which made Monica suspicious, but he told her something I didn't hear and she felt better. To this day I don't think she knows that the blaster gun was swallowed three times.

Ah, yes, three times. He tried to prove that the toy was safe for Emma. After that third trip to the hospital, I just grabbed the toy and the gun and kept it away from him. I think he's still looking for it.

But those nights, as I was saying/thinking, they were easier. He barely spoke, so we would just watch movies, color some drawings, and play with toys he had in the box without any small parts that he could swallow.

The problem was when he started to speak again. He told me of how much he missed going to the arcade, of how he used to go with his dad but then stopped when Mr. Bing left. So I took him there. Which brings me to the reason number 4 as to why Chandler Bing can't be left alone.

Chandler is not exactly a small person. He's skinny, sure, but tall. And tall people shouldn't even attempt to get inside a game because it got jammed. But somewhere along his life, Chandler didn't notice he grew up and wasn't a small child anymore.

Finding him in the basketball game trying to leave before anyone found him without being able to take a photo will forever be one of the biggest regrets of my life.

It took about two hours, a lot of complaints from him that he needed to use the bathroom, and a few pretzels that he ate because he was hungry, for him to be able to leave that basketball game. I never took him to the arcade again.

Well, that's not true. I took him there a few more times. But always with an eye on him. ALWAYS.

The reason number 5 on the list doesn't have a specific moment. It was a bunch of little times he did that culminated on him in a police station.

Yeah, he wasn't arrested or anything. He just lost me in the middle of New York, couldn't find me, and went in search of a cop. When I asked him why he went to the police station all he told me was that it was where everyone always told him to go when he was a kid and didn't know where he was. I guess that's how I found him, so it had a happy ending.

Years later when I hear complaints of a lost Joey and him and Ross having to look for him, I just shake my head, and when he notices my reaction, I swear I saw a small smile on his lips.

I guess I miss having him as a little brother. At least when I tried to teach him things, he did it my way and tried hard to learn them. He knows how to speak french – the same can't be said about Joey – and he knows how to play the guitar. Sure, he eventually told me he had lessons as a child, but he still allowed me to teach him. Which was nice.

Despite all the reasons why he needed a babysitter at all times – there are many more than five – I actually liked to hang out with Chandler. We had weird conversations about everything. Sometimes he would tell me about things he learned at school and I told him how they really were. Schools don't teach things correctly, but Chandler knows the truth. I told him.

So sure, my favorite is Joey. Because Joey still needs me. Joey still gets lost and swallows things he shouldn't, and he burns things. And even though maybe Chandler still does all those things, he now has Monica for all of that.

Except right now. When Chandler appears in my front door with a goofy smile, his stupid hat on his head, a pack of coloring pencils, and a few coloring books in his hands, I can't help but wonder if there's room in my life for two little brothers. Because boyfriends and girlfriends will come and go, but this is for life.

So, he can have Monica for loads of things – some that I wish to unsee – but he can have me as his big sister that plays with him with some safe toys, colors some coloring books, and takes him to the arcade.

Maybe one day, when I finally find my Monica to my Chandler, I'll have to decide between the two weirdos that are my little brothers to walk me down the aisle. But until that day arrives, I'll just color with him as we eat popcorn and talk about things like we used to, make fun of him as big sisters do – because he can't have too much self-esteem – and wonder why he's here and not home.

He probably didn't clean his crummies.

The End

This is a story based on a headcanon I formed in the first seasons due to the way Chandler and Phoebe sometimes acted. The headcanon changed as the seasons went by and their relationship changed. Eventually though, it came back. Phoebe just thinks Chandler doesn't need her because he has Monica now. This is part of their story.

The present time of this story is somewhere between Mondler's wedding and Phoebe meeting Mike – let's pretend that she met Mike after teaching Joey French.

Also, I know Chandler might be a little OOC, but that's how I see him in the first few seasons – an immature goofball that needed babysitting. It's also why Phoebe seems to like him more in the first seasons. He needed her to look after him, after that he had Monica – and was a bit more mature.

Hope everyone likes it!