A/N: Just another quick pre-Mondler oneshot. The story is set sometime at the beginning of Chandler's relationship with Janice. Enjoy! :)

He was late. Oh god, he was so late. Janice was going to kill him.

"Where the hell are my shoes?" he mumbled, his frustration mounting.

Chandler crouched down to check under his bed, when suddenly, he remembered the last time he'd worn his dress shoes was about a week prior when he'd gone to dinner with Ross, Phoebe, and Monica.

He stood and rushed out of the apartment and across the hall, into apartment 20.

"If I was a shoe, where would I be?" he muttered, frantically running about the room. "Oh, that's right, I'd be on my foot!"

He scanned the area quickly, smiling triumphantly when a glimpse of brown leather caught his eye under the coffee table.

"Gotcha!"

Chandler glanced at his watch as he stepped into his shoes, already formulating an excuse to explain his tardiness to his girlfriend.

He stood from the couch and smoothed his hands over his pants, ready to go, when out of the steamy bathroom emerged Monica, wearing nothing but a towel that was clearly too small for her.

"Oh, Jesus!" she shrieked upon noticing him. "Chandler, what the hell? You scared the crap out of me!"

His hands were suddenly clammy and his throat went dry watching the slight rise and fall of her chest as she waited for him to respond. He blinked a few times, dragging his gaze up to her meet hers. "I, um..."

She stared at him quizzically. "Are you okay, Chandler?"

"M-me? Y-yeah, yeah," he stuttered, his eyes betraying him and following a water drop that was making its way down her neck and onto her chest. "Yeah, I'm great."

She looked unconvinced, but shot him a small smile nonetheless. "Alright, well I'm gonna go get dressed."

Still incapable of a response, he merely gulped and nodded, his eyes unabashedly roving over her backside as she walked into her bedroom.

Chandler frowned in confusion. This wasn't the first or even the second time he'd seen his friend in such a state of undress. The summers spent with a bikini-clad Monica at the Geller's beach house were proof that the cold sweat across his brow and moderate arousal made no sense.

Realizing he didn't have time to analyze his reaction considering he still had somewhere to be, he cursed under his breath and exhaled sharply.

Get it together, Chandler.

"I had a great time tonight, Bingaling."

Suppressing the urge to cringe at the nickname, Chandler gave his girlfriend a mischievous smirk and unlocked his apartment. "Night's not over just yet."

He stepped aside and allowed a giggling Janice to enter first when the door across the hall swung open.

"Hey," Monica greeted with a soft smile.

Chandler's cheeks went warm as he smiled back. "Hi."

She padded over to the garbage chute and dropped two bags inside, giving him a curious look.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Chandler shot his eyes up to her face, relieved to see she hadn't seemed to notice him admiring her long, toned legs.

He shrugged. "I, uh-"

"Chaaaaandler!"

Monica glanced over at his opened apartment and smirked at the voice coming from inside.

"Company?"

"No, not company. Just Janice."

Monica laughed, and he couldn't help but grin. Being "The Funny One" had its downside, but being able to make her laugh was definitely a perk he relished greatly.

"I'll, uh, let you get back to business," Monica said with a wave.

He waved back and mumbled goodnight before finally stepping into his apartment, the image of Monica in that towel appearing in his head, and his pants suddenly feeling far too tight.

"Oh, god..."

Janice awoke slowly, enjoying the feel of the sun's warm rays filtering through the blinds onto her face, but moreso the feeling of Chandler's arms wrapped around her.

She turned in his arms to face him, smirking as she felt a certain body part of his pressed up firmly against her thigh.

"Well, hello, Bingaling," she whispered cheekily.

Tilting her head up, she pressed her lips gently against his neck. He started to stir, eyes still closed, so she continued her ministrations, each kiss becoming a little more sensual.

Chandler moaned quietly. "Mmm, Monica, that feels so good."

Janice's brow furrowed and she immediately pulled back. "Monica?!"

Chandler stiffened, his eyes shooting open at the shrill voice in his ear. Oh, fuck.

"Monica?!" Janice repeated incredulously, standing from the bed. "Oh. My. God!"

He watched in bewilderment as she quickly gathered her clothes from around the room and dressed herself, still not sure how to play off his slip-up.

"J-Janice, wait, it was-"

"Go to hell, Chandler!"

He winced at the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut, and again when the the same sound came from the front door. He collapsed back down onto the mattress and groaned loudly.

Monica Geller, you're going to be the death of me.