Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction (David Crane and Marta Kaufman - creators of "Friends"), and no profit, monetary, or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.
A/N: I was watching, "The One with Mindy and Barry's Wedding," when this idea for an alternate storyline popped into my head.
"Me? Not a good kisser? That's like, Mother Teresa, not a good mother," Joey sounded distinctly put-out and more than a little hurt at the prospect that he wasn't considered to be a good kisser by someone. It didn't matter who that someone was.
Chandler glanced sidelong at his friend and frowned. He hated seeing Joey down. Hated to see that desperate look of confusion and pain reflected in those dark brown eyes. It was unsettling and just…wrong on so many levels.
Feeling more than just a little nervous, Chandler wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and tried to still his shaky hands. He could do this. He had to. Joey was his best friends, and best friends made sacrifices for each other.
"Uh, Joey," Chandler said, clearing his throat and swallowing.
Though they had an audience, in the middle of the coffee shop, Chandler's vision was narrowed down to just one person and everyone else melted away. It was just him and Joey, not even their friends existed in his myopic view.
"Chandler?" Joey swiveled, and he gave Chandler his usual look of confusion.
Not trusting himself to say anything more, Chandler closed the space between them in a few stilted steps, and grabbed Joey by the shoulders. Joey's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he stumbled back a step, hitting his back against the counter. Chandler followed eyes boring into Joey's.
Chandler's heart was beating so hard and fast that he thought for sure he'd have a heart attack before he could do this for Joey. He took a deep breath, more determined to do right by his best friend than he'd ever felt before, and licked his lips.
Not waiting for Joey to finish speaking his name, Chandler thought back all of the times that he'd watched his father make-out with one of his partners, and he pressed forward, placed his lips over Joey's, and felt something like an electric jolt run through him when their lips touched. Chandler swallowed the rest of Joey's words, felt the man stiffen, and then relax in his grip.
When Joey's lips parted, Chandler deepened the kiss. The world stopped moving, and time dug its heels in as it came to a standstill. Everything melted away, and something became unbroken in Chandler. It both scared and thrilled him.
He'd heard, or read, somewhere that homosexuality was genetic, and maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't something he needed to be afraid of.
True or not, until this moment, with Joey's tongue in his mouth, making his toes and insides curl, Chandler had never thought of himself as gay. He'd worried about it, and denied it wholeheartedly, when he was younger, but he'd never once entertained the thought that he might be gay, or bi, or whatever, and that, if he was, it'd be okay.
Joey's tongue, Chandler decided, could teach his own a thing or two, or … maybe three. He grew dizzy and his jeans became considerably tighter, and then – much too soon – Joey's lips were rent from his, and he was left to breathe.
Joey's fingers were digging into Chandler's hips, and their foreheads were pressed, one to the other, as though they were Siamese twins who were attached at the head. Chandler swallowed. He was afraid to look Joey in the eye, worried that he'd find nothing but horror and disgust.
When he finally dared to look at his best friend, he saw the usual confusion in the man's brown eyes, but Chandler also saw something else that he wasn't sure that he understood. Joey's face was flush, his eyes were shining, his lips were plump and reddened, and he was breathing hard, and fast – Chandler was too.
"Warren Beatty's wrong, you're a good kisser, Joe." Chandler's voice was husky, and he felt a blush burn his face.
"Thanks, Chandler." Joey's voice was husky too.
They both pulled away at the same time, and suddenly, the world started spinning again, and Chandler was aware of the audience that had gathered to watch them. The smattering of applause that accompanied them as they made their way out of the coffee house, for their apartment, only served to make the butterflies in Chandler's stomach increase.
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