Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I am slowly coming to terms with this.

A little note about this fanfic – it will run to it’s own timeline, so don’t try to tell me that ‘so and so happened before this’, etc.

The club was packed, but two strangers carefully found their way towards one another, as though a magnetic charge pulled them there.

"Hi," the girl mumbled, and that was the last word that was spoken all evening, as they clung to each other, kissing. The following morning, they woke up in a cheap motel room, shocked at their behaviour.

"This isn’t something I’d normally do," the guy explained, hurriedly.

"M-me either," the girl whispered. "I was, I was so drunk last night, y’know."

"Yeah, uh, I know," he replied. There was an uncomfortable pause. "It, uh, would it be inappropriate if I, like, left now?"

"No, that, that was what I was thinking." Suddenly she thought of something. "Did we, did we use protection?"

He thought for a moment. "I don’t know. I can’t remember anything – apart from the sex." He smiled. "The sex was good."

"Oh God," she fretted. "I just, I hope we used protection. I couldn’t cope with anything else right now. I’m only twenty-one – last night was my birthday," she added.

"Oh, happy birthday," he congratulated her. "I bet we did use protection, I mean, I never have sex without it – actually, I never have sex, so…" He trailed off.

"Seriously?"

"No, just a little joke. It’s something I do when I’m uncomfortable," he explained.

She paused. "I, uh, I don’t even know your name."

He smiled. "Chandler."

"Oh!" she said. "I’m, uh, my name’s Monica."

"Well, I guess I should get going," he said, finally.

"So, uh, should we exchange numbers, or something?" Monica asked, reluctantly.

"I think we should just forget about it," Chandler replied. "Put it all behind us. Not, uh, not that I’m trying to be mean or anything, but, uh, you see, I’m sorta in a serious relationship."

"Oh! I’m sorry!" Monica gasped.

"Oh, don’t be. It was just as much my fault. ‘Sides," he added, smiling, "Whenever my relationships get heavy, I run. We’ve only been dating for a couple weeks. It’s, just, well, I’ve got this feeling about her."

"Say no more," Monica laughed. "Well, yeah, let’s put all this behind us." She walked to the door. "I’ll pay the bill."

"No, no, uh, we paid last night."

"Oh, okay," Monica said. She opened the door. "See ya." As she shut the door and stood in the corridor, she couldn’t help feeling as though she had missed out on something special. And she wished that she could remember more about the previous night.

* * *

"God, Monica, where the hell were you?" a pretty blonde woman was standing by the door of Monica’s apartment.

"Just out, Pheebs," Monica said, annoyed.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten to check there," Pheebs snapped. "Ross and I were worried sick, Monica!"

"Monica?" a voice called from inside. A tall guy appeared from the apartment.

"Hey Ross," Monica said, in an exaggeratedly casual voice.

"Monica, you were out all night!" Ross said, obviously angry.

"I’m twenty-one, I can do what I like," Monica retorted, as angry as he was. "You’re my brother, not my keeper. And the same for you, Phoebe. I can look after myself!" She walked into the apartment, and slammed the door to her bedroom, hard.

"Try and find out what she did, will you, Pheebs?" Ross begged. "I’ve gotta go meet Rachel. We’ve got a lunch date, and I don’t particularly want to miss it because of my bratty kid sister."

"I still can’t believe you married a teenager," Phoebe mused.

"Hey!" Ross exclaimed. "She’s twenty. Besides, age has nothing to do with it."

"I was just joking," Phoebe laughed. "Now go! Don’t want to be late for your meeting with Rachel, do you?"

Ross laughed, and left. Phoebe knocked on Monica’s door.

Monica was lying on her bed, annoyed with herself, with Ross, with Phoebe, even with Chandler. He should never have slept with her – she should never have slept with him. Sure, she’d had sex before, but never with a random guy she’d picked up from a club – never without knowing his name. And what right did Ross and Phoebe have to get so angry with her?

"Get lost, Pheebs!" she moaned, in answer to the knock.

"No. Monica, just tell me what you did," Phoebe insisted, coming in.

For the first time, Monica looked at her roommate’s face. She looked tired, and worried. She’d probably been up all night, wondering where Monica was. So, she took a deep breath, and began.

"I went to a club," she said. "I didn’t tell you, cos I knew you’d want to come, and, well, I just wanted to get drunk, and have it over and done with. I mean, twenty-one. When I was twenty-one, I was meant to have had at least one serious boyfriend, and maybe have graduated from college, and maybe even been engaged. But look at me, Pheebs! I’m twenty-one, I’ve never had a proper boyfriend, I dropped out of high school when I was seventeen, I’m not exactly gonna get a university degree, am I?"

"But, Monica…" Phoebe began.

"I know, it doesn’t matter where I am now, goals can change, yada-yada-yada, Pheebs. But none of that changes the fact that I’m not exactly the best person on the planet right now. So I just went and got drunk at this club, there’s nothing illegal in that is there?"

"Nuh-uh."

"And when I was there, I met this guy, and we ended up staying the night at this motel in the city," she confessed.

"Woohoo, you go girl!" Phoebe said, excitedly. "What’s his name, number, star sign, how old is he?"

Monica shook her head. "I sorta don’t know. His name’s Chandler, but I don’t know the rest of it. It was just sex, Pheebs, nothing more."

"Monica!" Phoebe sounded shocked. "You just slept with a guy and you’re not gonna call him?"

"It’s not like that," Monica replied. "He’s already in a relationship. Nothing else is ever gonna happen with it. It was just a one-night stand, no strings attached."

* * *

But she was wrong. She didn’t realise it until several weeks later, but she was very wrong.