The One Where Chandler Goes Home
Jun. 3rd, 2010 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pickyourmomentsChandler’s been in the habit of checking the door the first thing in the morning since the day he found out he was stuck in Milliways.
It took him all of a day to figure out why the Powers That Be wouldn’t let him leave, too. It wasn’t that he blamed Cal, even. He knew that he was also to blame for what happened.
That still didn’t stop him from being extremely bitter about the whole thing, though.
After about a month, he stopped expecting results. Checking the door had become something of habit; just something he did ever morning after he showered and brushed his teeth. So when he tried the door a few days ago, and it opened, well...
Well, Chandler didn’t waste any time in getting the hell out of the Bar. He never thought he’d be so happy to see those disgusting brown corridor walls in his building. He made his way straight up to number 20 and lets himself in, finding Rachel on the sofa, painting her toenails.
“Hey, Chandler,” she said dully, barely looking up at him. “Could you bring me that magazine on the counter?”
“Uh... sure,” he said, grabbing the requested magazine.
As he brought the magazine over to Rachel, he snuck a quick look out the window, glad to find the Christmas lights still up on the balcony. Monica would never let those be up past the second week of January.
“Hey, Joey was looking for you this morning,” Rachel told him as she took the magazine.
“He was?” Chandler asked, feeling his worry grow.
“Yeah, something about finding some Rangers tickets in your guys’ apartment.”
Chandler took a moment to try to remember the tickets Rachel was talking about, and everything clicked into place.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, the feeling of doom quickly lifting. “I talked to him about that, er, this afternoon.” Convinced that no one had noticed his months-long absence, he pointed back at the door. “I’m gonna, erm... go. I just wanted to... give you that.”
Lame excuse is lame, and Chandler new it. Before Rachel had a chance to question him, he was out the door and into his own apartment.
It took him all of a day to figure out why the Powers That Be wouldn’t let him leave, too. It wasn’t that he blamed Cal, even. He knew that he was also to blame for what happened.
That still didn’t stop him from being extremely bitter about the whole thing, though.
After about a month, he stopped expecting results. Checking the door had become something of habit; just something he did ever morning after he showered and brushed his teeth. So when he tried the door a few days ago, and it opened, well...
Well, Chandler didn’t waste any time in getting the hell out of the Bar. He never thought he’d be so happy to see those disgusting brown corridor walls in his building. He made his way straight up to number 20 and lets himself in, finding Rachel on the sofa, painting her toenails.
“Hey, Chandler,” she said dully, barely looking up at him. “Could you bring me that magazine on the counter?”
“Uh... sure,” he said, grabbing the requested magazine.
As he brought the magazine over to Rachel, he snuck a quick look out the window, glad to find the Christmas lights still up on the balcony. Monica would never let those be up past the second week of January.
“Hey, Joey was looking for you this morning,” Rachel told him as she took the magazine.
“He was?” Chandler asked, feeling his worry grow.
“Yeah, something about finding some Rangers tickets in your guys’ apartment.”
Chandler took a moment to try to remember the tickets Rachel was talking about, and everything clicked into place.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, the feeling of doom quickly lifting. “I talked to him about that, er, this afternoon.” Convinced that no one had noticed his months-long absence, he pointed back at the door. “I’m gonna, erm... go. I just wanted to... give you that.”
Lame excuse is lame, and Chandler new it. Before Rachel had a chance to question him, he was out the door and into his own apartment.
