Category: Slash, Short Story, Humor
Fandom: Friends - Joey/Chandler
Rating: NC-17 - for sexual situations between TWO MEN
Disclaimer: "Friends" belongs to NBC TV and its creators.
Please don't sue.

Summary: A great party and a drunken dream.

WARNING: "Slash" means loving interaction between
members of the same sex! If you don't like that idea,
go no further!

*~*~*~*~~*
SANDMAN by mako
~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometimes at night wonderful things happen, such as dreams.
Those little, clear-as-life fantasies and nightmares, rolling
through the human mind of their own accord like brand-new
movies created by the Spielberg Subconscious Consortium,
except they're always interesting and better yet, there was
always free admission, no popcorn necessary.

A better case for sleeping one's life away had yet to be
invented and on this night, Chandler Bing dreamed happily,
a dream unlike any he'd ever had before.

In this dream he'd been suave, sure and absolutely sexy.
Well-dressed, confident and his breath was Altoids' fresh, an
occurrence that happened only in dreams as far as he knew.

He'd entered his friends' party as assured as he'd entered
his own bedroom: relaxed and completely at ease. There were
dozens of faces there, most familiar and friendly, some
foreign and downright hostile. He greeted his gathered
friends with kisses and hugs, ignored the angry faces and
headed straight for the drinks table for a shot, or two, of
the very best they had to offer.

Raised his glass high and Chandler saluted the company.
"Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham
friends," he said, and everyone laughed.

Well, mostly everyone. Sort of.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur -- all he
remembered was Joey holding onto his arm for most of
it, pinching the tender skin between his shoulder and elbow
as direly as if he were anchoring himself to the Earth by
Chandler's flesh alone.

After a few ineffectual attempts at pulling away, Chandler
gave up and went with the flow. Joey was always a bit of a
thorn in his side, but a welcome one, because there was no
one Chandler could rely on more, no one he could trust so
absolutely.

More drinks followed, too many to count and the party spun
by, Monica, Phoebe and the rest little more than a bit of
sidewinding fuzziness tracking through Chandler's conscious
sight.

Now that was his definition of a good party.

Finally, when it was all over, Chandler let Joey lead him
back to their apartment, their arms still linked and it was a
short hop from their living room to Chandler's bedroom where
the bed looked like a soft slice of heaven draped in one-
hundred and twenty thread cotten-polyester blue/grey blend.

He remembered the bed creaking beneath their combined weight
and he remembered Joey asking him if he were all right, to
which he'd answered a resounding "Yes! Now gimme a kisth!"

The requested kiss soon followed, which Chandler also
remembered, but not as clearly as the sensations that came
after. Warmth, creeping down from his lips to his stomach
and spreading out over his belly followed by a tingling that
traveled straight down to his toes. Excitement as well, making
his heart trip in double-time and the hot blood rush through his
ears like a sea wave.

He felt fear, but just a little bit, gnawing on the edges of
his nerves, daring him onward, exciting him even more than
the welcome weight of Joey's body atop his, those careful
hands exploring places they'd never ventured toward before.

Joey's lips were so much softer than he'd imagined them to
be, even in previous dreams and the kiss was so incredibly
gentle ... as well as cautious and loving. There was a bit
of tongue in there too, swiping at the top of Chandler's
mouth, tracing the outline of his teeth and he remembered
arching into the kiss, wanting more.

So very, very much more.

And there was more forthcoming, much to his delight. Like in
so many other dreams, Chandler's clothes seemed to melt away
and even a belt buckle catching on places best left
unmentioned didn't seem to matter as much as it should have.

Joey laughed with him, then dipped down to catch both of
Chandler's nipples between his tongue and lips, rolling them
softly, until Chandler thought he might actually wake up from
the ecstasy and pleasure of it all.

But no, the dream was kind and allowed him to experience
Joey's expert ministrations which consisted of sliding down
Chandler's stomach, with a short pit stop at his belly
button, quick nuzzles between his thighs and onto his cock
which was harder than he ever remembered it to be in reality.

A long lick was followed by a wondrous, luxurious suck and
Chandler could feel Joey's satin hair carding between his
fingers as he urged him on, pushing himself inside the warm
silk of Joey's throat, pumping his hips off the bed and
closing his eyes tightly to enjoy the fireworks blasting off
behind his eyelids, signaling the orgasm of all orgasms.

Everything went gray immediately then but Chandler knew that
it had been quite a dream.

Such a wonderful dream.

Pleasant darkness afterwards and when the unwelcome burn of
sunlight began to hurt his eyes the next morning, Chandler
turned around in his bed, away from the offending rays. He
nuzzled the warm flesh next to him, then slowly ... surely
... realized that when one dreams, there should be no
tangible remnants of a dream left over the next morning
to confound and confuse one.

Especially when one was dreaming about their roommate. Their
male roommate, whom they knew they loved deeply but, surely
... maybe ... sort of ... not in that way. Another cuddle, another
unmistakable touch of skin and ...

Oh, for the love of ...

Chandler's shoulders stiffened. A final nuzzle was attempted
but this one was purely experimental -- to find out if he
were still dreaming or mired in a reality that had terribly
lost its way.

But no, there was soft warm flesh against his nose and
Chandler's eyes popped open at the appreciative murmur that
followed. A murmur that sounded exactly like one Joey would
make after an evening indulging in his favorite activity,
whether it be watching "Baywatch" or perhaps tucking into a
slice of Nino's Grandmama Pizza, the thin crust and fragrant
olive oil reminding him of childhood days long past.

Chandler squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. A snore
followed, a Joey snore, and he counted to twenty. Then to
thirty, then to fifty ... but nothing changed. There was
still a warm, murmuring, gently snoring body next to him, one
that Chandler knew was Joey's. All of his dreams had come
true, at least the ones his brain had drunkenly conjured up
in the past twenty-four hours.

Perhaps, as well as the ones he'd always refused to admit to
himself for the past five years or more.

Perhaps. Chandler rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Jo...Joey?"

A smacking of lips and some intelligible Italian followed.
"No! No more oregano!" Joey thrashed for a minute, then
settled in next to Chandler with a happy sigh. "That's
better."

I'm having a nervous breakdown and he's dreaming about having
his own cooking show again, Chandler thought miserably. He
painfully propped himself up on his elbow and tried again.
"Joey," he said, nudging at the bare shoulder beside him.
"Wake up and smell the disaster."

Joey's nose twitched, as if a fly had landed on it, and he
grumbled incoherently. "I'm telling you," he muttered. "If
you use the cheap ricotta, I'm not responsible for how it
turns out."

Chandler's last nerve broke in half. "Joey!" he yelled,
wincing at the sound of his own voice.

His roommate bolted upright, eyes wide and wild. "I'm sorry,
Julia! Jeez!"

Chandler blinked and shook his head. "Julia?"

Joey turned to face him, the color draining from his face.
"Whoa. You're not Julia Child."

"No, I'm not," said Chandler, slowly and deliberately. "Thank
God."

"Thank God," Joey chuckled weakly. "Imagine, waking up next
to that old bat." His expression turned thoughtful. "But
she sure can cook."

"Uh, huh," Chandler agreed. "However, don't you notice
anything strange about this situation?"

It was Joey's turn to blink. "Um ... no." He grinned, his
eyes sparkling even through the morning after haze. "Not
really."

Chandler painfully drew himself up into a sitting position.
"What do you mean, 'not really'? You and me, we ... we're in
bed together! I ... I think we made love last night. I
mean, for the love of everything, Joey ..."

"No," replied Joey softly. "Not for the love of everything,
Chandler. Only for the love of you." He shrugged, still
smiling and hauled himself up next to Chandler. "That's the
only reason I'd wake up like this and not care." He paused.
"Unless you're unhappy. Then I care, but if you'd give me a
chance ..."

Chandler looked at Joey, wondering at the innocence that
confronted him, so plainly and vividly, something even a
dream couldn't recreate. "Give you a chance to do what?"

"A chance to show you how good it can be. Here, relax a
minute and be with me, " Joey whispered against Chandler's
cheek, then moved to his lips, where Chandler discovered
himself to be anything but suave, sure and absolutely sexy.

Instead, he found himself naked, unsure and his breath was
decidedly less than Altoids' fresh, but as Joey's warm tongue
collided with his own, and he found himself pushed back
against the welcoming sheets, Chandler Bing realized that
reality, occasionally, could be severely underrated.

"How ... how good it can be?" Chandler stammered between
kisses, the familiar dreamy ache and trembling already taking
over his limbs.

"Yeah, and it's gonna be so good," Joey murmured, his lips
traveling down Chandler's neck, trailing fire wherever they
went. "Even better than last night."

Chandler threw his head back, all resistance abandoning him.
"Even better than in my dreams?"

"So much better," replied Joey, before they both sank under
the covers, and reality slipped away again as something
infinitely sweeter and more interesting took its place.

And, wonder of wonders, it still needed no popcorn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
end

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