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The night started out normal enough. They’re eating dinner – pizza, what else? – at the breakfast bar, and the radio plays on low volume. Joey tells Chandler about some intern who keeps spilling coffee, and Chandler listens raptly. It’s going good. Chandler's just thankful that those fucking thieves didn't take their radio. There would have been all of zero forms of entertainment otherwise, bar going outside and interacting with real people, and besides, there's only so many times that he can have sex in one day, okay?
"And another thing -!" Suddenly, Joey freezes just as he's about to go off on another spiel. He turns his head sharply to the radio, and a slow grin spreads across his face. He turns up the volume, and realization dawns on Chandler.
“Oh, no.” Chandler pales and drops his pizza right back onto the napkin. He pushes up out of his seat and is already backing away to his bedroom.
“Hey, doll, where you goin’?” Joey asks coyly, setting his own slice down and licking his fingers before stalking towards Chandler.
“Away from this madness!” Chandler half-yells, fumbling for the doorknob and keeping one eye on Joey.
“But this is such a good song!” Joey protests, trying to stifle a laugh.
“No it’s not! You have no taste!”
Despite everything, Joey grabs Chandler around his middle and hauls him back to the kitchen. “No, no – stop! Joey, let – go – of me!” Chandler yelps as he kicks his legs in protest. Joey pecks him on his cheek, and it's enough to stun Chandler into shutting up.
“I’ll have you know that the Bee Gees make high-quality music,” Joey informs him, dropping him back on his feet but still not relinquishing his grip on Chandler.
“You make me sick,” Chandler grits out.
Joey beams. “Dance with me?”
Chandler folds his arms against his chest – which is a little difficult, since he’s pressed up against Joey – and shakes his head stubbornly.
“Chaaandler.” Joey pouts. “Please? I love this song.”
Chandler huffs. “I don’t care.” That just makes Joey pout harder.
“Aw…don’t be like that.” Joey bumps Chandler’s nose with his own. “Look, I’ll lead.” And he does. Chandler doesn’t know this dance, but he groans and mirrors Joey’s steps, anyway. Joey’s hands slide around Chandler’s hips and soon, it turns into some form of Lindy Hopping that Chandler can barely keep up with. The last time he even performed this routine was in grade school, for fuck’s sake. Chandler keeps his eyes on their feet, brow furrowing as he tries not to lose his balance altogether, but every so often he catches Joey looking at him, all doe-eyed and the corners of his lips upturned fondly.
For all his flaws, Joey’s pretty damn graceful. He can keep tempo, for one, and every time he spins Chandler, the latter can’t help but laugh. That gets Joey grinning. Occasionally, though, Chandler manages to trip, or step on Joey’s feet (because he’s talented like that) but Joey doesn’t seem to mind. And anyhow, it's an excuse for Joey to hold him tighter, so Chandler's not complaining. Then, out of nowhere, Joey fucking dips Chandler, who gasps in surprise. There’s a hand pressed to the small of Chandler’s back, and Joey winks. “Neat, huh?” Chandler has to remind himself to nod, because Joey’s smile is dripping honey and pleasant amusement, and when he kisses the corner of Chandler’s mouth, Chandler’s cheeks flush red all by themselves, which only makes Joey smile wider.
Soon, the song winds down, and the station cuts to a commercial break. Chandler slumps into the canoe, breathing erratically, and Joey slumps into his lap. Chandler’s arms automatically pull Joey closer, and Joey sighs, leaning his forehead against Chandler’s.
“Y’know, you’re not as bad at dancing as I thought you were,” Chandler muses.
“Yeah, well, you’re no Elvis yourself, hotshot,” comes Joey’s reply, whip-smart and just as fast. Chandler laughs.
“I’m starting to think I might be a bad influence on you," he says, and Joey pokes his cheek.
“I could say the same.”
“We’re both awful people. How about that?”
“Nuh-uh. You’re awful. I am a fuckin’ gift.” Joey straightens up (ha) for a second to wave at an imaginary crowd of fans before leaning over Chandler again.
Chandler kisses Joey’s hairline. “Yeah, you are.” Because, really, where’s the lie?
Joey wrinkles his nose. “That’s…that’s really gay.” Chandler snorts.
“We’ve been dating for two years.”
“And?”
"And we make out. A lot. In a canoe."
"We don't do it in just the canoe."
"True. After all, there was a time when we did it on actual furniture."
At that, Joey's expression hardens, and Chandler knows he's said something wrong.
"Come on, Chandler. Are you gonna keep givin' me shit for that? How many times do I gotta apologize?"
"Joey, you don't -"
"Look, I know it's my fault we got robbed, and I feel really guilty every time I walk into the apartment, and I know I fucked up. I know. Okay? You don't need to keep remindin' me. So can you please just drop it?"
Chandler sighs. "I'm sorry, babe." He cups the bolts of Joey's jaw. "I didn't know it bothered you that much."
"Well, it does."
"I'm sorry. I'll stop bringing it up." Joey side-eyes him.
"Pinkyswear?"
Chandler holds out his pinky seriously, and Joey crooks his own around it. "Pinkyswear," Chandler echoes. Both their expressions are solemn, because pinkyswearing is solemn business. When Joey lets go of Chandler's finger, Chandler kisses the tip of Joey's nose, then his cheek, then moves slowly to his Adam's apple.
"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Chandler asks, in-between mouthing at Joey's neck.
"Well...I could get out a Bee Gees tape and you could dance with me," Joey suggests, and Chandler freezes. He pulls away to stare at Joey, who's smirking till next Sunday.
"This is all some conspiracy to get me to like the Bee Gees, isn't it."
Joey winks before pressing his lips to Chandler's, licking into his mouth and clacking their teeth together. “Man, you’re lucky you’re such a good dancer, ’cause you’re not even worth the trouble otherwise,” Chandler grumbles, but it’s not harsh, or unkind. He knows that Joey's worth any and every trouble. That he’d do anything for Joey. He knows Joey knows that, too. Chandler can feel Joey grinning against his lips, and his heart is a ticker tape parade.
“Aw, love you too, Chan.”