Hello! I don't own this story...sadly. Please read and tell me what tu think :)



Monica gripped the steering wheel, trying to see the road in front of her. This wasn't the easiest task in the world. It had begun to snow an hora ago, and the solid sheet of white was blinding. Clenching her teeth, she ordered, "Chandler, honey, put the map down."
"The 'honey' doesn't fool me. You're pissed, aren't you?" Chandler quipped, recoiling slightly at his fiancé's anger. The road map crinkled in his hands, making más noise that she didn't need at the moment. He fiddled with it for several segundos before managing to fold it into its original size, if a bit out of order.

"Yes, I am, but I am determined not to let it get the best of me," Monica explained, as if addressing a child. "Because we're on an empty road, and it would be too easy to kill tu without witnesses."

"Yup, definitely pissed," Chandler muttered to himself. Putting on a fearless face, he reminded her, "In, uh, my defense, you're the one driving."

The glare Monica shot him made him slouch in his asiento in an effort to make himself as small as possible. "Yes, but it was tu who messed with the map so much that it made me get off the wrong exit and get us lost."

"Point taken." Chandler decided it was best for both of them if he shut up.

Apparently Monica didn't feel the same way. "Now, open the map again, but very quietly. I don't need that noise on parte superior, arriba of this stupid storm."

Spreading the map out ever so delicately, Chandler gathered his courage once again. He had to have some dignity here. "The weather channel dicho that there was going to be a blizzard. I distinctly remember me saying that we should cancelar cena with your parents for another night. But did tu listen? Of course not."

Monica took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "And, as I remember it, it was Ross who told that the weather was going to be bad and that we should stay home. tu just agreed so that tu wouldn't have to have to see my dad after that embarrassing steam room incident."

"Can tu really blame me for that?" Chandler defended. "And besides, we didn't listen to Ross because…?"

"Because he's a chicken when it comes to driving," Monica reasoned. "There could be flurries outside and he'd cancelar a vacation so he didn't have to drive to the airport. A blizzard to him is two inches to normal people."

"But the news was already on 'Blizzard Watch 2001,'" Chandler argued. "You can't tell me they're paranoid too." When she was silent, he gaped at her. "Oh my God."

Monica feigned innocence. "What? They could be."

"You are a competitive freak," Chandler accused. "We're out here lost in a snowstorm because tu wanted to prove to Ross that tu could make it without getting into an accident."

"Nuh-uh!" Monica protested feebly.

"Uh-huh!"

"I did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so! Did so! Did so!" Chandler's rant was broken as the car went into a violent swerve, doing a full 360 and coming to a stop before flying into a ditch at the side of the road.

After catching her breath, Monica turned off the ignition. "Well, I guess I can't prove it to him now."

"Alright, I checked the tires, and we're officially screwed," Chandler announced, returning to the passenger asiento a few minutos later. He shivered, brushing snow off his hair and shoulders. He winced when Monica stared at him for getting snow on the interior of the Porsche.
"Why would anything be wrong with the tires?" Monica questioned. "We slid on a patch of ice. All I have to do is start up the car again and we'll be good."

"Not exactly." Chandler hesitated, anticipating her annoyed reaction. "It happened to be a sharp piece of ice that had formed on the pavement. We've got a flat in the front right tire."

"Crap," Monica groaned. "Well, go change the tire."

"Me? Why me?" Chandler protested.

"Because you're the guy, and that's what guys do," Monica retorted as if it should be obvious. "I can't. It's cold out there!"

"And I'm immune to freezing temperatures?" Chandler turned to her, irritated. "And, um, there's another small problem."

Monica raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I, uh, don't know how to," Chandler answered softly.

"You don't know how to change a tire?" Monica repeated, incredulous.

"When tu live with a dad who's favorito! pastimes are painting his nails and going shopping, automobile mechanics isn't exactly the first thing tu learn!" Chandler exclaimed, referring to his transvestite father.

Monica rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll go do it. You're coming, though. I might need help."

The two went back to their seats five minutos later, frozen to the bone, covered in snow and utterly frustrated. Recovering from the wind, Monica sputtered, "Rachel…is so…dead."

Chandler flexed his fingers, which he could not feel despite the fact that he had worn gloves. "We don't know if it was her who used the spare tire."

"Please." Monica turned the key in the ignition. She didn't want to waste the battery, but they both desperately needed heat. "Who else would change the tire and not tell me? It's clear her bad driving got her a flat tire, and she didn't want me to know because she wants to be allowed to drive my Porsche again."

"It could have been anyone else and they just forgot to tell you." Chandler wanted to be fair, but he had to admit that Monica made sense. "Besides, don't we have a bigger crisis at hand? We're stuck in the middle of nowhere!"

"Relax, Chandler." Monica dug into her bolso, monedero and retrieved her cell phone. "I'll call Mom and Dad first so that they don't worry, then I'll call for a tow truck. We'll be on our way in no time." Her brow creased with anxiety as she glanced at her phone's display screen. "Of course, that would be easier if I had service."

"Shoot, mine's out too," Chandler told her after looking at his cell. "Do tu want me to start walking to the nearest service station?" There was no sarcasm in his tone.

"No." Monica's irritation was fading too, slowly being replaced por panic. "You'll freeze before tu find one."

Hearing her breath quicken, Chandler put her hand on hers, which rested on the arm support between them. "Sh, it's going to be okay. Nothing's going to happen to us."

"How do tu know?" Monica was losing her anterior cool, on the edge of a full freak out.

"The storm will let up eventually. We're not going into the siguiente ice age," Chandler joked, but dropped the humor, seeing that Monica was in no mood for it. "Calm down. Once the snow slows a little, I'll walk around and see if I can get service. Worse comes to worse, we'll wait for someone else to come by. This may be a country road, but it is in New York."

Monica tilted her head, smiling. "You know you're sexy when you're all rational."

Chandler laughed, but then got an idea. Pointing to the back seat, he suggested, "You want to? There's really nothing else to do."

"We would be able to save the car battery por keeping each other warm," Monica mused. Grinning, she shut the ignition. "Okay!"

An hora later, the two were bundled up once again, sitting in their respective seats in the front. They had done "it" as much as they could without going insane, but at the moment they both felt it would be a long time before they were in the mood. Brushing her hair back, Monica stared out the driver's window for a while, watching the snowflakes dancing in the wind and then falling to the ground. Neither of them felt much like making small talk after all that sex, but Monica was bored. "This is your fault."
He realized she was just trying to pick a fight, but Chandler went along with it. "How do tu figure?"

"You got us lost in the first place," she stated as if it were fact.

Chandler gritted his teeth. "And, like I said, tu were driving. How can I get us lost if tu were driving?"

"You distracted me," Monica snapped. "And I had to keep my eyes on the road and the exit signs at the same time. tu could have looked for the exit numbers."

"You could have told me to look for the exit numbers!" Chandler countered. "Because, as I remember it, the last time I tried to help tu on a road trip I nearly got my head taken off!"

Monica huffed. "You were playing radio DJ and searching for fast comida signs!"

"I was hungry," Chandler defended. "And I couldn't find where we were on the map!"

"You and that stupid map!" Monica cried, smacking her hand on the parte superior, arriba of the steering wheel. When will tu lean that it's better to go por intuition than por a freakin' map?"

"When tu actually get us somewhere using your intuition!" Chandler replied. "I don't get you! Isn't it the guy who's supposed to refuse to ask for directions?"

"And isn't it the guy who's supposed to know how to change a tire?" Monica fumed. "Plus we wouldn't be on the side of the road if tu hadn't started that stupid 'did not' 'did so' fight."

"I wouldn't have dicho that if it weren't true!" Chandler rejoined. "Being competitive is what makes tu Monica! That and the cleaning thing!"

"We are not arguing about my competitiveness again!" Monica ordered.
"You know, tu have annoying quirks, but I don't feel the need to point it out every time they mostrar up!"

"What quirks? Name five of my quirks!" Chandler challenged.

Monica ticked each trait off on her fingers. "You use defensive humor way too much, a good quarter of your jokes aren't even funny, you're commitment phobic, whenever tu mention the word 'baby' your voice gets all funny, you're way too picky, tu – "

"I picked you, didn't I?" Chandler shouted. "And I dicho five!"

Monica sat there, stunned that he had yelled at her. Shaking her head, she put on her gloves and opened the car door. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Honey?" Chandler frowned as she stepped out of the car and into the blizzard. "Honey, where are tu going?"

"Away from you!" Monica called back, wiping a tear from her eye. She knew she had picked this fight, but it had gotten way out of hand.

Jumping from the car, Chandler made a dash for her, but stopped. Physically standing in her way wouldn't do anything. Grinning to himself, he bent down and gathered up some snow into a ball. Then he pelted it at her head.

It made contact. A few feet away, Monica slowly turned around, disbelief in her features. "You did not just throw a snowball at me."

"I believe I did." Chandler had been confident about pelting that snowball, but from the look on her face he was beginning to regret it. Still, he feigned bravery. "What are tu going to do about it?"

He did not expect what she did next. He had figured she'd just retaliate with another snowball. Instead, Monica pushed him into the ground, which was soft due to the foot of fluffy padding, but Chandler was stunned nonetheless. "What the…?"

"You inconsiderate jerk." Then Monica bombarded him with snowballs.

Chandler rolled around, trying to avoid the white spheres. But it was no use. "Man, tu have freakishly good aim!"

"Thank you!" Monica shouted, throwing another one in his face.

Getting way too cold, Chandler decided that he needed to end this. Grabbing her hand, he dragged Monica down siguiente to him so that they were side por side in the snow. Facing each other like they would in bed, he put a hand on her left shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"No, not 'okay.' tu yelled at me," Monica told him.

"I know, I just lost my head for a minute. You've yelled at me before. I mean, that doesn't make it right, I'm still an idiot…" Chandler rambled.

Monica paused, then turned so that she was flat on her back in the snow. "It's not just that. We got into a huge fight over our little quirks. What does that say about our relationship?"

Chandler cracked a smile. "It says that we would have to amor each other very much to be able to put up with these quirks for this long."

Monica grinned, besar him. "You're such a 'the glass is half full' type of guy. I like that."

Chandler kissed back, then suggested, "Although it probably wouldn't hurt if we vented every once in a while. tu make a comentario o two about my lame jokes, I put a mug on the coffee mesa, tabla without a coaster –"

"That's a little too much," Monica interrupted, very serious. "But I get it."

Chandler laughed. "I amor you."

"I amor tu too," Monica replied. She was about to kiss him when she heard her cell phone in her pocket ring. Which meant she had reception. "Thank God."

Chandler got up from the snow, then held out a hand for her. When she took it and also rose, he hugged her. "Perhaps tu could answer that in the car. My butt's so numb I'm not sure if it's there anymore."

Monica chuckled, but still flipped open her phone. Walking back to the car with Chandler, she answered, "Hello?"

Her mother's harried voice came through the phone. "Monica? Thank God! Your father and I have been worried sick! Are tu alright?"

Monica traded smiles with Chandler, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, we're fine."