It had been very hard to mask his great desire to projectile vomit this evening. Chandler had been sitting through dinner, staring at his food and drink as if they were hypnotizing him. He had to focus on the dish, the fork, the spoon, the glass, anything to keep himself from getting sick as a dog. If he could make it until they went to bed, he’d be fine. They’d be fine.

“Love, you look ready to destroy our fine china!”

Chandler’s eyes shot up toward his wife, who was standing with her fork wavering between her fingers. He had really hoped that Wendy had been too into her storytelling to notice that he had not been paying attention at all, but she was a good wife, she was a wonderful wife, so of course she would notice that something was wrong with him.

He just prayed that she didn’t try to do something about it.

But, alas, before Chandler could protest that he was just trying to figure out if he should eat his string beans or carrots first, Wendy had shot up out of her chair and rounded the table. Her cheek was pressed against his forehead in an instant, and Chandler let out a low moan at being caught.

“You are burning up!” she nearly shrieked, dropping her fork into his mashed potatoes.

“I’m---“

Ooh, he couldn’t even finish that sentence, and shut his mouth again. Wendy let out a gasp and rushed away, to Chandler’s dismay. He loved his wife, he loved his wife, but she was so, so terrible at treating him when he was sick. It seemed that with all of Wendy’s enthusiasm, her attempts at playing healer always went awry and made things worse. Chandler of course could never tell her that he’d rather admit himself to the isolation ward at St. Mungo’s than deal with one of Wendy’s home remedies, and when she disappeared he stood up quickly to escape.

He didn’t make it far, however, as whatever bug he’d caught made him woozy and he rushed toward the sink to catch his quickly approaching vomit. Fortunately he managed to keep his stomach contents down so he could attempt to make it to the bathroom, but by the time he composed himself, Wendy was back with her first aid kit.

Oh, bother.

Wendy hurried over, going on and on about how her mother used to whip these potions up to make them feel better when they were younger. How well they worked, how quickly they did---Avis showed her precisely what to do in this case and so on and so on and so on. Chandler didn’t believe a word of it. Or, he believed Wendy, he just didn’t believe that she was actually producing the potions correctly and that’s why Chandler usually ended up worse for wear when he took them.

She sat him down and Chandler watched as her hands dug through the rather large medicine bag. He had no idea where she’d gotten it, but to Wendy it had all the cures one could think of. Who needed a healer when you had one of these bottomless bags? Chandler began to mentally prep himself for another night of rainbow colored hurling when Wendy procured from her bag a gigantic vial of…it was mud brown and it looked chunky and----when she popped open the cork, it gurgled.

This had to end now.

“I’m fine!” Chandler shouted, unsure how he managed to open his mouth for that long. Wendy gaped,

“You most certainly are not! You look as if someone injected you with slug slime extract!”

Chandler gagged at the description of his skin tone, but he had to remain strong, “I’m not---going to drink that! No! Never!”

“But it’s supposed to get rid of all the green!”

“I like being green!” he said stupidly, nearly sliding off his chair, “I will---be a---be a green man and get through this on my own!”

Wendy pouted, but Chandler was quite surprised at how easily she dropped the vial back into the bag.

“I’m not questioning your manliness, love,” she said tenderly, putting her hands on his cheeks, “Let’s get you to bed, all right? But if you’re not better by morning, you’re taking the remedies, okay?”

Chandler nodded, hoping that he actually managed to get rid of this illness himself with his own man-power before Wendy could force one of those ‘remedies’ down his throat. She helped him to his feet, laughing at how she thought he was quite the man all the time. Oh, boy, if she only knew how terrified he was of that first aid kit of hers.

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"What smells so good!"

Wendy Midgen turned from the stove, looking perfectly adorable with her bulging belly covered by a frilly apron. She proudly held out the chocolate pie she'd been working on all evening to her husband, who had used his very good sense of smell to find her. Chandler's mouth dropped into honest surprise at the sight of the perfect looking pie, and he met her in the kitchen, his hands going to press against her stretched out sides.

"Merlin, Wendy! That smells fabulous!" He leaned over the pie to give his wife a peck on the lips, and Wendy smiled brightly, nearly bouncing to the counter. She would've been bouncing if she wasn't seven months pregnant, so right now it was more of a lopsided waddle. Chandler thought she was going to tip over for a moment, but she made it.

"I'd been craving it all day, so! I just made it myself!" she chirped, summoning plates from the cabinet above her head. Chandler hurried over to stand behind Wendy, peeking excitedly over her shoulder.

"I would have gotten a pie for you!" Chandler said, though the aroma of the pie was making him believe that he wouldn't have been able to find one as good as the one Wendy had baked. Mm, he was never going to get sick of all the food he got to share throughout Wendy's pregnancy, and would be sad to see their crazy menus go once the baby was here. Of course, then they'd probably be eating things like mashed peas and sweet potatoes.

Though, that was a pretty exciting prospect too.

"It's okay! I like baking, makes me feel like a proper wife or some rot like that," Wendy batted her eyes over her shoulder in a funny manner and Chandler stuck out his tongue before kissing her again. It amazed him how easily they'd fallen into this routine, and it made him feel silly for being so terrified of revealing his feelings for her. Who knew where they'd be if he'd proclaimed his love earlier! They could be on their...on their fifth child by now!

Well. Maybe not fifth.

"Does Baby approve?" Chandler asked, as Wendy took her first forkful of the pie (she'd then apologize for not giving him the first bite, but this had happened so often in the past seven months that Chandler couldn't help but find it humorous). Wendy nodded happily, poking a large chunk of pie at Chandler's mouth.

"Baby thinks mummy is the best pie maker in the world."

Chandler chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, his smile returning, "I'd have to agree!"

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Wendy Tremaine fluttered.

She didn't move from place to place, or walk. Her feet danced across the floor with each step, her arms and hands moved this way and that, creating a story with each gesticulation. She fluttered, like a beautiful butterfly ready to make its mark on the world with its perfectly symmetrical and mesmerizing shape. She was mesmerizing, and Chandler Midgen was prone to fall into a deep and impenetrable stupor at the mere sight of her.

It was really no wonder he hadn't learned a damn thing in Herbology. With Wendy moving from table to table, helping the other students who were having such a hard time with their potted bubotuber plants. A fleeting through slipped through his mind, and he wondered if the curious students (who he had also noticed were mostly male) were beckoning Wendy over just to get a chance to talk to her. That wasn't a terrible idea, Chandler thought, though he'd never have the nerve to actually speak to her. What could he possibly say that would impress her! Nothing, he had nothing, and with a slump of his shoulders, his usual sign of defeat, he turned back to his disgusting slug of a plant.

Which just happened to have a butterfly sitting on the edge of its pot.

"Oh, how pretty!" the chipper voice of Wendy rang. Chandler blanched in surprise; she was standing nearly next to him! He could smell her perfume, or was that just the rather nice smell of potting soil? Her ridiculously close presence caused his arms to flail nervously and the motions sent the butterfly off in a scare. Wendy pouted lightly and left to chase after it, and Chandler watched her weave in and out of the tables, finally cornering the butterfly so she could properly examine it.

She fluttered, and he was quite sure he'd never be able to stand still long enough to get her to stay.

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“Right, take them off, then.”

Chandler sputtered, hands moving quickly to cover the front of his boxers, “But then I’d be naked!”

Wendy’s eyebrows rose and she laughed, causing her very lovely chest to heave splendidly in the skimpy pink undergarment she was wearing (he didn’t really know what to call it). Chandler was mesmerized.

“I believe that’s the point!” she chirped, gesturing toward him and in turn making Chandler twist his hips away. Wendy looked quite picturquese in the silky knickers and if it wasn’t for how nervous he was about what she had planned for their evening, his hands would have found themselves magnetized to her skin.

“How are we supposed to shag when you’ve got your bits all covered up?”

The librarian turned purple in a matter of milliseconds. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to shag Wendy, of course he did! Whenever he had one of those dreams, it was about Wendy, it----Chandler felt embarrassed simply thinking about it, and he could barely control his subconscious mind! How was he supposed to manage a good time with this wonderful woman and not embarrass himself?! She was going to laugh, she was going to skip out on him and ask Psyke what had she been thinking, and then she was going to fall into the arms of Seth Wadcock and they’d make statuesque children who would torture Chandler when they borrowed books and never returned them.

“But---”

Wendy rushed forward and literally jumped into his arms, knocking Chandler back into the bed. They bounced and were a bit tangled up for a few seconds but Wendy’s lips found his and she kissed him furiously. Kissing, kissing he could do! They’d done a lot of kissing in their time together and Chandler enjoyed it thoroughly. His hands got caught in her hair and maybe kissing was better done while lying down and with very few articles of clothing on. He got to feel the warmth of her skin against his, his hands were able to move around and grab and hold parts of her that he found so ridiculously amazing that sometimes he wondered if Wendy was a figment of his imagination.

It simply wasn’t possible for one person to be so wonderful in so many ways.

Tackling him to the bed had been the best way to go (Wendy always had the brightest of ideas) as it had caused his thoughts on the matter at hand to fritz out and focus solely on Wendy. The sheets were twisted up between their legs and once they’d gotten under the covers it suddenly wasn’t so scary to remove their remaining bits of clothing. With a distraction as intoxicating as Wendy’s lips, what harm could showing a bit of skin do? Chandler hovered over Wendy, breathing heavily as they had finally reached the point of no return---well, they could, but...Her eyes excitedly jumped from his face and down between them, and he managed to not freeze up in fear that she would realize he was not carved from marble like those quidditch blokes of hers.

“Do I look all right?” she asked quietly, startling Chandler. How could anyone question how beautiful Wendy Tremaine was?

“You’re perfect,” he responded immediately, his gaze never leaving her face. Wendy turned pink and bit her lip; he was sure that the only other time he’d seen her this nervous was when she’d questioned his feelings for her. Chandler eased himself down to lie gently on top of her, letting out a soft breath. His fingers brushed along her cheek, pushing her curls away. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Wendy gasped, “You couldn’t!”

“Oh, I’m sure I could,” Chandler laughed, but he appreciated her support in him. He dropped his forehead to hers, their frantic snogging seeming like hours ago, but the quiet brought some solace and cleared the edge off his nerves.Wendy’s eyes shut and her hands went to his sides, gripping him tightly.

“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered. Chandler had not believed Wendy to be a woman of many lovers, but he would not have...a slight panic began to bubble in his chest at the fact that he would be her first, that this memory could go so incredibly sour and she would forever recall the experience as a disaster, but...the fact that with all the interesting, handsome, much richer blokes than he, Wendy had never deemed them worthy of her, in a sense. Not that she was a snob! No, she---she found him to be the right bloke for this moment, and instead of terrifying him, the feeling invigorated Chandler.

“Neither have I,” he said, “though that was apparent.”

A short laugh burst out of her mouth and Wendy opened her eyes. They were slightly tearful, but her excitement was evident. He excited her? That was enough. Chandler closed the space between them and kissed her slowly, determined to make their first time together memorable.

Whether it was because it was brilliant or incredibly awkward, he couldn’t tell you.

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He stood, dumbstruck. What? No, no--

"You're breaking up with me?" Chandler said weakly, staring down at Wendy Tremaine as if he'd been run over by a truck. She couldn't look him in the eye as she nodde, and Chandler felt his heart begin to shut down and shrivel up inside his chest. Where had this come from? They'd just had dinner, he was walking her home! "I--I don't understand. We were happy, I thought--"

"It's not---it's me, Chandler," she began, but Chandler shook his head.

"No, that's--don't give me that stereotypical breakup line, I---I love you, Wendy, and you love me!" Chandler had not once in his life fought back in an argument or a confrontation, but his chest was burning and it was Wendy! He'd spent years trying to build up the nerve to even speak to her, and now she was breaking up with him after a summer? He couldn't let her go that easily. "You love me! Why, what's...what's wrong?"

Wendy clenched her fists and Chandler realized it was alarmingly easy for her to look intimidating. In the middle of this busy London street, he towered over her, looking heartbroken and she seemed to be building up an explosion within her tiny frame.

"I can't do this!" she let out, finally looking up at him. Her face was red and her eyes were wide with tears, and Chandler felt as if her stare was piercing through him, "I can't be in love, not with quidditch, not with how busy I am, not with this war---"

"The war?" Chandler tried to interject, but Wendy kept on ranting.

"What's going to happen if we decide to take the next step? What if you propose?" she let out, causing Chandler to blanch as with each word her voice became increasingly louder and shrill. "What if we get married, what if we have a baby, what if we do all of that and then you die?"

Her last words bounced off the buildings around them and echoed back harshly into his ears.

"What if I die?" he repeated quietly. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

Wendy's face was red from her rant, but her trembling lip betrayed her. "Psyke and Harper did things right, and they had their baby and then he died, for no reason at all, for no reason! I can't deal with that, Chandler! I can barely help my best friend, how could I---if anything happened to you I would---"

"You wouldn't." Chandler interrupted her before she could say the words he knew were on the tip of her tongue. He pushed forward and put his hands on Wendy's shoulders, bending to look her in the eye, "You would survive, and you'd keep on living your life and you'd be amazing, but you don't have to worry about that, Wendy, I promise."

"You can't promise me that you won't die," she said softly. Chandler frowned, knowing he should have picked up how upset she was with Harper's death sooner. It had shaken him, too, but he'd never thought about losing Wendy, not after it had taken him so long to get her.

"I can't, but I'll never leave you," Chandler's eyebrows rose with his smile, "As long as you'll have me, I'll be here, through---everything, you don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

They both laughed at the comment at the same time, knowing that Chandler would probably be the one carried over the threshold if they ever did get married. Wendy let out a breath and basically threw herself into his chest, clinging to him tightly. Chandler's arms swept around her and he pushed his lips to the top of her head.

Okay, okay. They'd be okay.

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