Work Text:
"CDs go in their cases, sweetie. Do you want them to end up scratched?"
Chandler looked up at Monica, having long since given up on trying to help her organise the CDs.
"Well, they are in their cases," he pointed out. "That one's in the Bob Dylan case, and the Bob Dylan CD's in the Ricky Martin case, and..."
"Okay, I don't know what's more disturbing," Monica said, cutting him off. "That you know where all the CDs are, or that a 35-year-old man has a Ricky Martin CD."
"It's just his best of," Chandler defended.
"Not helping," Monica said, holding her hand up.
Chandler frowned and picked up an N*Sync case. "Yeah, well, it's better than this," he said.
"Also yours."
Chandler threw down the case into the rest of the pile and got to his feet. "I'm gonna go get some coffee," he said simply. "Want me to bring you anything?"
Monica looked up for just a moment. "Yeah, my label maker," she said. "It's in the drawer by the lamp."