Chapter Text
Emily woke to a different scent in her room. She blinked her eyes open slowly and saw a familiar figure lying beside her—it was Andy, hair a mess on the pillow, breathing soft and steady. Emily stared at the ceiling, not wanting to break the quiet spell that filled the room. She found herself thinking back to last night, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Sitting up carefully so as not to wake Andy, Emily glanced at her phone, uncertain whether to wake her or just wait. After a moment, she reached out and gently nudged Andy’s shoulder.
“You know, this isn’t exactly what I meant when I said you could stay over,” she whispered, her smile lingering.
Andy stirred, mumbling into the pillow with a sleepy voice, “You said I could stay—you didn’t say where, though.”
Emily just smiled, watching her for a moment. “Come on, get up. I’ll make breakfast,” she said—and, somehow, it felt completely natural.
Andy rolled over, trying to keep her eyes open, said “Mh do you even know how to cook?”
Emily scoffed, slipping out of bed and wrapping herself in a robe. “I am more capable than you know. I’m certainly not a 5-star Michelin chef, but i can cook.”
Andy sat up, hair even messier than before. “I’ll take my chances then.”
They moved to the small kitchen, Emily moving around the furniture with a meticular precision, but still with an ease in her movement—and somehow Andy couldn’t help but notice. The silence between them was somehow natural, it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.
Andy leaned against the counter, watching Emily. “So… do we have news about Paris?” she asked.
Emily paused while reaching for the coffee, glancing over her shoulder. “Nothing yet. Serena will probably email us an itinerary at some indecent hour. I just know we have our flight tonight at 1 a.m., so we need to get ready at least three hours before.”
Andy let out a small laugh. “Great, at least I have some backup,” she said, pointing at Emily.
Emily arched an eyebrow as she poured water into the kettle. “Backup? Is that what you call me now, Andrea?”
Andy grinned, shrugging as she watched Emily move around the kitchen. “Well, it’s better than facing Miranda alone in Paris.”
Emily shook her head, but there was the trace of a smile tugging at her lips. “You do realize I’m just as terrified of her as you are, right?”
“Oh I highly doubt that Em.” Andy said while sipping her coffee.
Emily just rolled her eyes, but the softness in her expression gave her away. “Hurry up, we need to get into Runaway in 10 min, and we’re already late.” she kindly shifted the topic.
“Emmm its only 6am, we have like, 30 more minute!!” Andy protested.
“We’ll need every extra minutes today. You know Miranda will make us do the impossible before the trip.” Emily said while moving around the kitchen.
Andy watched her for a moment, feeling an unexpected comfort in the simple routine. She wrapped her hands around the mug, savoring the warmth. ““Right… and umh…thanks for making breakfast. You really know how to cook.”
Emily glanced over and with a small smirk said “Don’t get used to it.”
Emily’s phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen and saw her boss’s name flash across it.
“Miranda,” she muttered, as she answered the call.
“Be here in twenty minutes, both of you” Miranda said quickly through the phone before hanging up.
Emily was already moving with her usual efficiency. “She wants us in early. We have twenty minutes.”
“Twenty—Emily, that’s impossible,” Andy protested, scrambling to catch up.
“Then do the impossible, Andrea.” Emily replied, already hurrying toward the hallway.
They arrived at Runaway in eighteen minutes, which was a record for them. Emily didn’t slow down for a second, and Andy was right behind her. Miranda wasn’t in her office yet, which was a good thing. They quickly settled at their desks and dove straight into the day’s work.
“Emily, Andrea” Miranda called them with her low and firm voice.
“Andrea, I need the third look from the Valentino couture preview. Not the one they’ve released—the one they haven’t. Have it in my suite by six.” Andy’s eyes widened for just a second. The unreleased Valentino couture? How was she supposed to get her hands on that? She nodded. “Of course, Miranda. I’ll take care of it.”
“Emily, the Paris schedule is unusable, in every way. It lacks precision and efficiency” said Miranda while sipping her coffee.
Emily rattled off her plan, almost on autopilot. “I’ll handle direct contacts and priority placements. Dior, Chanel, Valentino—top of the list. Do I need to resend invitations and cross-check times, locations, transportation?” She barely realized she was asking Miranda Priestly, of all people, a question.
Miranda fixed her with a steely stare, eyes flicking up and down as if assessing whether Emily had lost her mind. No one questioned Miranda Priestly. Had Emily hit her head?
With a tone that was icy and dangerously close to furious, Miranda replied, “That’s all.”
Andy noticed, and as she opened her mouth to say something, Emily stopped her. “Not a word. Your presence makes me do the stupidest things.”
Andy didn’t respond, just muttered to herself, “Valentino… right.” She typed at a glacial pace, not even sure where to begin looking for the couture preview. She glanced over at Emily, who was already on her second call, and asked hesitantly, “Em… can you help me with something?”
Emily almost laughed, a smirk playing on her lips. “No. Shan’t.”
“Emily please.” Andy was in full panic mode now.
“Okay, I rarely say this to people who...well… aren't me, but you have got to calm down darling.” she said with an almost flirty voice. Andy felt something weird in her chest.
Emily slid a note across the desk. “Here’s a number you can call. After that, try all the designers who are working—or have worked—for Valentino.”
Andy stared at the note, a phone number, nothing else, no name, no anything. “And who’s that?” she asked softly.
“Someone who owes Miranda a favor,” Emily replied, already focused on her next email.
Andy dialed, she was nervous. Emily watched, a little worried—Andy had been doing this for months. Why did she still get so flustered?
“Hello, I’m Andrea Sachs, calling on behalf of Runway. We need to arrange access to the Valentino couture preview for Miranda Priestly—” Andy paused, listening.
“Yes, I understand, but it’s for Miranda Priestly—” There was another, longer pause.
“Yes, we were hoping for a private review. It’s for Paris Fashion Week—” Andy’s voice faltered; this wasn’t going well.
She tried another number.
“Hi, this is Andrea Sachs from Runway,” she began again, only to be cut off.
“Yes, I understand it’s restricted, that’s actually why I’m calling… it’s for Miranda Priestly—”
Again, the answer was no. Andy set the phone down, frustration and anxiety written all over her face.
She called 12 people. 12 rejections. It was 10 am, she could still do it.
Andy pressed her phone to her ear, listening to yet another polite no. She could feel her palms sweating, her heart racing, she was almost shaking. She kept calling for hours, she even skipped lunch, well actually Emily decided to share some cheese cubes and a salad with her, so she ate smth. She hung up another useless call, exhaling sharply and tapping her fingers anxiously on her desk.
“I feel like im trying to break into the Pentagon. How do people get access to those things?? Do they have a special code or something….UGHH i just wanna get a dress for the Fashion Week…” Andy groaned with watery eyes.
Emily smirked, but her voice softened. “Oh you should wait until Miranda asks you to get the Chanel runway looks before they even exist.”
Andy slumped in her chair. “I’ve called everyone. No one’s budging. What do I do now? Call Valentino himself??” she paused “Oh my— I’m a genius!!” she looked for his number frenetically.
“You’re not going to call Valentino, are you?” Emily was now fully looking at Andy.
“Em i have too, Miranda wants an unreleased look, the only one that could give it to her is Valentino himself.” she said still looking for the number.
Emily stared at her like she’d just suggested breaking into the Louvre.
“That is quite possibly the worst idea you’ve had since you arrived at Runway,” she said shocked.
Andy didn’t look up. “You said we need someone who can’t say no. So we go big, or we go home.”
She found a contact; her hands shook as she dialed.
He answered. Valentino himself answered.
“ohmygod he answered!!” she whispered to Emily, who was visibly shocked.
“Hi, Umh… Hello, Good morning, I’m calling on Miranda Priestly's behalf. I’m Andrea Sachs.” she was in full panic mode.
A pause. Andy’s eyes widened.
Andy swallowed. “I understand this is highly unusual, and, and I wouldn’t be calling if it weren’t important. Umh, Miranda is attending Paris Fashion Week, and she requested access to the third look from your upcoming couture preview. The unreleased one—”
A pause. A long pause. Emily’s posture changed instantly. Andy leaned forward the desk.
“I will not release it” he said calmly.
Andy’s stomach dropped.
“But,” he added, “For Miranda I can make a private viewing. One hour. This evening. In Rome.”
Andy straightened. “That would be perfect. Tha-Thank you.”
“No photographs. Be punctual.”
The line went dead.
Andy lowered the phone slowly.
“So…?” Emily was curious. Andy couldn’t move, first because she spoke with Valentino himself, second because she got the preview…
She looked over at Emily, eyes wide with disbelief.
“He said…he’ll do a private viewing. Tonight. In Rome. For one hour. No photos. We have to be on time.”
Emily couldn’t speak either, but she was proud of Andrea, you could’ve read it on her face.
Andy let out a shaky laugh, adrenaline still buzzing through her. “Now we just need to get to Rome without Miranda killing us first.”
Emily went to Andrea’s desk with her planner “Break the news to Miranda, pack your things and I’ll handle the rest.”
Andy gathered all her courage and stepped into Miranda’s office.
“Miranda, we’ve arranged a preview with Valentino, in Rome, this evening. Everything’s planned—Emily is handling the private jet,” she said, her voice just a bit shaky.
“With Valentino himself?” Miranda’s tone was skeptical.
“Yes,” Andy replied, steadying herself. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
Miranda regarded her for a moment, then simply said, “That’s all.”
They flew to Rome, and technically, everything went fine. But “smoothly” wasn’t exactly how Andy would describe it. The whole flight felt like sitting through an exam she hadn’t prepared for.
Miranda barely spoke—just a few directions, and one correction that forced Andy to rewrite three pages by hand, of course. Meanwhile, Emily was everywhere at once, making calls, double-checking schedules, and basically willing the universe to cooperate. She was just being Emily.
Andy was glancing at Emily every now and then. Everything about her was sharp and efficient—untouchable, really.
But sometimes, when Andy caught her eye, Emily would smile at her, a real smile. Only for a second, an action that made Andy’s stomach do a little flip.
The private viewing took place in a grand, softly lit salon inside Valentino’s Rome atelier. Valentino himself greeted them with quiet elegance and warmth. Miranda observed in absolute silence, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Andy took careful notes, her hands slightly trembling, while Emily coordinated with the atelier staff, her efficiency seamless even in such rarefied company. When the final look was presented, the unreleased, Valentino glanced at Miranda for her verdict. She offered only THE nod; everyone in the room exhaled in relief.
As they left the atelier, Emily glanced at Andy, a rare softness in her eyes. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she said quietly. “You handled it brilliantly.”
Andy blinked in surprise, a smile spreading across her face. “Thanks, Em. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Now we need to finalize Paris and see if they can give us two rooms. Otherwise, um… I guess we’ll have to share,” Emily said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
Emily didn’t move. She just stood there for a moment—close enough to Andy to catch the soft scent of her perfume. Versace, Bright Crystal, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Andy just smiled. She could feel something shifting between her and Emily—something she couldn’t quite name, but she knew she liked it. Emily seemed softer now, more open, and without even realizing it, Andy was starting to fall for her.