Work Text:
I write your name when I test a pen.
Miranda was always observant. Actually, it is her observation that made it possible for her to become that successful in fashion. She can remember every single piece from every collection she saw on the podium. She can also spot every reference to past couture lineups. So nobody found it strange when she could notice absolutely every single detail about her assistants. Even if she really didn’t care, she knew about Emily’s habit of ripping papers into smaller pieces before throwing them out. She also knew that Emily could not stand almost any perfume due to her sensitive sense of smell.
Of course, when Andrea arrived, Miranda began to notice both conscious and unconscious traits of her new assistant. For example, Andrea was also very good at observation. Older women usually find Andy’s gaze fixed on herself, on her boss. As Miranda observes Andrea, Andy observes Miranda. The second trait that the editor in chief noticed was Andrea’s love of doodling. She always carries her notebook, which resembles a personal journal more than anything else. Miranda remembered that after her assistant took notes of her requests, she usually kept a pen around to doodle something, though Miranda never actually knew what exactly she drew or wrote down.
Until one day.
It was a fairly typical Thursday, midweek. Thank God it is not as busy as fashion-week but as a regular week in the fashion industry. Miranda, as usual, chattered her orders and went to the inner office. Andy went with her, trying to write down every important detail.
— I need you to find out what the hell Demarchelier was talking about yesterday. Something about his schedule problem. And put Charles on the line right now. That’s all, — Miranda dismissively waved her hand to the side of the outer office. Andy already turned to head out to her desk when Miranda started speaking again:
— Andrea…, — Andy turned around on her heels.
— Yes, Miranda?
— Give me that, older woman pointed to the pile of fabric at the coffee table in the corner. That pile probably cost more than Andy's whole look today. Andy went to the table, put her journal aside nearby, and picked up a large amount of future iconic fashion clothes.
— Charles. Now. That’s all, women start looking around the pile of pricey stuff. Andy sped up to her desk and put the aforementioned man on the main line.
She looked around her desk, trying to find her journal to start completing a bunch of orders she got. Realization immediately hit her when she spotted her journal and branded pen through the windows of already closed doors of Miranda’s office.
She thanked herself for always having a great memory — she remembered almost every detail about the editor's orders and went right to work. She still had a lot of tasks to do.
It was a few minutes before lunch when Miranda went to the outer office. She had that strange look, her brow furrowed, but her lips were twitching as if trying to control her smile.
— Coat. Bag.
Emily almost jumps out of her chair and goes to help the woman to put on the coat.
When a silver-haired woman strode to the elevator, Andy was still on the phone with Demarchelier’s assistant. In spite of having a lot of other tasks, she immediately went to grab her journal, but was surprised to find it not where she had put it down. Instead, the journal was lying neatly on the corner of Miranda’s desk. Open.
Already confused, Andy, with doubt, lifts her journal. Only when she pays attention to its contents. Almost the whole two pages were filled with her hurried scribbling of her boss’s orders. Where the tasks for the day were not written down, the space was filled with only one word. A name actually written absentmindedly. Sometimes, even with hearts around it. It took Andy a second to understand that her little habit of always writing Miranda’s name whenever she tested a pen or had spare moments between writings was not really normal in the eyes of society.
Before that moment, she never really thought about that habit. To write down Miranda’s name was almost natural for her. It had nothing to do with her feelings for an adult woman. Andy subconsciously always had Miranda in her mind. While doing work or household chores, she couldn't help but return her thoughts to the woman. "What is she doing now?", "How would she react if I said that in front of her?", "I wonder if she would like the design on the cover of this book," and so on. Well, maybe it had something to do with her feelings for Miranda after all.
Andy immediately thought about Miranda’s strange reaction when she was descending from the inner office. The woman definitely had noticed her journal, and of course, she had spotted her name written on all the other pages with little hearts around. Oh, Andy was dead, but at least she will die poetically: her non-reciprocal lover will kill her because she does not, by choice, confess her feelings.
Miranda didn’t return that day to the office due to several meetings at designers’ studios or in a restaurant. Nevertheless, Andy has to stay up late at her desk waiting for the Book.
With dry-cleaning in one arm and the Book and keys in the other, she opened the front door of the townhouse. After many late nights, she was already a professional at opening doors almost without using her hands at all.
She was putting dry-cleaning in the closet when she heard someone approaching her. She already knew who it was. The thought that she was able to identify every member of the Priestly family steps was wild. The assistant drew a nervous breath, too scared to meet with her boss after knowing that Miranda had seen her journal’s content.
— Andrea.., — of course, it was Miranda. She was leaning against the door frame, still in her work outfit — creme blouse with a mid-length dark brown skirt — but without makeup and with her hair in a bit of a mess.
— Yes, Miranda? — Andy
— I believe I have an unresolved question to discuss with you today. Please, follow me, with that older woman turning around and going to the den, choosing to sit comfortably with her legs tucked underneath on the sofa. Andy stood beside her, not knowing where she could sit. Sit down, Andrea. It is going to be quite the conversation.
The assistant obeyed and sat on a sofa slightly left of her boss’s.
— Today I involuntarily glanced at your notebook. I could not help but notice the frequency of my name’s appearance there…
At that moment, Andy could hear her heartbeat in her whole body. She decided to follow the proverb “If a fight is inevitable, strike first.”
— I’m so sorry, Miranda. I understand that it was highly unprofessional, and I will never do it again. In fact, I'm gonna get rid of that journal the second I come home. Please, I… I… forgive me.
— You must understand your second-year tenure ends in two weeks. During this time, you managed to become a great help not only in the workplace but also here, at the townhouse, and I will take the liberty of saying, in my private life. You know your recommendation letter is already made and ready to be sent. You also know there are a few actions that can change a recommendation letter or my feelings toward you. Considering the above-mentioned, I am asking you, Andrea, why my name appears everywhere within your personal journal with… h-hearts around it? — Hearing Miranda’s stuttering and doubtful tone on any other day would make Andrea speechless, but today it actually gave her little confidence and hope. Maybe, just maybe, she can speak freely with her boss and confess her feelings properly before she has to leave Miranda forever. Being rejected was much less scary than never being able to even try to get Miranda. It was worth trying an infinite number of times for this woman.
— You’re right, I may never have such an opportunity. And if I don't try now, don’t do everything I can before it’s too late, I will regret it all my life, — Andy greedily drew the fresh air into her exhausted lungs, — I love you. I loved you not from day one, but from day two. I admit at first, it was just your charisma and beauty and authoritativeness and insane professional ethics, but soon I realised I loved you deeply. Love when you were angry, upset, or even upset with me. I love your children. Cass and Caro… they’re lovely, and we became closer due to my help with their homework. I also… You need to understand me, Miranda. I never even dreamt of telling you this, so you have to believe me when I say I don't hope you give me a chance. I’ll be perfectly fine — just heartbroken — if in the future you let me chat with the girls and maybe sometimes talk to you. I just… I don’t want to leave you. If we can’t be friends, then I can be your assistant forever, just without employment…I will never hurt you. I will hurt myself only to never hurt you. I’m telling you all of this just to be honest with you. You deserve to know the truth, and now you have the rightful power to decide what to do with it.
During her whole speech, Andy was looking down at her hands, too afraid to look Miranda in the eyes. She knew she did the right thing even if her action will bring the worst consequences for her career. “Do it scared”, they say, right?
— Oh.., — sudden noise made Andy look up to finally see the reaction to her words. Miranda was beautiful with flushed cheeks and neck. Her lips formed a soft circle. Her hands were trembling as they clutched her blouse. Trying to find anger in those blue eyes, Andy ends up with nothing. Wasn’t Miranda angry at her? Oh.
Unexpected movement caught Andy off guard. First she felt and only when saw the older woman’s hands on hers. Soft stroke at her palm has almost the same value as Miranda just loudly exclaims “I love you”.
— Oh, Andrea… I am glad we figured it out. So, is it Mirror or Post?
— What? Miranda, I don’t think I understand
— Two weeks later, you would work at either of these magazines. We need to decide in advance. We actually have quite the work to do. The guest room doesn’t have a proper office table, and we still have to ask Bobbseys. — Only then did Miranda notice how suspiciously quiet Andrea was, — What? Do you mind moving in?
— Miranda, what the actual hell are you talking about? — with watery eyes, Andy said, — Do you really want me to move in? Does that mean you… You like me?
— Oh. I suppose I should be more straightforward with you and confirm all assumptions with words. Yes. I do like you. I do want you to move in. I do want to try to build a relationship with you.
Without needing any more words, Andy slides onto the sofa closer to the older woman, gently cups her face with his right palm, and finally kisses her.
They have a lot to figure out in the future. But they will figure everything out together. And that’s enough.