Work Text:
The day was a damp one on July 6th, 2008, in London, as it had rained that morning. The Grand Prix was today. The first of the weekend.
Andy was sweating a little, to be totally honest. It was her first Grand Prix, and yesterday in the final quarter, she had not gotten the fastest lap possible, which sucked. She was already looked down on by the industry she worked in, being a woman and all. Men wanted her to fail, and female fans were the lesser population. Her trainer had been the only one to even think of giving her a chance at all, not only the Gran Prix but racing as a whole.
It helped that her girlfriend was the editor-in-chief of Runway. They had met at the American Grand Prix two years ago, where Andy had actually been helping out instead of racing. She hadn’t been good enough to be in it, and that was a great thing for her now. A Ferrari driver had won with his teammate coming in second place, and it had absolutely motivated her to be better. Her eyes had been wide and excited. Andy was not the focused woman she was now.
While she was on the grid, ushering people around and checking things, she had bumped into Miranda Priestly for the first time. The glare she was leveled with that day was something she would never, ever forget. But Miranda was gorgeous. Gorgeous enough that Andy couldn’t help just trying to talk to her a little. Probably the most awkward interaction ever. Thinking about it still made her cringe two years later.
Anyways, one thing led to another, and they somehow ended up dating. When the press found out, it was absolutely crazy, but it somehow helped Andy get a little boost in her career because she was dating someone so famous.
Which is how they ended up here. With Andy watching her girlfriend get guided around by the directors and workers, cringing whenever someone had to face her wrath because they pushed her a little too forcefully or said something a little too harshly. This was a different world from Miranda’s, and they weren’t nearly as respectful. Yikes.
As much as she wanted to help, Andy couldn’t. She was stuck with her performance coach, who was saying…something. She hadn’t processed a word he said. Her arm was wrapped around her helmet, and she was gripping it so tight it hurt. The feeling was grounding in such a nerve-wracking situation. First time in London, and she was about to race in a Grand Prix, and she wasn’t even sure she’d get past the first lap without having a full-on panic attack.
“Andy!” her performance coach yelled.
“Yeah?” she asked dumbly, blinking.
“If you don’t get your head in the game soon, I'm in trouble as well,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I took a chance on you, Andy. And I need you to take it with both hands, or it’s over for not just you but me.”
She looked at him for a moment, really looked, and frowned a little. He was right, and she knew it. “I’ve got it, Coach.”
“Good. Now the race is starting soon. Go get in the car for the formation lap.”
Her ponytail swished as she nodded and walked off to the car. Someone clapped her on the back and practically shoved her into the car, but she didn’t mind, brushing her bangs back and holding them there before placing on her helmet. It was a familiar motion that helped her get into her rhythm. The engine revved as she started the car up, and she began the slow lap, careful to stay in the single-file line the cars were in.
When they made it all the way around, it was time for them to line up in their spots. Andy was in the fourth spot, which was an okay place.
A roar went up in the crowd, and that was when she realized she had zoned out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The first red light went on. Then the second. Then the third. 1….2…3. And they were off. She put her foot down, but didn’t put it down as hard as she wanted, and immediately fell behind. Racing was a split-second sort of sport, so as much as it wasn’t surprising, it was still disappointing. And she hated disappointing not just herself but others. Her car was struggling for grip, and she watched as ahead of her the three cars struggled for the edge. Heikki Kovalainen got it, though, and was currently in first place, she could see.
Head in the game, Andy. The car began heating up as she rounded the corner. The standing water was making it more difficult to control the stupid car, and she was gripping her steering wheel so tight she already knew her hands would have to be pried off of it after the race was done.
She got the first lap done. In the second, Mark Webber, who was a driver for Red Bull-Renault, spun onto the Hangar straight, and Andy groaned when she saw the yellow flag, slowing everyone down. Massa spun going into Bridge, where he was passed by everyone except Webber; and Coulthard and Vettel ended up in a gravel trap collision, forcing them both to stop, and the race slowed as they brought out the safety car. When that happened, she heard the loudest collective groan probably ever to be made. Yikes.
For her part, Andy had good pacing. She hadn’t spun out yet because of the wet track, which was a miracle. Not only was she clumsy outside of the car, but somehow she was on the inside of the car as well.
By the tenth lap, the track had dried, and Andy was in fifth place. Great. She quickly glanced up at her lap timer and grinned smugly to herself as she finished the fastest lap out of everyone for the eleventh time before looking down at her speedometer and temperature gauge. Her oil and car temperature were getting too high. With one hand, she reached over to the fan control and turned it on maximum. That was a mistake.
Looking down for even just a moment was not a good idea because she was rounding a corner. Another car had been super close to her and grazed her before she could steer out of the way. She heard a noise that came from the car and pressed the yellow button on her steering wheel, letting the pit know she would be stopping by in the next five laps.
In exactly 3 laps, she pulled into the pit lane, and her pit crew worked as fast as physically possible and luckily, that truly meant fast. The debris of whatever it was that had been taken off her car was brushed away, and something was replaced. Other people changed her tyres to intermediate wet tyres. Andy didn’t have the time or mental capacity to think about what happened. All she knew was that the second she was cleared to go, she shot off and back into the race.
It was good she had gotten her tyres replaced because the rain came back. A person spun off right in front of her and had to retire. How many people had retired by now? Probably three.
She set a steady pace for the next 10 laps, not a thought in her head besides the car and the track in front of her. Clearing her mind was harder when the threat of crashing a high-speed vehicle was involved, but she managed. So much was going on at once at this point that she really just had to choose one thing and stick to it.
A couple more people spun off at lap 37, and she hadn’t. She had fallen behind in the previous lap by about 10 seconds, which was not good at all. Her tyres hadn’t been able to find their grip and had caused her to swerve a little. The crowd probably had made an ‘oooh’ sound, but she hadn’t heard it. Actually, now that she was truly in the race, she couldn’t hear anything. These cars were so fucking loud and it was stupid hot in the cockpit.
Another pit stop, and they changed her tyres again. Same type again because someone had told her quickly that the weather forecasted only light rain. They were fucking wrong because somehow it picked up 2 laps later.
Andy felt it before she saw it. Her brakes made a screeching sound and suddenly her vision was spinning. Since it was a race car, that meant she was about to aggressively crash into something. That moment never came. She didn’t even realize she had reacted until she was back on the actual track. Where she had slid was just far enough from the barrier that she had barely tapped it and had turned her wheel so hard and pressed her foot on the accelerator just right. Holy shit. Taking a deep breath in, she took a moment to let her head clear before zoning back in.
Quickly, she surpassed some of the other cars. By this point, a surprising amount of people had retired, so there were a lot fewer of them, which made it both easier and harder to get in the lead. Easier because there were fewer people to compete with, and harder because that meant they either really knew what they were doing or had pit stops that were really good. Both meant good things for whoever had them and made them more challenging to compete against.
Eventually, she was 30 seconds behind the person in the lead. Only 10 cars were behind her. The next lap, she watched a car slide off in front of her because the rain had picked up. Her pit stop had changed her tyres to more heavy-duty ones. Or so she assumed, considering she hadn’t been obliterated by a wall or a hangar or gravel quite yet.
Her adrenaline spiked when she realized that this was going to be the last lap. Her lap counter showed her she had completed the fastest lap for the last two. Why couldn’t she do it again? A boost of confidence went through her at that, and with her heart thumping out of her chest, she pressed on the gas. Somehow, somehow, she passed the first person, and before she knew it, a checkered flag was being waved above her.
The victory lap she drove was spent in complete shock. None of the windows were rolled down or anything, and she didn’t wave. When she pulled the car up to where it needed to be, she couldn’t move.
Her coach yanked the door open with wide eyes and a huge smile. He had to practically pry her out of the car because her fingers and body didn’t want to move. But she got out, and when she looked at the stands, the roar she got was astounding. All the women were standing up and cheering because Andy had just done something never seen before in the history of race car driving. A woman had won the Grand Prix.
With shaky hands, she took off her helmet and let her face feel the chilly wet air. No part of her body wasn’t glistening with sweat, and her brown bangs were dark with moisture. Baby hairs had come out of her ponytail and pointed in odd directions. Miranda would probably have something to say about that. Miranda…Miranda!
After coming out of her stupor, she looked to the VIP area, and there sat her favorite Ice Queen. Of course, she looked perfect. Not a single silver hair was out of place despite the weather, and she held an umbrella in one hand that was definitely big enough to block out any rain that would touch her.
Even with her shades on, Andy could tell the woman was impressed or maybe even proud. At least she hoped so. That was the scariest thing she had ever done in her life.
“You did good, kid,” her coach said as he materialized out of nowhere with the kindest expression he’d probably ever worn. “Even for a woman.”
“Wow,” she responded sarcastically. “Thanks.”
“Just doin’ my job. Now c’mon! You have 10 minutes before you have to make a speech.”
“Oh fuck! Yeah!”
While she walked up to the area near her that was being set up for the awards, her phone buzzed. She opened it and saw a text from Miranda that read: You did a great job. Never make me fear for your safety like that again. Awww. That was so sweet. Andy smiled and texted back: Thank you baby. And don’t worry, I will. ;)
Andy looked up at the podium that was being set up and swallowed nervously. This was terrifying. She was about to be given a prize that one) had never been given to a woman before, and two) she had to talk about it out loud in front of the largest group of people ever.
The other two guys who had come in second and third place were talking, but she opted not to join and instead thought about what she wanted to say. There was so much and so many people to mention. Her coach, teammates (only some of them because others were assholes), her family, and Miranda. Miranda was at the top of her list. Actually, because that was her guiding light in the moments when she thought she couldn’t do it. Where men had pushed her down and spit on her and stomped all over her pride. Miranda had reminded her that nothing would happen if she didn’t keep working, and she lived her for it.
So when the time came, and Andy got on that podium, she accepted the prize with the widest smile ever. It glinted even in the dim light of the sun that was being blocked out by dark grey clouds. This weather couldn’t ruin her mood. Nothing could. She felt invincible.
“I’ll keep my words short because I know long acceptance speeches are boring,” she announced, which got a chuckle out of the crowd. But her eyes stayed on Miranda. “Becoming a race car driver was never exactly a dream of mine. My dad was a lawyer, and that’s what I was going to do before I saw my first race. My first race was a smaller one, but it didn’t matter. Seeing those cars zoom down and seeing the drivers get in and work their magic was the coolest thing ever. Both my parents were skeptical but loving, so they entertained it. Little did they know that this is where I would be. My coach took a chance on me. I wasn’t the fastest or strongest driver, and I was and still am one of the smallest. But he was so tough on me that it forced me to grow. I practiced whenever I could, and now I’m here. The third woman to win a Grand Prix, I also want to thank Miranda Priestly, the scariest, most loving woman I know, because she knows what it’s like to have men trample over you. She told me once ‘If you let them, they will take everything. So don’t.’ Simple, but effective. Thank you. I love you.”
There was a less loud cheer this time, and she knew it was from all the dumb homophobes in the audience who thought the LGBTQ+ community was the worst thing to happen. Did she care? Not really. Her eyes had caught her girlfriend’s, who had for once taken off her glasses. Andy’s breath was knocked out of her at how intently she was being watched, and for the 10 minutes, all she could think of was Miranda. Not the two men giving speeches next to her for second and third place. Just Miranda.
Finally, it was over, and Andy made a beeline for Miranda. People were screaming for her, and it was such a surreal sound that she didn’t even register it, to be honest. All she knew was that she was about to hug the love of her life after the coolest thing to ever happen to her.
Miranda made a grunting noise as Andy practically pounced on her, a wide smile on her face. Kisses were peppered all over pale skin and snowy white hair as if Miranda were a dog.
“I did it, I did it, I did it!” Andy squealed.
“Yes, you did,” Miranda agreed and tried not to smile at the expression on Andy’s face. “Now get off me. For God’s sake, you are not a child.”
“Fine.”
“And stop pouting.”
Caught in the act. Andy gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of her neck as she got off Miranda, and they walked down the stairs for VIP guests only. Body guards waited at the bottom to help them get through the crowd of people waiting for them at what seemed to be all corners. Miranda just smiled gracefully while Andy eagerly waved at them. Some cameras were flashing as well, and Andrea giggled incredulously at the thought that so many people wanted to see her.
Roy pulled up in front of the curb, and the bodyguards made their way over. One held open the door, and Andy crawled after Miranda. When it closed, everything was suddenly quiet. She could breathe again.
Nobody talked for a solid 10 minutes. Roy has the decency to put up the partition. Either because he knew Andy wasn’t ready to talk yet or because Andy and Miranda might make out, she would never know. She was grateful nonetheless.
“You did so well, Andrea,” Miranda said after a little while of letting Andy process.
“Thank you,” Andy accepted the compliment sheepishly. “That was…crazy.”
“Such a way with words.”
“I know. I’m great.”
Bantering with Miranda put her at ease, and she felt her muscles relax for the first time in what felt like months. Sweat stuck to her skin, and her hair was all out of place. The adrenaline had worn off and left her with a feeling of almost emptiness. Well, not quite. More of a shocked pleasure that was so intense she almost felt empty because she had no idea what to do with it. Currently, there was a trophy place in her lap that few had ever had the chance of fathoming to touch, and now it was hers? Hers?
“I love you, Miranda,” she said, turning her face towards the other woman.
For the first time that day, Miranda smiled a real smile with her teeth and her eyes and everything. “I love you too, Andrea. Now close your eyes and rest. You must be exhausted.”
Andy nodded and closed them. Quickly, she fell asleep, and she knew that she was right where she wanted to be. Trophy in her lap with the woman that she could call home.