Work Text:
Andy is screwed.
Very screwed.
Andy is completely screwed and Miranda will eat her alive as soon as she finds out about the hotel's mistake. It was the hotel's mistake, right? It must have been. Or was it Jin's? No, Jin wouldn't make a mistake like that. Certainly not Amari, of course—she wouldn't be crazy enough to think that about Miranda's favorite. But what now? Is there time to fix this mistake? To go downstairs and talk to the manager, maybe?
No, she wouldn't have that luck. Miranda will arrive any moment—the only reason the woman isn't here yet is because someone approached her in the lobby. Now, Andy has, what? A few long seconds to mentally prepare herself for her boss's wrath?
Great. As if the day hadn't been exhausting enough.
Great.
Standing, paralyzed at the door of the room, she feels Miranda's presence before even hearing her.
"Andrea, why are you standing there like a statue?"
You know what? Fuck it. Andy had been through much worse things than this, especially 20 years ago. She stopped being an insecure young woman a long time ago. There's no reason to freak out. Of course not.
"Miranda, I just realized there was a mistake. We were assigned to the same room and, since you arrived at the hotel first, I couldn't check this before. But it's fine, I'll immediately ask to be moved to another room, so you don't need to worry," she blurts out in a single breath.
Miranda gives her a look that, impressively, Andy can't decipher. At this point in life, she thought she knew her boss well enough, but that doesn't seem to be true in this moment when they are side by side, with a room full of Miranda's belongings, in a silence that hovers between the familiar and the awkward.
"There are no more rooms available."
Andy holds her breath, feeling her heart pounding in the throat.
"What?"
"Are you developing some sort of hearing problem, by any chance? I said there are no more rooms available. I've just been notified that the hotel made.. an overbooking mistake and, if necessary, either you or I could be relocated. However, I didn't think it would be such a big problem for you for us to share a room for a mere three days, but from what I'm seeing..."
"That's not what I meant! I wasn't informed, and I assumed you hadn't been either, and..."
"You assume a lot of things, Andrea." She rolls her eyes, but doesn't seem genuinely annoyed. "Now, may I come in, or are we going to stay out here for the rest of the night?"
Immediately, a space is opened for her to pass. Miranda doesn't seem bothered by the lack of space between them as she enters the room, brushing lightly against Andy's breasts and leaving a trail of Bulgari perfume behind.
"I'm going to take a shower." And just like that, her presence fades away, as if she hadn't knocked the air out of Andy's lungs.
Andy, on the other hand, needs a few moments to compose herself. First, she closes the door, which she hadn't even realized was still open; then, she takes advantage of the minutes alone to not only organize the things, but also to do some breathing exercises, because, holy shit, Miranda is impossible.
But she only truly realizes the level of the problem when Miranda comes out of the shower. There is something ethereal about the sight of her boss in a bathrobe, damp hair and a face clean of any makeup. Andy tries to avoid it, but she can't look away. She can't look away from the exposed collarbone, from the drops of water falling from the hair, from the wrinkles on the face that she had come to love.
Shit, she really is screwed.
Andy clears her throat and, without another word, goes to take a shower. And, despite the mild, almost cold weather, she opts for a very cold shower—and prefers not to think about it. It doesn't take long for her to come out of the bathroom, already with her skincare done, dry hair and pajamas on.
Miranda is nowhere to be seen, so Andy risks knocking on the half-open door of the bedroom. She only hears a long 'Mhm', but understands it as permission, finding a Miranda more relaxed than ever before, with a blanket over her legs and a book in her hands. The only lighting is from the bedside lamp, making the image almost a work of art.
"Hey, Miranda," she whispers, her voice suddenly hoarse. "I just came to wish you a good night."
Miranda looks up, frowning.
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"On... the sofa?" Andy can't hide her confusion.
"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea." There's a touch of genuine irritation in her voice. "There's enough space for both of us, don't you think?"
What the hell.
Andy is going crazy. Miranda can't be serious. Being in the same room? Okay, she can handle that. But sleeping in the same bed? That doesn't even make sense. That's crazy. Completely.
But Andy was never known for being very sane.
So she, with her legs trembling slightly, nods and approaches the bed. She tries not to look too much at Miranda, who seems to watch her with some interest, as she snuggles into the bed and dares to steal the other corner of the blanket for herself.
Lying down, she turns to Miranda.
"What are you reading?" she decides to risk.
"Funny Story by Emily Henry, you know it?"
"Oh, isn't that that contemporary romance author? I've never read it, but Lily, my friend, reads a lot. I remember her mentioning Book Lovers, or something like that. It sounds interesting," she rambles, her voice slowing down with each word. The tiredness is weighing down. "How's the reading going?"
Today, for some reason Andy couldn't understand throughout the day, her boss is more talkative. "Great. I like this kind of book, it's good to pass the time. But I'm already reaching the end."
"Do you already know what your next read will be?"
"Cassidy recommended me The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo." Andy's eyes widen, and immediately Miranda rolls hers. "I know, I know. But it was she who made me rediscover my passion for reading as a hobby and not as work. It's just that everything she reads is romance, and I started to appreciate it too."
"As you said, romance seems like a good way to pass the time." She can't hold back a yawn, which makes her close her eyes for a second and snuggle even deeper into the bed. "I wonder if that would be my path back to reading."
"What did you used to read?"
"When I was younger, I really liked police thrillers. Anything involving investigation. I was simply passionate about Agatha Christie, but, with adult life, I also stopped reading as a pastime. It's been years since I've picked up a book, unfortunately."
"Why don't you talk to Cassidy about it?"
The suggestion sounds absurd even to a sleepy Andy.
"Come on, Andrea." She closes the book and leans against the headboard, looking directly at Andy. "I know you have a certain affection for my daughters, and now there's nothing I can do if you three want to get closer again. They are adults now."
But encouraging is completely different, Andy considers to say, but she's not crazy enough yet.
"Yep," she ends up whispering, trying not to let her eyes wander from Miranda's face to a little lower. "I'll talk to her, then. But I'd also accept your suggestions."
'Mhm' is the response Andy receives again, but she doesn't mind. With heavy eyes, still turned to Miranda, she brings the blanket up to her neck and lets out a long sigh. The tiredness is so bad that she can no longer care about the presence of a second person in the bed—even if that person is her boss and someone she's been attracted to for 20 years.
Her sleep, then, soon comes.
***
Andy wakes up at some undefined point in the middle of the night. There is a low snoring in front of her, and it takes a while to understand where she is and who is turned toward her. But, when her eyes adjust to the darkness, the sight seems like a dream.
Maybe she really is dreaming. Those dreams within another dream, maybe. That's the only way this could even be possible.
Miranda looks like an angel sleeping. She seems to be having a good dream, because there's a little smile adorning her face. Her wrinkles are softened, and her hair is all disheveled, much more voluminous than when she's all done up. Andy has a sudden urge to run her fingers through the strands of hair, to caress them, to caress her face and God knows what else.
And that's exactly what she does.
She can't tell if it's from the rational hope of being in a dream, or from the sleep deprivation she'd been subjected to for longer than she can count, but an indescribable calm fills her heart as she feels the texture of Miranda's hair under her fingers. It's as soft and fragrant as she imagined, if not more, and it seems to have been made to be wrapped around her fingers, especially when Miranda lets out a satisfied sigh.
Yes, Andy can only be dreaming.
***
The next day arrives with a strange normality.
When Andy wakes up, she is alone and the other side of the bed is cold. Throughout the day, between interviews for the magazine and networking meals, the feeling of the night before fades away like a distant dream. Neither of them mentions the small detail of sleeping in the same room, as if it were their little secret—even though she knows that Amari is obliged to know something like that.
And Jin is acting a bit strange too, if she thinks about it.
Andy, honestly, would prefer not to think about it. Not to think about any of it. She spends the whole day with her mind on work, on writing, on drafts of new articles, on the effort of not showing her exhaustion while talking to important people. She has priorities, after all. Thinking about her boss doesn't get her anywhere.
But she can't avoid her when night comes.
Once again, they have a business dinner, so they return to the hotel just to sleep. This time, it's Andy who showers first, lying down on the still empty bed.
The exhaustion is so awful that, when Miranda comes to lie down, she is already in a limbo between the real world and dreams.
"Good night, Andrea."
"Good night, Miranda." She gathers all her strength to turn to the other side of the bed, where the woman is settling in. "Aren't you going to read tonight?"
"I finished the book yesterday," she replies in a whisper, lying facing Andy, their eyes fixed on each other. "And I don't want to bother you."
Bother me, a weak laugh escapes. What an unreal thought.
"You would never bother me, Miranda," is all she says before falling asleep.
***
This time, Andy wakes up after the sun has already risen.
It's difficult, being so dazed, to reason about the situation she finds herself in. She doesn't open her eyes immediately. First, she feels the warmth of Miranda's back against her chest, and then the texture of the silky white hair in her nose, which tickles her cheek.
"You woke up."
Andy freezes.
Miranda's voice is nothing more than a breath, but it's enough to make her shiver. She thinks about pulling her arm away, but the woman is faster and turns in her embrace, leaving their faces almost touching. Now, a little more awake, Andy allows herself to admire Miranda's face. She notices the little wrinkles, the contour of the lips, the smile at the corner of her mouth, the blue eyes that seem so bare. Stunning. Very carefully, she takes a strand of Miranda's hair and moves it away from her face, tucking it behind the ear, and takes the opportunity to caress the face she's admired for years.
A powerful calm takes over her. Suddenly, nothing seems strange or desperate. There is nothing that can worry her when she is like this, under Miranda's gaze, and with her fingers running over the face of the one she loved most and still loves.
"Yeah, I woke up," she whispers, letting her fingers fall to her boss's mouth. Fuck, her boss. This is insane. "But it feels like I'm dreaming."
Even in this situation, Miranda rolls her eyes. "As if you would dream of me."
"Oh, Miranda, you should know." She, without thinking, places a kiss on Miranda's forehead. It's like testing the waters, checking if it's okay to cross some barriers, and when the woman has no reaction other than sighing, Andy moves the kiss down to her cheek. "I've dreamed of you since I met you."
She doesn't know who makes the first move, but she finds herself floating with the sensation of Miranda's mouth on hers and her own hand entwined in the strands of white hair. It's soft, but it's also overwhelming. The world stops, but it also spins and spins, leaving her dazed. It's better than a dream, better than all the images she created before sleeping over the last 20 years. Kissing this woman, being able to touch her, feel the tongue on hers, feel the soft hand on her neck, the relaxed and warm body against hers—it's all too much.
She could live in this moment forever.
"There's something I have to tell you." Miranda says, between one kiss and another. Andy, on the other hand, can only hear her own heart, placing kisses all over woman's face. "It's serious."
Andy finally stops, but doesn't take her hands off the soft cheeks, let alone look away. "Tell me."
"I think..." she begins, but something seems to embarrass her, making her wrap her arm around Andy's waist and hide her face in the soft chest. "I'm sure, actually, that our assistants did this on purpose."
"What?" Confused, she can only stroke Miranda's hair and offer her another kiss on the top of the head.
"Yesterday, the hotel manager came personally to ask me if we should really be in the same room and if our assistants hadn't made a mistake." She almost laughs, muffled by Andy's pajamas, while unconsciously drawing circles on Andy's back. "But you know very well, Andrea, that Amari doesn't make mistakes. And, well... It's no secret that she and your assistant have... something. The gossip runs through the office."
"What?!" she repeats, this time more awake. "I've never heard anything about that."
"Of course you haven't, silly woman. Always with your eyes on me..." she teases, but there isn't much humor in her voice. Actually, when Miranda lifts her head and faces Andy, all there is is the nakedness of her soul. "Do you think I don't notice? That I don't notice your gaze, your effort to get my attention? I've lived long enough to know when someone is interested in me, Andrea. I noticed 20 years ago, in your boldness to look at a married woman. And, of course, I also noticed this time, but, well... I haven't been married for many years now. That's why I accepted this room. And that's why I didn't let you go to another room."
Andy opens her mouth to speak, but Miranda silences her by placing a finger on her lips.
"And, honestly, it had been so many years since I slept as well as I did last night. I don't know what it is about you, but it made me realize how much I missed having someone to talk to before sleeping. Not that I shared a room with my ex-husbands, but you... You are something else. I caught myself thinking that I really appreciated sleeping with you. I caught myself thinking that I really appreciate you."
When she smiles, Andy loses her breath. Beautiful. Absolutely stunning. It's like seeing Miranda for the first time, like truly knowing her, without running into the emotional walls the woman has built over the years. And Andy likes what she sees. She loves what she sees.
"Maybe I should thank our assistants, then." She places a kiss on the corner of Miranda's mouth. "Because it was also the best sleep, maybe, since my high school years. And the best kiss, if you ask me."
Miranda rolls her eyes, which makes Andy laugh and steal a kiss. Now that she knows the feeling of kissing Miranda Priestly, she will never want to try anything else, another kiss, another person. She wants this woman all to herself, wants to be able to kiss her at any moment, hug her, love her the way she deserves to be loved and has never truly been loved. Andy would do everything for her. Everything.
"We need to get up," Miranda says, but doesn't seem to have any desire to leave Andy's arms. "Our schedules are packed today."
"Oh, so you even know my personal schedule? Who would have thought." She teases, which makes Miranda purse the lips and pull away from her embrace. She even tries to grab the woman's wrist, but fails, curling back up on the bed.
"Don't pout at me, we really need to get up." She gives Andy one last kiss. "I'm going to take a shower and you order our breakfast, okay?"
Our breakfast. Our.
Holy shit. Andy is screwed—but completely happy.