Work Text:
It was a morning like any other. Andy placed the usual Starbucks order- scalding hot- on the desk mere moments before Miranda walked in, then it was an endless stream of orders, Andy taking copious notes, making phone calls and scheduling appointments.
Just after lunch Miranda stepped into the outer office, gesturing for Emily to get her coat before snapping, “Andrea. With me.”
Andy blinked.
She had Miranda’s schedule memorized, but the next thing on her calendar was the meeting with her divorce lawyers. Her mind spun trying to make sense of the three simple words; what could she possibly want with Andy? Sure not to be present at the law firm? But by the time her brain caught up with what Miranda had just said, Miranda was half way down the hall.
In a rush, Andy scooped up her things and booked it down the long Runway hall to join her, slightly breathless as she made it to the elevator in time.
Miranda punched the down button, striding into the elevator as the doors opened. Andy followed her, pressing the down button before stepping back beside her and hugging her notepad to her chest.
She glanced at Miranda out of the corner of her eyes. Miranda’s expression was totally unreadable and she’d already put her sunglasses on. Andy’s tongue darted out, licking her lips as she tried to slow her breathing and calm down. Every day working for Miranda Priestly was a new, totally unpredictable challenge.
That was when the elevator jolted to a halt and the lights flickered.
“What-?” Andy glanced worriedly at Miranda. “I think it stopped?”
“Thank you, Andrea, for stating the obvious,” Miranda said, pursing her lips. It was that movement, ever so subtle, that spurred Andy into action.
Scrambling at the keypad, Andy pressed the call button.
“Hello? Hello the elevator stopped between floors- uh-“ she glanced up, looking for floor numbers when the gravity of the situation came crashing down around her.
She’s trapped in an elevator. She’s trapped in a small elevator. It’s suddenly too bright and she’s too hot and her chest feels tight and she can’t read the numbers overhead, can’t make the words she needs to say come forth. Suddenly she can’t do her job because the walls are closing in and she can’t breathe-
Miranda pressed the call button, “This is Miranda Priestly and we are between floors twenty-four and twenty-three. Send for maintenance immediately if you want to continue being employed in this building.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What is wrong with you?” Miranda snapped, turning on Andy.
“M’sorry,” Andy managed, struggling to take a breath. It felt like a massive weight on her chest, her heart pounding hard and fast, hands unable to stop shaking.
“Don’t like small spaces,” she said. She tried to calm down, but tears were threatened to spill over. She covered her face with her hands, taking little gasping breaths. She was shaking, backed up against one mirrored elevator wall.
Then, warm hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away from her face.
“Look at me Andrea,” Miranda said, her voice far gentler than Andy had ever heard. She lifted her head, meeting the stealy blue gaze, but for once, there was no anger or frustration in Miranda’s eyes.
“Take a deep breath,” Miranda said and took a breath herself. Andy mimicked, exhaling as Miranda did.
They were so close that Andy could feel the heat from Miranda’s body, but far more distracting was how Miranda’s thumbs rubbed up and down Andy’s wrists. Andy stood trapped between the wall and Miranda, not quite caught but rather cradled.
“Good girl,” said Miranda in that still soft voice that Andy thought she could lose herself in. “Again.”
They breathed together, in and out, twice more until Andy’s heart no longer felt like it was going to leap from her chest.
“Better?” Miranda asked.
“Yes,” Andy breathed. “T-thank you.”
“Well, I can’t have you falling apart on me,” said Miranda, but she was still holding Andy’s wrists, thumbs still gently stroking her, and her words held none of their usual bite. She peered at Andy’s face, brow furrowing slightly.
“Your mascara-“ she murmured. Then, to Andy’s shock, after dropping Andy’s hands, Miranda licked her thumb and carefully wiped away the dark smudges from beneath Andy’s eyes. Andy froze. Miranda’s touch was so soft, so intimate, that Andy had to fight to not begin trembling again, to keep herself from leaning into the touch. Instead, she held still, and blushed furiously.
Finally Miranda stepped away, the movement causing a cool gust of air to flood Andy. Andy licked her lips.
“Invest in waterproof next time,” said Miranda In a tone that held no bite, oddly quiet even for her. “Now, read me the notes from the Balenciaga showing.”
Andy ended up sitting on the floor, and begrudgingly Miranda eventually shed her coat and sat beside her. Miranda peppered her with questions about things Andy knew she already knew, eventually realizing that her boss was keeping her distracted, hmm-ing and mmm-ing through Andy’s notes.
And then there were the touches. In the lulls, when Andy was paging through her notes, Miranda would reach over and touch her. It was brief, little featherlight caresses across her wrist or forearm. It grounded her, kept her alert and in the moment, wholly focused on Miranda- as if it were possible to focus on anything else in such a small space.
It made every nerve in Andy’s body feel alight.
“Are you still feeling ill, Andrea?” Miranda interrupted Andy midsentance. She had lifted Andy’s left hand and placed it in her own lap, tracing the lines of Andy’s palm with her fingers, almost absently, as if it were merely something to do to keep her hands occupied. Because apparently the no touching Miranda rule didn’t apply if Miranda was the one doing the touching.
“Uh, no, I feel okay now.”
According to Andy’s phone, they’d gotten in the elevator an hour ago. Miranda was missing her meeting with the lawyers.
“You’re quite… flush,” Miranda said, then slowly dragged a finger up the inside of Andy’s forearm.
Andy’s blush deepened, stretching to the roots of her hair and down her neck.
“I’m f-fine,” she gritted out.
“Mmm.”
Miranda watched her in that deeply searching way, not unlike the way Andy had seen her study the book for mistakes or flaws or any other sort of hidden vulnerability she could strike through with a red pen.
“Why did you want me to come to the meeting today?” Andy asked.
The fingertips moving against her wrist stilled for the briefest moment, but Miranda’s unwavering gaze never left hers.
“For much the same reason that I doubt you would have enjoyed being alone when this elevator came to a halt.”
Oh.
Oh.
Two of Miranda’s fingertips slid across the center of Andy’s palm and she closed her hand around it. She gave the softest squeeze, wishing instead she could have just held Miranda’s hand, interlocked their fingers and never let go.
“Miranda-“
But before either could say anything more, the elevator jolted to live. Andy scrambled to her feet, offering Miranda a hand that she pointedly ignored. By the time the doors slid open, they were both upright, Andy fixing her blouse while Miranda draped her coat back over her arm.
After nearly an hour and a half, they were back on Runway's floor, stepping into the hallway they’d left. Miranda sighed, stalking back towards her office.
“Andrea, reschedule everything and let’s see if the day is at all salvageable.”
“Yes Miranda,” Andy replied, but there was a little more spring in her step as she followed her back down the hall.
