Anticipation
Author: Krys Yuy
Prompt: #11/sunrise
Summary: Post-movie. Margaret has to wonder how she fell for a man-child so full of himself.
Pairing/Characters: Andrew Paxton/Margaret Tate (The Proposal)
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 1,640
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used. This fic is purely for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: For 12 Stories community on LiveJournal. Loved The Proposal so much that I had to write a little ficlet for it. The dynamic between Margaret and Andrew was adorable, and my only complaint with the movie is that we didn't get more fluffy scenes after Andrew catches up to her in New York. No idea which floor their office is on, so I just made it the 17th. (Writer's prerogative. :P) I wrote in present tense simply because I felt like it. Please review, if you are so inclined. I'd really appreciate it.

Margaret still has her doubts, even as Andrew pulls away from their kiss in the middle of the gaping office, that this is her happily ever after. Those exist only in fiction, and definitely not the kind she reads and approves for publishing. She's the ice queen, the witch that everyone flees from. She's supposed to live out her life alone with only her books to keep her company.

But then Andrew rests his forehead against hers, giving her that infuriating yet adorable half-smile, and she lets herself believe he is her prince charming and maybe, just maybe, she is his princess.

"Let's get out of here," he murmurs, rubbing circles on the back of her hands with his thumbs.

She wonders briefly if there is a white horse waiting outside the building. Either a horse or Kevin. She really hopes it's a horse. "Okay," she whispers back against his lips. Without saying anything else, she twines her hand in his and lets him lead the way.

Conversation buzzes louder around them as they make their way to the elevators. She resists the urge to duck her head and blush. Instead, she walks primly and proudly a step behind Andrew. She raises an eyebrow at the employees they pass, and though they quickly lower their heads, she spots the smiles on their faces. Inwardly, she sighs. She hopes this doesn't end up undermining her authority.

Andrew tugs her to his side as he presses the button for the elevator. "Relax," he says, and though she can't quite look at him, she knows he's smiling. "They're still terrified of you."

Margaret rolls her eyes. "You're such a sweet talker," she replies dryly.

"I have been known for my smooth communication skills," Andrew says.

The elevator dings and he pulls her into the compartment. She still doesn't look at him, afraid that if she does, he'll disappear.

"Hey."

Ignoring him, Margaret keeps her stare on the doors as they slide close. Then she watches as the floor numbers light up, keenly aware of his stare. How is this supposed to work? She's his boss – well, colleague now. He's going to be an editor, but also her boyfriend-slash-husband. Oh, she feels a headache coming on.

"I can hear you thinking too much," Andrew sings, tapping the side of her forehead.

She swats his hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look at me," he says.

She doesn't and Andrew has to grasp her chin and turn her head towards him. Her eyes look up and down, anywhere but at his face. He grips her cheeks, which makes her lips pucker. Annoyed, she finally locks gazes with him.

"Now was that so hard?" Andrew waggles his eyebrows and Margaret wants to stick her tongue out, but ends up laughing instead. It's all a little awkward though, what with his hold still on her cheeks.

Andrew grins and swipes a quick kiss from her puckered lips. Her nose scrunches up and she pushes him away, taking his hands off her face.

"What happens now?" she asks quietly.

"Ever the practical one," Andrew comments, shaking his head. He takes her right hand in both of his and brings it up to his lips. He kisses her knuckles and very softly says, "Let yourself be happy, Margaret."

She shakes her head. "This doesn't feel real," she confesses.

"I ran up seventeen flights of stairs because I was afraid you wouldn't be here," Andrew replies, a smile playing across his lips. "My muscles are feeling the burn, so believe me when I say, this is very real."

He ran up the stairs? Her heart warms even as she comments, "Idiot. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"I'll have you know I'm in perfect shape," he retorts, patting his stomach. "Then again, you already know that." He winks, and Margaret has to wonder how she fell for a man-child so full of himself.

"I didn't see anything," she denies. She had been too mortified by her own nakedness.

Andrew raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Margaret…"

She gets a feeling that she'll come to hate that tone. It makes her pout. "A tiny, itty-bitty glimpse," she concedes.

Andrew slings an arm around her shoulders and she allows herself the indulgence of leaning her head against his neck. "Glimpse or no, you'll eventually see all of it," he teases. "A year and a half is a long time…"

Margaret smacks him on the back of the head even as her cheeks flush. "Andrew –"

He catches her wrists and ducks down so his mouth is next to her ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, and she feels him grin. "We have all the time in the world."

–

The next morning, as awareness begins to creep into her head, Margaret knows something is different. First off, she isn't sprawled across her entire bed. Second, she is without her comforter. Third, there is a hard body pressed against her back.

Her eyes snap open and she sits up quickly. The arm around her waist loosens and there's a sleepy snort before her bed shifts. She looks to her left to see Andrew curling on his side away from her, snuggling into her pillows. He is also wrapped comfortably in her blanket.

Margaret thinks she should be irritated beyond belief, but she can only feel affection well up inside her. They slept side by side innocently, and it is the first time she has done that with any man. Andrew didn't leave in the middle of the night. He is still here. With her.

She stares at him for a while before reaching out tentatively to touch his hair. She only begins to pet him when he shifts and she snatches her hand back, holding her breath. He mumbles incoherently before settling down again.

She relaxes and gently eases herself out of the bed. She grabs her workout clothes and heads to her exercise bicycle. Routine is routine, after all. She doesn't know how that will change with Andrew in her life, but she'll just have to take it a step at a time.

The sun is rising with a brilliant blend of muted golds and reds along the edges of the city skyline, and Margaret stops to admire it. She doesn't remember ever doing this since she was a teenager. She never takes a moment for herself because stopping leads to introspection about her life and that is something she does not need.

Before Andrew, anyway.

Speaking of… Margaret can't help but stiffen as he wraps his arms around her from behind. She's not used to such casual physical contact, especially so early in the morning. But he's actually quite comfortable and she relaxes into his embrace, wondering at the knowledge that she's allowed to do such a thing. No strings attached.

He yawns against her hair. "What are you doing?" he asks sleepily.

"Watching the sunrise," she answers. Wait – is that too weird? Should she not have said that?

Before she can panic, she feels Andrew nod. "'s pretty, huh?" he replies with another yawn.

"Yes, it is," she agrees.

The sun begins to peek over the tops of the highest skyscrapers, bathing everything in its golden light. She realizes she has never shared a sunrise with anyone before. Another first with Andrew. Her heart swells and she places her hands on Andrew's arms, her workout clothes dangling from her grip.

"Were y'going some –" He yawns again as he pinches her biker shorts. "– where?"

Margaret finds his drowsy voice charming and takes pity on him. "Go back to sleep, Andrew."

His head bends down so his nose is pressed against the top of her head. "You too," he says, voice muffled.

She has never woken up, only to go back to sleep again. "Just because we don't have to go into the office today doesn't mean there isn't work," she replies. "You sleep in."

He chuckles and mumbles something unintelligible.

"What?" she asks.

Margaret yelps when, without warning, Andrew scoops her into his arms.

"Andrew! Put me down!" she demands.

Though clearly sluggish, it does not slow him down as he walks back to her bedroom. "You're not the boss right now," he says, a little more awake than before.

"I have to exercise and review a new manuscript," she protests. There is no way she can fall asleep again.

"Work, Margaret?" Andrew asks, amused. "Really?"

She looks at him, lost. "What else am I supposed to do?"

He dumps her on the bed and she bounces with a shriek of surprise. Her glare is cut short when Andrew bounces after her. He pins her on the mattress in the midst of her utter disbelief. She's about to protest when he swoops in and catches her lips in a sweet kiss.

He pulls back first, though their faces are only inches apart. "Make out with me," he finally answers with a suggestive smirk.

She wants to slap the smirk off his face, but settles for slapping the back of his head. It won't be the last time, either, she thinks, though she is intrigued by his suggestion. Not that she'll admit it.

"Are you always this perverted?" she asks before she can stop herself. She almost groans. Great. Accuse the man you have strong feelings for of being a pervert. That's one way to get him to stay.

She expects him to be offended, but Andrew shocks her when his smirk only widens. He teases her lips again. "You'll just have to find out," he says, mischief coloring his tone.

A shiver of anticipation runs down her spine and Margaret thinks that Andrew will be the death of the old her. She hides her smile as he tucks her head underneath his chin.

She can't wait.