This is for the 2023 DWP Valentine's Ficathon. It's being run by myself and Steren_Heart. You can find the whole collection over on AO3.

Thanks to my beta, Steren_Heart

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Shoot!" Andy bent down on the busy sidewalk, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Emily!" Her bag slid down her arm as she picked up the now empty coffee cups, dumping them in the nearby trash can. Hastily shoving the phone back in her bag, she stood up and looked down at herself.

"Great," she muttered. People continued to hurry past her, knocking her in every direction possible. This could not be happening today of all days. She'd painstakingly chosen the day's outfit, wanting to look her very best, and now it was covered in at least six different kinds of coffee. Of course, in this instance, 'best' didn't mean smartest, or most professional. It meant looking these things while also looking as alluring as she could manage. 'Best' meant looking so irresistible, that hopefully her boss wouldn't be able to help but rip the carefully chosen outfit from her lithe, needy body.

She was already running late; now she had to head back to the coffee shop for new drinks, on top of collecting a selection of belts from Tom Ford. Andy rubbed her forehead, trying to smooth out the frown lines that had wrinkled there. It was too early to have a headache already. She needed to pull it together; hopefully she could still make it to the office before Miranda arrived. Who was she trying to kid? Her boss was never late. All she could do was try.

Digging her phone back out, she fired off a text to the barista, explaining she needed a repeat of the order. Thankfully, Asha had taken pity on her not long after she'd started at Runway. The barista was familiar with the demands Miranda Priestly placed on her assistants, so she had given Andy her number. If Andy was really in a pinch, she could text the order in and Asha would make sure it was ready and waiting when it got there.

That was coffee taken care of. She stopped outside of Tom Ford, trying to cover her ruined clothes with her coat. As she knocked on the locked door, she hoped it wouldn't take long to get someone's attention. Luck was on her side for the first time that day and within a few minutes she was on her way back to the coffee shop, belts in hand, while she fired off another text; this time to Nigel. He would likely already be at the office; if she promised to owe him big time, hopefully he'd have a new outfit picked out from the closet for when she got there. If she turned up at her desk covered in coffee and all manner of flavoured syrups, Miranda would not be happy. Besides, if she was going to be in a room with Miranda Priestly and covered in syrup, this was not exactly how she hoped it would go. She shook her head; there was no time for fantasising right now.

Her phone rang again. Emily. "What is it, Em?" She hadn't meant to snap, but she was less than in the mood for Emily's harassment. Andy knew she was late, she knew Miranda would be pissed. She was trying to get there as quickly as possible, but Emily's incessant ringing was not speeding things up. "Shit," was all she could manage at hearing Miranda was already in the office. "Ten minutes. I can't run any faster!" Shoving the phone away again, she hurried along as fast as she could in heels, weaving in and out of the other New Yorkers.

What she could only hope was less than ten minutes later, she jabbed her finger at the elevator button, willing it to arrive faster. Finally. The elevator dinged as the doors opened and she stepped into the empty space, almost growling in anger as people clambered in after her, seemingly hitting the button for every floor that stood between her and the Runway offices.

"Oh god!" she exclaimed, grateful that no one seemed to hear her or care, all deeply embedded in their own Tuesday morning disasters. Her lips were smeared, her cheeks flushed. And her hair. There were no words. Not to mention the soaked and sticky designer fabrics that clung to her. Why did this have to happen today? Was this a message from the universe? A warning? Should she just cancel everything?

The elevator pinged again, alerting her she'd reached the seventeenth floor. As she clutched the cardboard trays of coffee, determined not to spill them a second time that day, she walked as fast as she could from the elevator to Emily's desk.

"Where on earth have you been?" Emily spat. "And what the hell happened to you?" Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked Andy up and down. "You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards for Christ's sake!"

"Thanks, Em," Andy answered dryly. She set the coffees down on Emily's desk a little too harshly, causing the steaming liquid to rise up out of the little drinking holes that were punched into the plastic lids. "I'll be back." Not waiting for an answer, she scrambled to the closet, ignoring Emily's huffs.

"Nigel! You're a lifesaver!"

"What would you do without me, Six?"

She stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor, before yanking the new ones from the hangers and pulling them on. "I hope I never have to find out!" The mess of clothes from the floor was quickly tossed to Nigel, much to his dismay. She was certain no amount of dry cleaning would rid them of the sickly sweet smell that clung to them, but she had to at least try. She could collect them from him later. Hair and make-up fixed, she ran back out the door and to her desk.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Miranda sipped her latte as she listened carefully to her assistants, or assistant, to be more precise, seeing as Andrea had decided it would be acceptable to run in and run straight back out, all the while looking a dishevelled mess. Emily answered phones and tapped away on her keyboard, dutiful as ever.

"Emily. Andrea." As much as she knew Andrea wasn't there, she wasn't going to give her assistants the satisfaction of knowing she paid any attention to their whereabouts. After all, it was their job to be at their desks when she called upon them. The running in and out obviously showed Andrea was alive, so there was no excuse for her tardiness.

"Yes, Miranda." Emily had entered her office. Alone. She stood there, loyally awaiting further instructions.

Miranda's eyes darted to the door and back to Emily. "Where is Andrea?"

"She should be here any moment, Miranda."

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Andrea came running in.

Miranda remembered the day Andrea started. Stomping around in clumpy flats that she could only assume must have come from a Payless bargain bin. Now, she ran in elegantly, even while wearing three-inch Jimmy Choos. She sat back in her chair, pursing her lips in Andrea's direction. "Andrea. How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

"I'm so sorry, Miranda. I had the worst morning and I spilled coffee all over myself and I didn't want to turn up looking like that. I had to get something else to wear and I had to get the coffees again. I really am so sorry I wasn't here on time."

Miranda watched Emily roll her eyes. Andrea had become more than competent in her role. She was always on time, always completed the tasks Miranda gave her, no matter how impossible. Her fashion sense had greatly improved; Miranda knew Nigel was to thank for that. She was often one step ahead of Miranda even, knowing what she needed and when. Yet today, she was a floundering mess, standing in front of her babbling and wasting her time. She wasn't sure where Andrea's poise had gone, but she did know she needed her to find it.

"Your morning does not concern me, Andrea. We're mere hours from this issue going to print. I need you here, doing your job." Miranda could hear the venom dripping from her voice.

"Yes, Miranda." Andrea's smile dropped and her eyes became glassy with unshed tears. She swallowed hard before lowering her gaze to the ground.

Miranda hesitated, her own poise lost for a moment. She hadn't meant to upset the younger woman. She cleared her throat. "I trust we have the belts?"

"Yes, Miranda," Andrea whimpered.

"I want this afternoon's runthrough moved to an hour later. There are still some changes we need to make to this issue."

"Of course, Miranda," Emily answered.

"That's all." Once the two women had exited her office, she let out a sigh of relief. Showing any kind of remorse in front of her assistants would not do. She truly hadn't meant to be so harsh to Andrea, and now, all kinds of feelings bubbled up inside of her in addition to the ones she normally had to push down.

"Miranda, I need you to take another look at this."

Having turned her chair to face the window, she hadn't noticed Nigel waltz into her office. He rounded her desk, laying out a handful of images as she turned back around.

"What's wrong, Miranda?"

"Nothing." Her voice was higher than she would have liked; she hoped he wouldn't notice.

Nigel placed his hand on his hip, staring her down. "So this has nothing to do with the forlorn second assistant that I passed on the way in?"

"I didn't mean to be quite so harsh."

"Well, well, I never thought I'd see the day. Miranda Priestly feeling glum for being mean to an assistant." He chuckled at his own joke, much to Miranda's chagrin.

"I'm glad you find such amusement in my troubles, Nigel."

"Look, you know I'm just kidding around, but seriously, Miranda. When are you going to tell that poor woman how you feel?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh, please. Who are you trying to convince? It's clear you're both madly in love with each other."

Miranda's ice-blue eyes threw daggers in Nigel's direction. "I'm not in love with her." Her eyes darted around the room. "I'm quite certain she's not with me either. What would she want with someone so much older than her? She's young, attractive, has a bright future ahead of her I'm sure. Andrea does not have any interest in me."

Nigel scoffed. "Miranda, you might not be my type, and you may not be as young as her, but you're not over the hill yet. You still turn heads, you're successful." He lowered his voice, conspiratorially. "Anyway, perhaps she just likes 'em mean."

Miranda glared at him again.

"Not that any of that matters, when you obviously don't feel that way about her anyway." He sent a derisive wink her way. "I'll come back with these later, when you're in a better mood."

Could Nigel be right? He'd been telling Miranda the same thing for months, and each and every time, Miranda stood firm in saying she didn't have feelings for her assistant. In reality, that didn't even touch the surface of the truth. Miranda had never believed in unrequited love. She wasn't sure she even believed in love. How could you love someone that deeply, if it wasn't reciprocated? Yet, here she was, madly, truly, deeply in love with her assistant while absolutely certain Andrea did not feel the same.

She'd been able to handle it when she got to see her each day, but knowing she would come into work tomorrow and Andrea wouldn't be there, replaced with some incompetent young woman wanting to climb their way up the ladder and take Miranda's job. Well, it was more than she could bear.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Azure waters and golden sands stared back at Andy. She'd chosen the stock image as her screen saver months ago, now. Images of her and Miranda laying on the sandy beach, sipping cocktails, flashed through her mind whenever it caught her eye. That seemed like an even more distant dream now. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting at her desk, but she hadn't even unlocked the screen yet.

It wasn't that she hadn't been on the receiving end of Miranda's vitriol before, but it had been a number of months. She often thought Miranda had softened toward her, minutes later convincing herself it was wishful thinking, but today confirmed it. Miranda hadn't spoken to her that way in a long time. Her voice had become sweeter, her words kinder. Her eyes were somehow warmer when she looked at Andy, sometimes even lingering too long. No matter how many times she'd doubted this, Miranda's coldness to her today showed her she hadn't imagined all the times the older woman had been kinder to her.

"Earth to Andy!"

Andy jumped, Emily's shrill voice pulling her from her reverie. "What?"

"You're needed at reception for a delivery of some sort."

"Can't you go?"

Emily's eyes widened in disbelief. "Because you're so busy just sitting there!" Her arms flapped in Andy's direction. "Besides, they were very specific that it was for you and only you could accept it."

"For me? What? Oh! Shit!" Andy's head landed on the desk. "Ow!" She rubbed at her forehead before standing. "I'll be back soon, Em. Cover for me?"

"Cover for you? Have you completely lost your mind today? What is going on?"

"Nothing. I'll be back soon. Just cover for me." She hurried away from the desks before Emily could answer again.

"Andy Sachs?"

"Yep, that's me." Andy tried to muster a smile.

"Great, we just need to know where to install it?"

"This way." Andy turned, gesturing for the two men to follow her.

Gathering a selection of metal poles, tools, and a large bundle of canvas material, they accompanied Andy to the elevator. They exited on the fifty-first floor and climbed a final set of stone steps to the roof. Andy reached into her pocket, realising she didn't have pockets any longer.

"God, could this day get any worse," she mumbled. "I'm sorry, I had a mishap with some coffee and had to change my clothes." She turned on her heel to face the two people behind her. "I just have to go get the key from my other pants, I'll be as quick as I can."

The two men began setting down the poles and tools as Andy rushed back down the steps and to the elevator.

"Nigel! I need my clothes. The key to the roof was in my pocket." Andy burst through the glass doors of the art department.

"Well, hello to you, too." He gestured to a chair in the corner where a plastic bag was tied shut.

Andy began tugging at the knots. "Should I even bother, Nigel? This all seems like a terrible idea. The way she spoke to me this morning."

"She's just having a bad day, I'm sure."

"I'm having a bad day, too! I'm not taking it out on other people!" She thought back to the way she'd snapped at Emily a few times already. "Not like that, anyway."

Nigel put down the images he was shuffling around and strode to the end of the room where Andy stood. "Listen to me, Andy." He rested his hands on either side of her arms. "I know you're nervous and today isn't going to plan, but you can't back out now."

Andy rolled her eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're not putting your heart on the line. And on Valentine's Day. What was I thinking?"

"You know Miranda can be harsh, you can't let one little encounter change your mind. It's time to be brave. He squeezed her arms reassuringly. "It'll all work out, Six. Trust me."

"I hope you're right, Nigel." She wasn't certain he was, but at this point, she wasn't sure she could feel any worse anyway. Even if Miranda shot her down in flames, at least she'd know and she could move on. Eventually. Hopefully.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Miranda tried to focus on the task at hand. The screen in front of her was a blur, though. More emails popped up needing her attention. Papers sat on her desk, ready to be signed. The office was a hive of activity; she knew this even when she was tucked away in her own space. Her head was swimming with indecision. A feeling she wasn't overly familiar with. Usually, at work, she could make decisions in an instant. The clothing that was paraded in front of her either met her standards, or it didn't. There were no feelings to worry about hurting, no doubt over whose decision mattered. If designers walked away hurt, it wasn't her issue.

This was different, though. Miranda could deny it no longer. Not only were her own emotions in jeopardy, but so were those of the woman she cared so deeply for. Loved, even. Her ego also felt bruised. Pining after a younger woman that she knew she could never have was nothing short of a slap in the face. A sharp reminder of her age and her imperfect body. Against someone of her own age, she measured up well, but against someone of Andrea's age, she knew she didn't fare so well. No matter how much she told her two daughters that they shouldn't compare themselves to others and that it was what's inside that really counts, she'd never managed to heed those words herself. A lifetime in the fashion industry had that effect on people.

It was no use trying to focus on her work, she needed to clear her head. She stood from her seat, turning to admire the view behind her. New York City. Where dreams were made. She never took for granted how lucky she was to be in her position. Not that it was luck, as such. Miranda had worked hard to get to where she wanted to be, but in a city where dreams were also crushed each day, she knew many people saw her as lucky rather than deserving of her position, her wealth.

If only she could be lucky in love. This was one area where her determination was useless, her money worthless. Nothing could make Andrea return her feelings. This time tomorrow, she wouldn't even be under Miranda's employ any longer. She knew she had to let her go, and she'd been willing to pull any strings she needed to in order to get Andrea the job of her dreams. Pulling in favours for preferential treatment had not been called for, though. Andrea's talent shone and she'd earned her place at The New York Times without a single phone call being made by Miranda.

The familiar voices of her assistants trickled through the door, pulling Miranda from her thoughts. Emily seemed to be as damning towards Andrea today as when she first started. She'd already heard a tumultuous discussion over Andrea being called to reception. It had been some time since the younger woman had come running back to her desk. Now, from what she could make out, Emily had received another call requesting Andrea, and only Andrea, accept another delivery from reception.

Miranda stalked across the carpeted floor, coming to a stop just past the doorway that separated her assistants' office from hers. The bickering halted abruptly.

Emily quickly stood. "Miranda. What can I do for you?"

Miranda glared at her in response before turning her head to Andrea.

"Andrea. Once you've taken care of the issue at reception-" Miranda pointedly turned to glare at Emily again, who shrank back down into her seat, before she trained her focus back on Andrea. "Please get me another latte."

Emily's eyebrows raising at Miranda's use of the word 'please' did not go unnoticed. From the slight smile that crept onto Andrea's face, it was clear she'd heard the unusually phrased request, too. A small smile played across Miranda's lips as she returned to her desk.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Andy stood in Miranda's office, pen and paper at the ready. She knew she needed to pay more attention; she couldn't let Miranda down now. This would be her last runthrough and she wouldn't even be there when the issue went to print.

Rails of expertly tailored clothing filled the room. Skirts, pants, dresses, jackets, tops of every description. The office was full of people displaying the carefully hung clothes to Miranda as they hung on her every word. Andy's mind wandered back to that first runthrough that she encountered. It was a different world from anything she had experienced, and while she still didn't take fashion as seriously as anyone else in the building, she did now have an appreciation for the overpriced garments.

Never for a second on that fateful day, did she ever think there was a scenario in which she would fall madly, truly, deeply in love with the woman that was delivering a monologue about the origin of her cerulean blue sweater. If she was honest, she didn't even care for the 'lumpy sweater' that much herself. Unlike the colleagues she had grown to love, she really didn't put all that much thought into each day's outfit back then.

She also hadn't expected it to take nearly two years to hear her boss utter the word 'please' to her when making a request. There was no mistaking Miranda's words a few hours ago, though. Perhaps she should trust Nigel. Perhaps the day would end better than it started. Andy's cheeks began to flush as her phone vibrated in her hand; held tightly against her notebook. She hadn't dared have reception call up to the office again, so she had asked them to message her directly.

Miranda seemed absorbed in choosing the perfect necklace for the satin dress that was being displayed. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice Andy.

"Psst," she whispered, glancing sideways to the desk where Emily sat. "Em."

The long-suffering first assistant either didn't hear her, or was simply ignoring her. Either way, Andy couldn't leave to go down to the reception desk again unless she could get Emily to take her place momentarily. She shuffled closer to the door before trying again. "Psst, Em."

That's when Miranda's cool, authoritative tone broke through into Andy's consciousness.

"Are we keeping you from something more important, Andrea?" Miranda's eyes pierced Andy's soul.

"I'm sorry, Miranda-"

"You seem to be saying that a lot today, and yet, you keep doing things that require an apology."

"I'm sorry, I really am Miranda. I just had something I needed to sort and I thought, well I hoped, I could get Emily's attention without causing any kind of interruption. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. Please, don't let me stop-"

"How very kind of you to give your permission for me to continue. This may be your last day, Andrea, but that doesn't mean you can do as you please."

All eyes in the room darted back and forth between the two women.

Andy's blood boiled. She wasn't going to finish her last day like this. She wasn't going to let Miranda walk over her any longer, even if she only had a few hours left. "You know what, Miranda? Fuck you!"

Gasps filled the room as everyone's eyes widened. Nigel ran over to her side, his eyes just as wide as everyone else's as he tried to coax her out of Miranda's office.

"I quit. And I know I already quit, but I quit now. I'm done, Miranda." She felt tears trying to escape her eyes. She couldn't cry. Not now. She had to get out of there, out of Runway. Out of Miranda's orbit.

Miranda seemed dumbfounded, unable to reply, and Andy didn't want to be there once she could. She ran to her desk, grabbed her bag and coat and ran to the elevator. Her heels clacked on the marble floors and everyone turned to look at her as tears over spilled her eyes.

Perhaps she had overreacted; Miranda's tone had not been out of character, but Andy couldn't cope with the conflicting messages that Miranda was giving her that day. She just had to get outside and she could hail a cab and go home, away from Miranda. Away from the woman she loved who was clearly never going to love her back.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Miranda reached into the small fridge that sat in the corner of her office. The small bottle of Champagne seemed inappropriate after the day's events. She hadn't expected it to be easy; there was no reason she would ever see Andrea again. They weren't friends, they didn't move in the same circles and they would no longer be working in the same office. As if that hadn't been disconcerting enough, the scene that had unfolded only hours ago was being whispered about in every corner of the building.

People would gossip about her; that would never change. Miranda was also certain that Andrea was not the first assistant that had wanted to shout obscenities at her. She was, however, the first assistant to actualise those desires. What Miranda couldn't handle was seeing how much she had hurt the younger woman.

She popped the cork, pouring the perfectly chilled liquid into a Champagne flute. The office was empty now, everyone had finished for the day. Miranda wasn't usually the last one to leave; the exception being the one day each month when an issue was sent to print. She made her way to the elevator, pressing the upwards pointing arrow with a single, slender finger.

Miranda had been willing to make a concession earlier in front of Emily. The simple, polite request for a latte had been a small way of apologising for her prior harsh words. However, she couldn't allow Andrea to behave in such a manner in front of so many people. If she allowed that behaviour from an assistant, even on their last day, it would lead to other subordinates thinking they could take such liberties. That simply wouldn't do.

The elevator dinged and Miranda exited on the fifty-first floor, climbing the final set of stone steps. Perhaps it wasn't that other employees would take such liberties. Perhaps, Miranda reasoned, it was simply that she was angry at herself. Angry for feeling the way she did about Andrea. Angry for putting more energy into her work than her personal life. Angry that Andrea would no longer be at her beck and call.

As Miranda unlocked the door and stepped out onto the roof, she gasped. There were fairy lights strung around the wall that encased the roof. Patio heaters blasted out a warming breeze into the chilly mid-February evening. A large canvas tent sat in the middle, with a small table and chairs next to it. What was going on? She turned around, noticing Nigel had followed her.

"Nigel, what is all this?"

Her dearest friend leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "This was all for you, Miranda. She did it all for you."

"Andrea?"

"Who else?"

"But-" she found herself lost for words for the second time that day.

"I told you, like I've been telling you for months. She adores you."

"She really does?"

Nigel nodded, a smirk crossing his lips.

"I have to make this right. I have to send Roy to collect her."

"Oh, Miranda!" Nigel walked toward her. "You can't send Roy to collect her. She's not a handbag. Go after her yourself. Show her she matters. Climb the ladder, no matter how afraid you are. If you're lucky, maybe she'll still meet you halfway."

"You really have to stop watching Pretty Woman, Nigel."

They both laughed, the mood lightening.

"I suppose you're right."

Miranda pushed the Champagne flute into Nigel's hands and took off down the steps before waiting impatiently for the elevator. She stopped by her office, collecting her purse and coat as quickly as she could, before waiting for the elevator again. Roy had dropped Andrea home a few times; he should know her address.

When she made it outside, Roy was ready and waiting.

"Take me to Andrea's home."

"Right away, Miranda." Roy smiled, opening the door for her to get into the black town car.