Chapter Text
The studio lights had finally dimmed.
After two hours of cameras, microphones, touch-ups, and careful public versions of themselves, Emily Blunt and Anne Hathaway were left standing in the soft quiet of the backstage hallway at the Variety studio.
The interview had gone better than either of them expected.
Which was dangerous.
Because every time they sat across from each other in public, they forgot themselves a little.
Emily tugged at the cuff of her white shirt as a production assistant passed by with a cheerful, “You two were amazing together.”
Anne smiled politely. Emily gave her usual little nod.
Then the assistant disappeared around the corner, and suddenly they were alone.
Completely alone.
Anne turned first, “You flirted with me on camera.”
Emily’s eyebrows lifted innocently. “Did I?”
“You called me sexy.”
“You are sexy.”
Anne laughed softly, but there was color blooming across her cheeks again, the same blush that had betrayed her during filming.
Emily noticed immediately. She always noticed.
Anne stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Do you realize how hard it was to stay composed after you said, ‘Do I want to be with her or be her?’”
Emily grinned, wicked and warm all at once. “Oh, I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Anne placed a hand dramatically over her heart. “You menace.”
“Darling,” Emily murmured, teasing, “you literally said you got turned on.”
“That was survival.”
Emily laughed then, that deep, genuine laugh Anne adored more than almost anything. It echoed softly through the hallway. Anne’s expression melted as she watched her.
There it is, she thought. The thing no one else fully sees. People always described Emily as sharp, magnetic, hilarious, intimidatingly intelligent. All true. But Anne knew the softer parts too, the way Emily rubbed circles against her wrist when she was anxious, the way she always checked whether Anne had eaten, the way she reached for her in sleep without waking. The way she looked at Anne like she was something miraculous.
Anne touched the lapel of Emily’s vest gently.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I meant every word in there.”
Emily’s teasing expression faded into something smaller and more vulnerable.
“I know.”
“No,” Anne insisted softly. “I am so proud of you.”
Emily looked down for a second, suddenly shy in the way she only ever was with Anne. ‘The room is better with you in it’, hearing Anne say it publicly had nearly undone her. Not because it was untrue. Because it was. Painfully.
Anne reached up, brushing a thumb beneath Emily’s jaw. “You’re so warm and funny and—”
“Annie,” Emily interrupted quietly, smiling. “You already gave the speech.”
“I’m giving the director’s commentary now.”
Emily snorted.
Anne’s grin widened triumphantly. “There she is.”
The affection between them settled into something quieter then. Familiar. Deep. The kind built slowly in hotel rooms between press tours and stolen weekends in rented apartments and phone calls across oceans.
They had become experts at existing in fragments.
A touch hidden beneath tables.
A glance no one else caught.
Late-night flights just to wake up beside each other for a few hours.
And yet interviews like today were torture, because they could never fully say it.
Emily could call Anne seductive on camera.
Anne could call Emily the warmest person in the room.
But they couldn’t say: I love you so much it rearranged my life.
Down the corridor, someone called Emily’s name.
Probably her publicist.
Anne leaned closer, resting her forehead briefly against Emily’s shoulder, she knew they had to go back to pretending to be just friends soon.
“You hugged me forever at the end,” Emily murmured.
“You complaining?”
“Not remotely.”
Anne smiled against her shoulder. “I almost kissed you.”
Emily inhaled sharply once, “Annie.”
“What? It felt very emotional.”
Emily’s expression softened. Without thinking, she reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind Anne’s ear.
The movement was instinctive. Domestic. Dangerous.
Anne’s breath caught anyway.
“Come back to my hotel?” Emily asked quietly.
Anne smiled immediately, helplessly.
“Always.”
Another voice echoed from down the hall.
This time louder.
“Emily?”
Emily rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Ruining my life, these people.”
Anne laughed again, soft and beautiful.
Before they had to step apart and become public versions of themselves once more, Emily leaned in close enough that only Anne could hear her.
“You were so articulate,” she murmured.
Anne’s smile turned impossibly tender.
“Oh, baby,” she whispered back, “the kindest.”
Emily’s eyes flickered down to Anne’s mouth for just a second before she leaned closer still, her lips brushing the shell of Anne’s ear. Anne shivered instantly at the warmth of her breath.
“You know,” Emily whispered, voice low and teasing, “you make it extraordinarily difficult to behave in public.”
Then, very gently, Emily caught Anne’s earlobe between her teeth in a playful bite.
Anne inhaled sharply.
“Em”, she breathed, half shocked, half laughing.
“What?” Emily asked innocently, though the grin tugging at her mouth ruined the act entirely.
“We are still technically at work.”
“Mmm,” Emily hummed. “And yet you’re blushing again.”
Anne reached for her instinctively then, fingers curling into the front of Emily’s vest to pull her closer. For one suspended second neither of them cared about assistants, cameras, publicists, or carefully maintained boundaries.
Anne kissed her.
Soft at first.
Familiar.
The kind of kiss that came from years of knowing exactly how the other person fit against you.
Emily melted into it immediately, one hand sliding to Anne’s waist beneath the drape of her cream sleeve. Anne smiled against Emily’s mouth when she felt Emily sigh quietly into the kiss, like she’d been holding that breath since they sat down for the interview.
When they finally pulled apart, Emily rested her forehead against Anne’s.
Anne laughed under her breath. “You are going to be the death of me.”
Emily’s smile turned warm and devastating, “Worth it, though.”
Another shout from a distance could be heard, “Anne?!”
Neither woman moved at first, not ready to be pulled out of this moment.
Then Emily glanced toward the sound before looking back at Anne with that familiar spark of mischief in her eyes.
“Come here,” she murmured.
Taking Anne gently by the hand, Emily guided them both farther down the corridor, away from the open backstage area and into a quieter stretch of hallway tucked safely out of sight into a random room. The lighting was dimmer there, softer, the distant studio noise fading into a low blur.
Anne let out a quiet laugh. “You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”
“I’m hiding with my girlfriend,” Emily said simply. “Of course I’m pleased with myself.”
The word still made Anne’s heart stutter every time.
Girlfriend.
Not co-star. Not friend. Not carefully vague language shaped for interviews and headlines.
Just hers.
Anne leaned back against the wall as Emily stepped closer, crowding gently into her space. Their hands never quite separated. Emily’s thumb kept brushing lazily over Anne’s knuckles like she couldn’t stop touching her for even a second.
“You know they’re going to keep looking for us,” Anne whispered.
“Mhm.”
“And you still dragged me into a dark hallway.”
Emily’s mouth curved slowly. “You kissed me first.”
Anne tried to maintain dignity for approximately half a second before breaking into another grin.
“That is technically true.”
Emily leaned in again, close enough that Anne could feel her warmth before the kiss even happened. This one was slower than the first. Unhurried. Emily’s hand slid to Anne’s waist, fingertips pressing lightly against the soft fabric of her dress while Anne curled instinctively into her.
Years together had taught them this rhythm.
The quiet pauses.
The stolen moments.
The unbearable tenderness of finally being alone.
Anne kissed her deeper for just a moment before pulling back enough to whisper against Emily’s lips, “You flirted with me through an entire interview and somehow I make it difficult to behave in public?”
Emily let out a soft laugh and lifted a hand to cradle the side of Anne’s face with startling gentleness.
And for a moment neither of them spoke.
The world outside the room kept moving, voices in the distance, footsteps somewhere near the studio doors, but inside that small space, everything felt suspended.
Emily brushed her thumb along Anne’s cheekbone. “Do you know how hard it was sitting across from you tonight pretending I wasn’t completely gone for you?”
Anne’s expression softened instantly. “Em,” she whispered.
“No, honestly.” Emily let out a quiet laugh at herself, shaking her head once. “You look at me like that and suddenly I’m forgetting cameras exist.”
Anne’s eyes warmed with something unbearably fond. “I wasn’t pretending either.”
Emily leaned closer again, foreheads touching, “I know.”
Anne slipped her arms around Emily’s waist beneath the black vest, holding her there like she never wanted to let go. Emily relaxed into her immediately.
“We should probably go before someone finds us,” Anne whispered reluctantly.
Emily sighed dramatically. “Cruel woman.”
“You love me.”
Emily’s eyes softened at once, all teasing gone. “So much,” she said quietly.
Anne’s breath caught at the honesty in it.
Then, before either of them could get too lost in each other again, Emily pressed one last kiss to the corner of Anne’s mouth and took her hand, lacing their fingers together for just a second longer before they stepped back toward the lights, the cameras, and the versions of themselves the rest of the world knew.