Work Text:
“You know you can do better than that, right?” Nigel said at the office door, startling a distracted Andrea staring at a text message on her phone with a stupid smile on her face.
“Okay, I know that an article about the dangers of using counterfeit diet pills isn’t exactly fun to read, but I think Runway readers will definitely benefit from the content.”
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about, but now that you mention it, you can do better than that too. We’re not Women’s Health.”
Andy just stared at him, confused.
“This mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” Nigel gestured to the phone in Andy’s hand. “You can do better than that.”
“Oh! I'm just texting Emily.”
“Exactly.”
“So what? She’s my friend.”
“Friends that sleep over at each other’s houses?”
“And sleeping over at friends’ houses is forbidden since when?”
“Oh darling, you two aren’t teenagers anymore with free time for slumber parties. That’s not how adult life works, and you know that, especially when one of you has two kids to raise and the other works for Miranda Priestly.”
Andy didn’t know what to say; it was stupid to deny it. Especially to Nigel, who had probably already figured out what was going on from the start and yet had the mercy not to comment. At least, not until now.
“Okay, assuming so, maybe something’s going on, what do you mean? I didn’t know you disliked Emily so much.”
Nigel sighed, sitting down in the chair opposite Andy.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Andy, I thought you were smarter than this and that you’d eventually realize the shitshow you’d fallen into and get out of it, but apparently, that’s not going to happen.” Nigel's face hardened. “I see how you look at her at events, when she shows up holding hands with some rich, frivolous man. And I see how you also go straight to the bar when that happens, spending practically the whole night there. You know what else I see? The following week, I see you arrive here in her car, I see you two going out to lunch together almost every day, and I see your face lighting up with a silly smile every time she texts you. You’re very smart, Andy, smart enough to know that this has all the makings of a Chernobyl-level catastrophe.”
And as if Andy hadn’t already been humiliated enough, her phone screen lit up with a notification. Emily.
Nigel just looks at it, like his point had been validated by the universe, and heads out, but not before placing his finger on Andy's forehead, smoothing the furrow in her brow. “You know what to do. Shut down all the reactors and close the plant before it explodes.”
Andy knows he's right, but even so, she barely waits for him to leave the room before grabbing her phone and smiling at the screen.
It all started in the most stupid way possible. That, in itself, should have served as a warning to Andy about how wrong all this was going to be. One Friday night, at Andy's apartment, after a few glasses of wine, they were talking about kissing Benji Barnes.
“I still can't believe you actually had the nerve to be with that guy.”
Emily shrugs. “I had my share of gains.”
“Still. I can’t conceive of kissing that man.”
“It was extremely uncomfortable, rough. That’s talking about the lips, not to mention the beard. It was a nightmare.”
And perhaps it’s the wine removing Andy’s filter, or how much the deep maroon lipstick enhanced Emily’s lips, that makes Andy say almost to herself, “What a waste such kissable lips being used with that douch.”
“Do you really think so?” Emily replies, almost immediately.
Andy panicked. Emily's eyes were completely unreadable. But what would be the point of backing down now? Then Andy simply confirmed.
"Yes, I think so."
Emily's expression was completely neutral, unreadable, her eyes blue and indecipherable like the ocean. Andy was frozen, her hands sweating. So, was that it? Was this the end? A friendship she had waited 20 years for, ending because of a ridiculous intrusive thought that slipped out aloud.
Then Emily, still indifferent, simply blurted out: "You can kiss them if you want." Totally nonchalant, as if she were saying she could lend Andrea a piece of clothing from three seasons ago.
Andrea was completely incredulous. Emily just stared at her, unshaken.
"Really?" Andy asked, feeling unsure.
"Really," Emily replied. So, Andrea did as she was told. It wasn't long before they moved from the living room to the bedroom, and the kisses were no longer limited to just their lips.
Suddenly, girls' nights out included much more than just conversation and a few glasses of wine, and more often than not, Andy found herself arriving at Runway in the morning in the passenger seat of Emily's car.
The problem was that, for all intents and purposes, they remained friends. Just friends. They talked like friends, acted like friends, called themselves friends, even though what they did when they were alone was far from being considered friendly.
The week after this new arrangement in their relationship, Andy announces to Emily that she broke up with Peter.
“But why? Did he do something?”
“No, no… It just wasn’t working anymore.”
“So sudden. You used to speak so highly of him. I never understood what you saw in him, anyway. You'll find a match eventually”
Andy felt her heart shatter. Little did she know that it would shatter into even more pieces the following week, at an exhibition in the Chelsea Arts District, when she saw Emily walk through the door beautifully dressed in a black Valentino that perfectly hugged her figure, and Carlton Evans, the new mogul of the hotel industry, by her side, his hand possessively positioned on Emily’s waist.
“This isn’t right, Andy. She can’t do this to you,” Lily said, carrying a very drunk and disheartened Andy into the apartment.
“What can I do? She’s my friend. She can go out with whoever she wants.”
“She’s using you, Andy.”
“I’m using her too. If we’re both using each other, can you say that’s wrong?”
“Andy,” Lily sighed, trying her best to be patient. “This isn’t healthy. You two need to talk and finally sort this out. Otherwise, soon there won’t be anything left, not even friendship.”
Andy knew Lily was right. Unfortunately, she was always prevented from discussing her relationship with Emily, since her mouth was too busy when they were alone together.
One day, when Emily and Carlton had already been dating for two months, Andy asked when she was going to introduce him to the children.
“And why would I do that?” Emily was completely horrified.
“You’re dating.”
“So?”
“Usually, that’s what people do, introduce their significant other to their children when the relationship gets serious.”
“It’s not serious enough.”
“Emily, he gave you a necklace worth 100k.”
“To him, that’s like ten dollars. Besides, he’s not significant enough.”
And, for some reason, hearing that seemed enough for Andy. She knew Bronwyn and Roark. More than that, Andy was very close to the children; she had become Roark’s unofficial literature tutor and was Bronwyn’s official Mario Kart partner.
Emily's relationship didn’t last long. Carlton ended it because apparently his girlfriend worked too much and didn’t have time for him. Andy was so filled with happiness that she was barely able to touch the ground, especially since, despite her busy work schedule, Emily always had time for her.
Carlton doesn't know it, but most of the times Emily canceled a date because she had "too much work to do," the reality was that she would spend the night busy doing Andy.
Things were going incredibly smooth, but, as always, Andrea Sachs' happiness didn't last long. Her bubble pink world was suddenly shattered when Emily Charlton unexpectedly appeared at New York Fashion Week events with a Prada bag and Miles Howard, heir to one of England's largest television networks and recently single, in tow.
When NYFW was finally over, Andy couldn't really remember much of it. What she could recall was seeing Emily arrive at the events, Miles with her, and immediately grabbing a drink from the nearest tray.
That, of course, didn't stop her from clocking in Emily's bed in the following week.
Despite her best efforts, Nigel's words echoed in Andy's head all day, and that's how she ended up at Emily's door, with takeout from her favorite French restaurant, after texting earlier saying they needed to talk.
"So, what did you need to talk about so badly today?" Emily asked, seemingly indifferent, finishing the last bite of her food. Somewhere beneath many layers of her facade, Andy could see a tiny glimpse of concern.
"So…" Andy said, buying time while finishing her meal to think and gather the courage to speak.
She knew she needed to do it, it was the right and fair thing to do, for both of them. She's a journalist, for God's sake, her specialty is putting things into words.
But now, looking at Emily's immensely beautiful face and her sharp features, combined with her deep blue eyes and perfectly kissable lips, Andy couldn't help but blurt out:
“I think Coach should start a partnership with Runway.”
A weight seemed to lift from Emily's expression, replaced by the deepest disbelief.
“That's ludicrous, Andy.”
“I'm serious. The new collection was so well received at New York Fashion Week, and Runway needs some fresh air.”
“Spare me, that's ridiculous. Besides, you know that one of the few good things about this new job is that I don't have to deal with Miranda anymore.”
“Another great reason to start this partnership. I think it's more than time for you and Miranda to sort things out—” Andy moans, as Emily suddenly starts to kiss her neck down. “Emily, I lost my words!”
“Great, that’s exactly what I'm aiming for.” Emily smiled between kisses, her hands on Andy’s thighs.
Andy knew that eventually they would have to talk about their relationship. She knows it's an urgent conversation, long overdue. But today, while Emily kissed her with such intent and Andy's hands slid to pull her hair, unfortunately, that wouldn’t be possible. They both had more pressing matters to attend to.