Work Text:
It took a bit of adjustment and a couple of near-misses, but eventually Andy was able to pile up all the snacks in a way that allowed her to wrap one arm around them, leaving a hand free for the kitchen door. Salty and sweet popcorn, chocolate-coated pretzels, peanut M&Ms—she had everyone’s favourites, perfect for a proper movie night. Miranda would almost certainly roll her eyes at the amount of food and point out that she could always make two trips, but Andy was pretty sure she could manage.
She eased the kitchen door open, propping it wide with one foot so Patricia could amble through and hitting the light switch with her free elbow before backing through— a well-practised move, the precariously-balanced bowls barely wobbled.
She turned around and all her hard work almost came to nothing when she abruptly found herself face-to-face with a figure in a dramatic spiked jacket. Andy yelped in surprise and barely managed to juggle the stacked snack bowls; Emily shrieked and dropped the book directly onto Andy’s socked foot, causing her to yelp again; Patricia happily hoovered up the stray popcorn, her tail thudding rhythmically against the door frame.
“Um,” Andy cleared her throat, her face uncomfortably warm. “I know what this looks like—”
“Everything okay down there?”
Emily went pale at the voice from upstairs and opened her mouth to reply. Andy sent her a wide-eyed look and managed to beat her to the punch. “Everything’s fine, be up in a minute!”
If it was possible Emily turned even paler. Andy could almost hear the redhead grinding her teeth as she stooped to pick up the book; she gingerly brushed a few errant crumbs from the cover, then placed it on the side table with a resounding thump.
“What are you even doing here?” Andy had to ask—Emily had been promoted to the art department months ago, and as far as she knew, Miranda currently had a full complement of assistants.
Emily looked at Andy as if she was crazy. “I am here because the new me is sick and the new you is useless.”
“Somethings never change, huh,” Andy joked.
Emily did not seem even remotely amused. She took several steps forward, looming over Andy in her towering heels. “The better question is what exactly you are doing here,” she hissed, punctuating her words with the jab of a sharply manicured nail, “because you look like some sort of vagrant stealing popcorn from Miranda’s kitchen.”
That was a bit harsh—sure, she was wearing sweatpants and a faded northwestern hoodie, but it wasn’t like there were holes in her socks or anything. “Hey—”
“You’ve clearly fallen on hard times and taken to burglary. I’m not nearly paid enough to deal with that sort of thing, so I think it’s best you go on your way and I’ll go on mine.”
“Okay, very funny—”
“ I certainly can’t think of any other reason for you to be hanging out in my boss’s kitchen in sweatpants on a Friday evening, unless there’s something you haven’t told me.” Emily sniffed self-righteously and folded her arms with a flourish that threatened to dislodge more junk food. Patricia watched with fierce concentration, years of strict obedience training narrowly winning out against a big dog’s oversized appetite.
Andy sighed and tried to sound appropriately remorseful. “Look Em, I can explain—”
“Don’t bother,” Emily said, using her height advantage to full effect and looking directly down her nose at Andy. “You clearly didn’t want to tell me about this—”
“That’s rich given I had to find out you and Serena finally got together from Miranda!” Andy interrupted, playing her trump card.
Emily did an uncanny impression of a fish as the high ground crumbled beneath her. “She knows?! ”
“You are many things, Emily, but subtle is not one of them.” Andy and Emily both whipped their heads around at the unexpected comment, having briefly forgotten where exactly they were having their argument. Miranda stared down at them from the top of the stairs, one eyebrow raised. “Now if you’re quite done with Andrea, we’d like her back.”
“… yes, Miranda,” Emily squeaked, flushing almost as bright a red as her hair.
“Andrea, you realise you don’t have to carry everything in one trip, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miranda,” Andy replied cheekily, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at Emily when she scowled.
“And that if you can’t, it probably means you have far too much food?”
“The girls put me on snack duty and it’s a responsibility I take very seriously,” she explained solemnly. There was a muscle twitching above Emily’s eye, and she was pretty sure the Brit hadn’t taken a breath since Miranda had appeared.
“… mmhmm.” She could see Miranda trying very hard to hide an amused smile. “Don’t be long, or we’ll start without you.” She turned away from the stairs, throwing her parting words over her shoulder: “Have a good evening, Emily. I expect to hear all about why you’re here on Monday.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Emily let out a sharp exhale. “You are the worst,” she said, glaring at Andy from the corner of her eye.
“Emily, I am very sorry I didn’t tell you Miranda and I are dating,” she said dramatically, then more sincerely, “Really, I am. We were trying to work out the best way of doing it, and this wouldn’t have been our choice.”
Emily sniffed haughtily but didn’t say anything.
“… that’s sort of your cue to apologise as well.”
“Urgh, fine, I’m sorry,” Emily rolled her eyes. “Although you don’t work for Serena, so it’s hardly the same thing.”
“That’s true. I guess I’m kind of like your boss-in-law, huh? Or maybe your step-boss? I’m not really sure—”
“The. Absolute. Worst,” Emily reiterated with a murderous look.
“… popcorn?” Andy grinned, unrepentant.
Emily scowled, then lifted the popcorn bowl out of the way to select a pretzel bite. She pushed the bowl back at Andy a little more aggressively than was strictly necessary and said snidely “Run along now, don’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting.”
“I could say the same to you,” Andy countered. “Drinks next week? Any day except Friday.”
“… fine. I’ll text you.”
Emily was almost at the door before something occurred to Andy. “Em—you can say hell to Serena from me, if you want.”
The Brit paused and then nodded, looking relieved. She left without another word and Andy resumed her journey upstairs, Patricia still following faithfully in case of any more spillages. They reached the den without further incident though, and Andy didn’t waste any time in distributing the snacks and settling down on the couch. The twins already had a movie queued up—The Princess Bride, she was happy to note, something she’d been recommending for a while, and it wasn’t long before they were engrossed in the story.
Miranda tucked herself comfortably into Andy’s side, stealing a couple of M&Ms with her free hand.
“You know I’d get you your own bowl if you wanted, right?” Andy whispered.
“This is my bowl, darling. My M&M’s as well, for that matter,” the editor whispered back.
Andy smiled—they had this same conversation every movie night, but she never prepared a second bowl and they both knew why.
“Everything okay downstairs?” Miranda murmured a few seconds later.
“Yeah, it’s fine… I said she could tell Serena.”
Miranda nodded, seemingly happy to leave it at that, but Andy wasn’t done.
“You know I technically held up my end of the bargain, which means now you just have to tell Nigel.”
“Fine—invite him over for dinner and I’ll jump at him from your kitchen, how about that?”
Andy snorted with laughter and the twins both propped themselves up on their elbows to send her disapproving looks lifted straight from the editor’s playbook.
It had been a long, tiring week, but the room was lit only by the flickering light of the TV screen, Miranda was smirking beside her on the couch and Andy couldn’t imagine ever wanting to spend her Friday evenings any other way.