Rating: K+ (I think)
Pairing: MirAndy (Miranda/Andy - The Devil Wears Prada)
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with The Devil Wears Prada, the book nor the movie. I salute the people who do, even though I'd ended them differently.
A/N: Submitted for Punky's July Fic-A-Day on LiveJournal. My day is 27th.
A/N 2: My mom had to be taken to the hospital in the middle of my writing of this fic and I even thought of not finishing it, but I eventually did. The word count isn't exactly 5K, it's 4668 (without all of this). I'm sorry for that.
A/N 3: I just noticed how like half of my stories so far end up with either or both of them falling asleep. Oh, well!
A/N 4:It's unbeta'd and my first language is not English.
Nate was furious.
"The person whose calls you always take, that's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together," Nate said, clearly disappointed at her girlfriend who was going to answer her ringing phone. He knew it was going to be Her calling again. It was late, too. What could she possibly want?
Andy just stood there, unable to do anything but let the tears stream down her face. She knew she wasn't crying over him, though. She was crying over the fact that she had betrayed him, at least in her mind. Of course he didn't really understand that Andy in fact was in love with her boss, but she still felt bad because of her thoughts and because she did care about Nate.
When she had entered this relationship with him years ago, back in college, she had thought they'd be together forever. She had thought Nate would be the one for her and more importantly, she had thought she loved him but she never did. Not in the way a lover should but more like a friend does. She hated herself for not breaking up with Nate the moment she had realised she wasn't in love with him. It would have been fair to him, she had dragged this on for too long. She couldn't entirely stop the sobs coming out of her mouth but she knew she had to answer her phone.
The moment Miranda heard her assistant's voice she noticed something was wrong.
"Andrea?" she didn't get an answer and got worried. "Andrea, where are you?"
"I'm, um, in Williamsburg," Andrea said, staring at Nate's back that was slowly getting further away on the street, with a shaky breath - tears evident in her voice.
"Come to the townhouse, right this second," once again there was only a silence so Miranda tried again with a softer voice, "Andrea, please come here."
"Okay," she whispered, astonished by the word "please" coming from the older woman.
"I'll see you soon," Miranda said and ended the call.
Once in front of Miranda's door, Andrea inhaled deep and then exhaled. She tried not to shake and knocked on the door. A few seconds went by before Miranda herself got the door. Andrea thought she looked breathtaking in her plain, black slacks that were definitely more casual than the ones she'd worn to work and a deep burgundy, woolen shirt which expansed a one creamy shoulder.
"Come in," Miranda tenderly, almost weirdly so, said.
Andrea tried to walk steadily but failed badly. Miranda took her by her arm and dragged her softly inside. Without a word she led Andy to the den and made the girl sit down.
"Would you like something to drink?" Miranda asked, standing next to the couch. Andy nodded meekly, not looking Miranda in the eyes.
"Water or wine?"
"Water's fine, thank you."
Miranda nodded and disappeared to the kitchen. Andy felt like she couldn't breathe. Hasn't she just been fighting with her boyfriend about this very woman whose house she was in right now? Didn't it say something about how awful of a person she was? She had walked straight to Miranda's house in the middle of their argument about her boss. This was not a way to end a relationship, had she truly been in love with him or not.
"Mir-anda… I, I need to go," Andy hurriedly said in the direction of the kitchen, grabbed her purse and started to walk out of the den towards the hallway.
"Andrea, what on earth are you talking about?" Miranda said, confused, quickly going after her assistant.
"I… I gotta go!" Andy almost desperately yelled, tears pushing up again.
"Please, Andrea," Miranda took her by the arm and sort of stated, with her voice calm and as professional as she could manage. As she had hoped, Andy stopped. Miranda's voice had that affect on the younger woman.
"Please, come back to the den with me," she almost pleaded now.
The "please" itself had, once again, made Andy halt but the tone of Miranda's voice made her stop completely. The pleading had made her surrender. She nodded.
"Good. Good," Miranda hummed and led Andy back to the den and sat her on the sofa. She gave Andy a look that said, "don't you dare" and disappeared to the kitchen again. This time she was faster, though and quickly got back with a glass of water.
"Here you go," she whispered while gently handing Andy the glass of clear liquid that Andy assumed was Pellegrino.
"Now, tell me."
"Tell you what?" Andy asked hoarsely before taking a tiny sip of the drink, even though she very well knew that Miranda only wanted to know why she was in this state. She just didn't know what to tell her.
"You know what I mean."
"I just… I broke up with my boyfriend," Andy stated numbly, lacking any real emotion.
Miranda fell silent for a moment. Andy sipped her drink again.
"And?" the older woman finally continued.
"And it was bad. The break up. I'm not good with stu-, things… like this. I guess I… I wasn't even in love with him. At least not anymore. I'm just very emotional," Andy said, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in her throat.
Miranda bit back any mean comment that so naturally tried to come up.
Andy shot a questioning look at the editor with those expressive, big puppy eyes of hers.
"I know that can't be all. You yourself said you weren't in love with him so there must be more to the matter."
"I, I," Andy stuttered and helplessly looked at Miranda and then suddenly burst into tears. Miranda jumped and went to sit next to Andy.
"Andrea… Don't cry. What is it? I'm here and you can tell me," Miranda tried to sooth Andy, still trying to stay proper and not give too much of the tenderness she felt inside, away.
"I… Why?" Andy suddenly asked, sort of like waking up from a stupor of some kind, "I don't understand why you're like this. This just… can't be real," Andy sighed, shaking her head and resting it into her hands, her elbows leaning on her knees. She began to rock away the feeling, gently going back and forth, trying to breathe when she suddenly felt a hand on her back. It felt so good, too good. Why was Miranda doing this? She felt the dizziness again and she quickly moved out of Miranda's reach.
"Oh God… This is just too, too overwhelming," the younger woman said, trying to sound forceful.
"Andrea!" Miranda so uncharacteristically yelled.
"What, Miranda?!" Andy turned around and yelled back, almost ready to jump but slumped when she saw Miranda's face, so full of sadness and confusion.
"What do you want, Andrea?" Miranda asked, turning her gaze away. If one looked close enough, they'd see her lips were quivering and her jaw clenching.
"I don't know," Andy lied. If there was something in this world she knew, it was that she wanted Miranda. More than anything.
Miranda just sniffed, trying to keep her emotions at bay but in vain - Andy saw through her in a second, like she always did.
"I think I should go," Andy quietly suggested.
"Nonsense. Do you not know how late it is? You're staying at the guest room. It's Friday and the twins left for their father earlier tonight. Tomorrow is work-free."
"No. You'll stay," Miranda commanded and like before, all Andy could do was nod and curse at this woman in her head. The power she had on her…
"If you'll excuse me… I'll come and show you the guest room in a moment, I'll just take this to kitchen," the older woman continued before leaving the den again. She walked to the sink and put the glass in before leaning against the counter, sighing deeply. What was she thinking? Why had she thought she could somehow comfort this amazing, young woman that worked for her? With the key words being "worked for her" because that was all. She only worked for Miranda, nothing else.
She close her eyes and took a deep breath, shook her head, ran her hand through her silver locks and turned on her heels. "You can do this, Miranda," she repeated in her head.
"Thank you, Miranda. This is too generous of you, to have me here," Andy said, sitting on the huge (at least in her standards) guest bed.
"I couldn't have let you go home at this hour, now could have I?" Miranda sniffed, leaning on the door frame, very well knowing she could have. This girl had been living in New York for at least over a year now, she must have had her nightly walks in the city; she was young, after all. She just didn't like the idea of putting the girl out so late. She wanted to make sure she was safe.
"I can assure you there's everything you need in the bathroom - spare toothbrush, toothpaste, towels of different sizes, a robe and some make-up for the morning, too. There's also new sets of night wear in the drawers. If you need anything, just… Let me know."
"I will. Thank you, again."
"Well…" Miranda said, starting to close the door.
"Wait! Why did you call me earlier?" Andy asked, ashamed. She hadn't even thought of the reason why her boss was calling. She innerly slapped herself on the head.
"I just wanted to make sure you had remembered to tell Nigel about the last minute changes I wanted to be made," Miranda was astonished she herself had forgot. This girl…
"Oh. It's done, yes. I'm sorry I didn't confirm it to you," Andy said.
"It's quite okay. Goodnight, Andrea."
Like she had thought it would, any sleep avoided her. That girl… no, woman, made it impossible for her to sleep. How could she sleep with Andrea Sachs, her assistant, sleeping in the very room above her? Whose brilliant idea had this been, again? Miranda huffed and got up from the bed, walked to her closet and grabbed the grey, a little worn-out robe that was her favourite. It obviously wasn't something that you'd think you'd see on the fashion maven but it was something that Miranda valued for its comfort. Who would see it, anyway?
Miranda stepped out of her room as quietly as she could - even though there was a ceiling between their rooms. She didn't want to wake Andrea up, she was sure her assistant needed some good sleep after those weird outbursts. What was it all about, though? She kept asking these questions in her head but couldn't bring herself to ask them from Andrea, the only one who knew the answers… Maybe she would do it the next day if there was a chance. Maybe she could even convince Andrea to stay and have lunch with her.
The night before when she had called Andrea it had been partly because she had wanted to confirm the work related thing but partly because she just wanted to hear the younger woman's voice. It must have been over 11 PM but she didn't mind, she was sure Andrea was awake and ready for calls, she always was. Even though she had already dropped off the book (and agreed to come to Paris). She knew it was sort of horrible and presumptuous of her to rely on Andrea answering but it was true, she always answered her phone. Miranda had been home alone, swirling her glass of wine with a book in hand when she had realised that Andrea never confirmed Nigel so Miranda saw the opportunity and went for it. What she heard on the other end of the line was something she had not wanted nor thought she'd hear. It was obvious Andrea was crying. Not because she had heard her cry before (which she had, in the office; Andrea had been upset over her boyfriend complaining about her staying so late so Miranda had let her go home, feeling bad for her assistant) but because she's good at reading people, was it their tone of voice or their eyes, she'd know. Being able to tell that someone is crying is also something Miranda learned from raising her kids. She'd disappointed them a lot over the years and they had tried to conceal their disappointment and state of mind from her. Even thinking about it made her throat tighten.
Miranda was about descend the first few steps of the stairs, to go downstairs to make some tea when she heard a sound from upstairs. There was no question in her mind as to what it was, so she changed her direction and walked up instead. She tried to ascend the stairs so that she didn't make that much noise, wanting to make sure she heard correctly.
When she was finally right outside the guest room, she was convinced. Andrea was crying.
"Andrea?" Miranda whispered, giving the door a soft knock.
"Mir-…anda?" she heard the younger woman answer. If it was any other person, except for her daughters, Miranda would have been at least a tad bit annoyed but not now. She thought Andrea was absolutely adorable. She gently opened the door, at first peeking inside, making sure she could enter. What she saw made her heart ache. Andrea was sitting in the bed in a fetus like position, sniffling. The light on the night stand was on, illuminating the sad figure, bundled up in between the covers.
"Oh, you," Miranda sighed, walking towards her assistant, ending up sitting on the bed.
"I'm sorry, if I, woke you, up," Andrea said with tiny hiccups pausing her sentence.
"No, no. I was awake. I just couldn't sleep," Miranda reassured.
"Oh," was the only thing Andy could utter. She was nervous but on the other hand happy that Miranda was in the room. She had been miserable, crying for no particular reason. Well, it was probably because of all the reasons she had been crying before plus the fact that Miranda was so near to her. She wanted her so bad, she wanted to tell her she loved her but how could she?
"I wanted to make sure you're okay. I heard you cry when I was on my way to the kitchen," Miranda said.
"I'm fine. I mean, better. I just can't stop crying. I'm not even entirely sure why."
"I was going to make some tea. Would you like to join me?" she asked the younger woman.
"Yeah. Yes. I'd like that."
"Very well. Let's go, then," Miranda said and got up, sure that Andrea would follow her. She always did.
Andy thought it was really comfy, sitting in Miranda's kitchen, listening to the sound of the tea pot. They sat on some bar stools next to the counter with sandwiches Miranda had quickly put together.
"Thank you for making this, Miranda," Andy said, blushing a little. She felt weird but warm and fuzzy inside.
"It was no problem at all. When did you last eat?" Miranda asked, getting serious.
"At work, on my break. I, um, I was at this gallery my friend works at. They had an opening of this show my friend put together."
"Oh. How was it?" Miranda tried to start a conversation. She has always been interested in art and knows quite a bit of it.
"It was great. Amazing, actually. She's really talented."
"So what happened? If you don't mind me asking."
"I met this guy. Um, a friend you could say. He has helped me with some work related things and…"
The word "work" immediately caught Miranda's attention, "work related?" she asked.
"Yes… God, I shouldn't tell you this. Or I don't know if I should. The task was for me to do…"
"Just tell me," Miranda was getting worried now.
"He helped me to get the Harry Potter manuscripts," Andy blurted out, "a friend of his had a friend who knew the person who did the cover art. Or something like that," she was sure she was screwed.
"Oh. That's all?" Miranda sighed internally. She thought it would be something serious. Of course she knew Andrea couldn't get the book by herself. She had no contacts, nothing. At least not yet. She was sure she would fail the task.
"So, go on," Miranda said, motioning Andy with her hand to go on with the story.
"You were telling me you met this 'guy'."
"Uh, yes. Christian Thompson, to be exact. He was coming on to me and asking if I was coming to Paris and my friend Lily, the one who works at the gallery saw it and mistakenly thought I was into it. She got really mad and that's how she found out I'm coming to Paris with you. My other friend Doug came and was happy for me, though. That was after Lily had stormed off, angry. So I was talking to Doug and Nate, my boyfriend got there… He heard me talking about the trip with Doug and I felt like he was trying to make me feel bad for coming. We, um, started to fight and he said this thing that hit a little too close to home and…"
"What thing?" Miranda asked, maybe a little too fast. She didn't want to push her assistant on this matter but she was just so curious to find out what made her so upset.
"I, I really don't think I should say it now," Andy stammered. She hadn't thought it through with the "too close to home" statement.
Miranda just gave her the look that said "are you kidding me?" which spurred Andy on. What did she have to lose? She wasn't sure she was able to work for Miranda much longer, anyways. It was starting to get too emotional. So, she took a deep breath and just said it.
"He told me that the person whose calls I always take, that's the relationship I'm in. He said he hopes we two are very happy together."
Miranda was stunned and she was blushing. Yes, Miranda Priestly was blushing.
"Oh. And he… he meant, me?" Miranda asked, trying to fathom the situation. She couldn't believe it.
"See, Miranda, I'm sorry. You wasn't supposed to know that. I know it must be humiliating for you. He's an idiot and… he's probably no longer in my life."
Miranda decided to ignore the first part.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, isn't it obvious? He left me. I'm sure he'll be out of the apartment completely in a couple of days."
"I'm sorry, Andrea," Miranda said, sounding sincere. She put her hand on Andy's when the house phone suddenly rang. She quickly got up and went to get the phone. Who was calling at this time? It was almost 3 AM.
"Hello?" Miranda answered, sounding a bit annoyed. It was odd enough that it was the middle of the night but what was even more weird was that someone even called the house phone. It rarely got any use.
"James? Is everything fine? Is something wrong with the girls?" Miranda immediately panicked.
"Well, Caroline has a fever and she's not looking so good," James said.
Miranda couldn't believe it. She obviously got upset over the fact that her baby has a fever but her ex-husband proved himself once again to be an incompetent fool. Didn't he know how to take care of his feverish child? She rubbed her temple with her free hand, sighing.
"Have you given her any medication? How feverish is she? If you haven't already, take a wet cloth and press it all over her face, it helps her to cool and she'll be more comfortable."
"It's not incredibly high, but I was thinking that maybe you could possibly come and get her, I mean, I'm not sure what…" was all he got to say when Miranda cut him off.
"Are you being serious? You're asking me to get my sick daughter from her own dad's house in the middle of the night? She's sick, James. It's better for her to sleep over the night. If something, dragging her around might only cause her harm. Just give her some medication to take the fever down, take her the wet cloth and give her water. Don't let her dehydrate. You are his father for Pete's sake. It's your job to take care of him."
"No but's. You'll see how she is in the morning and if it's necessary for her to come back. It might only be temporary. Go take care of our girl, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight, James," Miranda said and hung up before James had any chance to answer.
"That stupid man…" Miranda muttered while she walked back into the kitchen.
"Who was it? Is everything okay?" Andrea asked, alarmed.
"Yes. Everything is fine, Caroline just has a fever and James is being entirely stupid, not understanding anything about taking care of kids. And he has two! So frustrating."
"I believe that," the younger woman said, while twirling the tea cup between her hands, "I took the liberty to pour us some tea. The water wasn't cold yet. I hope it'll be passable," she continued before putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm sure it is," Miranda said and gave Andy an actual smile that made her smile in return.
"Your smile, it's beautiful. I wish you smiled more often," Andy confessed, feeling like it was the right moment to say it.
"Well, thank you. I don't think my smile is all that dazzling," Miranda said while sitting down and smiling weekly.
"Come on, Miranda," Andy chuckled, "millions of people worship you - and your looks. You are absolutely dazzling."
"You can't be serious. Sure, they admire me and my work but I'm starting to be old already. I'm not on my thirties anymore."
"No, you aren't and that's what makes you so beautiful. I am very serious. All that wisdom you have, the experience you've gotten over the years… I think that's what makes you beautiful."
"You do mean it, don't you?" Miranda asked, eyes wide. Andrea nodded and it made Miranda smile. Suddenly Miranda noticed how she had totally skipped a part of their conversation earlier.
"Andrea?" Miranda asked, startling Andy a little.
"What did you mean earlier when you said that what he told you hit 'too close to home'?"
"I… I meant it. That's exactly what I meant."
"He said that we're in a relationship."
"Well, of course we're not but… What I'm saying is that…"
"That?" Miranda was burning up with anticipation. She only hoped that she could get what she hoped Andrea was feeling, out of the younger woman.
"Miranda… I can't… I," Andy tried to say, but stammered like she had so many times before. Miranda pushed both of their teas aside, reaching out to her assistant. She gently touched her face, took it in her hands and softly crazed her cheeks with her thumbs.
"Andrea, I really care about you," she said elaborately.
"I really, really care about you," the editor continued until it finally dawned on Andy.
"Oh, Miranda…" she sighed, "I, you have no idea…" Andy was in tears.
"I do, Andrea. I do."
"But how? Why?"
"You. Because it's you, because you are you. That's all I have to say."
"I'm sorry I've been so hysteric all the time. I can't stop crying. I've been so emotional for a long time, ever since I realised my feelings for you and I've been feeling so bad about it. I didn't want to hurt Nate, I really didn't but my heart…" she sniffed, "my heart belongs to you. It has, ever since I stepped foot in to that office of yours. You make me so happy with just being you. You fill the empty space inside of me I've had for… I can't even remember how long. I started to date Nate when we were in college and I so badly wanted to make myself believe that he was the one but in reality, he wasn't what I needed at all. If you want to, if you'd like to… I would love to be yours. I'd love for you to be mine. It'll be better than it has been with those bastards in your past," Miranda snorted but Andy continued, "I know how it's been. I know how Stephen was and how he treated you. I'll be better than any of them. I'll cherish you, I'll let you be you because I know that besides your daughters your biggest love is Runway and I respect that. I've seen you work, I've seen how you bloom with your passion. I would never take that away from you," Andy went on, almost bawling in the end of her speech. She was so taken by the emotion, letting it all finally come out. After months of keeping it in, after the horrible night, she was finally free from all the hiding. Miranda had been touching her loves face throughout her talking and was moved beyond words.
"I don't know how, I don't when but you, Andrea Sachs have captured my heart. If you'll let me cherish you then I will let you cherish me because you, my chérie," she smiled and made Andy laugh through her tears, "mean more to me than I ever thought anyone besides my daughters would," Miranda concluded, brushing off a lone tear escaping Andy's eye.
"Could we go up? I'm starting get a little cold. Our teas are cold, too," Andy laughed.
"I was just thinking the same."
Andy got up, took the mugs, emptied them in the sink and rinsed them, "is it okay if I leave them here?" she asked.
"It is. Now, come," Miranda impatiently said from the doorway. She obeyed with pleasure and they started to climb the stairs together.
"Will you sleep with me?" Miranda asked, without thinking.
"I mean just sleep. I want to hold you. The thought of letting you sleep alone upstairs after all this is just impossible. If you don't mind, I would more than love to have you in my bed tonight."
The thought of Miranda's bed made Andy blush, at least inwardly, but Miranda's suggestion also made sense. Why sleep on different floors after confessing their feelings to each other? It didn't make any sense.
"Well, I would more than love to be in your bed tonight," Andy grinned.
"That's settled then," Miranda said happily.
"I can't even tell you how happy I feel, being here, in between the covers with you."
"Mm. I know."
"This is a little silly but I have to ask… Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?"
"The what?" Miranda was confused.
"You know, spoon."
"I can assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Andy had to suppress a laugh.
"Okay. Do you like to be held, I guess, or be the one that holds?"
"I have never thought of that, actually. My ex-husbands weren't that much of cuddlers."
"Would you mind if I spoon… hold you, I mean?" Andy asked tentatively.
"I suppose I could try that."
Andy could only giggle at Miranda's seriousness. She scooted over to Miranda and took her in her arms. She situated her face into the older woman's neck, inhaling her scent.
"Mm… You smell so good," Andy hummed. Miranda smiled and put her hand on top of the hand Andy was holding her with.
"I guess I could get used to this… spooning thing," Miranda said, yawning and drifting off to sleep. It was very hard for Andy not to giggle - at Miranda and at the future looming in front of her. It for sure looked like it was going to be amazing."