Disclaimer: Fox and Lauren Weisberger owns the copyright to "The Devil Wears Prada" and its characters. I only play with them with no copyright infringement intended. Or any money made.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)
Rating: NC-17 (M) – A/U
Summary: A man is a bit to forward when seated next to Andy at a dinner function. What he doesn't realize is that Miranda is sitting right across from them, and she does not appreciate what she's witnessing.
When Blue Eyes Turned Green
By Gun Brooke
Andy Sachs gazed around the tables and gave a small sigh of relief as she sat down. Seated only two chairs from her boss, Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief of Runway, the most successful fashion magazine in the world, Andy took her responsibilities very seriously. Miranda was not fond of attending functions like these, where she found herself stuck for hours in large crowds. Everybody seemed to want a piece of Miranda, and that's why she preferred cocktail parties where she could do her usual fifteen to thirty minute stint.
"You look beautiful," the man seated to Andy's right said. "I'm Geoff. Geoff Layton."
"Hello, Geoff. Thank you." Andy didn't like the way his eyes travelled over her neckline, but remained polite. "I'm Andy." No need for surnames, she decided.
"You look familiar." Geoff smiled broadly. "You in show business, perhaps?"
"No, not at all. What do you do?" This usually worked. Get them to talk about themselves, which would give Andy some breathing room to get a feel for the room. She had already found out where the VIP facilities and side entrances were.
"I work at Wall Street…" Geoff leaned closer and kept talking, but Andy stopped listening. She smiled and nodded, but her eyes stealthily scanned the room in general and their table in particular. Glancing over at Miranda, Andy flinched. Ice-blue eyes pierced her own, but Andy couldn't for the life of her understand what was wrong.
"So, if you need advice, honey, don't hesitate to give me a call." Geoff handed her a business card, and Andy had to accept it, to remain polite.
"Thank you." She looked at Miranda again, and this time, her boss' lips were little more than a fine line.
Crap! Something was wrong, and Andy had no clue what. Had Miranda been like any other boss, Andy could have merely circled the table and asked her, but the fact was you simply didn't ask Miranda anything, and Miranda was not like anyone else Andy had ever met.
"So what do you do?" Geoff asked.
"I work at Runway," Andy answered absentmindedly, glancing every now and then at Miranda.
"Oh, that explains it. You're a model!" Geoff made it sound like he solved world hunger. "No wonder you look like a million bucks."
Andy wanted to thud her head on the plate, but the starter dish began to make an entrance, which thankfully gave Geoff something else to think about for a while. Miranda seemed to have mellowed a bit, no matter the reason for her previous discontent.
Taking a few bits, Andy was ready to shoot the person who came up with the dish. Hardly daring to regard Miranda, she saw the telltale pursing of those perfect pink lips, a surefire sign of her being the most displeased. Andy knew why this time. The dish was lukewarm and Miranda like her food hot, and her coffee even hotter.
"What's up? Didn't you like it?" Geoff said, leaning closer. "I love sea food myself."
"It was a little on the cold side," Andy tried to explain.
"Ah, please, it's you skinny models; you don't anything but lettuce, do you?" He placed a hand on Andy's arm and squeezed.
"Andrea." Miranda's trademark low voice still carried well and had no problem cutting across the table.
"Yes, Miranda?" Andy saw the fury in her boss' eyes.
"Be prepared to leave if the main course is as dismal as this concoction."
"Sure. Yes." Blinking at the blatant display of discontent, Andy tried to lean away from Geoff to get rid of his arm. When he instead pushed his chair back enough to fit his arm along the backrest of Andy's chair, she began to feel trapped. Had this been a normal social situation, and she hadn't been on the clock for Runway, Andy would've told him to keep his paws to himself. As it was now, Andy couldn't make a scene, or embarrass Miranda in any way. It was as if Geoff knew in a way, or perhaps he simply was pathologically conceited, because he began to play with the ends of her hair.
"Mr. Layton." Miranda's voice was so low and sugary, Andy began to tremble. "I suggest you take your hands off my assistant before I have security remove you. I'm sure your father will be very annoyed at such a display."
"Your assistant?" Geoff's broad smile turned into a sneer. "Andy has a mind of her own. You don't see her objecting, do you?"
"Are you insane?" Andy hissed at Geoff. "You don't talk to Miranda Priestly that way."
"Miranda?" Geoff paled. "She's…she's Miranda Priestly?"
"I am." Miranda answered in Andy's place. "And I'm sure Andrea can verify how I hate repeating myself. Take your hands off her. Now."
Geoff yanked his arm away so fast he hit his elbow against the backrest of his own chair. "Sorry."
"Andrea. I've had enough of this. Coat. Bag."
"Yes, Miranda." Andy stood, relieved and fearful at the same time. Miranda usually assigned blame to her assistants, no matter what went wrong or whose fault it was.
"I will talk to Donatella and Karl, while you get our coats. I'll meet you in the lobby." Miranda walked the short distance to the other end of their table, and the fact that she took the time to make her excuses showed how good friends the two designers were to her. Andy sent a last glare at Geoff who actually huddled, and left to retrieve their coats.
Roy, Miranda's perpetual chauffeur, waited for them outside. He opened the door for Miranda while Andy rounded the car and slipped in on the opposite side.
"Home," Miranda said curtly. The privacy screen went up immediately, which didn't bode well.
"I'm sorry, Miranda. I—"
"Why didn't you tell that baboon of a man to keep his hands to himself."
"I—what? He…I thought he'd get it." Andy couldn't look away from Miranda's piercing glance. "I couldn't make a scene."
"So you let him paw you." Miranda sounded equal parts contemptuous, and angry.
"I didn't let him do anything. He made me very uncomfortable, but I was prepared to grin and bear it. For you." Andy swallowed hard. She was angry, at the situation, at Miranda for not getting it, and mostly at herself for her inability to evict Miranda from her heart. She loved the infuriating woman that was her boss, which was a miserably hopeless situation.
"For me?" Miranda tossed her clutch purse on the shelf behind the backrest. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not used to allowing sleaze balls to crawl all over me, not to mention bore me to tears with idiotic remarks. I was here as your assistant, and since I wasn't on my own time, I had to hope he'd be just as bored with me as I was with him." Andy folded her arms over her chest, her heart pounding painfully.
Miranda didn't answer right away. Instead she slid closer to Andy and placed her left hand on Andy's knee.
Losing her breath completely, Andy could only stare at the elegant hand, adorned by an emerald ring on its middle finger. Apart from a few instances, where their hands had grazed by mistake, or Miranda had guided Andy through dense crowds at functions, this was the first time Miranda had deliberately touched her.
"M-Miranda." Andy didn't know whether to acknowledge the hand on her stocking clad knee or not. Then she reminded herself that Miranda's reason for being angry just now, no, not angry, incensed, was that Andy had chickened out in her opinion. All right. No more chicken. I'm going to be so fired. The thought that she rather be fired than lose Miranda's potential respect startled Andy.
Finally taking a deep breath, Andy placed a gentle hand on top of Miranda's and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry I didn't kick his teeth in. If I ever find myself in that unfortunate situation again."
"Andrea. You can be so ridiculous, but…there are times when I find that rather endearing." Miranda turned her hand beneath Andy's and laced their fingers together. "As for kicking in Layton's teeth, I was ready to kick in something that matter to him even more if he's to continue his father's dynasty."
"Really?" Andy mouth fell open. "You'd kick his balls in?"
"Up to meet his teeth after you took care of them."
Andy giggled. "Yikes, Miranda. Isn't his dad some bigwig banker?"
"He is. I don't care."
"I'm starting to see that."
"We're at the townhouse. A nightcap?" Miranda kept Andy's hand, looking at her beneath half closed eyelids.
Andy chastised herself for being so quick to lose her breath again. She was often in Miranda's house, delivering 'The Book', but never for something …private. "Yes. Thank you. A nightcap sounds good."
"Strictly speaking, it's not a nightcap. It's only 9PM still." Miranda thanked Roy and gave him the rest of the weekend off. She walked up the stairs before Andrea and unlocked the door. Inside, Miranda allowed Andy to take her coat and hang it together with her own. "I think we'll be more comfortable in the den on the second floor." Miranda ascended the stairs, and Andy wiped her damp palms on her skirt and found it impossible not to ogle Miranda's perfectly shaped ass. Round, yet slender, it begged to be cupped and caressed. Andy knew such impure thoughts about her boss were inappropriate to say the least, but she still couldn't help it. Her greedy eyes devoured the low cut neckline in the back, showing clearly that Miranda wasn't wearing a traditional bra, if any bra at all.
"What can I get you?" Miranda asked as they stepped inside the cozy den. She pressed a button and a gas-fireplace erupted in flames.
"Uhm. Red wine would be great."
"Excellent." Miranda pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay. "Open it please?"
Andy willed her hands not to tremble as she opened the bottle using Miranda's fancy wall mounted electric cork screw. Miranda handed her two crystal glasses and Andy poured them half full. Taking a seat next to Miranda on the large couch, Andy listened to her inner voice claiming that it would be a huge mistake to sit too far away from her boss. Miranda was looking at her in a way she never had before, at least never this overtly, and the fact that she'd touched Andy in the car and asked her in for a night cap, suggested that something was up. Slightly uneasy, Andy sipped her wine and hummed in pleasure at the smoothness of it.
"Andrea. No humming. If you hum like that, I will not be able to restrain myself." Miranda glowered at Andy as she drank a little more than a sip of the Chardonnay.
"All right. No humming." Andy wondered if Miranda could hear her heart hammering in her chest. It beat so hard and fast, it made it virtually impossible for Andy to breathe again.
"I couldn't believe the audacity of that man, touching you arm." Miranda placed her hand on Andy's arm where Geoff had touched her, forever scorching away the memory of anyone else's touch—ever. "Where else did he touch you?"
"He, eh, he leaned closer and placed his arm on the chair, and, I guess, touched my hair."
As on cue, Miranda scooted closer and pushed her arm between Andy and the backrest of the couch. She twirled Andy's hair around her fingers. "There. Better."
"Much." Andy spoke without thinking. "Your hands are so different."
"I should hope so. He was inebriated and rude."
"No, that's not what I mean," Andy said dreamily. "Your hands are different. You scare everyone witless at Runway, completely on purpose, I know. And yet your hands are so…so soft, and still so strong. Different."
"I'm not one to play touchy-feely with my staff." Miranda pressed her lips together and wrapped Andy's hair around her hand, effectively tugging her closer.
"No? Then what are you doing now? With me? I'm staff."
"Yes. This is not how I planned it. Not at all." Miranda grimaced but kept her hand wrapped in Andy's hair. "You smell divine."
"Thank you. I'm not wearing anything special. Just Fantasy."
"Britney Spears'?" Miranda looked shocked.
"Yes. It smells so good."
"I must say I'm impressed what your skin does to that perfume." Miranda leaned forward and inhaled, her nose and lips only half an inch from Andy's shoulder.
"Miranda. You're not making this easy for me. I'm trying to be good here." Andy tried to keep her words light, but the truth was she was aching to grab Miranda's shoulders and kiss her senseless, and find out just why Miranda was acting so weirdly."
"Good?" Miranda blinked. "As opposed to…bad? Naughty?" She ran a finger along Andy's cheek. "Wicked?"
"Oh damn. You're playing with fire, Miranda."
"I'm doing no such thing. I'm merely exploring just why I keep responding to you in this manner. So unlike me. And so…addictive." Miranda tilted her head as she tucked a few errant strands behind Andy's ear. "Can I interest you in some…experimenting?"
"What? Experimenting? With what?"
"You really must pay attention, Andrea," Miranda said with a smirk. "Though with you, I don't mind repeating myself so much. Another odd fact. Still, I mean, experimenting if this connection, or attraction, between us is a fluke, or, as I suspect, more of a lasting thing."
Andy wondered, as Miranda had once about a year ago, if she had unknowingly fallen down and smacked her head on the sidewalk. Miranda was not drunk, had not taken any drugs, and had not suddenly lost her mind. At least not to Andy's knowledge. It was time to take another risk.
"Are you suggesting we kiss?"
"To start with, yes." Miranda placed her glass on the table and stood. "I do however want to shower as I have more makeup on than I care too, and you should do the same to rid yourself of Layton completely."
"All this, for a kiss?" Andy was starting to think Miranda was becoming crazy after all.
"For the kiss, for what might occur after the kiss." Miranda sighed and pulled Andy off the couch. "Indulge me, Andrea. You can stop and say no at any given time, and it will have no impact on your job, nor on the promotion and letter of recommendation I owe you as of next week."
Andy had not wanted to think of the end of her tenure as Miranda's assistant. She had several offers, and it was mainly because of Miranda's recommendation, and naturally also her own résumé. Now wondered if Miranda somehow loathed the idea of not seeing Andy on a daily basis as well.
"Do you understand me, Andrea?"
"Not quite, but I understand that I can choose to kiss you or not, or do more, or not." This was so surreal, Andy knew she would have to pinch herself hard on several places to make sure she wasn't indeed drugged and left to die somewhere. She had dreamed of Miranda for so long, to have her boss casually suggest kissing and 'more', was insane.
"That's close enough." Miranda placed a hand at the small of Andy's back and nudged her toward the room at the far end of the hallway. "This is my bedroom. You find a double shower in the ensuite bathroom. If it doesn't make you feel too awkward, I thought we might save time and share."
"Who are you and what did you do to my boss?" Andy muttered as Miranda turned around to pull extra towels from a cabinet.
"I heard that." Miranda handed the towels over to Andy. "I assure you it's me. I'm the same woman who made you move up the run-through this morning."
"Wow." Andy watched Miranda reach back, only to curse softly when she couldn't get her zipper down.
"Assist me. Please." Miranda turned her back to Andy.
"Wow again. You said please." Andy gently coaxed the hidden zipper down. "There."
The black dress fell to the floor. Miranda grabbed it and hung it on a hanger on the outside of what had to be her walk-in closet. Beneath the dress, Miranda wore only a garter belt, lace briefs, and stockings. Still in her five inch heels, she was as tall as Andy in her four inch pumps.
"Your turn," Miranda said and walked over to Andy.
Andy was just about to explain that her zipper were not hard to reach as she wore a skirt and a sleeve less button down blouse, when Miranda stopped in front of her. She wrapped her arms around Andy's waist and pulled down the zipper holding the skirt in place. Now it slipped off her hips and ended up on the floor. Andy stepped out of it and before she had time to react, Miranda took it and placed it on a chair. She then turned her attention to Andy's blouse. Slowly, agonizingly so, she unbuttoned them, one by one. Uncovering a light blue La Perla lace bra, Miranda blushed faintly, a lovely shake of pink that made Andy's heart ache with tenderness.
"You're so beautiful, Miranda." Andy spoke with reverence, since it was nothing but the truth.
"And you…are exquisite," Miranda murmured. She pushed the blouse off Andy's shoulders and put it on top of the skirt. "La Perla. Pretty."
"Thank you. Em and Serena gave me two sets when they took me barhopping last weekend."
"Hm. Did they now?" Miranda then shocked Andy by kneeling in front of her. She unclasped the stockings from the garter belt and rolled them down Andy's legs and off. This meant losing the shoes and the added height. And the garter belt. And the lace panties. Andy trembled, too aware of her arousal, and certain Miranda could smell her desire.
As Miranda stood, Andy thought she had to take action, not just be this trembling nervous wreck. She mimicked Miranda's movement and knelt before her soon-to-be former boss. She rolled down her stockings, and unclasped the garter belt. Putting the shoes neatly away, Andy returned her attention to the briefs and told herself to not be a coward. Pushing the briefs off Miranda's perfect hips, down her gorgeous legs, Andy forced herself to let her eyes roam from Miranda's pink toenails to the puckered nipples of her breasts. To her surprise this increased Miranda's blushing, expanding it to her neck and chest.
"Shower," Miranda growled softly and tugged Andy with her inside the vast bathroom.
To be concluded in pt 2