Otakugamer01 prompt: truth spell…either just between the ladies or run amok at Runway for the Wake the Muse Comment Fic-a-thon hosted by mxrolkr in June 2011 on LiveJournal.
Special thanks to quiethearted, shesgottaread, and peetsden for looking it over.
"This is ridiculous! Outrageous!" Miranda states emphatically, her soft voice traveling to the outer office a moment before she sweeps through them. Emily watches her leave, mouth dropping open slightly, wondering what to do. The last twenty minutes have drastically shifted her perspective of the powerful editor-in-chief of Runway, and she has no idea how she will ever look at her the same way again.
Hearing noise from her right, Emily turns her head and sees Andy returning to her desk, shaky and white as a ghost. Emily bites back the snarky remark that automatically comes to mind. For once she will not insult her, even though it is so easy. Still, Emily has not yet risen to the ranks of those who kick cute, cuddly puppies, so she will leave Andy alone. Instead, Emily sniffs and refocuses on the e-mail she is writing.
Just as she hits the send button, she hears a thready voice say, "Emily, what the hell just happened?"
Sighing, Emily sits back in her chair and stares at Andy. She deserves an explanation, Emily acknowledges. When Emily had decided to take this action, she had thought, hoped, for a different outcome. That wasn't Andy's fault, though, and if Emily were being truthful, she should have anticipated this course of events. With all the looks flying between them, their changed interactions since Paris, and now with Andy's two-week notice nearly finished, the writing was on the wall, had been for a long time. All it had taken was a little truth spell to force the issue out for all to witness.
"My family has always dabbled with spells. Not witchcraft, per se, but certain ways of attaching energy to objects and people. Never to hurt. Just to illuminate the truth or to protect from negative events." Emily watches as Andy becomes whiter. She hadn't realized it was possible. The woman is nearly translucent.
"Spells?" Andy says in a dazed voice.
"Oh, do keep up, Andy," Emily snaps. When she sees Andy flinch, she feels guilty. In a gentler voice, she continues the explanation. "Miranda has been hell on wheels since you gave your notice. I just wanted to know why. So, I applied a truth spell on her. It will fade in a day or so. I had no idea she would say those things…I'm sorry, Andy."
"You need to tell her. She didn't deserve that type of manipulation. And now," Andy shudders, "now she is feeling vulnerable and angry, and guess who has to deal with that? Me."
Emily feels a wave of horror run through her at the idea of explaining to Miranda that she had placed a spell on her. Not a pleasant thought. She'll definitely have to apply some protection spells on herself before that conversation.
Distractedly, Emily hears Andy talking to someone on the phone. She looks up as Andy finishes the conversation. "She went home. I am going there now. If you haven't done so, yet, you should clear the rest of her day," Andy says as she rises from her desk.
Nodding, Emily stops Andy, who has reached the glass partition doors. "I'm sorry, Andy. I had no idea. But maybe something good can come of this. If that is what you want." Although Andy has not turned around, her hand extended toward the door, Emily watches as Andy nods her head. Then she is through the door. Silence reigns as Emily sits quietly, wondering what will happen next. The possibility that she will be fired pales in comparison to the complications her thoughtless spell may wreak on Miranda and Andy. She can only hope that they will be able to clear the air and move forward.
Miranda is angry. Distraught. Embarrassed. Mortified, really. She has no idea how this could have happened. She has guarded her feelings so closely. She'd had no intention of revealing them to Andrea and certainly not in front of an audience. Her reputation may survive—after all, she can certainly play it off, spinning this morning's debacle in some way, but her heart, her heart is in jeopardy. It's one thing to hold feelings closely, secret longings no one knows, but to bare them not only to the object of one's affection but also to do so in front of so many witnesses—it was, well, how can she recover?
It wasn't as if she had planned on any of this. Miranda still is reeling from the events of this morning. What possessed her to say such words? Where was her control? The inner edit mechanism she normally utilizes while choosing each word carefully? It felt as if she'd had no control over her mouth, words pouring forth as Andrea's tawny brown eyes widened in surprise. Like an actress on a stage reciting memorized lines, Miranda had delivered her soliloquy passionately in front of her captive audience.
As soon as she had finished her confession, she had thrown everyone out of her office, Andrea included. The run-though would have to occur another day. Nigel with his knowing smile, Jocelyn with her pat on Andrea's shoulder, Emily with her obvious bewilderment, and Andrea looking so flustered and amazed-it was too much.
Over the years, Miranda has cultivated an icy façade, a mask to hide her feelings. She had even begun to believe what everyone else does—no one can touch her. No one can upset her, anger her, get behind her thick walls; no one is that powerful. And then Andrea had come along with her open face, forthright manner, quick thinking, and eager-to-please attitude. The walls became paper-thin, the mask as see-through as plastic wrap. Luckily, Andrea had not seemed to recognize how much power she had wielded.
Until this morning.
Damn Emily! If only she had not asked point-blank why Miranda has been feeling so out-of-sorts lately. Everyone knows to never ask her questions. Miranda is unsure what amazes her more: the fact that Emily asked her a question or that she answered it honestly. At length. In front of witnesses.
Miranda sits down in a wing back chair heavily, allowing her head to fall back as she closes her eyes. What will she do now? To think she has left Runway in the middle of a busy day to hide in her house...
She hears the front door open and sighs. Only one person would dare. Miranda feels a shiver of anticipation flow through her. Andrea.
Looking around the quiet townhouse, Andy cocks her head to listen. She does not hear anyone. She knows the girls are at school. Stephen is long gone. The divorce became final last month, in fact. As far as Andy knows, Miranda is not with anyone else. No, if she were, Andy would have quit much sooner. Instead she has bided her time, waiting and watching. Hoping. Loving.
She has a plan.
First, she decided that she needs to work elsewhere. Having feelings for Miranda is uncomfortable. It wreaks havoc with her concentration. Each time she sees Miranda, her heart beats so quickly and her body becomes so hot that she is surprised no one has noticed. It's like running a daily marathon, and Andy is quite exhausted from her body's reactions.
Miranda must think she is a bumbling fool, the way she stutters and looks everywhere but at her. Not that Andy doesn't look at Miranda; she looks all the time. Miranda knows how to best showcase her body, and Andy is helpless in the face of such beauty. She needs to look as much as she needs to breathe. She just tries not to be so damn obvious about it.
Andy's plan, though, includes working elsewhere and then convincing Miranda that they should be together. The truth is, she needs to find a way where she is able to look at Miranda all the time. That can't happen while she remains Miranda's assistant. So, she gave her notice.
Miranda had not reacted at all. It had dented Andy's hopes but not extinguished them. Andy is not ready to give up before she even has tried. She wants to be with Miranda, but she cannot voice these desires while they work together. Andy knows some people are fine with workplace romances, but she isn't.
She had been planning that on her last day she would confess her feelings and attempt to secure some time together with Miranda. As the two weeks have dwindled, though, Andy's doubts have multiplied. Miranda has treated her horribly—worse than when she had first joined Runway. The indifference, the sarcasm, the repressed hostility have hurt Andy.
And now she knows why.
Moving toward the stairs, Andy walks up determinedly. It's time to clear the air. Once at the top of the first landing, Andy thinks about the best way to find Miranda. She has been inside this house many times, now. After Paris, Andy feared that she would be relegated to the new-girl status again—having to prove herself, being called Emily, receiving all the shit-errands. That did not happen, though. Instead, she and Emily shared responsibilities equally, and Andy often accompanied Miranda on her appointments. Best of all, Andy had often delivered the Book to Miranda on the upper floors, enabling her to see Miranda's private domain.
They never spoke of Paris. Andy had showed up at Miranda's Parisian suite, updated itinerary and the newest Lagerfeld gowns in hand, and pretended that her unscheduled departure had been a momentary lapse in judgment. Which it had been. Miranda had stared at her closely for a few moments before spewing forth a list of new tasks to be completed immediately.
Since then Andy took pains to do her best, but these feelings, these overwhelming feelings for Miranda continued to grow until Andy could no longer push them aside. Sometimes she believed Miranda felt something, too. It was crazy. Before today Andy had mentally berated herself for such fanciful thinking—after all, what would Miranda Priestly see in her?
"Andrea." She shivers when she hears her name caressed by that soft voice. End of the hall, then. Andy enters the den and leans against the doorjamb for a moment. Miranda has her eyes closed, perhaps hoping to shield herself from the world, from Andy's next words.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Miranda," Andy says in a low voice. She watches as those eyes fix on her intently. "I had no idea you thought I was leaving because I despise you. Nothing could be further from the truth." Andy steps into the room, slowly approaching Miranda. "I am leaving because I am in love with you, and I knew I could never take action on those feelings while you are my boss."
Sitting on the footrest in front of Miranda, Andy notices how Miranda trembles. She isn't sure what Miranda is thinking. "I am not lying, Miranda. I want you in my life. Now that I know you feel the same, don't you think we should explore these feelings?"
"Andrea," Miranda says plaintively.
"I know." Andy raises her hands to stop the objections. "I know all the reasons why this is a bad idea. You obviously have been thinking about this for quite a while since you eloquently listed so many of them this morning. But, Miranda, remember what you said after that? You said, 'even facing all of these reasons why such a young, beautiful, intelligent, vibrant woman could never want to be with an old, imperfect, opinionated, cruel woman such as myself, I found myself hoping, until she gave me her notice and effectively extinguished it.' But I am not leaving you. I want to be with you. Are you hearing me?" Andy asks, grasping a hand resting limply on Miranda's lap.
She watches as Miranda stares at their hands. "Miranda, this morning does not have to be an embarrassing confession; it can be a romantic declaration."
Finally, Miranda raises her blue eyes. Andy's breath catches at how open they appear. "I have no idea what caused me to reveal my feelings in that way. When Emily asked why I have been in such a horrible mood since you gave your notice, I could not hold back the words. It had been hard enough seeing you walk away in Paris…the relief I had felt when you showed up at my door hours later had confounded me. Those feelings were undeniable, though. I realized rather quickly what it meant, and I cursed you because I knew you wouldn't stay with me forever. Why would you? At some point you would realize that you could go far without my influence—the glamour, the newness would wear off, and you would leave. When you gave your notice—"
"Miranda," Andy interjects. "I realize you did not intend to reveal your heart today, but I am glad you did. Please don't deny your feelings, don't deny us." Andy leans forward slowly, her intention clear as she whispers, "Please."
The kiss is more than she could have ever imagined. After a moment where Andy merely presses softly against moist lips, she feels Miranda begin to respond. One hand finds its way to the back of her neck and pulls her forward as the other hand clasps her shoulder tightly. Andy moans her approval as she winds her arms around Miranda's small waist and holds her closely.
Time passes as they trade kisses—passionate, arousing, sensual kisses that stir Andy's blood and make her dizzy. Thinking it might be best to slow down, Andy begins to pull back, only to be pulled forward forcefully. She lands on top of Miranda, who entangles one hand in Andy's hair while placing her other hand on Andy's backside, pulling her even closer. Andy groans as her legs fall open to straddle Miranda's waist. Andy feels Miranda's hand kneading her backside, and she cannot help but grind against Miranda in response.
Miranda breaks the kiss and slides her lips to Andy's ear. A humid breath sends goose bumps down Andy's spine, as do her words, "I have dreamt of having you in my arms. Of tasting you. Touching you. Hearing you pant my name, scream it as I make you come. Will you do that, Andrea? Will you come for me? Let me touch you, taste you, make you mine, only mine, always mine?"
Hearing those words, feeling Miranda nibble on her earlobe and then stick that tongue, that tongue that has reduced people to quivering messes, into her ear, filling it, evokes images of Miranda inside her, and Andy falls over the edge with a shriek, Miranda's name ripped from her. Andy's head falls back as she rides out her orgasm, Miranda's hands guiding her. Andy presses herself against Miranda's hot center, feeling how Miranda pushes against her. Lips suck on her pulse point as Andy gasps. Dipping her head, she recaptures Miranda's lips, delving into her mouth as she feels passion gathering low once more. She grasps the top of the chair and moans when she feels hands sliding under her blouse to torture her breasts. Andy breaks the kiss as she arches at the sensation.
"You are mine, Andrea Sachs. You have given yourself to me, and I will never let you go," Miranda says hoarsely as her hips lift up in time with Andy's undulations. Andy nearly comes again when Miranda squeezes both nipples hard. One hand releases a breast, and slides downward as Andy holds her breath with anticipation.
Miranda does not disappoint.
Unzipping Andy's pants expediently, Miranda's hand finds Andy's swollen, wet folds and hums her approval before entering her with two fingers. "Yes!" Andy shouts and grinds down. "Mo-more, Miranda. Please." She is so turned on, she can hardly feel those fingers, and she wants to feel her so desperately. Another finger enters her, and Andy moans low and long.
"You feel so delicious. I bet you taste delicious, too, Andrea. Would you like me to find out? Do you want me to taste you?" Miranda says seductively. That's all it takes for Andy to reach her next climax with a joyful shout.
"Andrea," Miranda pants as her body pushes up forcefully. Realizing Miranda is experiencing her own orgasm, Andy comes again with Miranda's name on her lips. Their bodies continue to grind against each other as intense physical sensations roll through Andy. She can't wait to get Miranda's clothes off.
Taking a few deep breaths, Andy smiles before opening her eyes. She stares at Miranda, mussed and more beautiful than she has ever seen, and touches a cheek tenderly. A smile transforms Miranda's face as she opens her eyes and cocks her head. Andy feels her smile broaden. She gasps as she feels Miranda withdraw her fingers and nearly swoons when Miranda sticks those fingers into her mouth to lick. Andy had never understood how that could be sexy, but seeing Miranda do so, knowing that Miranda enjoys her taste, arouses her to no end.
"Andrea," Miranda drawls. "You taste divine, and I admit I still feel rather ravenous. Shall we continue this in a more comfortable setting?" As an answer, Andy stands up and extends a hand to aid Miranda. Andy has a new plan, a plan that includes exploring every part of Miranda's body for as long as Miranda lets her.
Emily stands next to the elevator nervously. Neither Miranda nor Andy contacted her yesterday. She has no idea whether they talked, no idea what the fallout from yesterday's spell is, and she is undeniably nervous.
With the sound of the elevator doors opening, Emily turns to see Miranda and Andy walking briskly toward her. Before she can say a word, Miranda begins her daily dictation of demands as she passes over the Book and breezes past. Andy remains a step behind, an amused expression on her face. Once they get to the outer office, Miranda pointedly looks through her open door at her desk. "Where is my coffee, Emily?"
That's Andy's job, not mine, Emily thinks petulantly.
"Excuse me?" Miranda says in a low, chilly voice, her head turning slowly to laser Emily with a disapproving glare.
Frozen near her desk, Emily isn't sure what has just happened.
"You just said that is Andrea's job. I refuse to listen to such excuses. Get. The. Coffee. Now," Miranda enunciates before entering her office.
"What the hell just happened?" Emily whispers. She swings her head toward Andy, who is chuckling at her desk.
"If you think truth spells are a bitch, just wait and see how it feels to speak every single thought that enters your mind," Andy says, a mirthful expression on her face. "It's a lot worse than merely being forced to answer questions truthfully. Uh, oh, Emily. Here comes Serena. Better think of something other than peeling her clothes off and having her on top of the copier."
Emily feels her face heat up, the ramifications of what Andy has just said running through her mind. As Serena walks through the door, looking heavenly, Emily whips a hand over her lips.
It's going to be a long day.