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Chapter Text

DECEMBER 2006 – TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Paris had come and gone. Well, Andy had nearly gone too, left Miranda right there on those stairs surrounded by hundreds of paparazzi and thousands of flashing camera lights. And yes, her phone had taken a fun little plunge too. Thankfully, thankfully, Nigel had smacked some sense into her. He had followed her across the street and outright scolded her for thinking she had to make some great gesture for him and that she desperately needed to grow up. It had stung at the time, especially since she had just wanted to help him, to show support, to make it completely clear to Miranda that she did not condone what she had done to Nigel, how she had handled the situation. Reflecting on that years later, Andy realised that she had been so young then, barely understanding that sacrifices like these were simply necessary sometimes and that it did not have anything to do with selfishness or greed or nastiness.

Miranda and she had not talked about that last afternoon in Paris but when she returned to her hotel room later that day there was already a small white box with a brand-new phone and a sleek black, and most importantly, waterproof case waiting for her on the side table next to the door. And that was that.

They were back in New York now. They had been back for almost three weeks. Emily had been released from the hospital, now brightening up the office with her charming comments on crutches. Andy had given her most of the clothes she had gotten in Paris and that had softened the brit’s anger a bit. A bit.

The phone was ringing.

Oh! The phone is ringing.

Ripped out of her daydreams, Andrea fumbled with the phone, nearly dropping the receiver twice before answering.

“Miranda Priestly’s office. How may I help you?”

“Oh hello, Dearie. Can I speak to my daughter, please. She isn’t answering her mobile.”, the voice on the other end sounded so much like Miranda that Andy had to lean over her desk to peak into the Editor’s office to make sure she was actually still sitting there, however it was a lot warmer and distinctly more British. With an inaudible gasp Andy realised that she had Miranda Priestly’s mother on the other end. Miranda’s mother was calling to speak to her daughter. The daughter who wasn’t answering her cell. Oh God! Panic struck Andy and she looked over to Emily with frantic eyes, hoping to get a sign on what to do out of the redhead. No luck, Emily kept obliviously typing away.

Okay, breathe, Andy, breathe!

“Just a moment, ma’am. I’ll put you through right away.”

She pressed the button and hurried into Miranda’s office with sweaty hands, which she just so managed to not wipe on the Versace Slacks she was wearing.

Miranda was sorting through the results of the newest photoshoot for the February issue, not bestowing any of her attention on Andy who was hovering in the doorway.

“Your mother is on line two, Miranda.”

Miranda’s head snapped up from the photos, her blue eyes sparkling dangerously and regarding her, looking her up and down for a few moments.

Andy flushed under the intense gaze. She doubted she would ever get used to those expressive eyes looking at her, roaming over every inch of her, assessing her. She hated it. No, that wasn’t right. She hated the way it made her squirm, made her want to look away because she couldn’t bare the idea of Miranda seeing what could possibly be reflected in her own eyes.

No. She loved them, she loved Miranda’s eyes. Sometimes they were so light blue, they almost appeared silver; and sometimes, other times, they were so dark, so deep that Andy was reminded of an ocean, and she was the ship that was getting swallowed whole by the roaring tempest.

“Close the door on your way out, Andréa.”

Miranda left the office around five that evening to meet with her divorce lawyer before going home. Andy left exactly three and a half hours later with The Book and Miranda’s dry cleaning.

No matter how many times she crossed the threshold of the Townhouse, she would always be reminded of that first disastrous time she had delivered The Book. And like every other time she quickly pushed that thought away. It made her too angry, thinking about Stephen, thinking about how he had treated Miranda, how he had spoken to her, with so much disdain and so little respect for the woman he was supposed to love. If Andy would only so much as get the chance to- No! She wouldn’t even finish that thought. And anyway, she had to deliver some clothes and a book and go home to an empty flat with half of the furniture missing.

She unlocked the door, hung the dry-cleaning in the closet and put The Book-

“Andréa.”, Andy felt her stomach do that weird flippy thing and she wasn’t sure if it was due to dread or excitement, it was hard to tell these days. She put The Book in front of her chest like an armour and went through to the little sitting area that was situated before the kitchen.

Just like last time, she almost walked past Miranda despite knowing better this time. Miranda was sitting in one of the blue armchairs, glasses on and red pen already in hand. The other hand was expectantly stretched out towards Andy, who quickly handed her The Book.

Miranda immediately opened it before looking back up at Andy over the rim of her glasses. And there was that flippy thing in her tummy again.

“Christmas.”, she said and shifted her attention back to the book. Quickly Andy mentally went through every possible thing she could mean by that.

“Yes, I’ve booked your flight and checked you in already.”

Miranda hummed. “So, you will be in Ohio.”

It wasn’t a question. Miranda seldomly asked questions. Or rather, she made a presumption sound like a fact, and you were supposed to know it was actually a question. Andy quirked her lips and was glad Miranda was still looking at the book and couldn’t see it.

“No, I’ll be staying here. In New York, I mean.”

No need to go into detail how the relationship with her parents had been strenuous, to say the least, since she and Nate had broken up. And now they had used visiting her sister and her sister’s baby over the holidays as an excuse to not have to spend two weeks at once in the presence of the child ‘that had lost focus of what is really important in life’. Or at least that’s what Andy assumed was the reason. Nevertheless, she couldn’t say she didn’t feel relieved to some extent. She would gladly avoid her parents and extended family questioning her on her life choices during every meal and in-between those.

“You have plans, of course. She will just have to accept that.”, that last part she said so quietly Andy nearly missed it. She frowned almost involuntarily. This was getting stranger by the second. Since when was Miranda interested what her employees did during their incredibly limited free time.

“Who?”, she blurted and immediately bit her tongue. Miranda sighed, closed the book, took her glasses off and looked at Andy once again, with the long-suffering expression of someone who was clearly surrounded by idiots all day long.

“My mother, of course. Do keep up, Andréa.”

Andy needed to check her GPA again once she was home because she didn’t understand a word coming out of Miranda’s mouth. It must have shown on her face because Miranda sighed again and could just so refrain from rolling her eyes.

“She wants me to bring you.”

An incredulous chuckle escaped Andy. “Me? Why?”

Miranda pursed her lips, averted her eyes to look down at the book again, feigning nonchalance, and shrugged.

“If I spend my days trying to figure out what goes on in that woman’s head, I would never get any work done. So?”

“So?”

“Well, call her first thing tomorrow morning, no later than 9, and tell her you are unavailable.”

“I’m not, though. Unavailable, that is.” Andy had no idea why she had said that; it’s not like she fancied spending the holidays, the first time she had more than one free day at a time since starting at RUNWAY, with Miranda and her mother.

The former looked like she had bitten into a lemon at that admission. Great. This was worse than a pursed lip in the face of an atrocious preview.

“But I can tell her I am.”, she quickly added, nearly stumbling over the words.

Miranda slowly shook her head with resignation. “You can’t lie to my mother. Book another plane ticket and arrange for a car.”

Andy just nodded feeling like she had put her foot in it enough for one day.

“That’s all.”

Outside, as the cold December air hit her, it dawned on her with a clarity that she had just dug her own grave and there was no way for her to crawl out of it again.

She would be spending Christmas, New Years and all the days in-between with her boss at her mother’s house in England.

Her boss who was no other than Miranda Priestly.

Her boss who was nearly 23 years older than her.

Her boss who she was desperately in love with.

When she was brushing her teeth the next morning, she suddenly realised how weird it was for Miranda’s mother to invite her daughter’s assistant, of all people, to celebrate the holidays with them. But who was there she could ask for clarification? Certainly not Miranda. Emily, maybe? No, she had only just begun talking to her again. Nigel? She spat and rinsed her mouth. Possibly.

Once at the office she booked herself another ticket and that rental car Miranda had requested. She hoped desperately it wasn’t another manual transmission, she doubted she would survive that. Whether she would be killed by driving against a tree or strangled by Miranda’s hands however, she wasn’t sure about.

After she had gathered all the newest magazines from the foyer and arranged them on Miranda’s desk the way the Editor liked it, she went over to Nigel’s office. Fortunately, he was alone.

“Why the glum face, Six?”, he greeted her.

“I need your help, Nige. Please.”

His eyes wandered over her, assessing. “You need something blue with that. We have these lovely new Chanel earrings-“

“No, no! Not with-“, Andy looked down at herself. He was right a drop of colour would be perfect. No! No distractions, Andy, you’re on a mission. “It’s about Miranda.”

Nigel quirked his lips and raised an eyebrow. “When is it not?”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Nigel!”

The desperation in her voice seemed to alert him. Andy sighed. Where to even start. She, herself could hardly believe what she was about to tell him.

“Out with it, Six. You’re starting to worry me. Is she sick?”

“What? No! Nothing like that. No.”, she began to tell him everything that had happened after her brief conversation with Mrs Priestly over the phone the previous afternoon.

“What do I do now, Nigel? And why would she even- I mean, I don’t even know what’s happening, actually.”

Nigel grinned. He grinned. He stood there, surrounded by pictures and photos and accessories and he grinned.

“You’re fine, Six. It’ll be good for you.”, and with that he told her he needed to work and gently pushed her out of his office. Had everyone gone insane over the last 24 hours? Andy felt like she was slowly but surely losing her mind.

DECEMBER 2006 – THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Miranda had not mentioned the whole Andy-come-with-me-to-England-for-the-holidays-fiasco again, maybe she had forgotten about it, Andy hoped.

But of course, as usual, luck was not on her side, and so it happened that on December 20^th  Miranda entered her office with Andy in tow, who was frantically scribbling down dates and instructions and things she needed to do and remember.

“Oh, and about the 24^th, be at the Townhouse at 5 a.m. sharp. You know I like to be at the airport on time and the girls will have been picked up the night before, so there is really no reason to waste any time.”

Shit! “Yes, Miranda.”

Two days later she was looming over her suitcase, the contents of her closet scattered around her on the floor, and the bed, and her dresser. What did one even wear to celebrate Christmas with their boss and her mother? Andy thought about googling but dismissed that thought not a second later. She doubted anyone else on the planet had ever had to face this exact problem. She contemplated calling Lily or Doug, but they hadn’t really spoken since before Paris.

She sighed and flopped herself on her bed, right on top of a grey Prada Blouse and a pair of Gucci gloves and stared up at the crack on the ceiling that had become increasingly more cracked in the last few months, she noticed. With an exhausted groan she turned around and closed her eyes. Maybe all this was a problem for Andy of the Future. Yes, she had all day tomorrow to find a few suitable pieces to put in that damned suitcase.

Of course, Andy of the Future (now Andy of the Present) was just as frustrated.

What was the weather even like in England right now? She should check.

Were they going to go somewhere? Was she there for work? Was she there to be Miranda’s Assistant? You are her assistant, she reminded herself.

Maybe that’s why Miranda’s mother had insisted on her coming along? Because she knew her daughter and wanted to spend some time with her. If Andy came along as well, quite a big chunk of work could be delegated to her.

Yes, Andy mused, that was the most likely scenario. She couldn’t come up with a different answer to her question that wasn’t entirely insane or completely dominated by her wishful fantasies (those she needed to stop thinking about, btw. Quickly!!).

In the end she packed a few ‘normal’ clothes and a healthy amount of everything Nigel had ever lent her from The Closet.

The rest of the day she spent with calling her sister and wishing her A Merry Christmas, and sending the, what she felt like, mandatory Christmas e-mail to her parents, Lily, and Doug.

Only Doug wrote back.

Chapter Text

She arrived at the Townhouse at 4.43 a.m. after barely having slept and running on two cups of coffee already. What now? Does she ring the bell? Let herself in? Her anxiety laced contemplations were interrupted by the door swinging open.

It hadn’t even struck 5 a.m. (on Christmas Day!!) yet but of course Miranda Priestly looked pristine as ever. She was already clad in a black fur coat and 5-inch Louboutin heels.

“There you are, Andréa.”, she nonchalantly waved her inside. Andy followed. “Make sure everything is prepared for the girls’ flight on the 30^th, and see that…”

Miranda subjected Andy to her usual 15 minutes of instructions, which the brunette dutifully noted down before Roy pulled up in front of the townhouse at 5 a.m. sharp to drive them to JFK.

Thanks to the early hour they arrived after 36 minutes, with one and a half hours for them to get through security, for Andy to drop off their luggage and get Miranda and herself another Starbucks.

Miranda spent nearly the entire flight working, which, in her case, meant furiously typing away on her laptop while Andy tried to do the same. But after only one hour of sleep the night before, she couldn’t stop her eyes from falling shut basically on their own volition after a short 30 minutes. And they stayed shut for a good five hours.

“You need to eat, Andréa.” Miranda put a plastic-wrapped Sandwich and a bottle of water, both with the airline logo printed on the side in front of Andy on the little foldable table. Then she turned back to The Book she had positioned in her lap.

No talking then, alright. She, nonetheless, mumbled a quiet ‘Thanks’ and ate her sandwich and drank her water.

Ten minutes before they touched down in London Miranda closed The Book and turned to her, not saying anything.

Andy looked at her expectantly. Nothing.

“Miranda?”

“My mother.”, Andy waited. “My mother, you should know, she has a mind of her own. One can’t really argue with her. So, if- if she says anything don’t even try to understand or pay too much mind to it.”

She looked at Andy for a moment longer then she nodded, as if they had come to some sort of agreement, and turned back to look ahead just in time for the cabin crew to announce they would be landing shortly.

Every verbal interaction Andy had had with the other women in the last two weeks made her feel increasingly like a headless chicken. She put her seatbelt on and mentally prepared to meet the person that would apparently turn out to be an even more intense version of Miranda Priestly herself. Someone help her.

Thankfully for Andy, the car rental place recognized Miranda’s name and gave them a silver convertible Porsche Carrera; not that there would be any converting, it was 45°F in December.

Miranda signed the papers and, to Andy’s great relief, took the keys.

Miranda was a good driver, as far as Andy could be a judge of that, even on the left side of the road. If the anxiety uncomfortably twisting in her entrails hadn’t been so distracting, she could have appreciated the sight of her boss behind the wheel, expertly shifting the gears, a lot more than she did in that moment.

Andy had never been to London before, let alone anywhere in the UK. She had seen pictures, though; of course, she had. However, the only thing she got to see now was the asphalt of the M3.

“I thought you lived in London?”, she stupidly asked after 20 minutes of complete silence – she didn’t even put on music!!! – and immediately regretted it when Miranda’s icy gaze was focused on her for a moment, and she sniffed haughtily.

“We do.”, the Editor simply stated, before the silence engulfed them again.

If Andy hadn’t known any better, she could have sworn she detected nervousness in the other woman. She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was that made her think it, and it was gone so fast that she was sure she had only imagined it.

Andy had seen Miranda Priestly angry, shocked, disappointed, irritated, yes, even hurt, but she had never seen her nervous. You’re being ridiculous, she thought and pushed the idea away instantly.

They rounded a corner into a narrow, tree lined street when Miranda spoke again with a sigh.

“There is more to it than just Central London. And, Andréa, remember what I said earlier.”. she gave her a pointed look. Andy nodded.

To their right, black gates opened, and Miranda stirred the wheel to drive into a pebbled yard.

It was dark so the house was illuminated by what seemed to be a hundred little lamps hidden between flowers and bushes.

Of course, the house itself was gigantic, and Andy wondered if Miranda’s mother really lived here all on her own.

Andy had just managed to heave Miranda’s enormous suitcase out of the trunk, when the front door opened, a loud “Miri” bellowed through the night air and the woman the voice belonged to emerged from the castle Miranda and her family apparently liked to call ‘house’.

Surprisingly, Miranda took her own suitcase and bag and made her way to the front door where her mother still waited. Andy wondered how she managed to not twist both ankles while walking in heels on pebble and followed her on tiptoes and with her own luggage.

“Hello, mother.”, Miranda mumbled while the older woman had already pulled her into what looked like a tight embrace. When they parted Mrs Priestly’s green eyes focused on Andy.

Green, not blue. But just as intense.

Her hair, however, was a darker shade of grey. And Miranda definitely had not inherited her mother’s fashion sense, if the dark blue jeans and red knitted sweater were anything to go by.

“Mother, this is A-“, her mother immediately interrupted her.

“Ah, you must be Andrea.”, she smiled brightly, and before Andy could even react, she found herself in an equally tight embrace. “Miri talks about you all the time, don’t you darling?”

It wasn’t a question (that they apparently had in common), and Miranda didn’t answer. Andy wondered if it was actually true or just a figure of speech. Her heart couldn’t help but start beating a little faster, nevertheless. But what would Miranda have to say about her? How disappointing she was? How incompetent? Had they talked about Paris? The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to know. However, her mother hadn’t seemed apprehensive towards her, quite the opposite actually so she was probably safe for now.

“Andy. Everyone calls me Andy.”, she smiled.

“Then Andy, it is. What are you two still doing out there. Come in, or you’ll freeze to death.”, she ushered them inside. “I have tea ready.”

Andy followed Miranda and her mother into the sitting room, which housed 3 cream-coloured sofas that had probably cost more than what Andy made in 6 months.

She carefully sat down next to Miranda with enough space for it to not be weird or suspicious (and she was probably, most definitely overthinking this), so they were both facing her mother, who was pouring them each a cup of tea. Then she looked at Andy again.

“So, how was the flight? No turbulences? Last time I came to visit Miri and the girls it was positively awful.”

Those green eyes were still trained on Andy and Miranda didn’t appear to want to make any efforts to answer her mother, instead sipping her tea quietly. Andy supressed an eyeroll; she didn’t have a death wish after all.

“No complications at all, Mrs Priestly.”, she smiled for good measure.

The oldest woman’s gaze immediately snapped to her daughter and for a few moments something silently seemed to pass between them, then her mother sighed and turned towards her once more, with a smile playing around her lips.

“None of that, Dearie. Call me Anne, please. Now, you must be hungry. And tired. How about I finish dinner and you two go up and settle in. Miri, I prepared the room you stayed in last time, with the girls, for you two.”

Andy’s mind screeched to a halt. Sorry, what? She looked at Miranda who was avoiding looking at her completely, then back to Anne who was encouragingly smiling up at her.

She was dreaming, or in a coma. Yes, she had actually hit her little head on the pavement and was now unconscious and dreaming up all sorts of strange scenarios in her mind.

Or she had simply misheard, the tiny part of her brain that could still think logically – or think at all – provided.

On shaky legs, Andy followed Miranda up the carpeted stairs and down the hallway. Maybe the room had multiple beds, or rooms, who knew with a house like this.

There was one bed. Admittedly, it was king-sized. But there was one bed.

Andy stood in the middle of the room, her heels digging into the carpet, gaping like a fish.

“You should unpack, Andréa, or your clothes will crease beyond salvation.”, Miranda murmured while doing exactly that with her own clothes. Miranda, unpacking her own suitcase, wonders never cease, apparently.

Andy’s mouth and lips felt dry when she tried to speak again, after a solid three minutes of gaping and huffing and trying to wrap her head around…everything, really.

“I-I think your mom may have the wrong idea.”

Miranda instantly stopped dead in her tracks, a hanger with a plum Ralph Lauren dress in hand.

“I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to, Andréa.”, she said condescendingly and finally resumed her movement. The dress vanished into the depths of the closet.

Andy felt white, hot fury bubbling up inside her and she had to breathe in and out a few times to not erupt and lash out at Miranda, and possibly lose her job once and for all.

“You do. I’m not mad. I just want to understand.”, she tried calmly.

Miranda’s lips turned down and she sneered sarcastically: “Thank God, you’re not mad.”

Okay, fuck not losing her job! And fuck Miranda fucking Priestly! And fuck everything, quite frankly! Now she was mad!

“Will you stop that.”, she hissed and snatched a pair of dark blue slacks out of the older woman’s hands. Okay, she should have calculated that differently. Now she had woken the dragon. Miranda’s jaw clenched; her eyes glinted dangerously; Andy proceeded without care. “What exactly am I doing here, Miranda?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, trying to see who would give in first. Miranda was stubborn, but Andy was relentless, when it mattered. And this, right here, right now, mattered! Miranda sighed and looked away, visibly deflating. She took a step back.

“I think my mother may believe we are, well, that we are an item. Believe me, truly, I have no idea why she thinks that. And I told you! I told you to pay no mind to what she says.”

Andy’s anger simmered down a bit, and she hummed. Contemplating. Her thoughts felt like they were scattered all over the place and she needed to pull them together right now. Before she had quite managed that Miranda spoke again.

“I’ll tell her and then I’ll prepare you another room.”

Andy thought. She thought about the room they were standing in, about the woman who had readied said room specifically for them, who had embraced her like one of her own without even knowing her, the way she had beamed at her daughter’s supposed happiness, and she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear to crush this genuine joy. And she could hardly believe what she was about to suggest to her boss, of all people. The boss who was already at the door, ready to leave the room and crush the illusions of her own mother.

“Wait!”, Miranda stopped. “It’s only 9 days, I think we should be able to manage to pretend for that long?”

And, yes, okay, maybe Andy was a bit selfish, too.

“Pretend?”, the Editor questioned, and the word suddenly sounded almost foreign on her tongue. Andy nodded. “We can’t pretend. I said before, you can’t lie to my mother, she’ll know.”

Miranda sounded desperate, Andy had never heard her sound desperate, and suddenly she was reminded of her earlier thoughts, when she had thought Miranda had seemed nervous. Maybe not so unlikely, after all.

“She already thinks it now, without us even having pretended at all, Miranda. She’ll believe it. She was so happy; you can’t do this to your mother. Not on Christmas.”, she crossed her arms in front of her chest with resignation. Miranda sighed, defeated.

“You’re right, I can’t.”, she looked outside onto the sparely lit road. Someone was walking past the gate with their dog and Miranda followed them with her eyes until they had vanished down the street. “Alright.” Her eyes found Andy’s. “But if it goes wrong, I’ll blame you.”, she smiles mirthlessly, and Andy swallowed. She had just dug herself a level deeper.

Chapter Text

Dinner was delicious. Andy had heard all sorts of rumours about the blandness of the English cuisine, but if Anne’s cooking was the standard, then she never wanted to leave. Even Miranda indulged in two slices of white bread on the side.

“And then for tomorrow evening I’ve invited your Aunt Ruby and Tuesday your sisters, and it’s all going to be rather lovely. It’s so rare we’re all together, don’t you think. Especially with you being so busy with your little magazine.”, Anne took a sip of her wine while Andy nearly chocked on the mashed potatoes. Little magazine. The last time someone had belittled Miranda’s work at Runway, was when about 4 months ago, during the preview of a new designer Miranda had sniffed out from God knows where, one of the models had clearly not done her homework on THE Miranda Priestly, and let’s just say Andy sincerely hoped that model was even still alive. She looked over to the Editor, expecting flared nostrils and balled fists, but only found Miranda silently eating her dinner. No reaction at all. Andy drank some water and held onto the glass like a lifeline. She didn’t know why Miranda’s calmness disturbed her so much but the longer this day dragged on the less she felt like she knew about the woman next to her.

Anne put her cutlery down on her empty plate and continued: “Now, I’ve waited quite long enough. You two must tell me everything. How did this thing between you two…”, she grinned and wiggled her finger between Andy and Miranda. “…how did it happen?”

Andy tightened the grip on her glass. She looked to Miranda who was, once again, expertly avoiding looking at her. Andy huffed. This wasn’t even her mother; this wasn’t her family. Why did she have to do all the talking, all the time?!

She fumbled for something to say, started her sentence three times and all in all didn’t do a very good job at saying anything that was at least somewhat cohesive.

Miranda sighed - she seemed to do that a lot recently – and interrupted her poorly executed endeavour to talk. Andy could feel the heat rising to her cheeks in embarrassment and clamped her mouth shut.

“Paris. After Stephen sent the divorce papers Andréa checked in on me and we talked.”, she sounded casual as she said it.

Alright. It wasn’t a lie, Andy supposed. Even if they had hardly talked that night. She had wanted to, wanted to help Miranda, console her. She had offered her support and Miranda had thrown it in her face, which had ultimately pushed her into Christian Thompson’s arms, and his bed. A memory that still made her shiver with mild disgust.

Thankfully Anne didn’t press for more details, but she had that glint in her eyes Miranda always got after she had sacked someone particularly idiotic.

Andy was worried though. She had been so confident earlier that they could pull off this little stunt, play lovers to make an old lady happy; but she clearly hadn’t thought this through.

She offered to help clear the table, but Anne waved her off and even Miranda shook her head and told (ordered, more like) her to go upstairs already. Desperate for at least a few moments to herself she complied and hurried back to their room.

She had showered this morning but that seemed eons ago now and besides she needed to scrub off the airplane grime.

Once under the hot stream she immediately felt her muscles relax and she sighed, exhausted. It wasn’t even 7 p.m. in New York and yet she felt like she hadn’t slept in a week. She stood there for a few more minutes and just enjoyed the warmth the hot water provided, then she rinsed her hair and stepped out of the shower.

Not having anticipated that she would need to share a room with Miranda, her only Pyjama option was an old, faded Northwestern shirt and a pair of dark blue cotton shorts. Too tired to even care anymore she shrugged at her reflection in the mirror and left the bathroom.

Miranda was sitting up against the headboard, Laptop open in front of her on the covers. She glanced at Andy over the top of her glasses and followed her as she put her dirty laundry back into her suitcase. It was unnerving, she tried to ignore it.

Andy stared at the bed.

Why didn't you just climb into bed with her and ask for a bedtime story? Very helpful Emily, thank you!

“Are you planning to stand there all night?”, Miranda closed her laptop and took her glasses off.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor.” What? No. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut just for once. She was so tired and spending a night on the floor surely wouldn’t help in rectifying that.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Andréa. Why would you do that.”, she put the Laptop and her glasses on the nightstand and vanished into the bathroom. Trust Miranda Priestly to wear a matching pair of light blue silk Jammies to bed. Andy grinned and snuggled under the covers. Oh, this was heaven. Not even the bed at her parents’ house in Avon was this comfortable, never mind the one in her scruffy apartment back in New York. She had nearly fallen asleep when the mattress dipped, and Miranda scooted in next to her.

Suddenly Andy felt wide awake and acutely aware how loud her own breathing actually was. Oh God, Miranda would see her sleeping-face in the morning, and Andy would probably have drooled all over the pillow by then. What if she snored?

She had never worried about these sorts of things with Nate, or even with Christian and they had done a lot more than just sleeping next to each other.

The duvet rustled beside her, and Andy was instantly all the more aware on how close they actually were. If she wanted to, if she had the guts, she could just reach out and take Miranda’s hand, caress her arm, let her fingers ghost over that sharp jawline. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut to try and erase that mental imagine before it would escalate.

Come on, Andy. You can sleep next to someone without becoming a sick predator. She nibbled at the dead skin of her lip, worried.

“Andréa.”, she startled. Even when whispering, Miranda’s voice sounded deep. Andy murmured a quiet ‘yes’ into the darkness of the room. “I think we need rules. A plan.”

It was silent. It stayed silent for one minute, two; after 5 minutes Miranda’s head turned towards her. Andy was staring at the ceiling. That’s what she did at home when she felt out of her depth, look at the ceiling and count the cracks. But here, there were no cracks. She exhaled.

“Okay.”

They didn’t say any more that night and soon enough Andy managed to fall into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

The sun filtered through the window when Andy woke up the next morning. They had clearly forgotten to pull the curtains; Andy scrunched her nose at the bright light. Her eyes fell on the woman still peacefully asleep next to her. Peaceful. Yes, Miranda did look peaceful. She always looked beautiful, fierce, dangerous at times, but Andy had never seen her look so…untroubled. Her hand itched with the need to touch, to feel the smooth skin around Miranda’s eyes, around her lips, to push Miranda’s undoubtedly soft hair back and reveal the full glory of her lovely face.

Outside someone sounded their horn and Andy flinched. Her heart racing a thousand beats a minute as if she had just been caught doing something naughty and she squeezed her eyes shut. Fuck, she needed to get this silly crush or whatever it was under control, it was getting out of hand. Next to her Miranda stirred, no doubt having been woken up by Andrea’s sudden movements.

“What time is it?”, she croaked, and Andy was convinced she was dangerously close to a heart attack. Miranda’s normal voice was distractingly attractive, but her voice when she was barely awake was…unbearable.

Andy’s fingers felt numb as she reached for her phone.

“Seven thirty-two.”

Miranda groaned and Andy felt as if someone had lit her on fire. She needed to get up, leave this bed, this room, this country. She quickly slipped out and hurried to the bathroom locking the door behind her. Oh, she was so screwed. This was Ms. Hyde, her English teacher in 10^th grade who she had had a massive – but harmless - crush on, all over again. Just worse, so much worse. Andy splashed cold water on her heated face and neck and tried to breathe through the nerves.

Get a grip, Sachs, she scolded herself. You’re not 14 anymore.

The deliberate slow breathing actually helped her to calm down. Her wide brown eyes stared back at her through the mirror’s reflection. Her cheeks were still pink, but she felt calmer. She was calm!

When she re-emerged into the bedroom Miranda was already up and dressed. Her blue eyes latched onto her naked legs and slowly dragged upwards. Oh God, her pyjamas. The older woman raised both eyebrows.

“So, you mentioned a plan. Last night.”, Andy was sitting on the edge of the bed, now dressed as well, while Miranda slowly paced the length of the room in contemplation, lips pursed. “So, we got…together that night in Paris. Do we need more details?”

“You confessed first.”, Miranda stated coolly.

“Why me?”

“Because I would never do that, Andréa.”, Andy frowned. Miranda rolled her eyes. “You work for me, if I had made the first move it could be seen as workplace harassment. You might only agree because you felt like you had to, in order to stay employed. Obviously.”

Obviously. The Editor was right, of course. Andy just hadn’t thought about that. At all. She suddenly felt like a child, the age difference so glaringly obvious in the face of her naivety.

She was 14 again, and it was 10^th grade again.

She nodded. “Okay, I confessed first.” Her mouth was dry.

“I think the rest we can make up as we go. Too many details may appear suspicious.”

“Alright.”, she agreed. “But we should know more about each other. Or, well, you should know more about me. Things like my favourite color, or my sister’s name, my birthday, things like that.”

Miranda huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t know my favourite colour either.”

“Dark green.”, she grinned. “Weird, considering your entire furniture is blue.” Which she only knew because she followed the twin’s bait and went up the stairs that first night, she had delivered the book. Her cheeks burned. “Mine is blue, by the way.”

“I can’t see how that is relevant, anyway. No one will judge the credibility of our relationship based on how well we know each other’s favourite colour. That’s ridiculous.”

“No, but it might help to feel more secure. You know, if we knew more about each other.” Because quite frankly, with every passing minute she spend in this house she felt like the Miranda she knew wasn’t the real Miranda.

That Miranda exhaled, defeated. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

They went downstairs after that. Anne was already cheerfully buzzing around the kitchen; the table was laden with all sorts of foods one could only wish for at nine in the morning. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, bread rolls, fruit. It’s a surprise Miranda had the body she did if she grew up around a mother with cooking skills like Anne’s. Andy was sure she’d return to New York and be a size 8, not that there was anything wrong with that.  

“Good morning!”, the oldest Priestly woman crooned and gave them each a kiss on the cheek in passing. “Sit down, sit down. Did you sleep well?”

Miranda sat.

“We did. Thank you, Anne.”, Andy smiled and followed suit. “This all looks lovely.”

Andy ate until she was sure she couldn’t eat, or even look at anything food related ever again. She felt great.

“Jimmy is coming over later to help me put up the tree. It’s a few days late. But better late than never, as I always say.”, Anne chuckled with bright eyes. Andy hoped she had half as much energy when she was in her 70s as Anne seemed to have.

Miranda put her cup down on the saucer and looked at her mother incredulously.

“Jimmy Harrison? That Jimmy?”

“Do you know another one?”, Anne raised her eyebrows and looked in that moment so much like her daughter that it was almost frightening. But they were related after all.

Miranda scoffed. “We- I could have helped you with the tree.”

“Don’t be daft, Darling. And besides, Jimmy offered. I think he hopes you will be here. I seem to remember he was quite taken with you, when you were 12 or 13, when we still lived in Bethnal Gree-“

“Yes! Thank you, mother.”, Miranda interrupted her with clenched teeth. Somehow this had been the longest conversation the Editor had had with her mother since their arrival the previous night.

Anne smirked. “No need to be embarrassed, Dear.”

“I’m not!”, she snapped. “But Andréa might be.” She wasn’t. “I think we’re going to go for a walk. I promised I would show her the area.”

Her chair creaked loudly across the floor as Miranda pushed it back, got up and vanished up the stairs. The brunette looked after her, before turning to the other woman, frowning. Anne softly shook her head and gave her a wan smile.

They cleared the table together in silence before Andy hurried after Miranda.

The door was slightly ajar, and she gently pushed it open.

“Miranda?”

“You should change, Andréa. It’s going to rain.”

She halted in the doorway, shocked. In all the ten months of knowing Miranda, she had never once seen her in jeans - slacks, yes - but not jeans. They were old, already faded and frayed at the bottom but they clung to Miranda’s thighs and waist as if someone had tailored them to her body just this morning. On top she wore a dark green knitted sweater; Andy smiled thinking about their earlier conversation.

Ten minutes later she emerged from the bathroom with her own pair of jeans and a simple white t-shirt on.

“You need a jumper, Andréa. Or you’ll get hypothermia.” Jumper. Andy grinned involuntarily. For the most part Miranda feigned the image of the perfect US-citizen, from her daily lattes down to her accent, so Andy couldn’t help but find it amusing, charming even, whenever that carefully erected mask cracked a bit.

“I didn’t bring one. I didn’t think we were gonna go outside all that much.”, she confessed.

Miranda rolled her eyes, grumbled softly, and rose elegantly from her position on the end of the bed.

“Here”, she said quietly, holding another knitted sweater, this one a deep burgundy, in her right hand. Andy blinked, once, twice. She didn’t move. “Oh, for God’s sake, just take it.”, she hissed, and Andy quickly grabbed it and put it on over her shirt.

“Thanks.”, she mumbled under her breath and hoped the red of the sweater didn’t draw any more attention to the crimson that was undoubtedly splotching her cheeks.

Surprisingly, it fit her. It was incredibly soft and smelled distinctly like Miranda. Andy wanted to keep it on forever, sleep in it, live in it.

The softest cashmere wrapped itself around Andy’s neck and she looked down at the older woman. Her blue eyes were soft, and Andy noticed the slight inward dip of her left cheek that indicated she was biting the flesh on the inside in concentration as she tied the scarf. Miranda’s hands flattened the fabric across her chest before she stepped away and Andy could breathe again.

“There. Acceptable.”, she almost whispered with quirked lips while inspecting her handiwork. Their eyes met and Andy nearly gasped. In the dim light of the room the blue of Miranda’s eyes appeared even deeper than usual. Looking up at Andy with vaguely drooped eyelids, dilated pupils peeked through her lashes, and she licked her lips. Andy’s eyes followed the movement, mesmerized.

The other woman averted her gaze not a second later, took another step back, “I’ll be waiting downstairs.” , and quickly left the room. Andy stared after her, her mind hazy and her heart beating violently against her ribs.

Chapter Text

“Rules.”

It had not started raining yet, thankfully, but clouds had been gathering above them all morning and Andy was glad for the little umbrella she dutifully carried in her left hand, on Anne’s advice. Miranda didn’t seem bothered by the imminent downpour at all; she had exchanged the fur coats and stilettos for a beige raincoat and her wellies, as she had called them. Overall, Andy had never seen Miranda look so…normal. Remembering the woman, she had interviewed for on her first day, who had downright told her she did not fit in with Runway, and looking at her now, Andy had difficulties grasping that both were one and the same. The wind swept through her silver hair and tousled it artfully around her head, her cheeks and nose dusted pink from the cold and her eyes the same blueish grey as the sky. God, she was beautiful. Andy had to look away.

She was still hung up on what had transpired not 20 minutes ago. She really wanted to believe it was more than her treacherous mind playing tricks on her, but then how could she?

Miranda was Miranda, and Andy, well, Andy was just Andy, after all.

It took her brain a moment – or five – to register that she had been spoken to.

“Sorry. What? Rules?”, she dumbly uttered.

Miranda Priestly was an organized woman.

Andy knew she was only organized because she had assistants who organized things for her, but she would never say so. No, but Miranda had lists for everything; To-do lists, to-buy lists, to-remember lists, and apparently also rule-lists.

“Yes, do keep up, Andréa. And listen! You know how I hate when I have to repeat myself.”, ugh, the woman was truly infuriating sometimes. Andy only nodded. “ Firstly, you can’t tell anyone at Runway.”

“Of course not! Why would I do that?”, yes, Andy felt like she was slowly but surely losing her mind, but she hadn’t lost it completely yet; thank you very much.

“Good.”, Miranda pressed her lips together into a thin line. “Well, then, rule number two. No pet names. I don’t want to hear anything like pumpkin, or honey, or…cupcake or some such nonsense.”

Andy grinned mischievously. “How about ‘Sweet Pea’?”

“No!”, Miranda glared.

“Okay, okay.”, Andy chuckled and raised both hands in mock-surrender. “Miri?”

The editor hesitated. Then: “No.”

They walked in silence for some time.

“Third rule: no unnecessary touching.”, okay, ouch. Holding her hand from time to time couldn’t be that revolting, could it?

“How are we supposed to make them believe we’re in l-“, she inhaled. “…in love, if we never touch?”

Miranda gave her another one of her longsuffering looks and rolled her eyes. “If we must.”

They strolled through the deserted park for another 20 minutes before it eventually started pouring down buckets and they had to huddle together under the tiny umbrella and rush home. Andy couldn’t even relish in their proximity as her hand, that was gripping the handle in a death grip as to not let it slip, was close to freezing and just falling off.

Thankfully they arrived back at the house with both of Andy’s hands still attached and hurried inside.

They divested themselves of their coats and shoes, Andy still shivering a bit and rubbing her hands together to get some warmth back into them.

Miranda watched her do it. “Cold?” Andy nodded. “Wear gloves next time.”

She reached out. The older woman’s hands were smooth and warm as they wrapped around Andy’s – so much for no unnecessary touching. The brunette looked down and closed her eyes, she wanted to remember every touch, wanted it ingrained into her brain for the rest of her life.

“Better?”, the older woman asked quietly. They were standing so close that she could feel her breath ghost over her chin. If she had the guts to just lean forward a bit-

Andy nodded slowly and her eyes fluttered open again. Miranda let go of her hands and she suddenly felt the cold return tenfold.

“Miri! I don’t believe it.”, sounded a cheerful, guttural voice from somewhere behind Andy. Blue eyes shifted past her, over her shoulder and she instantly noticed the snowstorm brewing up inside them. Turning around she was face to face with a tall, almost burly man and his toothy grin. He looked around Miranda’s age, maybe a bit older but life had obviously not been as kind to him. He wasn’t unattractive, Andy supposed, but he wasn’t particularly interesting either.

“James.”, Miranda nodded in acknowledgement and not much else. It did not seem to diminish James’ good mood in the least, it seemed.

“Long time no see. How have ya been?”

Andy almost hissed at the question. Miranda abhorred smalltalk. ‘Why waste my valuable time with unnecessary chit chat.’, she could practically hear the older woman say. But she remained silent and just gave him a strained smile. Once again, he didn’t seem to notice and proceeded without care.

“I haven’t heard a dicky bird from ya in ages.”

Huh? In all fairness, Andy didn’t understand half the things he said. This was certainly not the British accent they always used on TV. But she wouldn’t ask, Miranda was already in a bad mood without her butting in. Besides, one of Emily’s first lessons was still unwaveringly instilled within her. You may never ask Miranda anything.

Miranda shrugged. “Busy.”

“Oh, there you are.”, Anne appeared behind James with one of her bright smiles. “Come on, we put the tree up, as promised.”

They all went through to the living room and surveyed the already decorated tree. It was rather lovely, Andy thought. Not as colorful as she was used to, but the red baubles contrasted the green of the pine needles (real pine needles – it was a real tree!) nicely.

“Looks good, mum.”, Miranda muttered, and Andy knew she meant it. Mum, she bit the inside of her cheek so as to not grin.

Then Anne clapped her hands together, like one did after a job well done and regarded them with a pleased smile. “So, who’d like a cup of Rosy? The kettle’s already boilin’”

Andy frowned. Miranda winced. And Anne had already left for the kitchen.

“Cuppa tea, she means.”, James provided helpfully after a moment, and only now seemed to realise that they hadn’t been introduced yet. He stretched out his hand for her to shake. “Jimmy Harrison. Miriam an’ I grew up together.” Togevva.

Miriam? Andy squinted in Miranda’s direction, for clarification, or just a hint even but the older woman had gone back to completely ignoring her. Andy sighed and made a mental note to definitely confront her about it later. She needed answers. She deserved them.

Then she took Jimmy’s offered hand and shook it with a polite smile on her lips. “I’m Andy. Mir- iam’s…eh-”

“My girlfriend.”, Miranda hissed and shoved past them towards the kitchen.

Once Jimmy had left, Miranda visibly relaxed. At least it was visible to Andy who had learned to read and anticipate the other woman’s needs and demands before she, herself even knew she would need or demand something. Yes, Andy was an expert on everything Miranda Priestly. But Miriam, well, Miriam was a stranger.

She had tried to find a quiet moment to carefully ask Miranda about her all afternoon, but either Anne was present, Miranda glowered at her, or she was off somewhere to call the twins.

Around quarter past four Anne’s sister Ruby arrived with her son, Robert, his wife Hannah and their children, Peter, and baby Rosie in tow. From the get-go they were all really welcoming towards Andy, and she wondered with only the hint of a bad conscience how Miranda could even be related to them.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Mir.”, Robert teasingly grinned and clapped Miranda on the back with quite a bit of force. Anne and Ruby had vanished, probably into the kitchen, and left the ‘young ones’ to themselves. Of course, they had to tell the story on how they had gotten together again, during which Miranda wore the expression of someone who had been submitted to some sort of slow torture for the past week.

Only when Hannah mentioned the twins did Miranda warm up a bit. They exchanged a bit more newly hit milestones and developments on their children until, inevitably, the focus turned on Andy.

“So, Andy, you work for my lovely cousin, I heard. How’s that working out?”, Robert grinned cheekily.

Andy fumbled for words. “Eh- fine. Good. I’m not sure-“, not sure what to say, not sure why it was relevant considering she supposedly did a lot more than just work for her (to their knowledge), not sure how to answer that question in any case. Miranda was sitting right next to her, after all. The older woman interrupted her anyway.

“Andréa is very competent, but she’ll leave Runway soon.”, What? Miranda drank her tea as if she had not just indirectly told Andy she was fired.

“Oh? Where will you go?”, Hannah asked and sounded genuinely interested, while she dandled the baby.

Andy wanted to cry. What was going on? Yes, she had maybe been a bit more blundering than usual, but could Miranda really blame her for that? Apparently so. And now she had to stay another week here and look and smile at Miranda as if nothing was wrong? She couldn’t even use the time to look for a new job. Tears stung behind her eyelids, and she tried to unobtrusively blink them away.

“I-“

“The Mirror. Or the New Yorker.”, she interrupted and turned to Andy, who, by now, had completely lost all connection to reality, it seemed. “That’s where you would want to go, isn’t it?” And she smiled. Miranda actually smiled, a genuine, full, pearly smile. And Andy loved it, couldn’t look away until Miranda herself turned back to her cousin and his wife. Her head spun.

The rest of the afternoon and evening rushed by in no time with how foggy Andy’s brain still was, and she felt positively drained when she finally snuggled under the covers that night, so much so that she had almost forgotten about her plan to confront Miranda. Almost.

But it was late, and they had already turned off the lights. Maybe Miranda was even asleep. And you know what they say, never wake a sleeping dragon. Besides, was it even really her place to demand answers from the older woman? Yes, she had thought that she deserved some answers earlier, but Miranda didn’t owe it to her. She didn’t owe her anything. It wasn’t her who had insisted on this whole scheme, it had been Andy and-

“Stop thinking so much.”, Miranda’s whispers cut through the silence of the night. Not asleep, then. Good.

She didn’t ask.

She didn’t sleep either.

Outside the church bell struck 1 a.m. Silence.

Then…

“I wasn’t always…who I am now.”, Andy’s head snapped to the side. In the dark she could just barely make out the outlines of Miranda’s face, who stoically kept looking up at the ceiling. “I was born Miriam Princhek, in Bethnal Green, that’s in the East End. And we weren’t rich.”, she stated matter-of-factly and chuckled sullenly. “Quite the opposite, actually. My father died when I was five, a machine malfunctioned in the factory he was working at, at the time, that’s all they said. As I was the youngest, my siblings and mother had to take on all sorts of odd jobs to make ends meet, which we still hardly did. Sometimes they would leave me a sixpence, and I’d save them up in an old liquorice tin I had found outside.”, she paused. “You can imagine that I felt like my options where limited, so I invented someone, someone who had those options. Someone better than Miriam. Because I knew if I stayed it would suffocate me. I knew I couldn’t lead a life just surviving, I needed to live. I saw how my two oldest sisters left and got married and pregnant one after the other. At the time I couldn’t imagine anything worse than following in their footsteps.”, she fell silent, and Andy wanted to give her the time she needed. “Anyway, James- Jimmy lived on the next street and we went to school together until I was 14. He sometimes let me ride with him on the rack of his bike. A year later I left. I took the money I had saved up, went to the train station, and bought a ticket to Paris. I send money home whenever I could, maybe because I felt bad for leaving, or for being embarrassed about where I had come from.”, she inhaled deeply. “I don’t talk to people about that…part of my life, so don’t tell anyone.”

Andy felt stunned, she desperately needed to re-evaluate every opinion she had ever formed of Miranda Priestly. And simultaneously she hated every single person who had ever judged her so harshly without even having a clue of what she had lived through; Nate, Christian Thompson, Irv Ravitz, Page Six, and those were only the people she could think of off the top of her head.

She was just as guilty, she realised.

“I would never do that, Miranda.”, she whispered back and all of a sudden felt a distressing need to forget about rule three and reach out to her. Show her she had listened, that she was here, and that she would cherish Miranda confiding in her, trusting her in such a way, for the rest of her life.

Her hand reached forward; the fabric of the duvet rustled with the movement.

“Good night, Andréa.”

She stopped, held her breath for a second, for two. Rule three remained unbroken and intact.

“Good night, Miranda.”

Andy didn’t fall asleep for a long time after that, her mind too preoccupied. She thought of a young girl growing up surrounded by people so different to herself; she must have felt terribly lonely. She thought of that same girl all alone in a strange city, where people spoke in a language she probably barely understood, but who could maybe for the first time in her existence taste the beginnings of something she had dreamed of all her life.

She thought of Paris, later. The Paris she had paid witness to, that girl so different now, older, and yet, just the same, just as lonely because people still didn’t understand.

Andy understood. I see a great deal of myself in you. She understood.

She thought of how she had acted in the face of Miranda’s betrayal towards Nigel. It hadn’t been betrayal, it was protection. Protection for that girl from Bethnal Green who had had nothing but a dream to keep her company.

She wouldn’t have done the same, but Andy understood.

Chapter Text

When she woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was deserted. Miranda had already gotten up and apparently let her sleep in. Still a bit drowsy she checked the time, quarter to ten. Andy had to look twice to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so long, certainly not since before she had started working at Runway.

Quickly she slipped on the same pair of jeans she had worn yesterday and another simple shirt. She eyed the burgundy sweater Miranda had lent her the day before but didn’t dare and just left it lying over the backrest of one of the coral armchairs in the far corner of the room.

Cheerful chatter reached her ears before she had even made it all the way down the stairs. If Andy had been impressed by the breakfast from the day prior, it had nothing on how she felt now, entering the dining room. Maybe when put together Anne and Ruby could actually perform miracles because the table was packed; Andy thought it might give it at any second.

She sat down in the free chair to Miranda’s right, and everyone wished her a good morning, everyone except Miranda herself who was exceedingly focused on her breakfast egg and toast.

Andy frowned and asked her if she had slept well but only got the tiniest of nods in return. Gone were the beginning sparks of intimacy she had felt last night, after Miranda had confided in her like that. However, she also knew Miranda – now better than probably anyone outside her family, and there could be a million reasons for her treating Andy like this. Maybe it didn’t even have anything to do with her. She refused to feel hurt by it and instead started buttering a slice of toast.

Opposed to Miranda, Peter, Robert, and Hannah’s son, had significantly warmed to all the people surrounding him and had started happily chatting to Andy about his football practice.

He was a cute child, with freckles, auburn curls and he shared the same green eyes with his grandma and her sister. Of course, when Andy told him that she had played soccer too at one point or another he was nearly unstoppable in his excitement, jumping up and down in his seat and begging his dad to let them have a kickabout outside in the garden.

“If you ask Andy very nicely, Pete, and she agrees, I don’t see why not.”, Robert said and grinned wickedly at her across the table.

Half an hour later she descended the stairs again, having changed into something warmer and less likely to be missed if it gets ruined. It was quite sunny outside but the rain from the previous day still coated the ground and made the air feel colder than it actually was.

“Andy.”, Anne called before she could leave through the French patio doors to join the rest of the family, including a still sulking Miranda, outside. “Follow me, you need a warmer coat.”

Andy felt her coat was warm enough, she had worn it for the walk yesterday as well and she had been just fine, but she followed the older woman, nevertheless.

“Here.”, Anne handed her a thick, black, quilted jacket. They were standing in the small room that was located right next to the front door and seemingly functioned as hall closet. How she had not noticed the door leading through to the room before, she didn’t know. But who could blame her, the last few days had been more than straining, so she was allowed to be distracted from time to time. Yeah, distracted by your super-hot boss, you mean. Shut up!

“Thanks.”, Andy retorted gratefully and exchanged her wool coat for the one Anne had given her.

“Listen, Dear…”, uh-oh, she should have known this was a trap. Her coat would have indeed been warm enough. Shit! “I don’t mean to pry, and I know how my daughter can be sometimes. I didn’t want to say anything because you’re both adults and you know what you’re doing, I’m sure…but now Ruby has mentioned it to me as well, and better be safe than sorry, right?”, she smiled kindly, and Andy felt like an animal trapped in a particularly small and stuffy cage. “I know this is all very new, especially for you, meeting the family and all that, but are you two alright? You seem awfully distant with each other, especially this morning. If you had a fight, or a disagreement it’s really not my place to ask for any details and I won’t, I just want to make sure you two are okay and that you don’t feel uncomfortable or unwelcome here, Andy.”, Anne soothingly grabbed her shoulder and squeezed it.

How was it, that their charade already began to crumble not even two full days in. Maybe some acting lessons beforehand would have been helpful, she thought cynically.

“I feel very welcome, Anne, don’t worry about that. You all have been nothing but kind to me and I’m truly grateful you even invited me. Miranda can be…difficult, and unpredictable, and even I don’t know what’s going on in that head of hers half the time, but I love her.”

Oh.

She realised with a sudden clarity that it was true. This wasn’t simply a crush and she needed to accept that and then move on and forget about it as quickly as possible.

Shit! She was head over heels in love with the older woman. In hindsight it should have been obvious, but she had been so busy and constantly spent every waking moment pushing any thoughts or feelings that could have indicated more than a mild infatuation to the deepest, most unreachable corner of her brain. And now it hit her like a ton of bricks, she felt breathless. Oh, she was so utterly screwed. She clenched and relaxed her fists to try and ground herself a bit.

“A-And I can assure you we’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”, Andy smiled reassuringly even though she felt exactly the opposite of reassured and calm. She hoped this conversation would be over now, but Anne continued in a hushed tone, probably not wanting to be overheard if anyone came looking for them, with the increasing amount of time they were taking.

“Good. I’m glad. You know it’s the first time in years she’s come to spend the holidays here with us, definitely the first time since the girls were born, but I’ve never seen her so…solemn and glum. As a mother I can’t help but worry.”

Solemn? No doubt, this was the calmest Andy had seen Miranda be since the day she had met her. If this was supposed to be Miranda being solemn, then how was she usually around her mother, around her family? She’d give her non-existent firstborn to get a glimpse of that Miranda.

“She misses the twins.”, Andy shrugged and hoped the older woman would leave it at that.

“I suppose you must be right.”, finally Anne turned off the light in the room and closed the door behind her once they were standing in the hall again. “And Andy?”, Andy turned around. Shoot! She had nearly managed to escape. “Thank you for being there for her. I think you’re just what she needs.” Anne smiled gently and Andy couldn’t help but return it, her heart full and warm.

When she finally made it outside into the garden Peter was already running circles around his dad with his football and giggling loudly while doing so. Andy grinned and went to stand next to Miranda on the tiled terrace for a moment. They needed to talk but the other woman was deeply focused on her phone, not even sparing Andy so much as a glance or a nod. She watched her out of the corner of her eyes, really took her time for a few moments to take her in and let herself feel without any restrictions, just to make sure. Miranda’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration which always made her nose scrunch up a bit in that adorable way. Leaning over her phone her posture should have been stooping, but she looked elegant despite it. She always did. Miranda always moved with a gracefulness Andy had never seen in anyone else, something that had drawn her in from the beginning. Her thoughts inevitably returned to the conversation with Anne she had just had. Yes, Miranda was difficult, and unpredictable, and infuriating and she could bring Andy’s blood to boil faster than anyone else; but she was also determined, and smart, talented and she was absolutely devoted to the people that mattered to her. And Andy knew she would do anything for her if asked. Miranda Priestly was everything. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she had to bite her tongue to not just blurt it out right then and there. I love you.

Fuck. She was fucked, she was more than fucked. She was so, so dead.

Then Peter called out to her and demanded her presence on the lawn right away, and of course Andy had to comply, even though she felt like someone had just chucked buckets of ice-cold water over her head without warning. Okay, maybe she did need another distraction, and soccer with an overexcited child was as good as any, right?

She hadn’t played in such a long time, so it was no wonder that the five-year-old had quickly worn her out and she was panting for breath while Peter excitedly demanded another round.

“Okay, but only one mo-”, before she had even finished her sentence, he had already kicked the ball again and she needed to hurry if she wanted to reach it before it would be swallowed by the hedge surrounding the garden.

But the grass was wet, and she had done such a good job not to slip on it. Until now. She knew it was coming before it even happened. Her feet slid out from under her, and she hit the hard ground with a short-winded ‘ooof’, her wrist bending in a weird angle as she tried to lessen the impact of the fall somehow.

“Andréa!”, Miranda’s voice suddenly shrilled across the yard, and she was kneeling beside her on the ground in no time. As Andy set up and shook out her wrist to test if it was at all painful the older woman’s hands roamed over her, checking for any sign of injury. The motions of her wrist caught her eye. “You’re hurt!”, she stated and didn’t even let Andy protest before she had helped her to her feet and brought inside. The others just looked after them, stunned. A sentiment Andrea could relate to very well.

Miranda maneuverer her to the closest bathroom and demanded her to sit down on the closed toilet seat. She complied and watched Miranda take her hand and hold her wrist under the cool water in the sink. Her hands shook.

“Keep it there. I’ll get some ice.”, she said frantically and turned to leave.

“Miranda, wait!”, she chuckled disbelievingly. “It doesn’t even hurt, I’m alright.”

The editor looked down at her, unconvinced. “Could be the shock.”

“I’m not in shock.”

Miranda hummed for a moment, then looked away, seemingly trying to take control of her emotions once again. Andy’s heart swelled with warmth at the idea of Miranda’s possible concern for her well-being, and she needed to take a few slow breaths to not get overwhelmed by the feeling. Besides, it was well established in her mind by now that the metaphorical rose-tinted glasses she had acquired for herself made her judgement of everything ‘Miranda’ not the most reliable, and so she didn’t trust her perception of the older woman even the tiniest bit.

And they had some things to discuss, in any case; this was really not the time to continue dwelling on this whole love thing.

“Sit down for a second, will you?”, she jutted her chin towards the rim of the bathtub. Miranda seemed willing to ignore that she had just been commanded to do something and sat down carefully. The water was still running, they couldn’t afford someone eavesdropping in on what Andy was about to say. “It’s not enough. I think your mom is getting suspicious. She took me to the side earlier and asked if we fought. We need to dial it up a bit. Talk more, be closer, touch more, hold hands; I don’t know.”, she whispered.

Miranda looked at her as if she had grown two heads and pursed her lips. Great. Andy groaned inwardly; she really didn’t want to deal with one of Miranda’s moods now. She had been in one all morning already, after all. But surprisingly, she only nodded.

“Yes, you’re probably right.”, she sighed, and sounded like she was sacrificing one of her children, or something equally dramatic. Andy, once again, refused to feel hurt and ignored the stabbing pain in her chest, then she turned off the faucet and dried her hand. Okay, maybe her wrist felt a bit sore after all, but nothing serious.

They were about to leave the bathroom and join the others when Miranda spoke again, rushing over the words so fast Andy almost didn’t understand her. “Maybe we should practice.”

“Practice?”

Miranda rolled her eyes and huffed, as she was prone to do whenever Andrea repeated her words back to her, like an idiot.

“Like you said yesterday, it might help us feel more secure, if we are more familiar with…each other.”, her blue eyes bore into Andy.

She agreed, selfishly.

“Are you okay, dear?”, came the immediate question upon entering the living room. Everyone seemed genuinely concerned and Andy basket in the warm feeling it gave her.

“I’m fi-“

“Andréa is going to lie down for a bit.”, Miranda interrupted and insistently forced her past the throng of family members with a gentle hand on her lower back.

“I don’t need to lie down.”, they were back in their room. “I told you, I’m alright.”

“Yes, but with the way they keep hovering around us, I’ll need to have a lie-down.”, she sighed, but didn’t move an inch. Instead, she just kept standing in the middle of the room, looking outside, seemingly lost in thought. Andy watched her. She wondered how it could be possible to know practically every tiny step the other woman did each day, how she took her coffee, when she would want her lunch and yet find her to be the most enigmatic person Andy had ever met.

Miranda moved and sank down to sit next to her on the edge of the bed with an exhausted huff, hands clasped together in her lap. “I suggest we start right away.”

Start lying down? Andy frowned. Miranda gave her a look. Oh. Start practice. Whatever that meant.

No one moved. This was going great so far, yeah.

“We could hold hands for some time?”, Andy suggested shakily. Only the mere notion made the heat rise to her face. She thought of yesterday, when Miranda held her hands inside her own to warm them and suddenly, she couldn’t move fast enough to start. No time like the present.

Miranda’s hand lay palm-up on her thigh, fingers twitching. She kept looking straight ahead. Andy slowly, carefully reached around her arm, dragged her hand up the expense of Miranda’s exposed forearms. She could have sworn the other woman shivered lightly, but as usual didn’t trust her own eyes to not just see what they wanted to see. Otherwise, Miranda didn’t seem affected at all, it was just a bit of hand holding after all, Andy reminded herself and finally intertwined their fingers.

Miranda’s palm was warm, her skin soft and smooth against her own, more calloused one. Only now did Andy realise how small the older woman’s hands actually were, not that she herself hand enormous claws, no. But Miranda’s fingers were thin, and the unblemished ivory skin and perfectly manicured nails didn’t help her brain to not make the association with a delicate porcelain doll. Of course, Miranda was everything but frail, she was one of the strongest women Andy knew, but sometimes, sometimes when Miranda allowed herself to be she was so…fragile. Like in Paris. Like the previous night. And probably so many other times Andy had not had the privilege to bear witness to.

“This okay?”, she whispered, and hoped Miranda would let the improper grammar slide.

She did and only nodded.

Andy’s thumb started moving basically on its own accord, and she observed how Miranda finally looked down at their hands before her gaze snapped to her face for a second. She looked away again.

“How about these questions now?”

Miranda cleared her throat. “Go ahead, then.”

Andy nibbled the dead skin on her lips in contemplation. “Well, we already know each other’s favorite color. How about favorite book? Or movie?”, she gasped. “Oh, or food?”

Miranda’s lips quirked upwards slightly and she took a deep breath. “Let’s see then…Favourite book, probably…I suppose it has to be one of the Harry Potter books.”

Andy’s eyebrows arched up, she would have taken Miranda for someone who read Shakespeare and Dickens in her free time, not a fantasy story about a boy with a stick casting a few spells.

Miranda shrugged. “I used to read it together with the girls before they could do it themselves. They’d practically beg me each night for about three years to read ‘just one more chapter, Mommy’”, she imitated them in a high-pitched voice and Andy couldn’t help a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “And honestly, it’s…well, I cherish the memory, anyway.”

Then she turned to Andy and pointedly looked at her. Oh right, her turn.

“Favourite book: Little Women.”, she shrugged, not really having an explanation except for the fact that she liked it and had reread it about a hundred times at that point. “Favourite movie, I don’t know, probably something cheesy like Notting Hill, or The Mirror has Two Faces.”

“Rom-Coms, Andréa, really?”, Miranda teased with a grin. And it wasn’t one of her sharp grins, she wore when talking with someone she particularly hated. It was a genuine grin and it made Andy feel all fluttery and tingly. She liked it. A lot.

“Guilty pleasure.”, she grinned sheepishly in return and shrugged. “And for favorite food, a few days ago I would have said Pizza without a doubt, but I think you mom’s cooking is becoming a strong contender.”

Miranda let out a full belly laugh, and Andy was so shocked that she nearly flinched with surprise. It was a beautiful laugh, a beautiful sound, Andy thought and watched the other woman as she tossed her head back in actual, real delight. Andy had done that. She had made her laugh like that. And she knew it sounded cliché, but she wanted to spend the rest of her life making Miranda laugh like that, let her feel carefree for a few moments.

“I didn’t know you could be funny like that.”, she still chuckled lightly and wiped at her eye.

“Hey, I was being serious.”, she pouted jokingly before her lips stretched into a pleased smile.

Miranda’s favourite food was steak, obviously. No surprise there.

Her favorite film, however, turned out to be The Sound of Music, which led to a completely different conversation.

“You like musicals?!”

“That seems to surprise you.”

“Yeah, well. I would have taken you for the film noire kinda woman.”

“What can I say, I’m a dark horse.”

Andy cackled.

All in all, the first round of practice hadn’t left Andrea as flabbergasted as she would have expected. She felt like they had finally overcome the awkward, sterile atmosphere that had reigned between them for days – or probably since the beginning, and Andy felt light-hearted and a bit drunk with affection for the other woman.

They finally let go of each other when Anne called them downstairs as Ruby and the others were leaving. She missed the warmth already.

Everyone hugged her and mentioned again how lovely it had been to meet her and even Peter clung to her legs until she promised to visit again so they could play football when the grass wasn’t wet. She chuckled but honestly felt like crying. Despite the short time of knowing them, she knew she would miss them all terribly. Andy had seldomly met people who had accepted and welcomed her so quickly and without an ounce of prejudice. She felt the guilt clawing its way to the front of her mind, she was lying to these people. She was never coming back, not to see them, certainly not to play soccer. It stung.

Once the car had left the driveway, Anne announced she would take a short nap before the other half of the family would arrive later that day. Andy felt a bit overwhelmed by meeting all these new people, who she had to convince to like her. But it was nothing she didn’t have to do on the daily working at Runway, she mused.

“Why don’t you and Andy go down to the Christmas market for some time, mhh, darling?”, she suggested and patted Miranda’s cheek affectionately before vanishing further into the depths of the house.

“It’s nothing like a New York Christmas Market, of course.”, Miranda warned as they were walking down the street towards the town square, a bit later. “Smaller, for one, at least the one we’re headed to. Different foods, obviously.”

“I’ve never actually been to a Christmas market in New York.”, Andy confessed, Miranda gave her a disbelieving look. “No, really. Last year I had just moved there, and I was kinda busy trying to find a job. And this year, well-”, she waved her arms around her and let that gesture finish the sentence for her. Miranda hummed in acknowledgement and fell silent afterwards. Andy tried to think of something to say to keep up the conversation.

She could always ask some more questions, they had to do it anyway and now was as good a time as any.

She thought for a moment. There were a million things she could ask, and at least two million she wanted to know.

“If you wouldn’t do what you’re doing now, what would you do instead?”

Miranda looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Since she did that at least twice a day Andy didn’t pay much attention to it and Miranda relaxed a bit.

The left corner of her mouth quirked up. “You mean if I wasn’t going to the Christmas Market, right now? Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’d have some tea, dunk a few digestives.”

Had Miranda just made a joke? Judging by the proud grin on her lips, which once again was a sight in itself that Andy needed to take a few moments to take in and process, it definitely had been a joke. Her blue eyes shone mischievously and roamed over her face as if waiting for Andy’s approval, or acknowledgement at least.

Andy chuckled a bit breathlessly and then grinned back at her.

“Sounds nice, but you know what I mean. If you weren’t Editor-in-Chi –”

“I’d design, of course.”, she shrugged and looked up at the sky, thinking. “I always liked designing clothes but, ultimately, it’s not what I wanted to do. You’re quite limited as a designer, you design something and then hope it gets picked. But I wanted to be the one who picks and not just be an option among a thousand others.” She looked over at Andy, expectantly. Oh, right.

“I always wanted to be a journalist, I never thought of what to do instead if that didn’t work out.”

“You’re not a journalist, now, though, are you.”, it wasn’t meant to be a scathing comment. Her voice was calm, stating a fact. “I think you should quit.”

Andrea had never witnessed Miranda giving someone an option regarding their position at Runway. She was the one who fired and hired, the one in charge, the one who picked.

She wondered, why, if Miranda wanted her out, she didn’t just say so, except if she didn’t, of course. It was all very confusing, but Miranda was a confusing woman, which Andy found infuriating and intriguing at the same time.

“I haven’t finished my year-“

“No, but it would be a waste.”, Miranda kept looking straight ahead. “Time is limited, no matter how young you are. You have grown more in the ten months you’ve been at Runway than most people do in their entire life. You want to be a journalist, so go and be one. You’re so young, you have an entire life, an entire career in front of you, go and make it yours! Why waste two more months?”

It was bittersweet. It was true, as always, of course. To begin with she hadn’t wanted to work for Runway, not as an assistant, at least. But now that her time was seemingly coming to an end, she wanted to turn it back, really appreciate every second, especially the ones she had wasted at the beginning when she had thought herself so above everyone at Runway and in the fashion industry in general. But most importantly, she wanted to cherish every moment she had got to spend with Miranda, no matter how scared shitless she had been sometimes, or how unfairly treated she had felt. Because the prospect of not seeing the older woman every day anymore (or more likely not at all) made her feel an emptiness she hadn’t known before. Not when Nate left, or Lily, or when her parents had grown distant, it had hurt, but it didn’t feel like this. It didn’t feel like the most wonderful thing you could have ever had the fortune of possessing was being ripped away from you violently and there was nothing you could do about it. And she hadn’t even possessed anything, she had made up this wonderful thing in her mind, and yet it still hurt. Or it hurt all the more because of it.

But Miranda was right. She would have to move on eventually. She wanted to be a journalist, to write, to make a difference. And she couldn’t do that at Runway, not as Miranda Priestly’s assistant.

She only wished Miranda would stop treating her so differently. Yes, she was still cold and distant for no apparent reason sometimes but…

…she could be warm, and caring, and funny. And they talked now apparently. They had talked before, of course, but that was Miranda giving commands, and Andy replying ‘Yes, Miranda’, and complying. No this was different, which made it so much worse.

It would have been easier to leave, if she wasn’t funnier and warmer, if she hadn’t confided in her, told her about her childhood.

She almost wished Miranda would just stop this, stop it, and tell her again how incompetent she was, how much of a disappointment, and look at her with condescending eyes. Maybe that would make it easier.

No, Andy knew. It wouldn’t. Her heart would break just the same, only a little faster and in tinier pieces.

Chapter Text

“It’s sweet.”, Miranda stated as Andy carefully sniffed at the steaming beverage.

The Christmas market was delightfully empty. Andy had imagined hordes of people, so many you couldn’t walk without bumping into anyone or being bumped into. That’s what she had heard about New York’s Christmas Markets, at least. Maybe it was also because it was the 26^th and most people were at home with their families.

No, this was pleasant. There were a few people, small groups or pairs sauntering slowly across the marketplace, or gathering around one of the many tables for some food or drink and a chat.

Just as they were doing now.

Miranda had insisted on some mulled wine, especially when she had heard Andy had never tried it before and had immediately made a beeline for the closest stall that sold some.

Blue eyes were intensely focused on her, as she watched Andy take her first sip.

It was still searingly hot, but she thankfully didn’t burn her tongue despite it. Sweet was an understatement. It tasted like melted sugar with a bit of juice and cinnamon. Andy loved it and told Miranda as much, who literally beamed at her as if she had been the one to invent the drink herself. Andy took another sip to hopefully calm the butterflies in her stomach and give her traitorous mind something else to focus on.

“You know, you really don’t need to bend to the whims of every child you meet.”, Miranda watched her over the rim of her mug as she took a sip herself. The statement came so out of the blue that Andy needed a moment to make sense of it.

“He asked so sweetly, though. And he was so excited.”, or she was just a big softy in the face of adorable children.

“Nevertheless. It was completely reckless. You could have a broken wrist now and then what would we have done.” Theywouldn’t have done anything. It would be Andy’s broken wrist, but it wasn’t broken anyway, so why did Miranda dwell on it? It wasn’t even her right one so she would still be able to write and make phone calls and do her job.

Both took another swig. Andy’s mug was already half empty, or still half full? Whatever, both. It was delicious, though.

“Anyway”, she stalled, looking for something to say. “Do your sisters have any children I need to avoid later?”

“No.”, she looked at Andy. No, it felt different. She looked right through her, her gaze unfocused, her mind seemingly absent for a moment. Andy frowned and finally the older woman’s eyes sharpened again. “No, they’re all at least 20.” She emptied her mug swiftly. “I’ll get you another one.”

Andy looked down, into the deep red liquid sloshing inside the ceramic. She still had plenty left, when she looked back up not a second later Miranda was already ordering.

“You need to try this.”, she put a second cup and a little pie shaped thing in front of Andy. “Mince pie.”

Her blue eyes sparkled.

“Your mom is cooking. Should I be eating?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andréa. You can’t come here during Christmas time and not have a mince pie. Eat!”

Andy drained the remainder in her first cup and then carefully took the little pastry in hand and took a bite. It was sweet as well and tasted very Christmassy, of oranges and nutmeg.

“This is incredible.”, she said taking another bite. “Do you think I can get this in New York?”

Miranda giggled - giggled!!! – obviously delighted. “I’ll get mum to send us some next year.”

Oh, Andy felt light-headed, and Miranda’s increasingly more British sounding accent wasn’t helping either. To be an Us with Miranda Priestly was all Andy had ever hoped for.

Not an Us like the one in Everyone wants to be Us. No, an Us as in My mother will send Us this incredible pastry in a year’s time because I like you so much, we’ll still be in contact, despite you not working for me anymore.

It wasn’t meant like that, of course. But it was easy to forget with how light and warm she felt at that moment. Almost tipsy-

“Is there alcohol in this?”, she was already well halfway through the second cup.

Miranda smirked. “It’s mulled wine, what do you think.”

Okay, yes, this was probably, most definitely Andy’s fault. But it was so sweet she couldn’t really taste the alcohol, and for some reason she had assumed it was a few juices, warmed up and a couple of spices mixed in.

And to think how quickly she had ingested it; or Miranda for that matter, who seemed a bit more gone than Andy felt.

It was already three o’clock, they needed to go back soon. Oh, God, she couldn’t meet Miranda’s siblings while intoxicated, even if only slightly. She’d make a fool of herself.

“Relax, Andréa. By the time we get home, you’ll feel right as rain. It’s not as if we drank extraordinary amounts.”

She didn’t feel right as rain when they made their way back. And neither did Miranda apparently. A tipsy Miranda was…well, she was captivating, all giggly and smiling all the time. They truly hadn’t drunk that much so it wasn’t like they couldn’t walk straight anymore; however, it was as if a barrier that Miranda always kept between her and everyone else had been lowered a great deal and Andy could see what the other woman would be like if she didn’t feel like she had to be the one in control all the time to make things run smoothly.

They took forever to get home. They were talking so much, that every few steps one of them had to stop to really underline a point they were trying to make. And so, a twenty-minute walk took nearly one and a half hours.

It was already getting dark and the fairy lights that decorated every other widow illuminated the neighbourhood. It reminded Andy of the street she had grown up on before her parents had moved. She sighed.

“What is it?”, Miranda asked and gently bumped into her side. Andy shook her head.

“Nothing, just- just thinking about my parents, I suppose.”

The older woman didn’t reply but she looked at her in that way that told Andy she was listening if she wanted to talk. She sighed again.

“They never wanted me to come to New York, did you know?”, of course, she didn’t. “Actually, they never wanted me to get a degree in journalism, which they never fail to remind me of, by the way. According to them I should have studied law and then, at some point taken over my dad’s law firm. But I was stubborn.”

Miranda snorted quietly and Andy involuntarily had to grin.

“Anyway, so I study journalism and I come to New York with my boyfriend, and I get a job at Runway.”, she looked at Miranda, her blue eyes already on her, glistening in the warm glow of the streetlamps. “Since that day, everyone has constantly been telling me to quit, that I’ve changed, that I’m not the Andy they know and love  anymore and-”, her eyes stung. She couldn’t cry, she wouldn’t. She hadn’t so far, and it’s been weeks, months. She wouldn’t! Instead, she cleared her throat. “So, then me and Nate broke up before we left for Paris and he told my parents, told them about our fights and disagreements.”

“Twat.” Andy quirked her lips, already feeling slightly better.

“Yeah, well. I have talked to them twice since then. The first time ended with us screaming at each other over the phone and the second time they called was to tell me that they’d go visit my sister over the holidays. Which was their polite way of saying I’m not invited.”, she shrugged. “It’s for the best, really. I wouldn’t want to have to hear them complain about everything regarding my life for two weeks straight.”

Neither of them said anything for quite some time, but Andy didn’t regret telling Miranda. It had felt good to talk about it. Usually, she would have talked to Lily about things like this, but that obviously wasn’t a possibility anymore.

As they were five more minutes away from the house, Miranda spoke up again, her voice soft.

“If your parents or your friends don’t accept you for who you are, Andréa, then they don’t deserve you. I know this is such an overused pep-talk quote, but I mean it.”, Andy felt warm fingers ghosting over hers before Miranda intertwined them fully. The brunette faltered a bit in her step. “I hope they’ll come around eventually, for your sake. But there will always be people that love you just the way you are.”

Andy looked to the ground and could feel hot tears leaving trails down her cheeks. She wasn’t even sure if she was crying for the seemingly unsalvageable relationship with her parents, with her friends or if it was because Miranda, of all people, had somehow found the most comforting words for her already beaten heart. Miranda didn’t say anything, just kept holding her hand and Andy fell that little bit more in love with her.

The unfamiliar cars parked in the yard told Andy everything she needed to know once they had made it back. Cringing, she went inside after Miranda, and they discarded their shoes and jackets in the closet in the hall.

“You must be Andy.”, a blonde girl was leaning against the doorway, grinning impishly, and switching her focus between Miranda and Andy. “Nan told us all about you. I’m Sophie. You’re really pretty, by the way, I can’t believe Auntie Mir actually landed you.”

“Sophie!”, Miranda hissed dangerously next to her.

“What?”, the girl asked in mock offence. “It’s true. You always go for boring old men. And did you know-“, her eyes concentrated back on Andy. “they barely treat her with respect, let alone seem to love her and yet she always settles for the first one that comes along that isn’t too dreadful to look at.”, resolutely she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Well, that’s changed now, obviously.”, she smirked, and Andy could feel her cheeks burn.

Miranda muttered a disbelieving ‘oh my God’ under her breath and brushed past them into the hall and towards the living room, Andy presumed. “Helen!”, came a shout not a second later. “Get your daughter under control.”

Sophie snickered.

As it turns out, Miranda had four older siblings, three sisters and one brother, Paul, who lived in New Zealand and thus couldn’t attend Anne’s small Christmas get-together. Which wasn’t actually that small, with all the husbands also there.

Miranda’s oldest sister, Sarah, looked so much like Miranda that Andy almost sat down next to her instead of the Editor on two different occasions. The only difference was the hair, while Miranda’s was short, Sarah wore hers in a low bun, with curtain bangs framing her face very stylishly.

Diane and Helen on the other hand looked a lot less sharp compared to their sisters, no pointy chins, cheekbones of ‘normal’ height and warm, inviting green eyes.

All three women were really nice, greeting Andy with hugs and bright smiles. The brunette couldn’t quite believe how accepting Miranda’s entire family had been towards her so far and she knew, if the roles were reversed and it was her own family meeting Miranda, things would have not gone quite so smoothly, especially not at the moment.

They all had a great time catching up and chatting about everything that came to mind. Andy noticed the effort they made to include her into the conversation, and she appreciated it greatly. Even Miranda seemed relaxed, she had offered Andy a glass of white wine earlier, but she had still felt a bit hazy from the mulled one at the Christmas Market and had declined. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the drink anyway.

“Mir, Soph, come help me, please.”, Anne called from the doorway and her daughter and granddaughter followed her dutifully into the kitchen, leaving Andy on her own with the rest of Miranda’s family. She was tempted to follow but felt too awkward to get up after a minute had passed.

Suddenly all the attention was focused on her as if they had just waited to get some time alone with Andy. Why was this family so set out on making her feel trapped every chance they could possibly get?

“Andy.”, Sarah smirked and looked so similar to her youngest sister in that moment, it was almost frightening. “Let me just tell you how glad we are to finally get to know you.”

“Yes.”, Helen agreed immediately. “We could hardly believe it when mum called and told us Miri dumped that prick. What was his name again? Sven?”

“Stephen.”, Andy provided dumbly but didn’t correct that it had been the man in question himself who had sent the divorce papers.

“That’s the one.”, the oldest continued. “I don’t even know why she married him. We told her from the beginning, but I’m sure you know how stubborn she can be.” Andy nodded as if on autopilot.

“And now she brings you.”, Diane smiled gleefully. “It seems she is finally allowing herself to just be…well, herself. Of course, we all knew, though she never said a word. But as a sister you just know these things.”

Andy felt like her brain was slowly dripping out of her nose. She had a hunch on what they were referring to but didn’t allow herself to actually believe it. She certainly wouldn’t ask, suddenly afraid to learn that Miranda might not be as straight as she had believed which meant she was simply not attracted to Andy, not interested in her.

Because if Miranda Priestly was actually interested in women, Andy didn’t know what to do. Before, she had barely known how to act around her. Of course, she had indulged in the odd (or rather very frequent) ‘what-if’, but those were fantasies, Andy lived on fantasies. She could very well spend her days interpreting all of Miranda’s actions to fit those fantasies, but at the end of the day she had known that’s all they would remain. This would make it real, or at least it would give Andy’s  brain the excuse to believe it was, when it most definitely was not.

And Andy wasn’t sure her already more than confused mind could handle real right now, in any case. Not with Miranda so close, day and night.

“And as a sister I also have to tell you, as much as we like you, if you hurt her, we’ll come all the way to America and we’ll find you and you’ll wish you had never been born.”, Helen smiled sweetly and even her voice sounded gentle, which told Andy that she meant it. She really did!

Andy gave her a strained smile in return, and she thought about the time, in the very near future when Miranda would have to call and tell them they had broken up and then Andy could only hope she would even get to witness the next Christmas.

“Calm down, dear.”, Sarah took a sip of her wine. “We know you would never hurt her.” Well, that was awfully reassuring.

And with that, this particular conversation was concluded.

Soon both Miranda and Sophie returned, and Andy had never been so glad to see her before. It must have shown on her face, as she frowned down at her while settling back on the sofa.

Andy immediately grabbed onto her hand, they needed to be believable, now more than ever. And she also needed the support right now. Miranda didn’t seem to mind, for once.

During dinner, the possibility of going out to eat the next evening was discussed and Andy almost offered to make a reservation, out of habit. Her hand had twitched towards her phone in the pocket of her trousers, but she could stop herself in the last second.

Now was really not the time to flaunt her exceptional skills as an assistant, no matter how efficient she was at getting a table at last notice, even though the restaurant was supposedly booked out for the next two months.

Afterwards they all went back to the living room, this time including Anne as well, who settled with a book into one of the armchairs and seemed exceedingly content to have all her daughters in one place.

“-so we basically have a whole new room now. I now can’t stop clearing out the house. I think Dan is concerned we’ll have no furniture left soon, right, love?”, Diane turned to her husband as they sat down, who only nodded with a tranquil smile. “Anyway, long story short, look what I found.”

She wrestled two enormous books out of her bag - not designer, as far as Andy could tell. Miranda didn’t seem to care – and Helen chuckled mirthfully.

“Are those Mum’s old photo albums of us that mysteriously vanished years ago?”

Diane grinned apologetically and nodded. “Andy come over here.”, she patted the seat next to her and opened the album while giving Miranda a wicked look. The Editor looked back angrily, the fire already burning in her eyes. Andy didn’t dare move an inch.

“Diane!”, she hissed, her voice dangerously low. “Don’t!”

“You’re cute, when you get angry, Miri.”, Diane chuckled, clearly not at all bothered. If Emily, or Nigel, or any Runway employer had been here now they’d probably fall into a coma or something, with how quickly Miranda gave in to the whims of her sisters. As the youngest of her family, Andy could relate very well.

Diane suddenly settled in-between her and Miranda and gave them a grin that probably meant something like ‘problem solved’ and opened the album. Miranda huffed, annoyed.

On the first page were five similar grey-scale pictures of naked babies.

“That’s Mir.”, Sarah, who was leaning over Diane’s shoulder pointed to the last picture on the page. “No one knows why we had to be naked for these, but I suppose we’re pretty adorable.”

Andy tried to glance over to the Editor, who was apparently drowning her feelings on the situation in more wine, her cheeks tinted a faint pink.

The next picture of Miranda appeared three pages later. Andy listened to them debate whether she was three or already four years old in it, in any case she was the most charmingly sweet  child Andrea had ever seen. Her opinion was completely objective, clearly.

“Oh, there you had discovered my mascara for the first time.”, Sarah snickered, pointing to a picture of a 14-year-old Miranda, smiling brightly at the camera with heavily accentuated eyelashes, blonde hair reaching down past her shoulders.

“You’re really pretty.”, she blurted before her brain even registered, she wanted to say it. She instinctively bit her tongue.

“Isn’t she just.”, Helen smiled, and Diane flipped the page. Miranda remained silent and Andy didn’t have the guts to glance over, too afraid to find disgust or revulsion reflected on her gorgeous features.

More pictures followed, Miranda in her school uniform, Sarah’s wedding, Diane’s prom and high school graduation, Helen holding a bouquet of flowers so big it nearly covered her entirely.

“I think that was when- eh, what was his name…anyway that was the day he invited me to the school formal.”

Andy noticed, as they delved further into the depths of the photo album that there were increasingly less pictures of Miranda to be found, which made sense, she supposed, if Miranda had left at 15. Leaving home at that age, Andy couldn’t even imagine it. She had cried an entire afternoon when she had left for college, and she had known where she was going, she had had a plan, at least for the following three to four years. Miranda had been a child still, with no concrete plan for her future, barely any money, and no adult to fall back on should something go wrong. The mere idea made her shiver.

“Oh, that’s when you got transferred to New York, right?”, Diane asked. The picture in question portrayed a now much older Miranda, maybe around Andy’s age, maybe a few years older, clad in a beige trench coat. The photo had been taken in the midst of Miranda hailing a cab, her lips stretched into a happy smile.

She couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have known Miranda at that age, when the older woman had still seemed to smile that much more freely, without the weariness of two unsuccessful marriages drilled into her. Would she have liked her? Andy wasn’t even sure if Miranda liked her now. She would have answered that with a definite ‘no’ only two weeks ago, now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe they were, or could be in time, something like friends. Andy could learn to live with being friends, anything so she could see her again after she would inevitably have to leave Runway pretty soon.

“Yes, that was the first time you came to visit me.”, Miranda sounded almost accusing, but as it was the first thing she had said since Diane had revealed her find, her voice just didn’t have that particular Miranda-edge to it.

So, in conclusion, Miranda had always been pretty, as a child, as a teen, as an adult. It was unfair, quite frankly, everyone should have an awkward phase at least once in their life, but of course, that didn’t apply to Miranda Priestly, who seemingly became more beautiful with each year that passed. Like fine wine, Andy mused, and watched the object of her every affections empty her glass.

Soon thereafter they all said their good-nights and retreated to their rooms for the night.

“They’re all really nice.”, she was sitting up in bed and listened to Miranda brushing her teeth through the open bathroom door. She came to stand in the doorway not a second later with the toothbrush still between her lips.

“Mhh?” Andy grinned. This was all veeeery domestic and she would soak it in as long as she could.

“I said, they’re all very nice.”

Miranda disappeared again, rinsed her mouth according to the sound, and reappeared a second later. “Annoying, that’s what they are.” She turned off the bathroom lights and sauntered over to the bed. “I think they made it their life’s mission to torture me.”

“Yeah, well, my big sister once locked me in a closet and told me she’d only let me out when I give her ten dollars. How would I even get the ten dollars, I was locked in a closet.”

“When I was five, they told me I was adopted because I was the only one who didn’t have red hair.”

Andy snorted. “Classic.”

They settled into bed before Miranda turned off the big light as well and the darkness descended upon them. Andy stared at the ceiling; she really needed a new hobby.

“Are you and your sister not close?”, Andy frowned. Why did she think that?

She turned to her, looking at her curiously.

“Only because you said your parents went to visit your sister and- I assumed that meant…”

“No. I mean, we aren’t like, super close but…she’s my sister. It’s just- she just had a baby, and I didn’t want to be in the way, you know. Especially with that thing with my parents, I don’t know, the baby can probably pick up on the tension.”

Miranda looked at her in the dark, her eyes somehow still brilliantly bright despite there not being any source of light. They roamed over Andy’s face, taking in, seeing. Miranda’s hand found hers under the covers and Andy realised it was the fifth time today they had skin on skin contact. Opposed to the first few times, the younger woman didn’t feel nervous anymore, she felt secure, sheltered, and wasn’t that a far more dangerous thing to feel?

They simply looked at each other for some time, their slow breaths mingling in the very limited space between them, and their hands firmly clasped together. Andy tried to fight against the weariness, but her eyes were already fluttering shut and every time she dragged them open it cost her increasingly more energy.

“Sleep well, Andréa.” it came as a whisper. Andy fell asleep with a peaceful smile on her lips and feeling more at home than she had in a long time.

Chapter Text

It was still dark outside when Andy woke up the first time. She felt hot, sweaty and a bit disoriented and it took her a full minute to realise the reason she couldn’t see was because Miranda’s hair, short as it was, was blocking her vision. She had been right; it was unbelievably soft against her cheek, and she wondered what it would feel like gliding through her fingers.

They might have fallen asleep holding hands, but this was a lot more than holding hands. Miranda had her entire body wound around hers, her right arm curved around her waist, her hand lying flat on her back, possessively. Their legs were tangled together, so much so that in her hazy state of having just woken up Andy could barely tell where Miranda’s started and hers ended. Thankfully the older woman was wearing long Pyjama bottoms because she couldn’t guarantee for anything had she felt the naked skin of Miranda’s thighs against her own. She felt flushed, nonetheless.

 Clearly having moved quite a bit during the night, they were now sharing Andy’s pillow and Miranda’s duvet; where her own had gone to, she had no idea and no desire to find out. She could take feeling hot and sweaty any day – or rather night - if it meant waking up to Miranda looking like that, soft and warm and tranquil. She could feel her own heartbeat against her ribcage, but surprisingly, she felt calm and even dared to snuggle a little closer and inhale the intoxicating smell that was distinctly Miranda and clean cotton. It worked like a sleeping pill and Andy was out like a light not a moment later.

When she woke for the second time, it was light outside, and the other side of the mattress was once again vacated. Feeling the sharp stab of disappointment right under her ribs, she got ready and went downstairs, already sensing that today wouldn’t be a good day.

She should maybe consider a career in fortune telling instead. Miranda was on edge the whole morning; Andy was slowly but surely getting tired of the roller coaster of emotions the Editor subjected her to. Only mere hours ago they had fallen asleep hanging onto each other’s hands in hopes of reciprocal comfort, and now it was like the previous day had never happened, like Miranda hadn’t held her like…well, like that just this night. Andy hoped Miranda simply wasn’t a morning person and decided to overlook the older one’s grumpy mood. After all, it had been just the same yesterday and yet, at the end she had felt closer to her than ever before.

After lunch Miranda and Sarah excused themselves and said they would be going outside to run some errand for a while. Andy was glad she didn’t have to join them, despite offering. Naturally, she was curious what they were doing, today of all days, but it wasn’t worth enduring Miranda’s sulking to find out. Instead, she stayed back, looking at the second photo album Diane had brought with Sophie, Helen, and Anne.

There were a few more pictures of Miranda, but she was older and didn’t smile as much anymore. One Andy liked particularly much depicted her with long wavy hair and, to Andy’s astonishment, wearing a cerulean blouse. She grinned secretively while Anne told her the photo had been taken the last time, she had visited Miranda in Paris, which must have been well over 20 years ago.

“Here.”, Anne gently plucked the photo off the paper it was glued on. “Keep it if you want. You’re right, she looks lovely in this.”

Andy took it, brushing her finger over the yellowed paper carefully. She suddenly felt relieved, even if after all this, after she will have said goodbye to Runway and Miranda, there would now always be a very tiny part of the older woman with her. She gratefully smiled at Anne.

Sarah and Miranda returned around two hours later while her and Sophie were huddled together at the corner of the dining table, drinking tea, and talking about the younger one’s university experience so far.

“…and I’m thinking about switching to English Lit. Linguistics is fine but it’s just not what I love about the subject, you kno-“

The front door closed with a bang and Sarah strode into the room looking exasperated.

“Where are the others?”, she asked with a deep, frustrated sigh.

Andy and Sophie both shrugged. They had lost sight of them a while ago. The house was big enough for that to happen, it seemed.

“What’s happened? Where’s Miranda?”, Andy stood up, suddenly anxious.

“Nothing’s happened, that’s the thing. Everything was fine and suddenly she goes off like a firework.”

Sounds about right.

“She’s been in a bad mood all day.”, Andy agreed. “Where did you go?”

Sarah shrugged. “Just shopping.”

“Ah.”

“They didn’t have the colour dress she wanted. It was fine and she bought a different colour and then twenty minutes later she insists on going back because everything is ruined anyway, whatever that means. Always so dramatic, that one.”, Sarah rolled her eyes and vaguely waved her hand, dismissively.

“I’ll go talk to her.”, it would probably be the last thing she ever did, but so be it. She was already half out of the job, anyway and she was done with Miranda’s bullshit, acting like that because she couldn’t get what she wanted. The realisation that she was in love apparently did wonders for her confidence, ironically.

Andy climbed the stairs, hands sweaty, and knocked on the door before entering. When she saw her, Miranda only huffed in annoyance and continued to rearrange the insides of the wardrobe, it seemed.

“The incompetence of some people, really.”, she started without Andrea even having to have said a word. “I specifically called beforehand and requested it in mahogany. They give me maroon. And then- and then they have the audacity to tell me that red is red, that it’s all the same. To my face, Andréa, can you believe that.”

Andy thought back to the cerulean monologue during her first month at Runway (which of course made her think of the picture that was securely hidden in the little side pocket on the inside of her suitcase) and immediately felt bad for whatever poor retail worker had to endure the wrath of Miranda Priestly.

“I can call and check if they have the dress at a different store, if you want.”

She was glad Miranda couldn’t actually breathe fire; however, it was a close thing with how she was looking at Andy right now. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say; the older woman was practically seething, her nostrils flaring, hands balled into fists at her sides, shaking with anger. She remained silent though, and instead continued to burn holes into Andy with the intensity of her eyes, teeth clenched.

“Or…is there anything else I can do?”

“Don’t be stupid!”, she spat. “What do you want me to say? ‘Your job’?”

Andy’s jaw dropped. Of all the things she could have said, it had to be this. She wasn’t even sure if Miranda knew she was quoting herself, if she did then what was her point? That she was upset that Andy had actually done her job in Paris when Miranda had asked her to do exactly that after she had offered…whatever it was she had offered that night. That didn’t even make sense. She sometimes really wished she had a dictionary on Miranda Priestly, maybe that would help her understand what the other woman was getting at.

“I really don’t know what your problem is, Miranda. I think you need to calm down for some time.”, Andy hissed, turned around and left the room, leaving Miranda to mope around some more, if that’s what she wanted to do.

Whatever was wrong with her, Andy really didn’t understand it, no matter how much she racked her brain about it, turned the events of the last 36 hours over in her mind, she just couldn’t come to a conclusion. Maybe it was just Miranda being Miranda and she was really just upset about that stupid dress not being crimson, or whatever color she wanted it to be. But she needed some time away from her, her words and actions were just too hurtful, and Andy’s befuddled mind just couldn’t take it at the moment. It was like being on vacation with two completely different people, the Miranda who could be so kind, offering words of comfort, touches of comfort, and the other Miranda: Runway-Miranda, Dragon-Lady-Miranda, ‘La-Priestly’-Miranda. Of course, she was head over heels for both of them, but the latter just reminded her that she was, after all, just the assistant. It was true, she was just that, but it hurt, nonetheless.

Sophie seemed to notice that their talk had not gone well and suggested going for a walk to clear their heads. Andy was internally grateful for the distraction.

And it did actually help, she felt a lot calmer after nearly two hours of just aimlessly walking around and talking. Sophie was kind, and approachable, and not at all like her aunt.

And most importantly, she didn’t ask any questions Andy didn’t have answers to either.

“We should go change. Mum said we’ll leave in an hour.”, Diane said in lieu of a greeting when they returned.

“Wear this.”, Miranda all but flung a piece of dark green fabric in her direction. It was a dress, the color so dark it was almost black. When Andy lay it out on the bed to look at it in more detail, she noticed the thin silver belt around the cinched-in waist. It was gorgeous.

She had planned to wear one of her own dresses, a beautiful Chanel piece Nigel had given her, that she had saved up for a special occasion, but she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to argue right now. And the dress was beautiful, of course it was, if Miranda had chosen to bring it.

They got ready in silence, the argument from earlier still hanging heavily in the air between them. Well, Andy would definitely not apologize first, there wasn’t even anything she could apologize for. However, she knew Miranda, and so she knew the older woman wouldn’t do it either, so this was probably going to be another never-talked-about thing between them. Andy sighed, exhausted. Why could no interaction with Miranda ever be easy? She blamed her treasonous heart for making her life so difficult.

“What about the Paparazzi?”, she asked quietly while closing the leather strap of her heels around her ankle.

“What about them? Am I not allowed to go out with my family?”, Miranda retorted snappishly. Andy rolled her eyes and was glad Miranda didn’t see her do it.

“That’s not- of course you are, I just mean- maybe I should stay here.”, she had thought about it since the suggestion had been made yesterday, actually she had thought about it since they had left New York. Miranda wasn’t officially divorced yet, not for a long time and Andy was her assistant. Technically these things wouldn’t matter, it wasn’t illegal to get into a new relationship while still in the separation process, and it wasn’t illegal to get into a relationship with your assistant either, but of course the press would twist in into something rather unsavoury, Andy was sure. And Miranda, despite her occasional mood swings, didn’t deserve any more stress on top of everything else.

Miranda stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes twinkling dangerously. “You can do whatever you want, Andréa.”, she feigned nonchalance. “Maybe, while we’re out to dinner you can pack your things and fly back home, while you’re at it.”

“Oh, my God, Miranda. Stop it!”, she lashed out. Had anyone ever told Miranda Priestly to stop? Probably not, judging by the murderous looks she was receiving. “You know what I meant.”

She raised her eyebrows haughtily. “Do I? Because the way I see it- if you don’t want to come because you can’t handle people’s opinions then don’t. But then I don’t understand what you’re doing here anyway.”

Andy sighed, more frustrated than angry. “I didn’t say that at all. I wouldn’t be here if it bothered me, would I? You might want to remember that it was me who actually suggested this whole ploy.”

“Oh, so I should be thankful now?” Sarcasm, of course. Classic.

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what, Andréa?”

Anne called up the stairs. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

Andy looked at Miranda, she stared back, blue eyes dark, cheeks flushed with badly concealed fury. The brunette shook her head, resigned.

“Belligerent.”, and for the second time that day she just left the room, not waiting for a response.

Apparently, no one else was bothered by Miranda’s disastrous mood and just left her to her brooding. Maybe they were used to it, Andy didn’t care. She wouldn’t let her evening get ruined by something like this. Especially not when everyone else was and continued to be so nice to her. They had dinner in a well frequented, nicely decorated restaurant closer to Central London. Thankfully Andy hadn’t spotted any reporters so far, but she also refused to pay too much attention to it and instead focused on the lovely company – Miranda excluded (that was a lie, of course. Obviously, she couldn’t help throwing her the odd glance now and then, just to check up on her). The Editor was listlessly poking around her plate, watching Andy out of the corner of her eyes. Okay, perhaps she was feeling a bit remorseful by now, but Andy wanted a proper apology, even though she knew she wouldn’t get it. She would at the very least need some time.

“Have you been to London before now?”, Sophie asked while impaling a fry with her fork.

Andy shook her hand, swallowing a spoonful of spaghetti.

“Never?”, she sounded almost shocked. “Let’s go into town while you’re still here, I’ll show you all the most important sights and shops and stuff.”

Miranda huffed indignantly next to her. Out of spite alone (and because she actually wanted to get some sightseeing done while she was here) she agreed.

Halfway through the evening, Andy felt her phone vibrate through the fabric of her coat pocket. She ignored it, whoever it was could wait, most likely it was Nigel checking in or Emily asking where she had put the list of skirts they had ordered from Tom Ford before she had secretly flown off to the UK with Miranda.

However, after not even a minute her phone rang again, and then again after another two. Annoyed she clawed it out, just to check and maybe put it on silent.

Mom & Dad (Home)

She stared at the screen, heart beating so rapidly, she could feel in in her throat. Oh, this wasn’t good. This was not good at all. Okay, deep breaths, Andy, maybe they just want to wish you Merry Christmas, yes, that’s it. What else could they possibly want?

Naturally, her brain provided all sort of worst-case scenarios.

“Excuse me for a moment.”, she didn’t even notice that the entire table had gone quiet, and she slowly got up and made her way outside, Miranda’s eyes fixed on her.

Numbly her thumb ghosted over the call-back button, her stomach churning uncomfortably.

The dialing sounds chimed, once, twice-

“Hi, honey.”, she didn’t sound upset so Andy tried to calm her nerves a bit.

“Hey, mom.”

“How was your Christmas? You were greatly missed.”, okay now she sounded sarcastic. Or did she? Andy couldn’t tell anymore, the sound of blood rushing in her ears too distracting. “Listen, darling, your dad and I were so sorry you couldn’t make it home for Christmas.” Yes, because that had definitely been her decision, she thought rolling her eyes. “That’s why we’ll come visit you before the new year, mhh?!”

“Mom, that’s this week!”, Andy rushed out.

“Oh, we know. But you said you didn’t have work.”

She didn’t even know what to say to that. It was true, she had said that. And technically she didn’t have work. But she couldn’t very well let her parents come all the way to New York and be confronted with an empty apartment.

“Andy?”, her mother asked already sounding suspicious.

Silence. Andy bit her lip, frantically looking around as if an answer could be found in the plant pots bordering the door to the restaurant.

“Don’t tell me that nasty old cow has you working despite promising otherwise?”, her mother spat, Andy flinched.

“She didn’t promise anything and don’t call her that.”, Andy protested weakly.

“I’ll call her what I want. And why are you defending her, Andrea? Don’t forget she’s the reason Nate broke up with you.”

“She’s not, mom. I broke up with Nate, it was a mutual break-up, if anything.”

“And we still wonder why, he is such a nice boy. He always supported you, he stayed with you even when you grew distant.”

Andy gasped, shocked. “Why are you siding with him, mom?”

“Because you have changed, darling.  I tell you she is a bad influence, you’re becoming like her, always putting your job first, not talking to us anymore.”

Tears stung behind Andy’s eyes, she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. “I tried talking to you, you just never listen!”

“Don’t blame us, we told you to quit this awful job months ago. And so did Nate.”

“It’s not about the job! Miranda is difficult and has high expectations but that’s not without reason. And besides, this is my life, I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions. Nate and I weren’t meant to be. Relationships end, that’s how the world works. And I want to continue working for Miranda, she’s challenging but that’s a good thing! Why can’t you just support me?”

“Because this is not who you are, Andy. You were always such a nice girl, modest and undemanding and now we barely recognize you. You are losing yourself.”

“No, Mom!”, Andy hissed angrily into the phone, unable to hold back the tears anymore. “I’m not. For the first time in my life, I feel free to do what I want and not what people expect of me.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Isn’t it literally your job to do what’s expected of you? Do you ever ask yourself why Miranda Priestly is divorced twice, why she doesn’t have any real friends. It’s because no one likes her. I bet not even her spoilt bratty children do. And people have already started not liking you either.”

Andy was panting, trying to not let out an audible sob she could already feel making its way out of her throat. “Including you and Dad?”

“I didn’t say that. All I mean is that no one wants anything to do with people like that.” With people like you. “We’re just trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you-”, she stopped for a second, meaning it, but not able to bear the harshness of her own words. “- protecting me. And for the record, mom, I like her.”, and with that she just hung up.

Sick. She felt violently sick. Oh, my God, what had she done? This was her mother, her parents. Her hands were shaking as she raked them through her hair. She felt like the world was spinning, dizzy, and trapped. She needed to run but there was nowhere to go, no escape from the situation. She needed to run; she was alone. Oh, my God, what had she done?

A warm hand touched her unclothed shoulder and she clung to the sensation like a drowning man to a lifebelt. Miranda’s blue eyes appeared in her field of vision, but she could only barely make out what she was saying, muffled by the sound of her heartbeat. Her lungs burned as she tried to inhale.

“Andréa, do you hear me? Come on, breathe in—and out. Do it with me, in—and out. Very good.”

She tried to imitate her, the rushing in her ears slowly subsided and her heartbeat calmed.

“Miranda?”, her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears.

“Let’s get you home, darling.”, she said and gently pushed her towards the car. When they arrived, Andy realized she didn’t remember most of the car ride, she hadn’t spoken and neither had Miranda. She felt even worse knowing that she had ruined everyone’s evening with her emotional outburst, even if she had tried to keep it as private as possible.

She didn’t even know why this particular conversation with her mother had affected her so much, maybe because it felt a lot more final than the ones they had had before. She didn’t know, and she couldn’t think about it now without another flood of tears trailing down her cheeks.

“I’ll just remove your make-up, okay?”, Miranda asked when they were back upstairs in their room. Andy nodded and let the other woman gently grab her chin and wipe a warm wet flannel over her face and neck.

“Will you be all aggressive and mad again tomorrow morning?”, she hadn’t meant to say it, already expecting Miranda’s wrath, but she needed to know. She was too tired for this.

The other woman removed the cloth from her face and just looked at her for a long moment.

“Why are you saying that?”, her ministrations continued.

Andy closed her eyes, they burned. “Seems to be a pattern. You’re so…nice to me in the evening and then the next day- you know.”

Miranda kept the eye contact, she put the flannel on the small table next to them, before reaching out and cupping Andy’s face with both hands. She wiped under her eyes, Andy hadn’t even realised she had started crying again, or continued to.  

“I-“, Miranda hesitated, she looked guilty. “I shouldn’t act like that, I know. I don’t mean to, and I will try-“, she cleared her throat. “I won’t do it again.”

She let go of Andy’s face and stood up. The brunette hadn’t even noticed she had been kneeling in front of the chair she was sitting in. It wasn’t a ‘sorry’, at least not in so many words, but it was Miranda’s way of showing it. Maybe Andy appreciated this even more than she would hearing the words.

“Do you want to take a bath?” Andy shook her head, she felt too exhausted. “Then go change and I’ll call Sarah.”

She nodded and grabbed her pyjamas. Before she could vanish into the bathroom, she turned to Miranda again, who was still trying to find her cell in the vast depths of her Fendi bag.

“Miranda?”, the older woman triumphantly pulled her phone out just in time to shift her attention back to Andy. “Tell them I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Miranda stood up straight, looking slightly afflicted, and shook her head slowly. “No, I am.”

Andy smiled softly, her heart soaring, and she quickly went and changed into her night clothes and brushed her teeth and hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, she winced. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks splotchy, she looked miserable. She felt miserable and Miranda’s apology and her gentleness could only barely elevate her mood.

Back inside the bedroom, Miranda had changed as well and was just putting away her phone again. “They wish you to get well soon, I just said you weren’t feeling alright.”

Andy nodded. “Thanks.” She climbed into bed, wanting to hide under the covers and never come out again.

“Do you want to talk?”

She shook her head, Miranda nodded, and they were silent for some time. She knew the older woman wanted to give her space, but all Andy wanted was to be held, like she had done last night, even if that had been unknowingly.

“Do you want…?”, as if reading her mind, she slightly lifted the edge of her duvet, letting that gesture speak for her.

Andy wanted to cry again, instead she scooted under Miranda’s blanket, abandoning her own. Immediately she wrapped her arms around her, not really caring anymore what the other woman might think; she had offered, after all.

Miranda pulled her closer, slowly stroking her hand over Andy’s back and through her hair with comforting caresses.

“I think I ruined everything.”, she whispered into the crook of Miranda’s neck, where she had decided to hide from the world for some time. It was a good place to do that. The hands on her back stopped for a moment before taking up the gentle touches again.

“Andréa…”, it sounded sorrowful, even mumbled against her hair. Her hand wandered from her back, across her shoulder, and eventually settled on her chin to lift it gently. Andy looked up into Miranda’s face, into her eyes. “You are perfect! Just the way you are!”

Andy swallowed against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her again and nodded, barely noticeable. “You, too.”, it came out as a whisper, and she buried her head in the comfort of where Miranda’s neck met her shoulders again. Despite the proximity, she didn’t notice how Miranda’s breath hitched in her throat and her cheeks flamed a deep crimson.

Chapter Text

Andy closed her eyes, trying to give them some rest. She herself needed rest, she needed sleep, desperately, but her still dejectedly clouded mind wouldn’t give into what she required most right now.

They stayed silent; silence with Miranda wasn’t uncomfortable like she had once believed. She remembered the day Miranda had allowed her to ride in the elevator with her for the first time and she had tried to make conversation in a desperate attempt to not let awkward silence settle between them.

It was different now, and that elevator ride felt a lifetime away. Runway felt a lifetime away.

“The dress.”, even Miranda’s softspoken voice sounded somewhat blaring in the silence only a completely empty house during the night could provide. Andy hummed softly against the soft skin of Miranda’s throat to make the older woman understand she was listening. It took a long time for her to continue, and Andy was already half assured that that was all the “explanation” she would be getting, despite it not explaining anything. “I realised last night that you came here during Christmas when you could be in New York enjoying your free days.”

“I like being here.”, Andy interjected quietly, and she felt a gentle huff of air ghost over her cheek, Miranda chuckled softly.

“Be that as it may, you gifted me with your presence, with agreeing to help with…my mum, and I noticed that I haven’t even given you anything in return.”

“You don’t need to; I don’t expect anything in return for…anything. Everything I did or agreed to is because I want to do it not because I feel obligated.”

Miranda ignored her admission. “I know Bottega Veneta has this dark red dress in their collection this season. Actually, they made it in three different shades of red: maroon, sangria and…mahogany.” Andy tried not to gasp out loud as it slowly began to dawn on her what Miranda was trying to tell her. “I think you would have liked it, the design. The shoulders have this gold detail that look really elegant in contrast with the-“, she stopped herself. Andy grinned.  “Anyway, the mahogany would have been per-…the best for your complexion and hair colour.”

Miranda’s words felt like a soothing balm on the tiny cuts in her heart. The older woman had gone out of her way, made her way probably all the way across London on her own (okay, admittedly she had had her sister with her, but the point was that she had gone herself, not ordered anyone to get it for her) just to buy a dress for Andrea she thought would look good on her, had chosen it probably with the same care she chose models, and designers, and locations to be featured in her magazine. Only this time her careful consideration would have not been for the whole world to see; it would have only been for Andy. And all that simply to thank her for playing along to keep her mother happy.

Andy had already forgiven her, even before she had heard the apology tumble from Miranda’s lips earlier. She knew she was too quick to forgive, and she didn’t care one bit, because Miranda’s agitation had not been due to her but on behalf of her and wasn’t that a revelation.

“Thank you, Miranda.”, the other woman hummed softly in return, and Andy felt the vibration of it in her own chest. “And thank you for the dress, I like green.”

“It’s Phthalo.”

Andy snorted quietly. “Phthalo, then.”

She was a bit nervous the next morning, not sure if Miranda would keep her word of not giving her the cold shoulder. She had seemed earnest, Andy wanted to believe her, and she did, but there was this teeny tiny crumble of doubt gnawing away at her.

They had moved apart a few inches during the night and they were now laying back-to-chest, rather than the way they had fallen asleep, chest-to-chest. However, Andy’s arm was still lazily dangling over Miranda’s waist and hips, her fingers almost unintentionally ghosting over the exposed skin where her pyjama top had ridden up a bit.

The older woman stirred awake, slowly turning in the embrace to lie on her back and Andy watched with bated breath how her blue eyes fluttered open and eventually focused on her. Now that they were so close and it was light, Andy noticed for the first time that Miranda had a bunch of tiny freckles lightly dotting her nose and cheeks. The same cheeks that were now faintly dusted pink.

Miranda is blushing, right in front of you!!!, her brain provided helpfully. Yes, probably because you still have not removed your hands from her body. She quickly pulled them away.

“Have you been awake long?”, not her just-woken-up voice again, Andy groaned internally. She was glad she was already lying down; her legs felt a bit like jelly, which may also have very well been partly due to the nerves still coursing through her from the previous night. She shook her head.

“Are you feeling better?”

Andy smiled and Miranda’s lips immediately followed suit and copied the expression. Andy’s heart did a few somersaults inside her chest at the sight. She wanted to take a picture and glue it into her own photo album, together with the photo Anne had given her yesterday.

“Yeah, a bit.”, Miranda nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Then she got up, a cold waft of air disturbed the warmth that had accumulated under the duvet and Andy shivered slightly.

“I’ll…eh- I’ll get ready. Stay in bed for a while longer…if you want to.” Before the brunette could reply she had already locked the bathroom door behind her and turned on the shower.

Thankfully Miranda’s family didn’t ask any questions apart from the obligatory ‘How are you?’, and neither did they treat her like fragile china about to break, which Andy was more than glad about. They didn’t have any plans for the day, so everyone decided to do their own thing for a while. Miranda suggested reading (or working, in her case) for a while and Andy agreed, happy to be able to rest for a few more hours, still not feeling quite right in her own skin.

Apart from them no one occupied the living room except for Sophie, who was, for some reason, sorting through the old vinyl records that were filling more than two compartments of the bookshelf that was taking up an entire wall of the room.

“Auntie Miri, do you know if Nan has a record player somewhere to play these?”

Miranda had just put on her glasses and opened her laptop and notebook. “I’m not sure, Dear. Maybe upstairs in the attic.”, she murmured, her mind already halfway at Runway.

Sophie got up and swiftly sprinted up the stairs, before Andy walked over to the mess she had left and looked at the albums still lying on the floor, ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, Simon & Garfunkel. She put them back down - Sophie had probably sorted them in a specific order – and instead started to look through the hundreds of books that were available for her to read. It took her a few moments to roughly scan over the vast selection before her eyes latched onto a copy of Little Women and she gleefully sat down next to Miranda, already reading the first page. Not a minute later Sophie stomped down the stairs again and re-entered the room with a very dusty and very old looking record player, which she then tried to get to work for some time.

Reading turned out to be a difficult feat that day and concentrating even more arduous; she just couldn’t seem to be able to focus, every time she tried the words somehow got away from her and after finishing a paragraph, she had to admit to have no recollection of what it had said. The conversation with her mother yesterday was too recent and too hurtful and she had already spent an entire night not thinking about it.

She hated fights in general, she hated fights with her parents even more. This didn’t feel like a fight anymore, this felt like a battle she was losing, or her parents were losing, and she wasn’t even really sure what they were fighting for, or about.

She had already lost her friends, she would lose Miranda soon as well, albeit for a different reason. Sure, she could probably rely on Nigel, maybe even Emily to meet up for the odd drink, and she would most likely make new acquaintances wherever she would end up. At least, that’s what she hoped. Or, maybe her mom was right, and no one wanted anything to do with the person she had become over the last few months. But Miranda liked her, she was pretty sure, and her family did too.

No, she wouldn’t let her mother guilt trip her into regressing into Old-Andy, the one who always aimed to please others, who always put herself second. She liked who she was now! Miranda was right.

Miranda…

Andy glanced over to the older woman, who was now completely immersed in her work, scribbling down ideas and dates and whatever else into her notebook. The sun filtered through the tall widows giving her an almost ethereal glow and Andy was captivated. She observed the muscles in her right arm tense and relax with every stroke of ink she was putting on the paper, her chest rising and falling gently with every breath she took and her blue eyes glinting with the focus she always regarded her work with.

“Andréa.”

“Mhh?”

“Do you remember if Patrick has already confirmed for the March Issue?”, Miranda kept looking at her Laptop. The forelock of her silver hair had fallen over her left eye and Andy wished for nothing more than to comb her fingers through it and push the strand behind her ear. The knowledge of how soft it really was residing in her brain didn’t help the tingling in her fingers either.  Miranda was mesmerising and Andy was mesmerised.

“Andréa?”, suddenly those sharp eyes turned on her. Her brows pinched together in confusion. Andy startled, her cheeks heating and she bit the flesh on the inside of her lip in embarrassment. Their newfound closeness was no excuse to shamelessly ogle the older woman, she reprimanded herself.

“Sorry, what? Patrick? Yes, he did confirm. Mario, too, for April.”, she rushed out.

Miranda nodded and actually murmured a very quiet ‘thank you’.

They had leftovers for lunch, as Anne always seemed to cook for a whole school class, instead of the ten people present. But Andy couldn’t complain, it wasn’t any less mouth-wateringly delicious a day later.

“Any plans for today?”, the oldest Priestly woman asked between a bite of roast potato and a piece of broccoli.

“Helen, Sarah and I might go into town.” She regarded Miranda. “I know you two already had your fill of Christmas Market shenanigans a couple of days ago, but you can come too if you want.”

“No, Andréa and I already have plans.”

“We do?”, she asked dumbly and then had to witness all four sisters raise their perfectly manicured eyebrows at the same time. Spooky! “I mean, we do.”

“I think I’ll just stay here with you, Nan.”, Sophie interjected and saved Andy from any more awkward, and slightly judgmental silence.

“Wear these.”, Andy was handed a pair of sleek black leather gloves, Gucci. She quickly put them on; fortunately, they fit perfectly.

They left 20 minutes after the others, Sophie waving them off with a meaningful smirk on her lips. Once outside, Andy was glad for the added warmth around her hands, it was even colder than a few days ago when Andy had almost lost a couple of fingers due to the freezing temperatures.

“Does she know where we’re going?”, she took another glance back at the house and then looked at Miranda, waiting for an answer.

“Sophie? No. I don’t know what’s got into her today. She has these moments sometimes.”

“Okay…. Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Miranda pursed her lips, shrugging dismissively. “No. You’ll see.”

They walked down the, by now, familiar street and past the small park they had visited a few days ago. Andy wondered if they were, after all, joining the other’s at the Christmas Market when they kept on the same path they had taken the day before. When the town square already came into view however Miranda changed directions, turned onto the wide road to their left and-

Andy faltered in her step. They were heading directly towards the tube station. She quickened her pace to catch up again and was even more flabbergasted a minute later when Miranda actually, actually, took the stairs down.

Andy raked her brain if she had ever even so much as heard about Miranda taking the subway, or any form of public transport but came up empty. When the older woman then produced a little blue card out of her wallet, which indicated that she took the tube regularly when visiting her mother, it nearly sent Andy into cardiac arrest.

If she was honest, she didn’t quite understand how to navigate through the awfully ventilated tunnels and of course Miranda didn’t explain, she probably thought of it as common knowledge to be aware of such things. Or she was trusting Andy to understand solely on the premise that she knew how to manoeuvre New York’s equivalent, and she had struggled with that too when she have first moved there.

They took the Northern line northbound, Andy was pretty sure, and then changed onto the Central line about 30 minutes later. They didn’t speak a word the whole time, which was partly due to the sometimes ear shattering sounds of the train wheels meeting the rail and partly…Andy wasn’t sure, but she had herself convinced by now that Miranda was nervous.

She didn’t shake, or breathe differently, she didn’t even frown or fidget in some way, but Andy could practically feel it seeping out of her, soaking the entire car in it, so much that Andy nearly drowned in it herself.

Thankfully, after two stops Miranda got up from her seat and strode out the doors without a word. Andy quickly followed before they closed not a second later behind her.

Bethnal Green Station.

Miranda continued her silence; they ascended the stairs together and soon found themselves strolling down the streets of a neighbourhood that could not be more different compared to the one Anne lived in.

After a good ten-minute walk, during which Andy silently thanked whoever was listening that Miranda’s unspoken rule of always having to wear at least four-inch-heels had not followed them across the Atlantic, they came to a stop in front of a red brick building that looked exactly the same to most of the others they had passed.

“Fourth floor.”, Miranda provided with her usual abundance of helpfulness. Andy looked up, following the other woman’s gaze as it was focused on the fifth row of windows from the ground. “I haven’t been here in-”, she stopped and looked at Andy contemplatively, her voice even softer than usual. “I think I haven’t been here since I left.” She said it as if only realising so herself just then.

Andy didn’t respond, feeling like Miranda didn’t need her to say anything right now; that the admission needed to just be out there for a moment without Andy tarnishing it with an answer.

Miranda looked back up again. “I came here with the girls last time. Well, not here, exactly. Obviously. But that was the first time I even visited the area again. It’s different now, I don’t think you can imagine how it used to be, which is a good thing I suppose.” Her voice broke at the end and Andy nearly touched her arm, or her shoulder, or even her hand to comfort her but remembered they were outside, in the open, able for anyone and everyone to see. So, she kept her hands to herself. Miranda cleared her throat, turning away from the house, facing Andy. “How about some tea.” She strode past her, knowing that Andy would follow. She would always follow, if allowed.

She had learned by now that tea didn’t just mean a cup of tea most of the time. Miranda showed her to a tiny café a few streets down, the bell ringing above them as they entered. There were only five tables filling the limited space, but it was cosy, decorated in soft pastels of yellow and blue, nicely contrasting the dark hardwood floor. Surprisingly, two of the tables were already occupied so Miranda chose the one furthest from the entrance and slid into the booth while Andy took the chair across from her. It wasn’t like any establishment she had ever imagined Miranda frequenting, but it suited her. Shed of the designer clothes, instead wearing black jeans and creme turtleneck, she looked…still better dressed than most people, but the differences weren’t so glaring anymore. She looked like Just-Miranda amidst the corny decorations and the odd color choices , not like Runway-Miranda. Andy loved it, loved her.

A stout grey-haired woman made her way through the rows of chairs over to them. She wore a brilliant smile on her lips, her eyes sparkling with recognition upon latching onto Miranda’s figure.

“Miri, I haven’t seen ya in ages. How are the girls?”, she came to stand next to their table and immediately patted Miranda’s shoulder affectionately. The other woman gave one of her very rare full smiles that Andy had only had the privilege of seeing once so far. And just like last time Andy was entranced, completely captivated to the extent that she missed a good portion of their dialogue until it came to introductions.

“Andréa. This is Irene Harrison; Irene this is my-… my Andréa.”

Andy didn’t even have time to let her heart flutter at being called hers, as Irene had already turned to her with that bright smile and greeted her personally.

“Jimmy mentioned ya when he visited yesterday and aren’t ya just cute?”, Andy blushed, not knowing what else to say except that it was nice to meet her. When she had taken their order, which Miranda had decided on, all by herself, she bustled off to prepare it and left Andy and Miranda on their own again.

“Jimmy’s mum.”, Miranda explained. Funnily enough, this was the one time Andy hadn’t actually needed it. “We came her after school sometimes because she would give us a piece of chocolate cake to share, even though I was sure she couldn’t afford to just give it away either. But it’s chocolate cake.”, she shrugged. “And I was a child. What child would say no to chocolate cake.”

Andy chuckled quietly, then her face became earnest again, wanting Miranda to know that she wholeheartedly meant her words. “Thank you for showing me all this. I think I- eh…understand you a whole lot better, now.”

Miranda looked at her for some time, pondering, then urgent as she shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do.”, it sounded almost despondent. Andy frowned. “There’s so much that you still need to know, things that I couldn’t possibly ever tell or explain to you.”

Andy wanted to ask what she meant, wanted her to clarify, to tell her things so she would know. She wanted Miranda to trust her, her request for it already on her tongue. Just then Irene brought their tea, told them the rest would be ready in a minute and then struck up another conversation with Miranda, and Andy lost all her courage.

Once they had their little tray of sandwiches, cakes and scones Miranda didn’t elaborate either and instead demanded Andy try the cake. She did and it was delicious, still warm and the middle so soft it practically melted in her mouth. Savouring the taste, she closed her eyes; if she could she’d come here every day just for this, so it was no surprise Miranda had taken the offer of a free piece every couple of weeks. This cake was to die for!

Miranda was already looking at her when she opened her eyes again, her cheeks slightly reddened. Andy licked her lips to get the last traces of chocolate off and she was almost certain Miranda followed the movement with her eyes; she would have been completely certain if it wasn’t the most impossible thing imaginable.

They ate the rest of their cake and the sandwiches in companiable silence, but Andy couldn’t help wondering if this was all Miranda had brought her here for. Not that she was complaining, had they only come here for the food it would have been completely fine with her too. But Miranda apparently had more to get off her chest.

“It was a really tiny flat.”, she said after a while, Andy chewed and swallowed and then gave her full attention. “It had two beds for six people and as the youngest, and smallest, I always had to sleep at the foot of the bed. Naturally it got a bit more spacious once Sarah and Diane had moved out but as an eleven-year-old you don’t necessarily understand that your sister’s aren’t gone forever, that they’re not leaving you. I was really mad at them for a while and when they came to visit to tell us they were expecting babies, which happened just a couple of weeks apart from each another, I didn’t even say anything. I just left and came here to calm down. At the time I really couldn’t fathom what was so great about a baby that they would leave me for it.”, a self-deprecating chuckle left her lips. “What a selfish thing to think even as a child.”

“No!”, she cut in immediately and was taken aback for a moment by the force she had uttered the word with. “No, I don’t think that’s selfish. They were there all your life, and in such close proximity as well and then from one day to the next they were gone. Of course, at that age you wouldn’t understand why. When my sister moved out and got married, I was 17, and I was sad too, and a bit angry. I suppose it’s normal to feel that way.”, she shrugged, and Miranda gave her a small grateful smile.

They let the topic rest for some time and instead focused on their scones while Miranda explained the controversy of whether to put the creme or the jam first (“Of course you put the creme first, Andréa. We’re not heathens.”).

Afterwards they sipped the remains of their tea, Miranda paid - Andy had offered to but was quickly shut down with a single, all-saying glare – and left a generous tip. After saying their goodbyes to Irene and a promise to return soon they were sauntering down the street again.

“I used to take this exact walk to and from school every day. It’s bizarre how different it all looks now with gentrification and property prices surging the way they are. I remember you couldn’t leave the house without encountering a few completely wasted people trying to sell you drugs.” Miranda caught her incredulous expression and snorted. “Relax, Andréa, I didn’t accept any. It hasn’t been like that for a long time, or do you see anyone here trying to sell you something they have no doubt cooked up in their own basement.”

Andy shook her head, no. Besides, the streets were mostly empty, except for the occasional dog-walker, or courier. They walked past a fenced-in building, built from the same red brick as the one they used to live in and Miranda explained that she had gone to school here, she didn’t say anymore after that, and they kept walking.

She wondered why Miranda was willingly showing her the part of her life she had admitted to despising so much, to never talking about. She wondered what it could possibly be that she didn’t know, when she was quite literally standing in the remains of Miranda’s childhood. And she wondered what made her different to have gained this privilege, maybe the other woman felt awkward having seen Andy in such a vulnerable moment the previous night, that she thought she needed to give something of herself as well. However, that didn’t sound like the Miranda Andy knew at all. Yet, there were quite a lot of things she had believed Miranda to be that had turned out to be far from the truth. She really needed to stop putting people in boxes so much.

Miranda looked at her watch, it was barely four but had already started getting dark, the joys of winter.

“I think that’s enough for today.”, she mused, looking around with the expression of someone leaving an ex they didn’t love but would always care for. Andy supposed she understood. Then Miranda’s focus shifted back to her. “Home?”

Andy smiled and nodded. “Home."

Chapter Text

“Did you like the tea?”, Miranda turned back to her while unlocking the door. It was now completely dark, and Andy wanted nothing more than to get her shoes and jacket off and warm up a bit. The door opened with a click.

“The tea or the food?”, Andy was never sure what was actually meant when people here referred to tea. Sometimes it seemed to simply mean the beverage, sometimes it meant tea plus some very delicious baked goods like they just had an hour ago, and other times it could mean lunch or dinner. It was all very confusing.

Miranda chuckled lightly, obviously sensing the mountain of confusion underneath her question. “I mean the tea.” She hung up her jacket and then proceeded to take Andy’s as well and put it on the hanger next to hers. “It was different to the ones you had before, more citrussy. I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice the lemon drops.”, she gave her a pointed look that made Andy grin sheepishly and blush. It was true, lemon flavoured candy was her favourite, she had a whole bag of them in the upper drawer of her desk at the office, and maybe sometimes – just sometimes – she indulged in one when the day was particularly stressful. Sue her.

“Oh, you’re back.”, Sophie greeted them in the hall with a wide grin that immediately made Andy suspicious. If she knew anything about the Priestly women, it was that they all had a mischievous streak that had been passed down to the next generation in quite a dangerous capacity.

“So, we are. Your mum’s not back yet, I take it?” Sophie shook her head. “Let’s hope they even find the way home. The three of them put together are incorrigible. Did you get the record player working again?”

“Running as smoothly as a baby’s butt.”, she grinned, gazing after Miranda, who probably went to see for herself. Andy meant to follow but was abruptly stopped by a hand closing around her wrist. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Sophie whispered.

Huh? This was almost more cryptic than Miranda’s instructions when she wanted her to get something, like ten or 15 skirts from Calvin Klein for instance, but God forbid providing any more information. The whole family seemed to be strictly against that sort of thing.

Andy huffed in confusion. “What am I doing, exactly?”

Sophie raised her eyebrows the way only someone with her gene pool could, still grinning. “Why are you two saying you’re together?”

Andy spluttered. “Ho- wha- no! I mean, what do you mean? We- you know, we are together. Yes, very together.”, she tried for a casual shrug and failed miserably, which just intensified the wicked glimmer in the younger one’s eyes. Great!

“You’re such a bad liar, Andy. It’s a miracle you have all the others fooled.”, she chuckled. “You know, there is way too much pining going on in your face when you look at her.”

Andy gasped confounded. “There is not! Do you think she noticed?”, she turned her head to check Miranda was not suddenly standing behind her. What would be worse than her having seen the apparent longing on her face was hearing her niece and Andy talk about it, or more like whisper about it. But thankfully no sight of the older woman, the only thing that could be heard was the soft melody of Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce wafting through the air. Great, this gave this whole situation a nice melancholic twist as well, she thought sarcastically.

“I hope she did. It’s honestly pitiful to watch.”, Sophie shook her head disbelievingly and Andy suddenly felt a strong need to strangle her so she would stop.

“You can’t, under any circumstances, tell her. I mean it! Please, Sophie.”

Back was that irksome grin. “I won’t. That’s why I’m talking to you.”

Andy regarded her for a long moment, not quite trusting her to keep her word, then she nodded. What choice did she have but to trust her? Exactly, none.

Sophie then went to join her aunt in the living room and Andy followed on shaky legs. The older woman was sitting by the record player, on the floor!!, and looked through the seemingly endless amount of vinyls that Sophie hadn’t already selected from the shelf.

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

Oh, this was just cruel at this point. Someone up there definitely had it in it for her. Whoever it was, she decided to ignore their mockery and instead tried reading the book she had chosen earlier, for some time. Or at least pretend to read while she inconspicuously watched Miranda and tried to make sense of everything she had learned and seen today of the other woman. So much had changed between them in the course of just a couple of days and she could not even imagine going back to New York. She had thought about it and would probably hand in her resignation the first day back at the office, which would mean she’d still have another two weeks to get through from that point onward.

Would Miranda go back to treating Andy the way she had before they had come here? To her, it felt like something so fundamental had shifted between them that one could not simply ignore it or reverse it, but that was her point of view, her opinion on the situation, and she had no idea how Miranda thought of it, of her. Maybe she had shown and told her all these things about herself because she would be rid of her in three weeks’ time anyway and could then pretend Andy had never existed. Simultaneously, Andy was scorched forever; she had unwillingly given her heart to the other woman, who now held it in her hands unknowingly and would inevitably let go without even meaning to and shatter it into a million tiny shards that not even the best, most powerful glue could put back together again.

As Miranda changed the record, Andy caught Sophie’s eyes over her shoulders.

“Auntie Miri?”, she kept eye contact with Andy, grinning. The brunette nearly died on the spot, no doubt just a minute away from having a heart attack. She repeatedly mouthed No! Please! and You promised hoping to somehow just get her to stop speaking, but to no avail.

“Mhh? Yes, dear?”

“Did you know…”, oh, this was torture. She could at least rip it off like a band aid now, get it over with. She was so screwed. Why was she even waiting? She should just go upstairs and pack her things before Miranda could do the honours of putting her in a cab with a mildly disgusted, and partly woeful expression while asking how Andy could have ever even thought she was actually interested in her, that their little scheme had gone to her head and that she needed to cool off for some time back home. “Did you know Andy and I planned on doing some sightseeing tomorrow. Do you wanna join?”

Okay, now she would actually strangle her. She’d sneak into her room during the night and just put her hands around her neck and squeeze, just a bit to make her scared, maybe so much that her voice was hoarse, and she wouldn’t be able to talk anymore for a few days, problem solved.

She wouldn’t do that of course, but sometimes her brain just liked to imagine. She had no control over it, really.

“If Andréa doesn’t mind.”, instantaneously two sets of eyes were focused on her. She swallowed hard, her pulse still so rapid, she could feel it beating in her throat. She shook her head.

“That’d be nice.”, she croaked. No, it would be hell. Sophie would not give her a minute rest, she was sure.

Just then the three oldest Priestly sisters stumbled in through the front door and eventually came into view in the doorstep to the living room, giggling.

“You three had fun, I see.”, Miranda grumbled loftily, as if she hadn’t been in the same predicament not two days ago. “Where did you leave your devotees?”

“Pub.”, Sarah stated plainly, speaking over her sister.

“Yeah, you missed out.”, Helena giggled while trying to hold Diane upright. “Anyway, we’re gonna put her to bed, she doesn’t hold her liquor well.”

“Evidently.”, Miranda replied, watching them leave with badly concealed mirth.

Sarah and Helen returned alone a few minutes later, already seeming a bit more put together. Helen flopped down on the sofa opposite Andy, while Sarah gracefully lowered herself into one of the armchairs.

“So, what did you do today, children?”, the latter asked, looking between Andy and Miranda. The younger opened her mouth, ready to recount the day’s activities but Miranda beat her to it.

“I showed Andréa how to properly have tea.”

Okay, then. She clearly didn’t want her sisters to know what they had done, or rather where they had gone, if the speed by which she hurried out the words was anything to go by. Andy pressed her lips together into a thin line and simply nodded instead. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw how the tension automatically left the editor’s shoulders.

“Oh, yes. I suppose you don’t do that in America, do you.”, Helen pondered.

“Not really. At least not like that. We do drink tea, though.”

Miranda huffed, unconvinced. “You can barely call that tea. You probably heat your water in a cup in the microwave.”

“Excuse me?” She gaped, slightly offended. “I do own a kettle; I’ll have you know.”

“Alright.”, Miranda’s perfectly manicured hand waved her off, dismissively. “Then you’re the exception.” Of course, Andy’s brain chose to take that statement completely out of context and decided to make her heart flutter a little despite its actual meaning.

“Besides I’ve never once seen you request tea over coffee. It’s always a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot. Every morning.”

Miranda’s eyes shimmered perilously, but when she spoke there was no bite to her words. “And now think long and hard about why that might be.”

“What’s that album called again? It’s The Doors, right?”, Sarah interjected and thus ended their tiny quarrel.

“Strange Days, I think.”, Helen provided, apparently also not caring one bit about their dispute about tea. “Miri got it from that girl in school. What was her name again? I’m so bad with them.”, she shook her head and looked up at the ceiling, her head leaning on the backrest of the couch.

“Didn’t you have a crush on her for ages?”, all eyes focused on Miranda who instantaneously blushed furiously.

“I- No! I did not.”, she stammers out clumsily – a word Andy would have never associated with Miranda before, but her usual elegance seemed to have evaporated in the face of face-heating embarrassment. “She was a good friend, nothing more.”

“You spent every waking minute with her.”

“Okay, now, that’s not true at all. What about Jimmy, mhh?” Miranda was slowly but surely losing her composure, and Andy really didn’t want to be the one to have to clean away the remains once she inevitably exploded.

“That’s different. You were friends.”

“Oh, he and I can be friends, but Suzanne and I must be in love. That’s ridiculous, we were friends. Best friends if you will.”

“Yes, keep telling yourself that. At one point you talked about her and nothing else for about a month.”, Sarah pointed out flatly.

“How would you know? You were rarely even there!”, she spat and got up from the floor, clearly livid. Andy watched the scene unfold. She was there, in the room, but her consciousness felt like a thousand miles away, her limbs numb. “I’ll go and have a shower to hopefully wash off all these ridiculous fabrications your bored, old, dusty minds come up with.” She strode out of the room gracefully, chin high, which had a lot less impact wearing pink, stripy socks instead of her five-inch heels.

Helen sulked. “Who is she calling old? She’s only two years younger than me.”

After exactly 32 minutes, in which Andy had an internal debate with herself on whether to follow Miranda or give her some space, especially in case she actually wanted to shower, Sarah and Diane had apparently sobered up enough to go annoy their mother, who was trying to solve a crossword puzzle at the dining table.

She took it as her cue; now or never. Thinking about Miranda’s assurances from the day prior, she felt only minimally anxious as she climbed the stairs. How could it be that in the four days they had been here so far, she had ascended these exact stairs with the same feeling of dread at least once each day? That was absurd, but it was the Miranda-Effect apparently.

She entered their room quietly, it was empty. The bathroom door was shut so either Miranda was still in there or she had decided to find a different corner of the house to mope about in.

A few minutes passed in silence before Andy heard the hairdryer howl to life in the en-suite, confirming Miranda’s whereabouts. Trying to kill some time, she fist changed out of her outside-jeans into a more comfortable pair, and then decided to tidy up a bit. There wasn’t anything to tidy up, really, she would never even think about leaving her dirty clothes in a pile on the floor or the armchair in Miranda’s presence. But it couldn’t hurt to put away some of the bits and bobs that had accumulated across the room during the past days. Like that dark red sweater Miranda had lend her the first day; Andy put it back on Miranda’s side of the closet. Or the gloves she had given her just this morning, which she put on Miranda’s bedside table as this was where the older woman had abandoned one of her scarves as well.

Behind her the bathroom door opened, she had been so absorbed in her self-allocated assignment that she hadn’t even noticed the glaring silence of a suddenly shut-off hairdryer. Andy turned around and almost chocked to death on her own saliva. Miranda came out of the bathroom, wearing a grey robe and nothing else, her collarbones and parts of her shoulders exposed. And, oh God, Miranda had definitely not expected to encounter Andy, the robe was so loosely tied around her waist that she could see nearly all the way down her breastbone, the thin material of the silk fabric leaving very little to the imagination. Fuck.

“Andréa!”, Miranda panted, startled and Andy could practically watch her blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck and …further. She clamped her mouth shut, the sound of her teeth colliding loud in the eerily quiet room as she snapped her eyes up to meet Miranda’s.

They just stared at each other for a few minutes, chests rising and falling in sync, trying to remain calm (and clearly failing) and in Andy’s case also trying not to take a look again. As if reading her mind – and Andy really fucking hoped she couldn’t – Miranda’s hands rose to her chest and readjusted the fabric. Fuck.

Another minute passed in silence. Why was no one talking?? Then Miranda licked her lips, pink tongue darting out just the tiniest bit and leaving them glistening in the dim light of the lamp above. Andy nearly requested they open a window, not because she felt like someone set her on fire, which she definitely did, but just so she could stumble, fall out and release herself from this hell. Who in the world would present Miranda Priestly to her looking like that and tell her she wasn’t allowed to touch. She felt a bit like Eve with her apple right now. Except that she would not have a taste.

Finally, Miranda cleared her throat, grabbed her Pyjamas from where they were neatly folded on the bed and basically fled into the bathroom again, probably needing a pause from Andy’s no doubt predatory gaze. Andy opened that window after all, needing a bit of fresh air to clear her mind and cool her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut but of course the first image her back-stabbing mind provided was of Miranda wrapped in a bit of shiny silk and nothing more.

Oh, fuck.

Thankfully, when she saw Miranda again, this time the real one, not the one her mind so helpfully conjured up, she was covered from head to toe, the only things visible were her face and her hands but Andrea was sure her brain could also craft something nice with only that. It was official, she had completely lost it.

“Have they stopped their…”, Miranda waved her hand vaguely through the air, fingers fluttering. She didn’t finish the question, clearly still embarrassed. Though whether the cause was their encounter moments ago or her sisters’ teasing, she wasn’t sure about.

Andy chuckled, or tried to, to lighten the mood a bit. It didn’t work. “Miranda, it’s no shame to have had a crush.”

“Well, I didn’t!”, Miranda sniffed and perched herself on the edge of the bed, her eyes avoidant.

“Okay. That’s okay.”, she said calmly, trying not to agitate the older woman even more than she already was. It didn’t help. When their eyes eventually met Andy could admit that she had never seen so much uncertainty reflected in the blue of Miranda’s.

“I’m not…I’m not…”, her hands raked through her freshly washed hair, dishevelling it completely in the process, and came to rest over her eyes, the heels digging into the sockets with frustration. She looked so much like a sad puppy that Andy almost laughed if it hadn’t been so disheartening to witness. “I’ve tried so hard, Andréa. Exclusively dated men all my life, even married them, had children. That’s what I was supposed to do, what people expected, and I did it.”, eyes red, no make-up, but no tears yet. Paris. Andy carefully sat down next to her. “And all this just for them to…to…and they think it’s funny.”

A few stray tears trailed down Miranda’s cheek and she quickly wiped them away.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s pathetic, this is really nothing to be upset about.”

Andy gently bumped her shoulder against Miranda’s to show she was listening, that she was here. Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining. No, not Paris at all.

“You know,”, Andy started softly. She absentmindedly wondered how the tension in the room had managed to change so quickly. “You are allowed to be sad sometimes, and you are allowed to show it, to feel it. There is nothing that’s too insignificant to be allowed to have feelings about it. It’s not pathetic, or ridiculous. And this is something to be upset about, for sure. Playing pretend your entire life? That must be so exhausting, Miranda.”, she looked at Andy now, her eyes and cheeks wet from silently crying. “And I hope you can stop pretending one day, accept yourself, be yourself. Because…you are perfect just the way you are!”

Her own words echoed back to her was apparently all it took. Miranda let out a tragic, little sob and leaned into Andy the moment the brunette comfortingly put her arm around her back and shoulders.

What was it about this place that made them both so emotional?

For some time, they just sat there, in each other’s arms. Miranda sniffles sounded around the room a few times, but otherwise they were silent. Unfortunately, the window needed to be closed again before they froze to death and while she was up, she handed Miranda a tissue from the box on her bedside table. Miranda took it with a thankful smile as Andy sat back down.

“I’m bi.”

“By what?”, she asked dully while wiping her nose.

“Miranda…”, this time Andy actually rolled her eyes for the other woman to see, but she wasn’t actually that annoyed. Miranda snorted, already looking slightly more cheerful.

“All that choice and you settled for that cook. I’m disappointed, Andréa.”

“Hey! He is nice…was nice. Whatever.”, her protests weren’t even half-hearted. Why defend him? They may have fit together five years ago, both still in college and green behind the ears but that was a long time ago now. “My interest lie somewhere else now, anyway.” And why was she saying that? As if Miranda couldn’t see through her in a second; she needed to stop oversharing all the time. Or she would think Andy was coming onto her, taking advantage the moment, she had been brave enough to share something like that with Andy.

“Ah, Sophie, yes. I suppose she’s not the worst choice, however, she’s my-”

“Wait, wait, what? Sophie?” When had Andy ever given the indication of having even a vague interest in Miranda’s niece. That was absolutely absurd. She pondered for a second whether letting Miranda think it was true would somehow make life easier for her but came to an opposing conclusion.

Miranda’s eyebrows rose in obvious confusion. “Yes, you seem to like each other, you’re the same age-”

“She’s a child”, Andy interrupted for the second time in not even a minute.

“She’s 21.”, Miranda shrugged.

Andy just stared at her, mouth opening, and closing, and opening again. Finally, she somehow found her voice, shaking her head resolutely. “No, definitely not. We’ll never talk about this again. This is ridiculous.” Miranda didn’t press it further. For now.

However, a few hours later, when Andy had already drifted halfway off to sleep Miranda apparently wasn’t ready to let the topic rest quite yet. Evidently, she had to have one last life-changing conversation in the dark each night before being able to sleep. Andy would have gladly taken a few paragraphs of Harry Potter tonight.

“You never said.”, her voice was smooth, and she could feel the soft perspiration brushing over her cheek. Andy opened her eyes, Miranda was already looking at her, studying her the way she was prone to do, only this time not assessing her clothes or her choice of jewellery. It was intimate.

“Said what?”, Andy whispered back, not sure if she hadn’t just lost half the sentence to her sleepiness.

“Who it is you’re interested in.”

You, you infuriating woman. She almost said it just so she could finally close her eyes and sleep. On second thought, such a revelation would have made sleep even less likely. She yawned instead.

“Someone super attractive, they can be quite assertive most of the time but that’s part of their charm. I haven’t known them for long, only a couple of months, but I feel like lately we’ve been bonding a lot. Oh, and they’re really intelligent, which is always a plus.” She closed her eyes again, hoping that had satisfied Miranda. She knew she was really testing her luck right now, maybe weariness made her more reckless.

Miranda was silent for a long while and for the second time that night Andy was so close to paradise a.k.a. sleep, when she was pulled back to the land of the awake, once again.

“Why aren’t you spending your Christmas with them, then?”

Scratch that last part about intelligence.

“I’m here.”

“Yes, but you could-”

“Sleep, Miranda!”

Even with closed eyes she could feel the other woman’s gaze still on her, before she turned on her back, exhaling deeply.

“Good night, Andréa.”

Andy smiled, satisfied she had had the upper hand for once. “Sleep well.”

Chapter Text

Miranda came out of the bathroom, wearing a grey robe and nothing else, her collarbones and parts of her shoulders exposed. Miranda had definitely not expected to encounter Andy, the robe was so loosely tied around her waist that she could see nearly all the way down her breastbone, the thin material of the silk fabric leaving very little to the imagination.

  “Andréa!”, Miranda panted, startled and Andy could practically watch her blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck and …further.  She snapped her eyes up to meet Miranda’s, dark and heavy-lidded. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…flushed.” She came closer, the lose knot unravelling further with the motion, the fabric covering her chest slipping apart dangerously. Andy swallowed hard, her mouth felt dry, tongue sticking uncomfortably to the roof of it.

Miranda came to a halt in front of her, no, wait, she didn’t. Andy’s knees hit the edge of the bed and she slumped down on it, Miranda towering over her with a sensual smirk. She tsked, wiggling her pointer finger in front of her face a few times.

“Haven’t people ever told you it was rude to come in without knocking.”

“I didn’t-“

“No, no, that wasn’t a question.”, her hand hooked under Andy’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Her thumb gently stroked over her lips. “You really are an acceptable assistant, maybe I should reward you.” Andy’s breath hitched. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Andréa.”

As usual it wasn’t a question. Andy couldn’t answer, anyway. Even if she wanted to, and she tried, no sound came out.

“Don’t think I don’t notice the way you look at me. You’re not exactly inconspicuous, but then again, no one is. They all want me.”, her grin was sharp, devoid of any warmth. Miranda leaned down and Andy had to fight every urge to not pull back, an impossibility in any case as the older woman still had a firm grip where her hand had shifted from her chin, along her jaw and was now holding her in place by her nape. The short nails scraping lightly, tickling just beneath where her hairline started. “It’s pitiful really, the things you are willing to do for me. There is nothing you wouldn’t do, is there.”

Andy obediently nodded.

“And what would you do if I gave you what you most desire, mhh? Would you stay? Work for me? Serve me? Forever.”

She nodded again.

“Oh, cheap.”, Miranda raised her eyebrows but didn’t look particularly surprised. Andy also didn’t point out how her offer was just as cheap. She didn’t say anything, just endured the painful stab in her stomach mixed with the distinct tug of arousal, a blend that only made her feel more confused.

“Take that awful shirt off, Andréa.”

Andy complied, then watched Miranda’s sharp azure eyes take her in, evaluate her; she pursed her lips. Catastrophe.

She reached out, nonetheless, grazing her collarbones with a featherlight touch, her shoulders, she toyed with the lacy hem of her bra. So light, it was a mere promise of touch.

“You should be grateful I took a chance on you. Do you really think you could make it anywhere without me.” Her hand finally pressed against her sternum, pushing her back, back, further back until she was lying flat, legs still dangling over the edge. Miranda followed her suit, lying down next to her, her head propped up on her hand as she looked down at her. She continued the exploration of her body, fingers tracing down the valley between her breasts. “You’re obsessed with me.”, the air of a whisper ghosted over her ear, Andy shivered. Miranda’s hand trailed down, thumbing the button of Andy’s jeans, and Andy let out a demeaning whimper.

The button was undone, and Miranda’s hand cupped the wet heat between her legs, stroking two fingers unceremoniously through her drenched folds.

  “Oh!”

 Andy gasped loudly, rapid heartbeat, her hair sticking to her forehead and throat. What was that? She looked around the room, it was dark, Miranda asleep next to her and thankfully no sign of that goddamn robe. She breathed in and out deeply a few times, needing to ground herself, to remind her it had only been a dream. She dreamed about Miranda often, her life essentially revolved around the other woman after all. And even if she wasn’t close physically, she was always on Andy’s mind, even during the night. And of course, she had had ‘wet dreams’ about her; she remembered the first time vividly, she couldn’t quite meet Miranda’s eyes for an entire week without an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks and stumbling over every second word.

But this? This was like some erotic fantasy weaved around the very specific structures of her personal nightmare. Her panties were soaked, she could feel the slick wet heat coating her inner thighs, but her eyes stung with unshed tears and her heart, although now a bit calmer, felt all the more confused for it.

She carefully slid out of the bed, tiptoed over to the bathroom, and closed the door as quietly as possible behind her. Her face was still flushed, her pupils still dilated somewhat. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling repulsed and ashamed. It was one thing to dream of such things when in the privacy of one’s own home, but it was quite another to do it while the person was lying right next to you, unaware. Andy knew that she didn’t really have any control over what she dreamt about, yet still felt terribly guilty.

She splashed some cold water on her face and neck.

Besides Miranda would never act like that if she found out, Andy tried to assure herself. Well, of course she wouldn’t try to sleep with her, but she would also, most importantly, not humiliate her in that way. Right? No, she had changed, they had both changed. She would never treat her like that anymore. Right? She never really had, nor had she ever held such an opinion of Andy. Not even at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. She had always though her to be intelligent, clever. Right?

She paced the small, tiled bathroom floor, taking deep breaths and bracing herself to go outside and just go back to sleep. Yes, she could do that! And Miranda would never know anything had happened because nothing had happened. She counted to three and then very, very quietly crawled back underneath the warm cocoon of blankets.

“Are you alright?”, the soft sleepy voice rang through the silence,  starling her so much she almost fell out of the bed again.

“Ye-ah.”, her voice broke despite whispering. “Just needed the toilet.”

Miranda nodded, or Andy though she might have – it was hard to tell in the darkness – and fell right back asleep, Andy spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, wide-awake. No, Miranda wasn’t anything like that.

Andy skipped breakfast, saying she wasn’t really hungry as she had eaten so much the day prior. Instead, she lazed in bed for a good portion of the morning, then she took a shower and slowly got ready for the day. She was mostly over her dream, it was only a dream after all, but she had really needed those few hours of Miranda-lessness. Her brain obviously couldn’t handle so much proximity all the time.

A bit before noon Miranda came upstairs again, Andy had just finished drawing on an almost perfect eyeliner wing.

“Are you ready?”, she asked grabbing the scarf from her nightstand.

“For?” Mascara next. Miranda appeared in the doorway, watching her for a second. Andy didn’t look at her. Maybe not quite so over it yet.

“To go out.”, she raised an eyebrow, apparently Andy was being an idiot again. It lacked Miranda’s trademark condescension, though. “Sightseeing.”

She closed her toiletry bag. “Oh…yes. Of course.”

“I don’t have to come. I realised you couldn’t really say no yesterday when Sophie asked.”

For a moment it crossed Andy’s mind to actually agree, she knew Sophie would probably try to get her into sticky situations regarding Miranda all day long. But then again, they were in public and maybe the younger was sensible enough. Besides, she had already forbidden herself from interacting with Miranda for the past few hours and despite The Dream™️ and Andy’s decreasing ability to hide her feelings she wanted to spend as much time with Miranda as she had left.

“Because I didn’t want to. Please, come with us.”, she didn’t care if it sounded desperate.

Miranda exhaled deeply, gave her a small smile and a nod. Together they went down to meet with Sophie, who was already giddily waiting for them by the door, wearing her doc martens and coat.

“Oh, my God! I’m so excited to show you everything, Andy.”, she basically buzzed around them like a bumblebee did around lavender while they put on their own shoes and coats. Once again, Andy remarked how strangely normal Miranda was dressed, in a pair of unobtrusive black slacks, white Levi’s sneakers and another knitted sweater. She wondered how big her closet at home must be to fit all these Runway appropriate clothes AND her more laid-back ones. But then she probably had an entire room, if not an entire floor functioning as her closet.

They were just about to leave when Miranda stopped them.

“Where are your gloves?”

Andy frowned. She didn’t have any and Miranda knew that. She said as much.

“I gave you a pair yesterday, didn’t I?”, she raised her eyebrows, apparently thinking Andy had lost them already, or that she was an idiot as usual, or both. Probably both.

“Oh, yeah. I put them on your nightstand with your scarf.”

The editor tilted her head, okay now that was a crystal-clear sign, she thought Andy was an idiot. But scarves and gloves belonged together, didn’t they? Apparently not in Miranda-World.

“Why would you do that?”, she rolled her eyes but then turned around and went up the stairs herself. Andy stared after her and couldn’t help the warm feeling spreading through her chest. Miranda returned not a minute later with the gloves, giving her a pointed look that meant as much as ‘how can anyone be so stupid and forget something as vital as this’, and then proceeded to manhandle Andy’s hands into a position so she could put them on, herself.

Andy felt like she was about to have a heart attack, apparently no matter how close her and Miranda would become, Andy would never get used to these simple acts of- what? Kindness? Affection?

“There.”, her voice was so soft it almost came out as a whisper; she squeezed her hands lightly, then turned and went out of the door. Sophie caught her eyes and gave her a meaningful glance, followed by a disbelieving headshake after Andy just rolled her eyes at her.

London was beautiful. All the pictures and documentaries she had seen and watched about the city, which were actually not that many, had not lied. Of course, as every city it had it’s less pretty corners but the touristy areas where more than Andy could have ever imagined. And so different from Paris. Paris had been beautiful too, in its own special way, it was the city of love after all, but it had simply not been like in the movies at all; something that would have disappointed Andy more had she actually had the time to properly take everything in and not be yanked from fashion show to fashion show.

They went to see the Changing of the Guards at Buckingham Palace, which, for some reason, impressed Andy a great deal, next was Big Ben, where she took a few very nice pictures, after a little stroll through St. James Park. They joined a tour at the Tower and then slowly made their way to the other side of the Thames, over the Tower Bridge.

Thankfully they stopped for some food then, Andy was famished after skipping breakfast and walking around for the past three and a half hours. Sophie led them to a small restaurant that apparently counted as a hidden gem which only True Londoners knew of. And Andy and Miranda now too, it seemed.

“Should we go shopping?”, Sophie asked between a mouthful of baked potato. Miranda pursed her lips, looking like she had just bit into a lemon.

“Maybe not.”, Andy replied when Miranda simply returned to eating her meal instead of voicing her opinion.

“But you can’t go home and not have been to Oxford Street, or Piccadilly Circus, or Bond Street.”

“We can do that next time, mhh?”, she suggested, knowing damn well there would be no next time.

“You can go without me. Andréa, you don’t need to refuse on my account.”, she said drily.

“No!”, Sophie immediately interjected. “No, I mean…she’s right, we’ll go next time.” Andy was suddenly alert. Sophie was scheming, without a doubt. She narrowed her eyes at the blonde, who just grinned, feigning innocence. Yes, very convincing, Andy thought sarcastically. “Actually, I’ll just need to pop out for a bit, make some last-minute errand. Thanks for the food. I’ll see you at home.” And with that she basically scooted out of the booth in lightspeed, pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks and fled.

Miranda shook her head. “Strange child. I’ll need to have a talk with Helen at some point.”

They finished their meal and paid, or Miranda did, again. When they stepped outside Andy had nearly forgotten how freezing it was and wrapped her coat a little bit tighter around her body.

“If you really want to go, I suppose I could sacrifice myself and come with you.”, they were walking up the street they had come down earlier, headed towards the nearest tube station. Andy watched Miranda from the side for a few moments, then sighed.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t need anything new, anyway.”

A little snorted laugh from Miranda. Great! Her blue eyes swept up and down Andy’s figure and she grinned. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hey! I have gotten better.”, Andy defended.

“Obviously. It can hardly be any worse than all your polyblend sweaters.”, she chuckled.

“Har, har! Very funny. I know now they looked bad. Especially since that day you tore me another one for not knowing the difference between two incredibly similar belts.”, why did her mouth always speak before her brain had thought it through properly. Her eyes widened in shock, and she pressed her mouth shut. She had really been lucky with Miranda’s mood for too long, this was the end. Speaking of tearing someone another one, that someone would be her, now, again.

“Andréa…”

“I’m so sorry, I promise I don’t think that. I learned my lesson. Really!”

“Andréa!”, Miranda sounded…amused? Andy carefully turned her head. A small smile tugged at the older woman’s lips. Okay, so she might live to see another day. “You know that’s not why I was angry with you.”

Andy raised both shoulders sheepishly and nodded, and that was that. Of course, she knew now that Miranda’s problem had not been that she couldn’t pick out the differences between two almost identical belts, but her blatant disregard for the entire fashion industry, that she had seen herself so above everyone else, because ‘why would anyone care about something as silly as that when there were real problems to face?’. She really felt incredibly immature and self-centred thinking about the attitude she had maintained those first few months.

Miranda nodded in return, and they buried the subject.

They made a detour on their way home and picked up some sort of very specific pastry at the closest bakery for the girls who would be arriving the next day; apparently Miranda had promised them. Speaking of the twins, Andy made a mental note to talk to the other woman on how they should approach this pretend relationship between them with the girls so close. They knew they weren’t a couple, after all, which would inevitably lead to quite a few problems, she was sure.

“Here.”, Andy held out the borrowed gloves to Miranda as they were standing back inside, in the hallway. For a few long moments Miranda only looked between her and the gloves in her outstretched hands, looking, for lack of a better word, puzzled.

“For God’s sake, Andréa. Just kee-”

Just then Sophie’s voice rang out from the living room, calling them. She had apparently managed to arrive back at the house before them, despite her mysterious business she had had to take care of. Andy’s tummy churned anxiously; Sophie’s voice had that certain ring to it that just let you know something was up.

They came to a halt in the doorway to the living room. Andy felt too apprehensive to go in any further, especially when she was confronted with the youngest overly bright smile. This was not good at all.

“Since Christmas is over, they had a sale and how could I say no.”, she giggled gleefully. “Look up.”

Oh, no. Ohhhh, no, no, no! She knew what was coming, she knew. Squeezing her eyes closed she tried to will herself away, far away, where no one could ever find her and force her under a mistletoe with Miranda Priestly, who let out an almost inaudible squeak of shock next to her (which was, by the way, the most un-Miranda sound she could think of).

Hoping this was all another bad dream she opened her eyes and dared to look, holding her breath in anxious anticipation. Of course, Sophie had even thought about tying it together with a small red bow, how cliché. But then, this whole situation was one incredibly stupid cliché, something you would only ever find in a very cheap and very poorly written romance novel. And it was her life!

“Remember when we used to do the same thing for Diane to get her and Dan to finally confess their feelings.”, Sarah very unhelpfully provided from where she was sitting in one of the armchairs, reading.

“I’m sure I don’t.”, Miranda sniffed next to her.

“Anyway, come on, guys. It’s bad luck if you don’t smooch now.”, maybe strangling Sophie wasn’t so bad after all. She could survive a few years in jail, she mused.

Of course, they didn’t have to do anything, this was merely one of those absolutely imbecilic superstitions that people apparently still used to torture innocent people like Andy. She observed Miranda out of the corners of her eyes, hoping to get some sort of instruction here on what to do.

Miranda shrugged. “We shouldn’t risk our bad luck, should we?” Okay, how was she handling this so calmly? They were about to kiss and there wasn’t even the tiniest trace of nerves, or even disgust visible on her features, just complete neutrality. Admittedly, Miranda also didn’t harbour the same kind of feelings Andy did for her, so she probably wouldn’t even think about it twice afterwards.

They had an image to uphold, and this presented the perfect opportunity to prove themselves once more. She inhaled deeply; okay she could do it. She could do this, and it wouldn’t ruin her life, this was fine!

She fully turned to face Miranda, heart beating so violently against her ribs she thought it might spring free any second. She was scared, she was excited, she was…drowning. That’s what it felt like, she couldn’t breathe properly, and she was already struggling to stay at the surface of clarity, her mind solely focused on Miranda. Their eyes met and she knew in that moment that she would never be able to go another day without thinking about that particular shade of blue; drowning. Andy’s eyes latched onto Miranda’s lips, which had always reminded her of the color of pomegranate seeds, so red, so delicate, and sometimes, when freshly peeled glistening in the light, inviting to taste.

Miranda reached out, her hand gliding along the contour of her jawbone and Andy was shortly reminded of her dream, when that Miranda had touched her exactly there as well, but this was different. So different. It was gentle, her palm warm, no cruel words parting those perfect lips. She banned any further thoughts about the activities of her brain last night to the deepest, darkest, and most unreachable corner of her mind. She simply couldn’t, and wouldn’t, think about this now. Especially not if this was the only chance, she’d ever get to kiss Miranda Priestly.

None of them moved, too preoccupied with looking, with silently reassuring it would be alright. Andy couldn’t wait, she leaned in closer, took a step forward. Miranda not wearing heels gave her a small, but not insignificant height advantage. Their breaths mingled between them, lips almost touching; it was like nothing Andy had ever experienced before and they hadn’t even kissed yet.

A few rapid heartbeats passed, with them just breathing each other’s air until she felt the soft push of Miranda’s fingers against her nape. It wasn’t forceful, actually it was barely even there and if Andy hadn’t wanted this so desperately Miranda’s touch couldn’t have pushed them together even in the slightest.

And finally, finally, their lips met. It was nothing more than a soft, close-mouthed press and Andy could have lived with that. Would have lived on this single, simple collision for the rest of her life but then Miranda shakily exhaled against her. Her mind barely registered it and yet she automatically opened her own mouth to deepen the kiss, their mouths repeatedly separating and finding each other again, and again, and again. Her hair was gently tugged, guiding her, forcing their mouths to meet, alternating the angle. She needed more, pressing closer, pushing the other woman against the door frame, eliciting a breathy exhale.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, or perhaps they didn’t, Andy’s mind to hazy to focus on anything but Miranda. And she didn’t care, she really didn’t give a flying fuck; all she wanted, needed, was to continue kissing her, forever until they ran out of breath and then she would find a way to live without needing oxygen.

A firm hand on her chest pushed her away and she blinked her eyes open, confused. Anne, poor Anne was standing behind Andy, most likely only trying to enter her own living room and had to witness her own daughter making out with this strange girl she had brought home for Christmas. Andy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she took a decided step back from Miranda and the doorway so the oldest Priestly woman could hopefully just walk past them and never mention it again.

Oh, God this had supposed to have been a small simple peck of lips, nothing more. How had she managed to get so carried away. Well, she knew. Because if the possibility presented itself again, she wasn’t sure she could hold back any more than she had now.

Thankfully Anne only gave them a content smile and joined her other daughters and her grandchild, all of whom were, by the way, starring at them. Sophie, of course, sporting one of her very self-assured smirks.

The warmth next to her suddenly vanished when she turned Miranda had already sprinted more than halfway up the stairs.

Oh, shit!

With a sinking feeling she realized that she had essentially forced herself onto Miranda, pressing her against that door frame, trapping her. Sure, she had reciprocated the kiss, but she couldn’t very well push her away and tell her to stop, then her entire family would have known something was not right. Andy followed her with her eyes until she was completely gone, a door upstairs softly clicking shut, still sounding deafening to her own ears.

“Always so dramatic.”, Helen mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Just doesn’t like PDA.”

They all turned back to what they were doing and ignored Andy. Thankfully! She quickly followed Miranda into their room, apology already forming on her tongue. Miranda was pacing in front of the bed, facing her when Andy closed the door behind her.

“Andréa, I need t-“

“I’m so sorry. I don’t have any excuses; I shouldn’t have done that. I really didn’t wanna force you-“

“Force me?”, she looked baffled.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, you couldn’t really say no…”

“No, eh- no.”, Miranda looked around the room, looking for the right words as if they were hidden inside the closet or behind one of the pictures hanging on the wall, before shifting her eyes to her again. “No, it was…good. I mean- they believed it, I assume.”

“They- eh…”, Andy licked her lips, mouth dry. “They did. Said you didn’t like being affectionate in public…”, she shrugged looking down at her feet, in lieu of doing anything that was less awkward. They were silent for a few moments.

“Well, I don’t.”, Miranda eventually admitted. “Which is why- we should, we need to practice it.”

The brunette’s head snapped up. Maybe she should get examined for a brain parasite or something because she was staring to hear things. “Practice kissing?”

Miranda’s cheeks blushed the color of beetroots. “I know how to kiss people, Andréa!” Yes, clearly!! “Just- we need to look more natural while doing it, obviously. So, we’re not so caught off guard next time.”

What? Next time they were sanding under the same mistletoe again? Alright, she wouldn’t put it past Sophie to absolutely cover every inch of the ceiling in every room in mistletoes, so Miranda definitely had a point.

And she definitely didn’t just agree because she needed Miranda’s lips on hers again as soon as possible. She had only a limited capacity to deny herself, and if Miranda was suggesting it herself, why protest. It was just kissing.

It was a lie, of course. It was so much more than just kissing for Andy, but she would enjoy it while it lasted and try to fix her battered heart afterwards.

Chapter Text

For some reason it was a lot more awkward the second time around. Now that they had planned to do it, it felt far more like a test, like she needed to prove she was good at it, good at kissing, and especially good at kissing her.

It was later that day, after dinner when Miranda suggested now was apparently the perfect time; now, that Miranda looked even more irresistible in her silky sky-blue pyjamas and Andy lacking all sense of integrity wearing hers. They were sitting up, propped against the mountain of pillows, just staring ahead, like they had for the last ten minutes. Andy didn’t want to push Miranda any more than she already had, and Miranda was probably contemplating how to get out of this situation, already regretting her idea.

“So how do you wanna do this?”, Andy mumbled and immediately bit the flesh on the inside of her cheek to refrain from cringing. She dared a small look in Miranda’s direction and was instantly met with one of her signature glares.

“Are you going to ask the same thing when my family is present?”, she snapped, and Andy flinched. In the short time since their Big Fight a few days ago she had gotten so used to Miranda not acting this way, not snapping, not glaring, not making Andy feel inferior that even the smallest return of such behaviour felt scathing. Supposedly they were back to that now, at least for some time. Maybe Miranda was, in fact, nervous after all, despite having seemed so calm and collected when they had actually kissed earlier. Andy wondered what reasons Miranda had to be nervous. Maybe she was afraid someone back home would find out what they had done, that Andy was here. Or people from the press, but Andy doubted wholeheartedly that The Sun or PageSix or some other tabloid had somehow managed to smuggle hidden cameras into the house. But Andy knew fears like these could be irrational.

Miranda rolled her eyes and turned, adjusting her position to fully face her. “Oh, for God’s sake just…”, she grabbed Andy’s chin with her right hand, pulling her closer. She was so caught off guard by the sudden motion, she nearly fell right into Miranda’s lap and that would have been enough humiliation to last her a lifetime.

Andy sat upright again, opening her mouth to ask for further instructions but Miranda had already pressed her lips on hers. This time they would apparently forego the closed-mouth stage and immediately start on the more interesting side of things. Once again Miranda’s hand found its home at the back of Andy’s neck, slowly ascending into her hair, she liked that, liked when Miranda grabbed it like that, held her close. Her other hand wound around Andy’s wrist, holding on for dear life as if she was afraid the younger woman would vanish into thin air if she let go. It was possessive in a gentle way, and despite its simplicity it was the single most erotic thing Andy had ever experiences. And they hadn’t even properly touched at all - kind of pathetic when you thought about it, which is why she simply didn’t. Her one arm trapped by Miranda’s surprisingly strong grip, she used her other one to softly graze along the patch of skin where her neck met her jaw, guiding her with only the barest whisper of a touch.

It was Miranda who deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting almost shyly. And it wasn’t a battle for dominance, it wasn’t heated or hurried in the way Andy had imagined countless times. It was indulgent, slow, sophisticated, despite the nature of what they were doing. A give and take, something Andy had never associated with the older woman before.

She tasted of the cinnamon cookie she had nibbled on after dinner, that, and something simply Miranda.

“Andréa…”, the name was a breath of fog against her lips, drawing Andy in, but Miranda pulled back a few inches, looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes, blinking slowly. She looked like she wanted to say more, pull back further but Andy smoothly slid her own hand into Miranda’s soft silver hair, guiding them back together. Andy felt like her mind was completely blank, but that wasn’t true. It was completely blank if you ignored the fact that it was filled to the brim with Miranda. She was everywhere, the smell of her shampoo clouding her senses, her taste, the way her skin, her hair felt against Andy’s touch; she was everything.

It was only when Andy let out a small involuntary whimper, after Miranda had gently bit her lip, that the older woman pushed back again. Really pushed back, this time. She looked away, her cheeks and neck reddened, lips dark and swollen, chest heaving, and Andy knew she had screwed up again. Kissing was one thing, making noises of pleasure was another.

“Good, yes…”, she cleared her throat, hand combing through her tousled hair to get it to bend into her signature hairstyle again. It only made it worse. “Good. That was -- that will convince them.”, she gave Andy a curt, strained nod and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Andy swallowed hard, the guilt already painfully twisting its sharp blade into her. Miranda watched her attentively, her eyes still dark. She licked her lips, Andy’s eyes flicked down, observing the movement. Starved, is what she felt, though not for food. She wouldn’t need food ever again, now that she knew what it was like to kiss Miranda and to be kissed by her. That knowledge alone would feed her, and yet would leave her longing for more, every second for the remainder of her life.

“Maybe…”, the editor uttered softly. “…a bit more wouldn’t hurt. Only practice makes perfect, or so I’ve heard.”

They leaned in at the same time.

Andy didn’t know how it had happened, but soon they had abandoned the idea of kissing while sitting, instead opting for the far more comfortable notion of lying, with Miranda half on top of her. Andy would be losing her mind if it wasn’t so preoccupied at the moment. Her arm snaked around Miranda’s waist, the motion making her top ride up a bit, Andy’s fingers now fluttering over sensitive, heated skin. Absentmindedly her other hand reached around, hooking a finger in the v- shape of the pyjama’s neckline and popping open the first button, the second, then the third. She knew she was being awfully bold, and Miranda didn’t even seem to notice what she was doing until Andy swiftly turned them around and abandoned her with moisture glistening lips in favour of her jaw, and neck, and collarbone, marvelling at the newly revealed skin under her lips.

Somewhere in her mind very quiet alarm bells started sounding, telling her that she was sailing into waters she shouldn’t even try to navigate. This was definitely breaking Rule Three. She ignored them. Especially since Miranda was making these little content noises that were Andy’s new favourite thing. She opened the remaining buttons, following the path she uncovered with her lips. Miranda’s hands buried in Andy’s hair, holding on to the point of it being almost painful. When she looked up, Miranda’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth agape, panting. Andy’s head swum with desire, she wanted Miranda in a way she had never wanted anyone or anything else in her entire life, it was close to unbearable. She kissed her way back up, gently caressing the perfect alabaster skin that stretched across her ribs, trailing up to play with the edges of the blue fabric that still covered both her breasts, waiting for a reaction, an okay. Blue eyes fluttered open, and with a soft press of fingers against the back of her head, Miranda lay a single open-mouthed kiss against her lips.

“Don’t stop.”, it was a mere breath, but it was enough for Andy, and she delicately pushed the garment from Miranda’s shoulders. She needed a moment to just breathe and take her in, feeling like after all the build-up, the frustration of the past days, weeks, months, the sight of Miranda in nothing but her pyjama bottoms could very well end her right then and there. “Please.”, a soft whimper and another push against her nape, commanding. Andy leaned down again, giving her right nipple an experimental lick, looking up to assess some sort of reaction. The sharp intake of breath spurred her on and she lavished equal attention to both sides, licking, sucking, a few times lightly grazing with her teeth. At that point Miranda had become a whiny mess, chanting Andrea’s name like a mantra, before Andy shut her up with another kiss to the mouth. Miranda reciprocated, like kissing her was the oxygen she needed to breathe, to live; her hands suddenly very insistently pushing up Andy’s own shirt, with a feverish repetition of “off, off, take it off!”

Miranda’s eyes on her naked upper half were intense as ever, glazed, dark with want, but intense, nonetheless. Andy had half a mind to self-consciously cover herself, when Miranda didn’t make any suggestion of wanting to touch, but she had never been shy in the face of new sexual partners before and she wouldn’t start now, not even with Miranda’s comment about her figure from a few months ago jumping to the forefront of her mind. Then finally, the other woman’s long delicate fingers reached out, tracing her flaming skin almost carefully, as if in disbelief.  

“Okay?”, Andy whispered, needing the reassurance as much as she needed to reassure. Miranda only nodded and pressed their bodies together with an unexpected surge of strength. They both moaned into the next kiss, hands suddenly frantically needing to touch everywhere, cover everything. Miranda pushed her back, climbing half on top of her again, her leg slotted between Andy’s own and --

“Fuck! Miranda…”, she drawled, trying to keep her eyes open to not miss a thing, but failing miserably.

“Andréa. Darling.”, her breath ghosted over Andy’s moist lips and the sound of her own name, followed by the endearment falling from Miranda’s tongue in that way nearly undid her then and there.

“Again!”, she sighed instead. “Do it again.” Andy clung to Miranda’s arms and shoulders to not completely lose herself. She repeated the motion, pressing her thigh up against Andy’s heated centre, the layer of cotton shorts not reducing any of the intensity. It felt like she was burning up from the inside, her entire body aflame under Miranda’s relentless ministrations.

“Can I?”, Andy didn’t even understand what she was referring to, had half a mind to simply nod and let her do whatever she wanted. Just then she felt fingers hooking under the elastic waistband of her shorts. Oh. She did nod after all, heart beating in her throat as Miranda pulled the last remaining piece of clothing on her body off her legs and tossed it somewhere behind her, then leaned back to just look again, for a few, seemingly endless moments. The wait sobering Andy’s hazy mind somewhat.

“Beautiful.”, she murmured, stretching for another kiss, this one much slower, much gentler. “So beautiful, Darling.” Andy breathed a small sigh of relief against her lips.

“You too?”, it wasn’t really meant as a question, but Miranda nodded, understanding, and slowly peeled out of her own pants, before giving Andy the same curtesy of allowing to look. And did she look! Something in her had always known Miranda would look just as perfect out of her clothes as she did in them, but the image conjured up in her mind time and time again, could never compare to the real thing. Unblemished, smooth skin, long, delicately toned legs, perfectly rounded ass.

“It’s not --“, a trace of insecurity had sneaked into Miranda’s voice and Andy tried to kiss it away, offer reassurance, but Miranda pushed her back an inch. “ -- not like it used to be, after two children, and…age.” Her nose crinkled in dissatisfaction. “Just so you know.”

“Miranda…” Andy chuckled disbelievingly and finally allowed herself to rake her hand through that silver forelock and push it back, out of her eyes. “You’re perfect.” She leaned in for another kiss. “Perfectly perfect!”

Miranda huffed with incredulous amusement but reciprocated. To prove her point Andy abandoned Miranda’s lips again, even though she may very well be addicted to them at this point and kissed her way down her body once again. Scratch that, she was addicted to every single part of the other woman’s body (and mind). She lightly traced the raised skin of her c-section scar with her pointer finger, keeping eye contact with Miranda to make sure she wasn’t overstepping. When she was sure Miranda didn’t mind, maybe even liked it, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the same strip of sensitive skin. Miranda’s breath came out shaky. “Perfect.”

She then proceeded to kiss Miranda’s sharp hipbones on either side and settled between her legs. Miranda automatically spread them wider, and Andy was sure she nearly lost consciousness. She licked her lips, the heady scent clouding her senses, the pink skin glinting with moisture, inner thighs slick with it; Andy needed to taste, or she might die. She inched closer looking up at Miranda for confirmation. The older woman swallowed hard and nodded, cheeks flushed.

Andy gave a tentative lick, praying she would like it and hoping Miranda wouldn’t notice right away that she had never done this before. Silver hair pressed into pillows with a grunt, and her hips arched towards Andy’s mouth. She tried again, this time more confident. Hands were buried in her hair, something Miranda apparently liked to do very much, and guided her up. Her tongue finding the small, raised nub there, and circled around it, not wanting to overstimulate her, hoping that whatever she liked done to herself, Miranda would like too.

“Shit, Andréa. Fuck.”, and a few other more blasphemous things echoed around the room. “Fingers. Use your f--“, she trailed off, panting heavily. “Please, please.”, was added as an afterthought. Andy complied, inserting a finger, and adding a second one nearly right away when the first slid in with ease. After a few experimental thrusts, she found that it really was close enough to getting herself off, and decided to just go for it, and play it by…ear? She added a third finger, curling them upwards, while continuing her tongue’s movements.

Miranda was emitting the loveliest sounds, her tights trembling around Andy’s head, her hands absentmindedly pushing Andy’s sweaty bangs away from her forehead.

“Andréa…”, it seemed to be her favourite word, with the frequency with which it fell from her lips. “Andréa…I’m goi-- I will…Andréa…”. Andy felt her come, more than she heard it, her inner walls contracting tightly around her fingers. Miranda had retracted one of her hands from her hair to press it over her own mouth, something Andy hadn’t even thought about, she would hate to wake up the entire house, or alert them to their activities in general. Her other hand lightly tugged at her brown strands, demanding the attention of her lips elsewhere apparently. Andy withdrew her own fingers, which earned her a misery filled whimper, and shimmied up where Miranda, looking as content as she had ever seen her, claimed her lips into another bruising kiss, tasting herself on Andy’s tongue. She felt dizzy with arousal and almost sobbed with relief when Miranda pressed her thigh once again between her legs. She let Andy have her way for a few minutes, kissing her neck, cheeks, her lips, flicking her thumb over a pink sensitive nipple again, before her hand trailed down and inserted two fingers without much warning. Andy moaned against the salty skin of Miranda’s shoulder.

“You look so good like this, Darling.”, she whispered, and Andy’s delirious mind barely even registered it. Miranda added a third finger. “So good, taking my fingers so well, mhh?!”

“Yes--, yes.”, she slurred, forcing Miranda into another kiss, sloppy, and open-mouthed, and not at all graceful, but perfect. So perfect.

She pushed her hips down, meeting Miranda with every thrust, thumb coming up to lightly press onto her clit, barely touching.

“Come on, love. I know you want to.”, she pressed down properly now, curling her fingers inside her and hitting that one very specific spot. “Come for me.” And, of course, in the end it was her soft, raspy voice that did it. Andy threw her head back, jaw slack and if Miranda didn’t hold her so tightly in her arms, she was sure she’d just melt into the mattress. Her eyes squeezed closed, stars dancing in the darkness behind her lids. For some time, she just floated there, sated as if she had been starving for months, and finally gotten to eat. She had.

When she came to again, Miranda’s blue eyes were lazed with concern, hands wound around her protectively, and fingers gently caressing her side. “Okay?”, she mirrored Andy’s earlier question. The brunette nodded and smiled contently, and the worry evaporated from Miranda’s features, making room for one of her rare, blinding smiles. At the sight something around Andy’s heart squeezed tightly and a near overwhelming load of affection washed over her; she almost said those three fateful words. She bit her tongue instead and softly kissed the corner of Miranda’s mouth.

They lay there for a long time, holding each other silently, breathing in each other’s air. At some point Miranda put her blanket over them, so they wouldn’t get too cold. Sometimes they kissed slowly, without haste, now that the first, desperate edge had been taken off.

After another two rounds, after which Andy was one hundred percent sure that this was surely not Miranda’s first time with a woman, they felt sticky and sweaty and hungry. Hungry for actual food this time, Andy thought with a smirk on her lips as she followed Miranda into the bathroom. She watched the older woman as she turned on the faucet and added of lavender smelling bath salts to the rising water; she really had a great ass.

They lounged in the hot water for a good while, Andy gently washed Miranda’s shoulders and back with one of those very expensive, very soft sponges and pressed the occasional kiss to her nape or behind her ear, and sometimes it even made her shiver, which in return made Andy grin triumphantly.

In exchange Miranda did the same, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp, then rinsing it thoroughly. It was such a simple act, but Andy felt cared for, maybe almost loved but she couldn’t yet hope for that.

The red numbers on the oven’s clock in the kitchen red 02:43 when they sneaked downstairs, only clad in a pair of silky robes. Miranda had nearly put on her own grey one, but Andy had quickly snatched it out of her hands and put it on herself, leaving the other, identical, rose coloured one for Miranda. For a second Andy had wondered why the other would need so many robes and bring them to her mother’s house but then her stomach had growled with hunger, and she had forgotten about it again.

They snacked on some grapes and some toast with Nutella, which Miranda revealed she never indulged in at home, and also a bit of cheese and a tiny bit of the Shepard’s pie they had had for dinner. Trying to be as quiet as possible they put everything back where it belonged and loaded the dishwasher with their plates and cutlery, of which one of the knives slipped out of Miranda’s grip and clattered to the floor. They looked at each other in shock for a few seconds, listening intently for a few seconds, and when nothing happened started giggling. Miranda pressed her finger to Andy’s lips, uttering an insistent “shh” despite making just as much noise, which made it only harder to cease the giggling. Miranda kissed her then, pressing her hips against the countertop.

“I said ‘be quiet’”, she murmured against her lips. Andy snorted and kissed her again for a few moments.

“You’re not, either.”, she grinned wickedly. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Tired?”

Andy’s grin broadened. “No.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but a smile was already tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re insatiable.”

“Well, you’re very delicious.”

Chapter Text

Andy startled awake. A knock.

“Miri? Andy? Mum sent me to ask if you want lunch?”, Diane’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Lunch? Andy turned to grab her phone from her bedside table to check the time but found herself on the other side of the bed, naked. And Miranda pressed against her back, also very much naked.

“Yes, now piss off, Diane!”, Miranda mumbled loudly from behind her, pulling Andy closer and nuzzling into her hair with her nose, pressing a soft kiss to her nape.

Okay, so it had not been another dream, her shoulders relaxed immediately, and she exhaled a small sigh of relief. Andy turned around in Miranda’s arms, needing to see for herself, needing to know despite all the signals and signs that Miranda didn’t regret it either, that what had happened last night, was actually, completely, true.

“Did she wake you?”, Miranda asked, smiling faintly, the gust of the question ghosting along Andy’s lips. She leaned in, capturing them in a bruising kiss, just for that one, last, reassuring piece of proof. All these weeks and months of intense, painful pining and now here they finally were. Andy couldn’t believe it; couldn’t believe she was truly so lucky.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter.”, she grinned teasingly, squeezing the skin on Miranda’s hips, who squeaked in surprise. The brunette grinned, for once letting the affection she felt clearly show on her face, in her eyes.

“You’re chipper.”

Andy shrugged and they kissed again, seemingly unable to stop now that they had finally started. And Andy would never stop, she’d keep kissing Miranda until her lips were so worn, so swollen that it was painful and even then, she would never ever stop. It was truly addictive, so different to any kiss she had ever had before. It was soft, and warm, and meticulous.

“Come on. I’m starving.”, Miranda pulled back, swung herself out of bed, legs first and sauntered over to the bathroom in all her naked glory. Andy couldn’t help but stare; she was even more beautiful in daylight, if that was even possible. There was no extra-superlative form of ‘most beautiful’ but if there had been it would be Miranda. Andy knew it was a really mushy thing to think but she was in love, and she had finally bagged the woman of her dreams, so she was allowed to.

When they came downstairs the other’s were already present and eating. Sophie greeted them with her signature grin, and Andy couldn’t even muster up any unpleasant feelings towards her. It was thanks to Sophie that they had even come to this point, after all.

“Sleep well?”, the blonde arched her right eyebrow suggestively. Andy blushed, she really thought they had been quiet. Miranda strut forward without any further words and took a seat, then looked at Sophie with a similarly raised eyebrow. This family, Andy thought with an internal eyeroll.

“We did, in fact. Thank you for asking.”, Miranda gave Sophie one of her particularly icy glares and the topic was put to rest, if one discounted the smug smile stretching across the blonde’s lips.

The twins were due to arrive at approximately half past four at Heathrow Airport and would then be brought to the house by one of Miranda’s uncountable underlings, which Andy still belonged to, officially, she reminded herself. Well, that problem would be solved as soon as they returned to New York.

“They know you’re here, so there is really no reason to worry, Andréa.”, it was now close to five p.m. and Andy had tried broaching the Cassidy & Caroline problem to Miranda for two hours now, with little to no success. Miranda kept insisting there was nothing to concern herself with and Andy tried to communicate all her thousands of worries of what could go wrong. Perhaps it was also partly (mostly) attributed to her fear of the twins not accepting her as their mother’s new…partner? She had only ever met them twice during the entirety of her tenure at Runway. Once that first night it had been her job to deliver The Book instead of Emily, and the second time when she had hurriedly chased them down at the train station to give them the Harry Potter manuscripts. And now she was supposed to believe they would just tolerate her, welcome her, like her?

And then there was this other thing, this giant, stifling, and ever-present elephant in the room: what did Miranda want, what did she expect? Because they weren’t really talking, certainly not about this. Yes, maybe it was obvious; they had had sex, multiple times, and they had kissed, also multiple times, and it was all so glorious, and wonderful, and unbelievable, but…they didn’t talk about it. Which was fine really, Andy tried to convince herself. It was completely fine, maybe sometimes things were just so obvious, so clear-cut they didn’t need some extensive, intimate bearing of one’s feelings. It was fine!

“Don’t worry.”, Miranda mumbled and leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. Andy deflated visibly as the tension left her body; yes, it was fine.

Miranda was right, once the twins arrived it all went as smoothly as one could expect. They greeted their mother with loud, happy giggles, hugs, and kisses. Miranda pressed them against her chest, obviously delighted to hold her children in her arms again after not seeing them for nearly a week. While still recounting their time with their dad in a speed Andy had only ever heard in Rap-Songs or when their mother was once again relaying a set of tasks too early in the morning, they greeted their grandmother and aunts with kisses to the cheek and more hugs.

Andy had decided to make herself a bit scarce and stay back while the family had their little reunion, but they were walking past her now, in the direction of the living room, each still holding one of their mother’s hands.

“Hi, Andy.”, one of them grinned at her, and Andy was surprised they even remembered her name. But then again, Miranda had most likely briefed them beforehand, so it wasn’t actually that surprising.

“Yes, hi, Andy. It’s so cool you’re here!”

“So cool! We got this awesome new Harry Potter game for Christmas, and we’ve been dying to play it with you and mom.”, they latched onto Andy’s hands now, roping her into the next room instead of their mother. The brunette felt a bit like she had been hit by a truck, but in the best way possible, which didn’t really make any sense at all. Though she felt a bit too puzzled to explain her own logic to herself right now.

They all settled in the living room with cups of tea, while the twins kept avidly chatting about their last week and ate the pastries Miranda had bought for them yesterday.

When Anne presented the twins with another truck load of presents, Miranda shot her mother a disapproving glare but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the joyful screeches that echoed through the room whenever the ripping of the wrapping paper revealed another new toy, game, or book.

That evening Miranda came to bed late, Andy had actually already fallen asleep but was jostled into the state of ‘awake but barely conscious’ when the older woman snaked her arm around Andy’s waist and told her to go back to sleep. Earlier Andy had suggested Miranda sleep in the same room as the twins, as she had sensed how much she needed some alone time with her daughters. But Miranda had brushed her idea aside, stating that her almost 13-year-olds surely didn’t want their mother cuddling them in their sleep anymore, yet she had stayed with them, probably cuddled up nevertheless, until they had fallen asleep.

Andy couldn’t even begin to explain how deliriously happy she felt that after all these months of break-ups, stress, anxiety, and lovesickness her life finally seemed to move in the right direction again. Sure, her parents hadn’t even so much as tried to contact her again, but maybe it was better for the time being. And sure, maybe Lily didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, which stung since they had been best friends ever since the first day of middle school, but there was always Doug who hadn’t completely given up on her yet.

And now she had Miranda, and maybe also the twins, and she would start a new job soon, something she really wanted to do, something she was passionate about, and for the first time in months, maybe years, she felt really fucking excited for her future.

So, it was no surprise that sleep came easy to her contented mind that night.

A good portion of the 31^st passed in a flurry of preparations, last minute grocery runs and helping Anne wherever and with whatever she needed help. Of course, not a single person that had the Priestly genes could ever do anything by halves, so Anne had naturally invited half of the United Kingdom for a ‘small New Year’s get-together’. The house was definitely big enough for that, at least.

Miranda and the twins had voluntarily offered to go out and hunt down a bunch of vital ingredients that were apparently still needed, but when they hadn’t returned by five o’clock it dawned on Andy that they might have just wanted to ditch having a thousand instructions a minute thrown at their heads. Hypocrites. They entered the kitchen an hour later, smelling of rain and carrying bottles of champagne and orange juice; yup, absolutely vital.

The house was packed with all sorts of people Andy didn’t know and frankly didn’t care about. She had one focus that night, and as usual it was Miranda, who looked and moved as if the world belonged to her and maybe it did. Maybe it did because Andy’s entire world revolved around her. Miranda was like the sun, fierce and dangerous but vitally important.

She was clad in an almost floor-length gold dress, sinched in at the waist and with a neckline that was so sinfully low Andy nearly lost her footing when she saw her. The high-cut slit in the skirt didn’t help either. She nearly convinced Miranda to let her peel her out of it again, but then the doorbell had rung, and Miranda had left her right there in their room, panting and wanting.

All in all, it was a pleasant enough evening, albeit a tad bittersweet as it was Andy’s last one here. She spent it convincing herself that now that Miranda and she were…whatever it was they were, they would surely come back at some point, maybe for a birthday, or the next holiday, or just because they wanted to. All she could do was hope, because she liked these people, she liked this family that was so different to hers in the best way possible. No matter what, she would miss them all terribly.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. 11:27 p.m.

It was Doug. Andy breathed a sigh of relief and made her way outside where it was quieter and less crowded. They talked for a few minutes, just catching up for a bit. Their relationship had cooled as well over the past few months, but it hadn’t entirely frozen like it had with Lily. Andy thought they were on a good way to becoming proper friends again, and she appreciated his efforts to go out of his way and talk to her despite still spending time with the others, or at least with Lily. Nate had moved to Boston a couple of weeks ago.

“Anyway, how’s your mom and dad. Oh! And how is the baby?”, he asked giddily, not realising the delicacy of the question.

Andy admitted she hadn’t gone to visit them, but she left out all of the rest. She had promised Miranda not to tell anyone about anything, and yes, maybe the circumstances had changed but Andy barely knew what to say anyway, still feeling a bit overwhelmed from finally getting what she had longed for, for so long. Her brain would still need a few days to come to grips with it, probably. Despite it, she wanted nothing more than to scream from every rooftop and in everyone’s face that she was in love with Miranda Priestly and that she was the happiest woman alive.

That reminded her that they really needed to have a talk once they were home, and she made a mental note to do it as soon as the opportunity presented itself in the next couple of days, she could wait that long. She had waited for far longer, what were 36, 48 hours more.

They talked for a few more minutes about Lily and Nate, Doug’s family, how his Christmas had been before Andy told him she needed to go but promised him she’d call him again soon and that they desperately needed to meet up for drinks.

With a fresh burst of joy, she went back inside, only then noticing that she was freezing outside without a jacket on and went to search for the editor.

“Hey, Sarah. Have you seen Miranda?”, it was 5 minutes to midnight and the editor was nowhere to be found. The oldest sister shook her head. Shit! One would presume that a dress like Miranda’s could be seen from space, but evidently that theory turned out to be false. No reflective glimmer of gold sequins anywhere, not in the kitchen, or the living room, not in the garden, not even in the bathroom. She went upstairs to their room, hoping to find her there. Maybe she was changing, whyever she would need to do that 3 minute before the New Year began.

However, when she made it to the top of the stairs, the ladder to the attic was down, the hatch door open and suddenly it was clear where Miranda had vanished off to. Carefully she climbed up the creaky, old, wooden steps, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Miranda in the silence she had so clearly sought out up here. It was completely dark, the only source of light the moon shining brightly through the opened window, illuminating Miranda’s silhouette. She was leaning on the bare window frame, letting the cool night air waft in and-

“Are you smoking?”, so much for not disturbing the silence, Andy reprimanded herself. But Miranda just turned her face halfway towards her before despondently looking out again, the smoke of a cigarette drifting out into the dark.

“No.”, she took another drag as Andy came to stand next to her. She exhaled.

The brunette watched her for a moment, not sure if she wasn’t interrupting some much-needed alone time. She silently wondered if she had ever smelled the remnants of cigarettes on her or if that was the reason, the older woman preferred perfumes with such domineering scents. She didn’t think so. “Everything okay?” She asked, despite her subconscious advising her against it. It was a stupid question, and she knew Miranda hated it. Clearly everything was not okay, so why ask a question of which the answer was obvious.

Miranda looked at her from the corner of her eyes, pursed her lips and then nodded. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Now it was Andy’s turn to raise her eyebrows, she pointed her fingers in direction of the still glowing cancer-stick in Miranda’s hand. Dull shouts counting back from ten sounded from two stories below.

“Didn’t know fags were illegal.”, eight, seven, six. She stubbed it out on one of the grey tiles of the roof. The improper grammar telling Andy all she needed to know about Miranda’s emotional state, it was far more telling than the cigarette. Five, four, three.

“No, but-”, Fireworks set off outside, interrupting her.

Two, one, zero. Midnight.

“Happy New Year, Andréa.”, she kissed her softly and it tasted of ash and desolation, bitter on Andy’s tongue. She didn’t understand what happened in the last hour to make Miranda look so dull, so colourless, when she had been the brightest person in the room ever since she had known her. Andy wanted to ask, to understand, to help, but as so many times before, it didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel like the thing Miranda needed. So, they stayed up there, taking comfort in the silent embrace of one another and watching the people outside on the streets celebrate the transience of time.

When Miranda removed the younger one’s clothes later that night, it was slow, with a precision that had lacked the first time they had slept with each other. Miranda didn’t say a single word the entire time, but her eyes were focused, as if wanting to memorise every single detail, every single thing Andy had to offer her. It felt different, more intense, and intimate in its calmness, maybe in a sense more fragile. And when overwhelmed tears unexplainably brimmed in Andy’s eyes afterwards Miranda just held her, nuzzling as close as she physically could.

Maybe they were both a bit emotional, had been ever since arriving here, but maybe that was okay, maybe they were allowed to be.

Tears actually fell the next afternoon when Anne pulled her into another long and tight embrace, suitcases already in the trunk of the rental car, and Miranda waiting somewhat impatiently a few steps behind her.

“I had such a lovely time getting to know you, Andy. Know that you’re always welcome here, dearie. Alright? No tears!”, she gently wiped at the wet streaks under her eyes and offered her a motherly smile and another hug. Andy thanked her profusely and had to force herself to pull back or they would surely miss their flight. Andy said goodbye to Sarah, Diane, and Helen, who all hugged her as well and threatened Miranda with a visit of their own if she didn’t bring Andy next time. All the while Miranda was more or less forcefully roped into Anne’s arms, who whispered something seemingly very important into her ear. The editor stepped back with a clenched jaw and pressed out a hissed “Goodbye, mother.” and went out to get Caroline and Cassidy settled into the car.

Maybe that’s why the other woman had been in such a strange mood since yesterday, perhaps her and Anne had had a fight? Selfishly, it calmed Andy’s worried mind somewhat.

“Andréa!”, Miranda called her from outside and Andy said one last round of goodbyes to everyone and a “behave yourself” to Sophie (who naturally only grinned in fake innocence). Then they were off.

With a heavy heart she watched London disappear beneath the clouds before she properly settled into her seat. Only six hours and they would be home.

Home.

She looked over to Miranda, who was encased by her daughters on either side of her, which meant Andy had to sit across the aisle. She had tried not to be too disappointed about that, the twins hadn’t really seen a lot of their mother during the past week, and she didn’t want them to think she was taking Miranda away from them, because she wasn’t. Andy would happily take whatever Miranda offered her, no matter how much or how little that was. The last thing she would do is treat Miranda like Stephen had; Andy sometimes thought of him at random times, and she imagined his face when he learned that Miranda could be happy, she could be in relationships, thrive in them, that it was his fault their marriage hadn’t worked, that it was him who had made Miranda unhappy and not the other way round. Andy contemplated if he would even care.

In hindsight, all of it wasn’t even really true. Miranda just wasn’t attracted to him, and he could probably tell that she couldn’t care less about him. Andy snorted quietly, amused. Still, it was no reason to be such an annoying dick all the time.

Roy, dutiful as ever, picked them up at the airport. During the last hour of the flight Andy had grown more and more restless. She didn’t know what to expect and she obviously didn’t know what Miranda expected. Would she want her to go home with her or return to her own apartment? Asking her was out of the question, Andy was way too anxious to come across as presumptuous or impertinent, especially with Miranda’s increasingly grim mood.

Suddenly Andy felt like nothing had really changed since they had started this whole thing almost ten days ago. They might have shared secrets, cried, and hugged, and kissed, and even had sex but what was it all worth? Andy still felt nervous around Miranda, scared to be the sole focus of her wrath whenever things didn’t go her way, afraid to ask questions, important questions, burning questions. And maybe these things would come with time, maybe everything would fall into place as long as they had each other, maybe Andy just needed to be patient.

The car stopped; Andy stayed seated. Miranda gave her key to Cassidy and told them to go inside and that she would follow in just a second. Completely worn out they both complied without protest and scrambled out of the vehicle.

Andy studied Miranda, waited for her to say something, she could tell there was something on her mind, burning in the back of her throat, on her tongue. A minute passed, then another one. Andy was a second away from asking to come inside after all when Miranda inhaled deeply and finally spoke.

“Thank you, Andréa.”, she smiled. It didn’t really reach her eyes, didn’t deepen the fine lines around them the way Andy loved.

The brunette frowned. “Of course. Always, Miranda. Always!” Miranda nodded and looked past her for a second, over her shoulder and out of the window, she nodded again.

“Tomorrow 6.30 at the office. Be punctual!”, she squeezed her hand and rushed out of the car. Andy frowned, looking after her as the front door to the town house closed behind her.

It wasn’t late when Andy arrived home thirty minutes later, but she didn’t bother with her suitcase, anyway. It could wait.

Everything was fine, right? Nothing had happened, Miranda hadn’t been mad at her. Hadn’t called her incompetent, or an idiot, hadn’t told her she regretted what they had done. She hadn’t said anything of the sort. She had even thanked her, which Andy had never heard er tell anyone else. Then why was Andy’s stomach hurting like someone had stabbed her with a very small, precise knife, why was she trying to swallow around a lump in her throat, why were there tears stinging behind her eyes?

She shook her head and slowly breathed in and out a few times to ground herself. She was being ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about. Miranda was a professional, always had been. Plus, she was technically still married, of course she couldn’t just kiss Andy senseless right there on the sidewalk.

And besides, they had just spent over a week basically attached at the hip almost every second of every day, Miranda was allowed to need some time to breathe, some time to spend with her girls alone before the craziness of work would begin again tomorrow.

So, yes, everything was fine!

Chapter Text

TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Being Editor-in-chief of a magazine like Runway was always work, intense, exhausting but gratifying work. However, the weeks after Paris Fashion Week were worse than usual. A thousand photographs and articles to review, hundreds of people to remind to keep on track and over a third of those to fire after they inevitably did not manage to do that.

Miranda Priestly was a woman of many names; Dragonlady, heartless bitch, boss from hell, Devil in Prada. And they were all correct, of course they were, she was a bitch, she was unfair, she was the boss from hell. Miranda herself wouldn’t want to work for herself, despite having worked for countless of people that were a great deal worse than her, but those had been men, so people didn’t care, people didn’t even bat an eye when their friend got fired for nothing, or when their child had outrageous work hours.

As a woman you had to work twice as hard to get less respect, less pay, and more negative press, so Miranda worked as hard as she could, was as ruthless as she could stand to be, and fired as many people as she needed in order to produce the most successful fashion magazine on the market.

Contrary to popular belief the Dragonlady had a heart, she had feelings, wishes, wants, needs; they just had lain dormant for a very long time. She had almost forgotten what it was like to long for another person, to not be able to think about anything else but them, to have one’s mind so completely occupied by that person alone. And then you went through all the trouble of pining, and being in love, and hoping every single day -- because Miranda lived on hope; she lived on it -- only to realise they didn’t want you; they didn’t love you, they didn’t even like you. They were so repelled by you that even the mere suggestion of sharing any amount of similarities sent them running, running away from you as fast and as far away as they could. When the sting that realisation brought with it settled deep in your stomach, squeezed its fierce grip around your heart, made it bleed, then you knew that all these feelings, and wishes, and wants, and needs should have stayed carefully hidden behind the stoic mask you had so carefully and meticulously put up over years of feeling lonely and misunderstood.

And maybe it was for the best, because would you really want to subject another person, someone you cared for so deeply, to the woman you had become. Would you really risk it all, your career, their career, their life just for a little glimpse of happiness?

No.

The latest photos of the spring shoot - all in various shades of pink - had blurred in front of Miranda’s eyes. She really needed to make a decision here, preferably today and stop thinking about her. She had promised herself this would never interfere with work, she couldn’t help thinking about her, but it would not hold her back. If she was completely honest, however, that promise had been broken the second after she had made it.

“Your mother is on line two, Miranda.”, her head snapped up, her mind seemingly having acquired the ability to make her appear whenever she thought about her assistant; probably just to torture her, make her pay for her sins or something, not that she believed in things like that. She ran her eyes over Andrea’s figure, black Versace slacks, paired with a deep vermilion-coloured Valentino blouse and a pair of black 5-inch Chanel heels. She looked delectable; Miranda slowly crossed her right leg over her left one, mouth dry.

“Close the door on your way out, Andrea.”, her second assistant did as she was told and hurried away like a scared little mouse, an effect Miranda usually enjoyed having on people. Not in this case.

She took a few deep inhales, for one trying to get Andrea out of her mind and simultaneously bracing herself for whatever her mother so desperately needed to discuss with her during her work hours.

“Mother.”

“Oh, Miri, darling. How often do I need to tell you to stop calling me that.”, Miranda rolled her eyes. She would stop the day her mother ceased calling her by this infantilising nickname. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“Yes, well, I’m very busy. Working!”

“Anyway, the girls called me yesterday and —”, she only listened with half an ear, deciding she would rather spend her time doodling little stick figures on the closest piece of paper she could reach. Her mother could talk for hours if no one stopped her, and no one could ever stop her. She had this special air of authority that no normal person could properly deal with, so they just accepted whatever she said most of the time and let the endless talking wash over them. She quietly wondered how she was supposed to survive at her mother’s house all on her own without her ear falling off. Of course, she loved her mother, but she wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. “— so, I thought why would you not just bring that lovely girl you’ve been telling me about?” Her distracted mind screeched to a halt, the imaginary alarm bells ringing uncomfortably loud inside her head.

“Sorry, what?”

“That girl you always talk about, what’s her name again? Amelia?”, another eyeroll. Trust her mother to get it wrong so completely.

“It’s Andrea, mum.”

“That’s right! Bring her. I want to meet her.”, Miranda swallowed hard. Why would she bring Andrea home to her mother? No scratch that; why would her mother even want to meet her? Alright, admittedly she may have mentioned her name once or twice, but that was about work! She saw Andrea every day, of course her name would come up at some point.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it would please me immensely, sweetheart. You can count it as my Christmas present. Oh- I have to go, darling. Sarah is calling on the other line, I’ll talk to you soon.” Miranda stared at the phone as if it had the power to answer all of her questions. How had her mother just roped her into bringing Andrea, of all people, home for Christmas with her. And why could she never say no to that woman?

What was worse, is that Andrea even agreed to come. Miranda had put all of her faith to deescalate the situation in Andrea’s plans to visit her own family for the holidays, or even just stay with friends. And if Miranda couldn’t say no to Anne Princhek, then Andrea shouldn’t even try. Next thing they knew one of them would be pregnant because probably not even biology could say no to her mother.

Andrea was smart. The second they were alone she would realise what Miranda really thought of her and this time Nigel wouldn’t be there to stop her from leaving. She needed Andrea. It was selfish and Miranda hated herself for it, but she couldn’t just let her go. Couldn’t bare the thought of not seeing her every day, not seeing that bright, all-illuminating smile that never failed to make her morning that tad bit better. She needed her.

DECEMBER 24th, 2006

Miranda didn’t enjoy flights, never had, never would. Which was one of the reasons she sometimes thought how nonsensical her job seemed to fit to the person she was. Planes were cramped, uncomfortable, most of the time they offered bad food and, most importantly they were just up there, in the air, nothing but a few clouds underneath them for miles. She had gotten better though, with time and age. It didn’t bother her as much anymore. This time was different, this time she didn’t feel bothered at all. She still felt nervous, her stomach churning uncomfortably but not because she couldn’t stop thinking about all of the plane’s engines failing at the same time and how they would then inevitably crash down and drown in the Atlantic. No, if that happened now it would come as a mercy. Since her mother had extended the invitation for Christmas to include Andrea, she had realised two things. One, she really needed to just shut up sometimes. And two, for some reason her mother thought, after her separation from Stephen, she hadn’t wasted any time and immediately let her second assistant climb into her bed. She was about 99% sure about that last point, at least.

Miranda had wanted to use the time she was trapped inside this death machine and get some work done, but her traitorous mind wouldn’t let her think about anything that didn’t revolve around the brunette peacefully slumbering next to her.

***

Apparently, there was someone up there still looking out for her, or maybe the opposite was the case, she couldn’t quite make up her mind on that. Positive: Andrea hadn’t run away screaming at the mere notion of being in a relationship with Miranda, and she had agreed to play pretend for the duration of their stay, for her mother’s sake. That latter point, however, was also the negative. Miranda could barely contain herself at work when she was the boss and Andrea was the assistant. Here they were close, physically, emotionally, DURING THE NIGHT!!

To conclude, she was doomed, screwed, fucked - and she only seldomly used swear words.

So while Andrea and she forged a plan on how to manipulate her entire family into thinking they were a couple, Miranda thought up her own plan. Despite all her innermost desires to keep the young woman close, she needed to keep her as far away as possible, a plan that had worked for months now but needed to be reinforced once again.

***

Andrea had already gone upstairs to get ready for bed. She had offered to help clean the kitchen, but Miranda had all but forced her to leave the room. Her mother and her were now silently loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters.

“Miriam…”, the older woman started, which naturally evoked an annoyed huff out of Miranda.

“It’s Miranda, mum. It has been for years. No one - believe me, no one - calls me…that.”

Anne threw the wet rag into the sink and turned towards her daughter with her signature glare and arched eyebrow. Miranda bristled under her mother’s scrutinising glower. “And I suppose that’s the reason you’re lying to her!”

“I’m not lying to her just because I haven’t told her about…”, her fingers fluttered dismissively in the air. “…about my past, mother.”, she shrugged in annoyance, the sight of her own soon-to-be teenage daughters doing the same whenever Miranda scolded them crossing her mind.

“Let me give you a piece of advice from someone who knows better, darling.”, her voice was softer now. “You can’t build a relationship on dishonesty. I can already tell Andy is a nice girl, she is good for you. Don’t ruin it. Tell her.”

Oh, her mother didn’t even know half of it. Miranda crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively, and looked down at her feet, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry, not about something as pathetic as this. A few silent moments passed until she found her composure again. Green, observant eyes never leaving her. Miranda nodded.

“Goodnight, mum.”

DECEMBER 25th, 2006

Miranda desperately needed to get out of the house. Not even 24 hours with her mother and she was already losing her mind. Sometimes she wondered if the older woman was purposefully so meddlesome or if that was an unconscious character trait, she wasn’t even aware of.

Of course, she couldn’t step foot into this country without James Harrison having to be mentioned. And now her mother had even invited him, purely to embarrass her, of course. Her reprimand last night had not been enough, it seemed. God forbid Miranda was allowed to make her own decisions, spill her secrets in her own time; no, that would be too respectful of her privacy. And what was it with this constant insistence that he had somehow fancied her when they were younger? Jimmy was one of the first, and only people Miranda ever told that she might not even like boys. The only reason she had told him was because she knew she would be leaving for Paris soon, anyway and at the time she had desperately needed to get it off her chest, to just tell one single person and then maybe it wouldn’t weigh down so heavily on her 14-year-old self’s shoulders anymore. It hadn’t worked; she only felt more guilty afterwards, more ashamed of herself and she had quickly learned that life was easier if she just pretended. The same way she could and would pretend to not care for Andrea at all.

***

Not caring for a person didn’t mean she wanted them to freeze to death and she had packed a few spare jumpers, anyway. Andrea suited red very well, just aesthetically speaking. And it was bitterly cold outside so she needed to wear a scarf because Miranda would certainly not be the one to bring her soup to bed when she inevitably got sick. So, giving her her jumper and her scarf was a purely selfish act. Taking the younger one’s hands between her own to warm them obviously stemmed from the same reason.

And if she noticed the slightly calloused skin on the outsides of Andrea’s palms, how her own fingers tingled at the contact and how her own heart thundered against her ribs, she decided to ignore it for just a moment longer, staying in the moment for just one more second.

Thankfully James left rather quickly that afternoon, not overstaying his welcome, or rather Miranda’s welcome. She watched the constant confusion reflected in Andrea’s brown eyes throughout the afternoon and evening, which would have put her in the mood for a round of sacking a few months ago. Now it only made the sharp sting of guilt twist its blade into her heart.

It took all her efforts, all her carefully gathered courage to reveal so much of herself to the younger woman that night. So much for trying to push Andrea as far away from her as possible, she thought miserably and felt immeasurably lighter at the same time. She felt close to her, closer than she had felt to anyone in a long time and it was a warm, comfortable place to be. A place she wanted to bask in forever. Simultaneously a place she just wouldn’t allow herself to inhabit, ever.

The sound of the duvet rustling next to her pulled her out of her truly despicable thoughts. With searing clarity, she realised what she had done. With her little story about her past she had managed to manipulate young, naive Andrea to feel sorry for her, to want to comfort her; after everything she had inflicted on her, on people she cared about. Another wave of guilt washed over her, she swallowed hard.

“Good night, Andrea.”

A beat of silence.

“Good night, Miranda.”

She turned away, biting the inside of her cheek, hoping the painful sting would keep the tears at bay.

DECEMBER 26th, 2006

The next morning Miranda’s resolution to keep Andrea at arm’s length, to not let her in any further was in full swing. She managed to ignore her all morning, didn’t even look at her, too scared the hurt and disappointment she would no doubt see in her eyes would make her heart soar, and her resolve weaken.

Somehow Andrea had managed to let herself be roped into playing football with Miranda’s 5-year-old cousin. Of course, Andrea had to be great with children. She thought of how her girls had demanded her to thank her assistant for the Harry Potter manuscripts, had asked when ‘Andy’ would come over again, if she could stay after delivering The Book to play some games with them, something Miranda had immediately and firmly shut down. They had gone to bed that evening with insolent pouts after telling her how unfair she was being.

While everyone else went to put on something warmer to protect themselves from the biting December air, Miranda went ahead outside, taking a few deep breaths. She could feel the cold all the way down to the alveoli of her lungs. When the others joined her on the terrace, she fished the phone from out of the back-pocket of her jeans and decided to send a good-morning text to her girls, they wouldn’t be awake yet but at least it offered her something to do instead of awkwardly standing around.

Andrea was a good football player as far as Miranda could be a judge of that, which she really couldn’t. The only times she ever so much as saw someone kick a ball around was when Caroline watched a game on the TV in the living room while she was trying to work there.

Still the brunette had nothing on little Peter. He was tiny, fast and had stamina to last him for days.

“Please, Andy.”, he whined. “Again, please!”

She heard Andrea reluctantly give in to his request and looked up from her phone, ready to get this over with and go back inside where it was warm, and she could hide herself away a lot easier.

When she had to watch Andrea slip on the wet grass, her heart immediately skipped a beat, and she felt the uncomfortable rush of anxiety course through her body. She was by her side not a second later, too afraid something was wrong, that she had seriously injured herself, to care about her own set of rules. She could always distance herself later when she knew the younger woman was alright.

In blind panic she forced Andrea back inside the house. She felt out of breath, her heart beating fearfully inside her chest. Anything could have happened, she could have hit her head, fallen unconscious, lost her memory, died… She needed to take a few deep breaths in order to even believe her assistant when she told her she was alright. It only helped marginally.

“Sit down for a second, will you?”, it wasn’t a request, it was a command. Miranda didn’t care. No one ever commanded her to do anything and yet when Andrea did it, it was the only thing that could calm her down right then. She sat down on the rim of the bathtub, legs still feeling shaky with the remains of the adrenaline in her blood.

“It’s not enough. I think your mom is getting suspicious. She took me to the side earlier and asked if we fought. We need to dial it up a bit. Talk more, be closer, touch more, hold hands; I don’t know.”

Her body froze, hands suddenly clammy and cold with another rush of panic. She couldn’t do it, it was too much, way too much. She had told herself she could do this, get this holiday over and done with without doing anything inappropriate, without it hurting too much if only she could keep her distance from Andrea. And now this! She inwardly cursed her mother, and the universe for putting her in situations like these time and time again. Wasn’t it enough to have to see the younger woman at work every day and know she would never have her (which was also her own fault as she had refused to let her go). Wasn’t it enough to know that she was a terrible person for even wanting her, when she was so young, so incredibly young, to know that the only reason for holding her back all these months was because she was a selfish bitch who wanted Andrea all to herself. All this, while the brunette probably counted the days until she was rid of her, based on her reaction when she had finally given in last night and all but told Andrea she could leave Runway soon; go do what she really wanted to do. She had looked so happy, and Miranda couldn’t bare to be the person who would take that happiness away from her, keep it from her.

Miranda agreed with a nod and knew she had just arranged for her own demise.

Holding Andrea’s hand turned out to be the most intimate thing Miranda had done in a long time, or ever. Sure, she had had intimate relationships, sexual relationships with men and, when she had grown weak, women in the past. But it was never like this, it was never that a simple, innocent touch like holding someone’s hand could set her entire body alight, make her feel light-headed and flushed. The mulled wine’s alcohol at the Christmas Market that afternoon came as a welcome distraction. Miranda really wasn’t doing a good job of keeping things between her and Andrea strictly professional like she had intended. Actually, she was doing a miserable job and her resolve crumbled with every passing minute in the other’s presence.

Maybe alcohol hadn’t been the best idea, as it turned out. It loosened her tongue, made her reveal things that weren’t meant for Andrea’s or anyone’s ears, made her seem approachable, even likeable. All the things she didn’t want Andrea to think she was. She needed her to keep believing she was this awful person who would betray their closest friend for purely egocentric reasons and without an ounce of guilt, a person who didn’t care about the well-being of her employees, who didn’t care what said employees or anyone for that matter thought of her. She needed to stay untouchable, so Andrea wouldn’t even try to touch her, to tame the Dragonlady. But if Miranda was completely honest with herself, Andrea had long managed to do exactly that.

When Andrea told her about the fallout with her parents, with her friends, even with her (ex)boyfriend, Miranda couldn’t help but selfishly feel guilty, as if the world revolved around her. But it was her fault after all, wasn’t it? If she hadn’t demanded so much of Andrea, hadn’t kept her working until after 10 p.m. most nights, if she hadn’t called her every hour of the day with outrageous requests, she would still have her friends, her family. She wouldn’t be here now and instead be back home with her mother and father, celebrating Christmas like she deserved.

Despite the guilt making her throat close up, choking her, she thought of her own daughters. As a mother she couldn’t ever imagine treating her children how Andrea’s parents seemed to be treating her. There was nothing in the world the twins could do that would ever give Miranda reason to love them any less. “I hope they’ll come around eventually, for your sake. But there will always be people that love you just the way you are.” Once against, she blamed it on the alcohol. Andrea didn’t want her love, didn’t need it, so much was clear. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer it. Because she would, she would always be there to love her, from afar, in secret. But she would be there.

***

Alright, Miranda had had enough. Forget her mother being out to torture her, her sisters had been brought to this earth specifically for this purpose. She loved them but they were unbearable. Really, the humiliation just wouldn’t stop, they could never give her even just a minute of rest, it was exhausting.

The photo album lay opened on Diane’s jeans-clad legs.

“Oh, there you had discovered my mascara for the first time.”, Sarah snickered right into her ear and pointed over her shoulder to one of the photos. It was taken the day she had realised she had almost enough money saved up to buy a train ticket to Paris. Miranda had been so happy that day, she had wanted to feel pretty as well, had stolen her sister’s make-up pouch, and locked herself in the bathroom for over an hour.

“You’re really pretty.”, Andrea suddenly said from the other side of the sofa. It took a few moments for Miranda’s brain to register it, she swallowed hard. Well, then, if that wasn’t a clear message, she didn’t know what was. She suddenly felt a lot older than she actually was, like some kind of sick, twisted predator, lusting after a young, innocent girl. Of course, Andrea would find her pretty then, more than 30 years younger, smooth skin, long blonde hair, cheeks reddened by the flush of youth. She sighed silently, suddenly very tired.

DECEMBER 27th, 2006

The red glimmer of dawn broke through the gap between the curtains when Miranda woke; it couldn’t be earlier than 8 a.m. Miranda tried to remember the last time she had slept through a full night without waking up at least once but came up empty. Definitely not since the girls had been born, most likely even before that.

A lock of hair tickled over her neck and collarbone, and she opened her eyes fully, giving her brain the signal that it was time to start to get to work now. Then, sudden realisation; Andrea was laying half on top of her, dark hair splayed across the pillows and Miranda. Her hand nestled against her side, while Miranda’s mirrored her, clinging to the flimsy, faded mint-coloured fabric of Andrea’s shirt. With a quiet gasp she let go, trying to get away, get some space between them as carefully as possible, not wanting the brunette to wake up and notice the position they had found themselves in. Only then did Miranda notice the situation beneath the covers, legs tangled together with Andrea’s left knee wedged between hers,

Miranda’s face burned, though whether it was due to embarrassment or arousal she couldn’t even admit to herself. Very slowly she pulled her own legs back, all the while having to watch Andrea’s bare ones (and she had lovely, long, toned legs that looked especially scrumptious clad in a pair of thigh-high Chanel boots - the look had burned itself in the back of Miranda’s retinas) slide against her own. Andrea didn’t wake and so she stumbled off into the bathroom, setting the shower to a particularly low temperature.

They needed space, a lot more space.

After once again either ignoring or snapping at Andrea -- and everyone else -- the whole morning, her heart provided her with a fresh wave of guilt. Her already frayed nerves slowly but surely couldn’t take any more of this non-stopping fight between her head and her heart. She knew what she had to do, she knew it was the right thing to do, if not for herself then for Andrea. She just couldn’t give in, but the steady, painful throbbing of her heart didn’t make it any easier. She had managed to ignore it for such a long time, done the thing that was expected of her only for this 20-something year old to crash into her life and make a mess out of Miranda’s so carefully assembled order.

Nevertheless, Miranda knew the way she was treating Andrea was more than unfair. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her. That was the very last thing she wanted, and wasn’t this why she found herself in this mess in the first place? Trying not to hurt her, trying to protect her? Still, Andrea was going out of her way, had suggested this charade they put up just to keep Miranda’s mother happy, and how did Miranda repay her? By blowing hot and cold, by being even more awful than usual. She needed to find a way to thank her, subtly. Without even giving a hint of the feelings hidden inside her heart. And what better way to do it than with something Miranda was an expert in? Fashion.

So, it was after lunch that her and Sarah set out to get the perfect dress for Andrea. Miranda had first taken notice of it in Paris last month; one of the models presenting it in a deep maroon shade and Miranda had known then. Her mind immediately conjuring up imagines of how it would cling to Andrea’s curves so much more beautifully, how her full breasts would fill it out so much better than the model ever could, just the shade wasn’t quite right. She hadn’t taken notice of much else of the shows that day. Afterwards she had met with the designer who presented her the dress in two other shades, sangria and mahogany. It was perfect; the burnt red tint would bring out the rich chocolate brown of the brunette’s eyes in the most beautiful way imaginable. Miranda had convinced herself almost then and there to get it, only the lack of an occasion to give it to Andrea holding her back. Sure, she could have given it to Nigel and told him to dress the younger woman in it the next time she sought out his help, but she didn’t plan on ever telling anyone about this thing she felt for her assistant.

“I like her.”, Sarah pulled her back to reality, out of her eternally around Andrea revolving thoughts.

Miranda shifted her gaze from watching the cars driving past them on the street to face her sister in the driver’s seat of her car. “Of course, you do.”, she mumbled.

Sarah sighed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone likes her. She is a likeable person.”, the unlike me was left unsaid but its unuttered phantom hung around them in the confined space of the car. Besides, when had she become so self-pitying. She hated when people acted that way and now, she had started doing it herself? Unacceptable, that needed to stop immediately.

“In any case, she is good for you. Believe me, as your big sister I just know these things.”, she grinned. “And good riddance to Stephen. He was such an arsehole I really don’t know what you were thinking.”

Well, she hadn’t been thinking at all, it seemed. At least not any further than how their relationship would look to others, to the press. “The girls needed a father, a stable, traditional family. You know that.”, her eyes focused on the passing greenery outside again.

“Yes, you said so before. And I told you that’s absolute bollocks. They didn’t even like him.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. That much she had come to know now, too. She had seldomly seen her girls as happy as the day she had come home from Paris, had taken them to the side and told them Stephen would not be returning to the Townhouse. She had expected tears, had expected them to blame her for another broken family, another divorce they had to endure. Instead, they had hugged her, essentially clung onto her as tightly as they managed, joyful laughter echoing through the room. Turns out no one particularly liked Stephen Tomlinson. Good riddance, indeed.

Reaching Bond Street by car was a hassle to say the least. Generally, Miranda could roam freely around London without having to worry about photographers or journalists too much. They weren’t really all that interested in her here, not at all like they were back in New York. Bond Street, however, was the exception; on a street that housed every imaginable store from Hermès to Cartier someone like Miranda must expect to be noticed.

She hadn’t been inside one of these stores in years, either sending one of her assistants or having whatever she needed delivered. So, despite having called ahead, when she entered, Sarah directly behind her, something in the air changed. Whether it was the sales assistants suddenly standing a lot straighter or the chatter dialling down to hushed murmurs, Miranda revelled in it.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Priestly. How may I help you?”, young, dark curly hair, hands shaking nervously by his sides. Miranda pursed her lips. What a stupid question, she had called ahead for a reason. That reason being not wasting her time having to unnecessarily explain herself because of other people’s incompetence.

“The mahogany-coloured dress with the gold shoulder clasps.”, she stated icily, Sarah cleared her throat somewhere behind her.

His voice had gone up an octave when he spoke next. “I’m truly awfully sorry but we don’t-“

“I really don’t care for the details of your ineptitude. Get me that dress. Sizes 4 and 6.”

“W-we don’t have it. We do have it in…maroon, a-and also in-”

“Did I say I wanted maroon?”, she snapped. “No! So, bring me what I asked for.”, driving her point home she crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was deadly silent in the room, no one moved, no one even dared to breathe apparently.

A different employee stepped forward, this one taller, older but just as bland and forgettable. Not that Miranda wanted to remember, she truly couldn’t care less. “By all means, ma’am, but they are very similar dresses. Red is red.”, and then he had the audacity to shrug in her presence.

Miranda was seething, blood boiling in her veins. The audacity to be able to work here and then tell her something as unbelievably dense as this. “You two can be grateful if you still have a job by tomorrow.” And with that Miranda strut out again. Sarah took a whole minute to follow, probably apologising to these idiots. She remembered now why she never went to these things herself.

“Miranda, come on. What was that about? He is right, red is red. No one would even notice the difference.” Miranda didn’t even dignify that with an answer and instead started down the street. “Where are you going?”, she heard Sarah’s hurried steps follow her.

“Tom Ford.”

She decided on a dark phthalo-green coloured dress accentuated by a small silver belt, that wouldn’t suit Andrea half as well as the Bottega Veneta one would have, but it was still better than washing out her lovely complexion with something as ghastly as maroon. On their way back Miranda felt horrible. She had imagined it all so well in her head; it would have been perfect. And now she was left with this. Andrea didn’t deserve this.

By the point they had almost arrived back home Miranda had managed to work herself into a frenzy of rage. After all she had done, subjecting Andrea to this holiday, forcing her to do things that definitely couldn’t be found in her work contract, and now she would present her with this pitiful representation of an apology? Unacceptable.

“Just go back!”

“What?”, Sarah looked over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. “We’re almost home. Did you forget something?”

“No. But everything is ruined now, anyway. This just isn’t good enough and I need the best. What should I do with this now, mhh?”, she pointed her thumb to the white and silver bag on the backseat. “Use it to mop the floor?” Sarah parked the car, turning to her. “Drive back.”

“Miranda, I’m not driving all the way back again. The dress is lovely, it doesn’t matter.”, she said calmly, trying to soothe her youngest sister. Something that obviously only infuriated her further. Miranda quickly got out, Sarah followed.

“Give me the keys!”, she demanded, stretching out her hand expectantly and giving her a particularly icy glare that usually worked like a charm to get her what she wanted. The older woman just shook her head, got the bag from the back, and handed it to her. “Sarah, I mean it!” Miranda was so close to stomp her foot on the ground like a petulant child, frustration and anger mingling in her gut.

Sarah clenched her jaw. “Me too! You take that bloody dress now and go upstairs, or you and I will have a problem. Is that understood?” She hissed in her sternest big-sister voice. Miranda angrily huffed at her, but eventually took the bag and vanished inside the house.

***

Belligerent. Belligerent!

To add insult to injury, instead of achieving to calm things between her and Andrea she had managed the exact opposite. The one time she had wanted to do something nice for another person and this was the result.

Miranda tried to see the positive side of things; at least Andrea definitely didn’t want anything to do with her after this, and hadn’t that been her ultimate goal?

Then why did it hurt so much? Why couldn’t her brain and her heart be in agreement for once? She really didn’t need all this confusion, this constant up and down of emotions at her age. She had her girls, she had Patricia and she had Runway. Couldn’t that be enough?

She ignored everyone for the entirety of their dinner outing, not in the mood to even look at them. Especially not Sarah; she wasn’t ten anymore what made her older sister think she could talk to her like that? And Andrea seemed to get along well enough with Sophie, Miranda realised with a sharp stab of jealousy piercing through her. This was ridiculous.

Andrea suddenly got up from her chair next to Miranda. “Excuse me for a moment.”, she sounded distracted. Miranda looked up, wanting to make sure the younger woman was alright, despite everything else, but Andrea’s eyes were fixed on her phone as she quickly made her way outside. Instantly, her anger and self-hatred dissipated into thin air.

“Is she alright?”, Diane asked after a few beats of silence. Miranda nodded, though she didn’t know, and strongly doubted it. Dinner long forgotten now, she kept observing the front door, hoping if she just looked at it long enough Andrea would appear through it with one of her brilliant smiles.

She hadn’t even put on her coat, Miranda noticed. And wasn’t that the perfect excuse to check on her.

The editor watched her assistant for a moment through the glass of the door. She seemed agitated, Miranda stepped outside, but kept a few feet of distance between them. Andrea didn’t notice her, too absorbed in her phone call. “-a good thing! Why can’t you just support me?”

A beat of silence.

“No, Mom!” Oh. Miranda had really hoped it was anyone else but Andrea’s parents. Deep down, however, she had known already. She silently watched as tears slowly started running down Andrea’s flushed cheeks, gathering at her chin and falling to the ground eventually. Her fingers burned with the desire to touch the brunette, to offer comfort; she didn’t. “I’m not. For the first time in my life, I feel free to do what I want and not what people expect of me.”

She couldn’t heart what Mrs. Sachs had to say to that, obviously. Andrea panted, pressing he lips together into a thin line, squeezing her eyes shut and Miranda wasn’t sure if it wasn’t an attempt to hold her breath in an exhausting effort to not sob right into her phone. The sight made Miranda’s throat tighten, burn. She swallowed hard around the lump suddenly there and held a bit tighter onto Andrea’s coat still firmly clasped in her now clammy hands.

“I don’t need you-”, she pressed out, taking a deep breath. “- protecting me. And for the record, mom, I like her.”

Miranda’s heart skipped a beat and she gasped into the cool night air, the condensation of her breath curling away into the darkness. Thankfully her brain didn’t have the time to start its whole overthinking process as Andrea’s phone clattered to the ground, her hands shaking as they came up to cover her eyes, breathing rapid and shaky.

Quickly Miranda stepped forward, alerting the younger woman to her presence with a hand on her freezing shoulder. Startled even in her panic, she gasped at the contact, arms falling away from her face, revealing her lovely brown eyes, now red-rimmed and glassy with tears.

“Andrea, please, don’t cry. They’re not even worth your tears.”, but Andrea didn’t even register what she had said. The laboured wheezing sounds as she tried to breathe in and her frantically searching eyes proved as much. Swiftly, she arranged the coat over Andrea’s shoulders, desperate to get some warmth back into her.

After a good five minutes of attempting to break the brunette out of her panic attack, her breathing evened out just enough to not be worrisome anymore. “Let’s get you home, darling.” The endearment slipped from her tongue with ease, as if it was the most natural thing on earth. Miranda watched Andrea for a second for some sort of reaction, but the younger woman was seemingly deep in thought and who could blame her. Miranda’s only job right now was to get her home safely, and try to elevate some of her worries, if possible.

***

“Will you be all aggressive and mad again tomorrow morning?”, her voice sounded so small, her shoulders slumped forward. Andrea looked miserable and Miranda’s heart ached at the sight and the question. Apparently, her careless behaviour had hurt Andrea more than she had believed.

“Why are you saying that?”, she needed to buy herself some time, get her heart to stop pounding into her throat with its exaggerated force.

Andrea sighed, exhausted, defeated, filled with sorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut and fresh tears immediately trailed down her cheeks. Miranda hated herself. “I shouldn’t act like that, I know. I don’t mean to, and I will try-“, her voice broke. Against her better judgement Miranda reached out, cupping her lovely, and currently from emotions heated, face wiping away the wet streaks. “I won’t do it again.” It was a promise. If she couldn’t keep her feelings for her assistant at bay, for her own sake, she could do it for Andrea’s. They could be friends; she could manage that! It didn’t always have to be all or nothing.

A little while later they lay in bed, each on their own side. Andrea’s sad sniffles echoing around the room from time to time and Miranda wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold her, offer the bit of comfort she could. Friends cuddled, right? Of course, they did. This could be completely platonic. This would be completely platonic!

But, of course, as they lay there, Andrea clinging to her like she was the last thing on this earth grounding her, and echoed Miranda’s own compliment of perfection back to her she had to grip onto being platonic friends with all her might.

DECEMBER 28th, 2006

Okay, so maybe the notion of being friends with Andrea wasn’t actually so bad. It definitely was a far better solution than pushing her away, feeling guilty about it, pulling her in, feeling guilty about that too, and then pushing her away again. Being friends was a good middle ground, at least that’s what Miranda kept telling herself all morning.

She had come to the conclusion that as long as she still had Andrea in her life, she would treat her the way she deserved to be treated, no ridiculous assignments just because Miranda was in a bad mood, no unnecessary arguments, no hurting her.

It was only for a couple of weeks, anyway. Then Andrea would move on to a better, more suitable job that she actually liked, and she would hopefully forget about Miranda. And Miranda could start healing, could finally lick her wounds without having to fear they might open up again, and finally focus on other things.

But for now: be a good friend. And friends knew things about each other, right? They told each other things. Miranda wanted Andrea to trust her, to show her that she wouldn’t hurt her anymore, that she would keep her promise from the previous night.

***

“Fourth floor.”, she explained, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I haven’t been here in-”, swallowing hard, she looked away from the familiar building and instead focused on Andrea, hoping the sight would give her the strength she needed to go on. “I think I haven’t been here since I left.” It was true, she realised. All these years she had avoided coming here, for good reason. Deep down she knew that this was who she was, a poor fatherless girl that had never really belonged anywhere and probably never would. And she felt ashamed for feeling ashamed of that part of herself, felt guilty for pretending she was so much better than everyone else, that she was so above the rest of the world when in fact she didn’t even have the right to occupy the position she did.

And now Andrea knew too. She knew that all of it was just a huge sham, and the worst part was that she didn’t even seem to care. Andrea didn’t even care that all she thought Miranda to be, was crumbling in front of her very eyes.

No, instead of yelling at her, looking disappointed, confronting her, she thanked her, told her how much better she understood Miranda now. And if that wasn’t the universe mocking her, then she didn’t know. Andrea didn’t even know half of it, and she never would. They could be nothing at all, they could be colleagues, they could be friends, but they could never be more.

The walk down memory lane that day had put Miranda in quite a strange mood. It was weird to forget about more than a decade of your life, completely ignore it and then suddenly go back. She really hadn’t been prepared for all the emotions mingling together inside her already befuddled mind, and she felt like reminiscing. To just for once not push this part of her life away, but embrace it, actively think about it.

She had packed only the most necessary things when she had left for Paris, a few clothes, her money and some food and water, just in case. The few things that had belonged to her had been left with her family, including her small vinyl collection, in hopes to come back one day to get them. She had had ample opportunity to do that but later the things that had once been important to her had become irrelevant, her focus had shifted, and she hadn’t wanted to be reminded of the times before she had been Miranda Priestly.

“What’s that album called again? It’s The Doors, right?”, Sarah asked, as if she didn’t know. Neither her nor Miranda had apologised for their tiny dispute the day prior, but she couldn’t remember a time when they had ever done that. They had had their fights, had screamed at each other sometimes - when they had been little - even kicked each other but 20 minutes later it had always been forgotten again.

“…Miri got it from that girl in school. What was her name-”, Miranda was only half listening, absentmindedly tracing the font on the backside of the record sleeve. She remembered the day it had been given to her very well. She hadn’t thought about Suzanne Hughes in decades; Miranda wondered if she had ever thought about her. Probably not with the way they had left things…

“Didn’t you have a crush on her for ages?”, all eyes in the room focused on her. Could they read minds now? The heat crept onto her cheeks without permission, and she immediately denied it, partly out of habit, partly because it was none of their business. Everything regarding Suzanne was for her, and her alone, she wouldn’t share. They would only manage to spoil the memories of that summer.

As the heated conversation further unfolded, Miranda sneaked a glance at Andrea. She was staring at her, mouth agape, not even blinking. Miranda averted her eyes; she swallowed hard. This is what she had been trying to avoid, she had tried so hard to not even give the tiniest indication she could ever be interested in her. And now her meticulously hidden sexuality was out in the open, thanks to her sisters. Miranda ignored the fact that they couldn’t possibly know she didn’t want Andrea to know because to them Andrea must know already if they were a couple.

She hurried upstairs, not able to stand another second being the centre of attention like that, not able to watch the shock deepen the tiny crease between Andrea’s eyebrows as she frowned at her.

Instead, she opted for a long, hot shower that would hopefully manage to dissipate the tension that had seeped into the muscles of her back at this particular topic of conversation. She was glad for the time alone; it was exhausting having to be on guard the whole day long and she needed to charge her batteries a bit before being able to face everyone downstairs again.

She wrapped her body in a towel, blow-dried her hair and then exchanged the towel for her dark grey La Perla robe, relishing the feel of the soft fabric against her skin, still heated from the shower. Killing the lights in the bathroom, she re-entered the bedroom and almost collapsed in the doorway.

“Andrea!”, her voice sounded strained to her own ears, she grabbed the frame of the door so tightly, her knuckles turned white with the strain. Suddenly it wasn’t the shower anymore that made her feel flushed. Andrea’s gaze wandered down her throat and hungrily latched onto the exposed skin between her breasts. Miranda felt lightheaded under the intense stare of darkened brown eyes, the throbbing between her thighs almost making her give in, give up and just let the silk slide from her shoulders and take Andrea right then and there.

Contrarily, the thought was accompanied by sudden clarity and Miranda snapped her mouth shut, teeth clattering together painfully. Her hand was shaking as it came up to push the fabric together at her neck, concealing herself as best as she could. Andrea’s eyes followed the movement and Miranda was holding on to her sanity by a threat.

If opposed to everything Miranda had believed, Andrea was for whatever reason interested in her then she had a far bigger problem than anticipated. It was impossible, really. No one in their right mind, no one that knew her as Miranda Priestly, Dragon Lady, heartless bitch, the boss from hell could ever be attracted to her.

But Andrea didn’t know her as all these things anymore, did she? She knew Miriam, or at least parts of her. Miranda licked her lips, slightly panicked. So, if she was right, then Andrea liked her for being someone she wasn’t anymore. She liked her because Miranda was softer around the sharp, pointy edges of her personality when she was here, or when they were alone. But this was leading her on, she was leading her on; at the first sight of belligerence this would be over. Miranda tried not to feel disappointed when this was exactly what she had wanted, right?

Quickly she grabbed her pyjamas from the end of the bed and locked herself in the bathroom again, taking a few deep, steadying breaths.

***

A couple of hours and an emotional outburst later they were settled into bed. It was late but Miranda just couldn’t sleep. She was acutely aware of three things, and they just wouldn’t let her rest.

1. Andrea was bisexual, which meant she could, technically, be attracted to her. A hypothesis that was further supported by whatever it was that had happened after Miranda’s shower.
2. Andrea knew Miranda was attracted to women, now.
3. Andrea was interested in someone. But attraction did not equal interest. She could be attracted to Miranda without being interested in anything more.

Miranda turned to the side, to get a better look at Andrea in the dark, hands folded underneath her head. Maybe if she just found out who it was Andrea had taken an interest in, she could finally get her heart to accept the impossibility of a relationship with her assistant and forget all about this little embarrassing part that had thrown her life into chaos.

“You never said.”, Andrea’s eyes fluttered open at her question and Miranda had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from doing something particularly stupid like leaning in and kissing her.

“Said what?”, she asked drowsily, voice slurred with weariness.

“Who it is you’re interested in.”, Miranda’s voice was even, despite feeling everything but. Her heart was beating so loud in her ear, she almost missed the complete first half of Andrea’s explanation.

“-that’s part of their charm. I haven’t known them for long, only a couple of months, but I feel like lately we’ve been bonding a lot. Oh, and they’re really intelligent, which is always a plus.” Well, that could be anyone, really. She needed to delve deeper, ask a few strategic questions to sniff out Andrea’s secret lover’s identity, and hope with all her heart that it wasn’t her.

“Why aren’t you spending your Christmas with them, then?”

A quiet snort echoed around the room. “I’m here.”

Disappointment settled into Miranda’s stomach like lead, heavy and unpleasant. She was so close to just ripping her own hair out, to just open the window and let destiny decide if she could survive a fall from the first floor. Internally she screamed at herself to just make up her mind. Did she want Andrea to fancy her, yes or no? Could she life with inevitably being the younger woman’s downfall because she selfishly wanted her in a way someone her age shouldn’t want someone Andrea’s age? Because she wanted Andrea to want her despite her reputation, despite going through a divorce, despite the press shredding them both to pieces if they ever found out.

The simple answer was no. But nothing was ever simple, was it.

DECEMBER 29th, 2006

The mattress dipped next to her, waking her. She blinked around the room, confused, before her eyes focused on Andrea sliding into bed next to her. Even in the dark Miranda could see that Andrea looked somewhat dishevelled, hair wild, eyes glazed.

“Are you alright?”

“Ye-ah.”, came the broken reply, and Miranda suspected something was up. “Just needed the toilet.”

Slowly, Miranda nodded. Andrea obviously didn’t want to talk about it, so Miranda wouldn’t press her for more, at least for the time being.

When she didn’t come down for breakfast the next morning Miranda knew something was up. Of course, her brain couldn’t give her a day of rest and immediately decided Andrea’s mood must be her fault.

Nevertheless, the brunette didn’t tell her to stay at home instead of accompanying her and Sophie for their sightseeing tour around the city.

She let her niece guide them, not saying a word as if Miranda herself had never been here, as if she hadn’t grown up in London. She was glad for the time it afforded her to observe Andrea, make sure everything was fine.

“-I’ll just need to pop out for a bit, make some last-minute errand. Thanks for the food. I’ll see you at home.”, Sophie pressed a wet kiss to Miranda’s cheek, then to Andrea’s and hurried out of the restaurant, later that day. The editor looked after her, Sophie had been different all day and a good part of the previous one, as well. Throwing her confusing glances, grinning dubiously.

At least Andrea seemed to have shaken off whatever it was that had bothered her last night, and this morning and Miranda breathed a silent exhale of relief.

They returned home a little later, noses and cheeks reddened from the biting cold, hair tousled by the wind.

“Here.”, Andrea held the pair of black gloves she had given her in her right, outstretched hand. Miranda gave her a puzzled look. Hadn’t it been obvious they were a present? They wouldn’t even fit her, why would she want them back.

“For God’s sake, Andrea. Just kee-”

“Ah, you’re back! Can you come here for a second?”, Sophie’s voice called from the living room, obviously meaning to alert her and Andrea. Annoyed by the interruption she huffed in exasperation but made her way over to look what Sophie needed help with so desperately.

She giggled gleefully as they came to a stop in the doorway. “Since Christmas is over, they had a sale and how could I say no. Look up.”

Miranda’s inside churned uncomfortably with a rush of anxiety, a small whimper leaving her lips on its own accord. She wouldn’t look up, she refused. She knew what would await her there. By now she was convinced this meddlesome streak of her mother was in her DNA and had somehow been passed down to her niece as well.

Okay, just…stay calm, she tried to remind herself. If you stay calm nothing can happen. You just give her a quick peck on the lips and then we’ll move on.

“- come on, guys. It’s bad luck if you don’t smooch now.”, oh, she would kill that child, and Helen could share the same grave because she would be just as dead when Miranda got her fingers around her neck for not teaching her child how to respect other people’s boundaries.

Stay calm, she repeated in her mind like a prayer. If she pretended, she didn’t care then maybe the rest of her body would believe it too. “We shouldn’t risk our bad luck, should we?” Her voice didn’t break or waver, which she took as a definite win.

Andrea turned to face her, brown eyes positively sparkling in the afternoon sun that came through the tall windows of the living room, giving them a golden hue. It was fascinating, Andrea was fascinating. Seemingly unconsciously her gaze shifted down, focusing on Miranda’s lips. The older woman’s breath hitched in her throat, hands tingling with the need to touch, to feel. Softly caressing her jaw, behind her ear, Andrea’s eyes fluttered close for just a moment. Without even meaning to, Miranda leaned in, pushing Andrea the tiniest bit closer, something she would without a doubt regret bitterly later on.

Their lips met, it didn’t make fireworks explode behind her eyes or butterflies tickle the inside of her stomach or some such nonsense they told you in these teen magazines her daughters were so fond of lately. But it was right, it felt right, like this was the place she needed to be for the rest of her life. Like she had been in search of something, hadn’t even known what it was and had now finally found it. Andrea was warm and wet against her mouth, their lips parting and meeting again and again. She wasn’t even sure how they had gone from a simple touch, a simple peck of lips to this but she wasn’t capable of thinking right now, in any case. She suddenly felt the sharp edge of the doorframe pressing into the skin of her back, Andreas hands in her hair, at her waist. Her body felt hot, on fire, the black lace of her panties no doubt already ruined.

When she suddenly heard the half scolding sound of her mother clearing her throat, she pushed Andrea away with force; a reflex. Ignoring her mother and her family, she solely focused on Andrea, watching for any sort of reaction as the heavy weight of dread settled over her, its icy grip burning her from the inside. Andrea’s cheeks were flushed, and she watched her bite the inside of her cheek in…embarrassment? Oh God, she was embarrassed. Tears stung behind Miranda’s closed eyelids. Before she could do anything even more mortifying she hastily retreated to the bedroom, taking two steps at once up the stairs.

Panicked, she began to pace the length of the room trying to think, while her lips still prickled with the reminder of Andrea’s kiss. This had gone too far, she had gone too far, none of this should have ever happened. Her hands felt numb as she raked them through her short hair. Andrea couldn’t have even said no to the kiss if she wanted to, probably too scared Miranda would fire her on the spot without a reference in sight. She needed to apologise, to explain herself somehow.

The door closed softly behind her. Andrea. Miranda spun around, wanted to take a step closer, but then stayed where she was, rooted to the spot. “Andrea, I need t-”

The brunette instantly spoke over her, the sound of their voices intertwining for a second. “I’m so sorry. I don’t have any excuses; I shouldn’t have done that. I really didn’t wanna force you-“

What? She was apologising? Andrea was apologising when Miranda had been the one to force her into this. When she had forced this kiss onto her. “Force me?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, you couldn’t really say no…”, Andrea. Lovely, perfect Andrea. How could she get it so wrong? So backwards? Miranda’s nerves calmed a bit when she noticed that Andrea apparently didn’t blame her for what had happened. That didn’t mean she couldn’t blame herself, however.

For the first time since fleeing upstairs she took in Andrea a bit more closely. The brown of her eyes thin rings around the circle of her dilated pupils, cheeks dusted pink, lips rosy and swollen, wet from constantly licking over them. Andrea wasn’t embarrassed, she was…aroused. And suddenly every reason she had had, every resolution she had made, they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for the woman right in front of her. Wasn’t happiness the most important thing in life? And she could make Andrea happy, she would give her anything she wanted, she could be good to Andrea. If Andrea wanted her, too.

“-we need to practice it.”, Miranda’s mind felt dazed, hazy with want, overwhelmed with affection. She was surprised herself when the suggestion suddenly tumbled from her lips.

“Practice kissing?”, Andrea asked incredulously, and Miranda almost revoked the proposition. Then she noticed it wasn’t the kissing part that had confused Andrea, it was the practising.

The heat climbed to her cheeks. “I know how to kiss people, Andrea.”, she was stalling for time, trying to come up with an excuse, a reason why this was a good idea. “Just- we need to look more natural while doing it, obviously. So, we’re not so caught off guard next time.” Not even Miranda believed herself.

***

Miranda didn’t quite know how it could have possibly escalated so quickly and to such a degree. Kiss, they were supposed to kiss! But then Andrea had whimpered against her lips in that delightful, brain-numbing way and Miranda hadn’t been able to help herself, right hand gently pushing against Andrea’s sternum, pushing her back.

Andrea had popped open the first three buttons of her top, adorning the skin of Miranda’s neck, of her cleavage with featherlight kisses. They could have stopped then and there, and it would have been fine, they could have congratulated themselves to an excellent practice session and called it a day. The last buttons came undone, and the fabric slid off her shoulders. Who was she kidding, Miranda couldn’t have stopped even if the house was on fire. Having Andrea like this, Andrea making Miranda hers is what she had dreamed, fantasised about for months. It was her darkest, most concerning desire and the subject of most of her thoughts.

Frantically, she tried to get Andrea’s shirt off, needing to see her, to touch her. She almost ripped it in the process.

Andrea was beautiful, breath taking.

Miranda saw pretty women all day long, thin, tall, elegant. But they didn’t compare, how could they ever compare when Andrea looked like this. She would feature her on every future Runway cover if she could, or rather if it was appropriate. Andrea was the definition of beauty, with her long legs and perfect skin.

Slowly, Miranda reached out, afraid Andrea might come to her senses and bat her hand away with disgust. She didn’t and so Miranda carefully traced the thin white lines at her hips, mesmerised.

“Okay?”, the brunette asked, her voice a mere whisper. Miranda looked up, her eyes locking with Andrea’s, and she nodded. With the sudden need to properly feel Andrea’s heated, sensitive skin against hers she slotted their bodies together, climbing up for another bruising kiss, her knee bumped against Andrea. “Fuck! Miranda…” It was too much, hearing her name whimpered like that, needy and laced with desire. “…Again! Do it again.”

After that Miranda couldn’t really pay attention anymore, her head swimming with arousal and Andrea right there taking care of her. By the time they were both naked she was so wet it was almost embarrassing had she still had the mind to care about these things.

A couple of hours later, when they had decided it might be time for a bath, Miranda tried to feel bad about what had happened. She tried to remember all the reasons she had had to push Andrea away from her so vehemently but simply couldn’t, mind blank.

She felt the soft sponge glide over her shoulders and Andrea peppering feather-light kisses over her skin there. And she knew that if she lost Runway tomorrow, she wouldn’t care as long as Andrea just let her stay, let her be with her.

DECEMBER 30th, 2006

Telling Andrea to not worry had been hypocritical, Miranda knew. The twins were due to arrive any minute now and she was nervous. They knew Andrea had come with her to see her mother, but Miranda just hadn’t known how to tell them the capacity of Andrea’s role here. Well, it was a unique situation, and she wasn’t sure they would understand. And now things had changed, in any case, but she wasn’t sure her girls were ready to be introduced to someone knew so quickly after Stephen. She knew they were happy to just spend some time with Miranda alone.

Out of the window by the front door she watched the black car pull up and not a second later the twins were tumbling out of it, sprinting towards her. She put her worries aside for a second, holding her daughters in her arms, tightly. She had missed them terribly. A week away in another country, away from them was never easy and she relished in the warmth of their hugs.

When they pulled away, apparently having displayed enough love for their mother to last them another week they made their way inside properly, greeting the rest of the family.

She tensed when they walked straight towards Andrea. Oh God, she should have said something, explained the situation to them. How could she have expected-

“Hi Andy.”

“Yes, hi, Andy. It’s so cool you’re here!”

“So cool! We got this awesome new Harry Potter game for Christmas, and we’ve been dying to play it with you and mom.”, they let go of Miranda and took Andrea’s hands instead. Huh. Miranda looked after them a bit dumbfounded. Sometimes she forgot how grown the two already were, how smart. Sometimes too smart for their own good.

Miranda grinned, relieved and followed her three girls.

DECEMBER 31st, 2006

“What do we need all this juice for?”, Caroline whined.

Cassidy gave her a pointed look. “To drink, dumbass.”

“Cassidy, don’t call your sister that! It’s impolite and rude.”, of course, Miranda’s daughter didn’t listen and only mumbled a half-hearted whatever in response. “You like orange juice, don’t you, Caroline?”

“It’s fine, I guess. But we could also just drink champagne.”, she grinned slyly, pointing to the bottles in her mother’s arms.

“Nice try, baby. Ask again in nine years.”, she stirred them towards the check-out. They had wasted enough time in here, Miranda hoped. She felt a bit bad having left Andrea at home with her sisters and mother, but she had needed to flee from that chaos as quickly as possible. Especially since her mother was unbearable whenever she invited people, needing everything to be perfect, providing way too much food, worrying about the most unnecessary details. People had said the same about Miranda in the past, but that was completely different.

“Technically, only four years if we’re visiting grandma.”, Cassidy provided with a cocky raise of her eyebrow.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Bobbseys, but four years is still not today.”

They both groaned. “You’re no fun, mom!”, Caroline offered her opinion.

Miranda snickered. “I know, baby. Now get in and put your seatbelts on.” She deposited the bottles in the boot of the car, rounded it and got in herself.

“Hey, mom?”, she looked at Cassidy through the rear-view mirror and started the engine. “Andy is really cool. Did you know she’s a Ravenclaw?”

Miranda gripped onto the steering wheel, feigning nonchalance. “Is she? That’s great, Bobbsey.”

“Yes.”, Caroline continued. “Now that you spend so much time with her, she can come play video games with us, right? She visits every evening, anyway.”

The editor bit the inside of her cheek. Well, what was she supposed to say to that. At least her children seemed to like Andrea, which was all she could hope for. “I suppose…if she wants to…”

“You like her, mom? Right?”, Cassidy’s question sounded so innocent, it made Miranda’s heart ache a little.

“I- Yes, I do.”

“A lot?”, Caroline leaned forward in her seat. Miranda had to reprimand her to sit properly, or she might hurt herself. She had hoped that by the time she had settled into the smooth leather again she might have forgotten about the question. Negative.

Miranda sighed. “Yes. But not as much as I love you.”

They both snorted. “We love you, too.”

“And Andy. She’s cool.”

Miranda grinned. “You said so already, baby.”

***

Miranda didn’t know half of the people her mother viewed as her closest friends, so she tried to hide herself away in a less frequented corner of the room. Cassidy and Caroline had run off with another girl their age, obviously making acquaintances a lot easier than their mother. It was late and they should have been in bed hours ago, they would surely be all whiney on their flight back tomorrow, but it was New Year’s Eve and allowing them to stay up late once every year surely couldn’t actually harm them all that much.

She watched Andrea across the room chatting to Sophie and another boy around the same age, maybe a couple of years older. With pursed lips she observed intently as his eyes roamed freely all over her Andrea’s body, how his exaggerated laughter bellowed across the room, the disharmony of the sound offending her ears. She took a sip of her wine, contemplating if she should go over there and tell him to keep his grimy hands to himself.

Then Andrea laughed at something he had said, it wasn’t a polite chuckle in order to avoid bruising his undoubtedly large ego, it was an actual, genuine laugh that showed off her perfect teeth and made her eyes shine.

She took another sip, glass almost empty. When Miranda actually thought about it, her and Andrea had never talked about exclusivity. All at once every tiny little doubt and indecision she had had in regard to her suitability for Andrea came rushing back.

Half an hour before midnight, the younger woman left the room, phone in hand. Miranda feared it might be her parents again, wanting to unload another boatload of blame onto their daughter. As a precaution she followed inconspicuously, not wanting Andrea to think she was eavesdropping in on her private conversations.

“-see them this year. They’re still mad.”

Silence, then Andrea chuckled. “Yes, I still work for her.” Suddenly alert, Miranda leaned closer. This was definitely eavesdropping now. “It’s really not that bad.”

Not that bad? It stung, but what else was Andrea supposed to say? That she suddenly loved it when Miranda didn’t let her get enough sleepy, when she was on the brink of losing her job because Miranda was once again in a bad mood?

“No, I haven’t talked to her. If she wants to throw away 13 years of friendship because she can’t accept  me for me then that’s on her. I don’t care.”, Miranda knew she very clearly did care. She tried to hide it, but Miranda knew Andrea well enough by now to know when she sounded absolutely dejected.

“No, Dougie, tell me about your Chr-”

Miranda didn’t stay to listen to the rest of their conversation. She needed to face the facts; this was absolutely ridiculous. How could she have ever believed she could be good enough for Andrea when it was her fault her family and friends didn’t want anything to do with her. If the younger woman had never met Miranda her life would be perfect, a job she wanted, a boyfriend she loved, parents that supported her. It was her fault Andrea had lost all these people, all these opportunities at the life she had imagined.

Climbing the stairs, tears welled up in her eyes. She didn’t let them fall, instead let them gather on her lashes before wiping over her eyes, probably smudging her make-up in the process.

She couldn’t make Andrea happy; she wasn’t able to give her anything she wanted; she would never be someone good for Andrea. And Andrea probably didn’t even want her to try.

She needed to let her go, let her have the life she wanted, far away from Miranda and her toxicity and the baggage she carried.

The attic was dark and desolate. She opened the window, got the small cardboard box from where she had hidden it during her last visit and lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag she felt down into her lungs.

***

It felt like goodbye when she undressed Andrea that night, the sound of the zipper irritatingly loud in the quiet of the room. The dress pooled on the floor around the brunette’s feet, revealing plum coloured lace. She kissed Andrea slowly, carefully, wanting to engrain every inch of her to memory so she would remember her for the rest of her life, because there would never be anyone else. Never.

Andrea came the first time that night with Miranda’s name tumbling from her lips.

The second time she came it was on Miranda’s tongue and when she tried to remove the older woman’s underwear, the latter just shook her head, removed Andrea’s hands from the dark fabric and kissed the delicate skin on the inside of each of her wrists.

She held Andrea close that night, wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed her softly.

It was goodbye.

JANUARY 1st, 2007

Leaving Andrea alone in the bedroom to pack the last of her things, she went downstairs to make sure the girls were all ready to depart. As she entered the kitchen, her mother immediately noticed something wasn’t quite right.

“You look pale, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.”, she mumbled immediately, just wanting to get this holiday over and done with and return to normalcy.

“Trouble in paradise?”, Anne asked accusingly, raised eyebrows included. The familiar gesture suddenly enraged Miranda beyond comprehension; she clenched her fists.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, mother!”, her words scalding.

Anne blinked, clearly unimpressed by her daughter’s sudden outburst and Miranda nearly lost her composure. “Darling, I gave birth to you, clearly your life is - a bit - my business as well. Stop being so difficult.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?”, people knew Miranda seldomly raised her voice; this was an exception. “I’m not being difficult. You just always have to interfere with things you know nothing about.”

To Miranda’s frustration her mother remained unbelievably calm. “Alright, what is really bothering you, mhh? Out with it.”

She needed to take a few deep breaths to get her anger under control before she would set the entire house on fire. “Okay. How about you tell me how you came to the great idea to invite Andrea? What made you think ‘oh, let’s invite my daughter’s assistant, three weeks after her husband filed for divorce’?!”

“Does it matter how long you two have been intimate?”, Miranda cringed at the use of words. “Three weeks, three months, three years. The important thing is that you love each other.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, mother.”, she rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Are you actually this thick? Andrea is my assistant, second assistant. We aren’t…weren’t…no, we aren’t a couple. It was all pretend to keep you happy. I hope you are.”, she spat before her thumb and pointer finger rubbed over her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Just please, for the love of God, tell me why you thought we’re in love. So, I can avoid making the same mistake twice.”

A warm hand settled onto her shoulder, gently rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of her blouse. “Come on, Dear. Let’s sit for a second.”, her mother pushed her towards the dining table, forcing her to take a seat. Anne settled next to her and watched her daughter for a long moment, the fine lines on her forehead now deepened by a concerned frown. “To answer your question, I had my suspicions. I think you don’t even notice but you talk about her all the time. ‘Oh, mum, let me tell you what Andrea wore today.’, ‘Andrea has been improving immensely recently, mum.’, ‘Mum, did you know Andrea managed to get the girls the new Harry Potter book.’. Every time we spoke over the past couple of months you never failed to mention her.”, her mother smiled softly at her, and suddenly Miranda felt so small again, like only her mother could alleviate all her troubles and put the world back into order. Anger towards her now forgotten.

The heat crept into her cheeks. Had she really talked about Andrea that much? “That doesn’t prove anything.”, she said, voice quiet.

“You’re right, darling. But it helped that the girls called me, you know, that morning I talked to you at work…”, instant realisation dawned on her. “…and they told me that you would love nothing more if I invited your girlfriend along for the holidays. They said you were too embarrassed to ask yourself, and I know how you can be…”

Miranda hid her face in her hands, no wonder the twins had been able to play along so effortlessly. “These meddling little-”

“Please don’t give them a hard time because of it. They only meant well.” Miranda let her hands fall away from her face, feeling lost, needing guidance. She looked at her mother pleadingly. Anne took her hand in hers, squeezing lightly. “You love her, don’t you?”

The question made Miranda swallow hard, her eyes burned, and she looked down for a second, trying to compose herself. When she looked back up, the tears were already spilling, and she had to take in a shaky breath. She pressed her lips together, desperately trying to get them to stop shaking.

“Then tell her.”

Miranda immediately shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut against the fresh wave of tears. “I can’t, mum.”

“Oh, darling.”, she closed her arms around her daughter’s shoulders, holding her, kissing the top of her head.

They stayed there for a while, Miranda quietly sobbing and vaguely wondering when she had become one of those people who needed to cry all the time.

***

She didn’t confront Caroline and Cassidy right away, planning to wait until they were safely back home and had rested for a bit. They fell asleep after the first hour of their flight, anyway, which wasn’t all that surprising given the late hour they had gone to bed last night.

She also didn’t exchange a single word with Andrea for the entirety of their travel. She felt in a sort of limbo, awaiting a decision, a judgement, only it would have to be Miranda herself to be the one to decide, to judge. She spent the whole seven hours of their flight weighing the pros against the cons, a last attempt of her heart to get her brain to agree. Deep down she knew she had made a choice a long time ago.

Roy stopped in front of the Townhouse, leaving the car to get their luggage from the back. As the twins went on ahead inside, clearly still tired despite sleeping for the last six hours, Miranda found herself alone with Andrea, once again.

There were a thousand things she wanted to say, at least a hundred she needed to say. In the end she only thanked her, didn’t kiss her, didn’t hug her, didn’t touch her at all. But she wanted to, she could barely think of anything else. Had she stayed a minute longer she knew her resolve would have crumbled. Andrea needed to leave here, leave Runway, leave her life.

Finally, she took her hand, squeezed it, allowed herself at least this little bit of touch. “Tomorrow 6.30 at the office. Be punctual!”

***

As she leaned against the inside of the closed front door she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Her heart ached to the point where it hurt to even breathe but she knew this was the right thing to do, maybe not for herself, but for Andrea. And when it came down to it, she knew she would always do whatever was best for the people she loved.

Chapter Text

When her alarm went off the next morning, Andy felt like she hadn’t slept in a week, having spent most of the night tossing and turning and never quite finding the peace of mind to properly rest. Around 4 o’clock she had given up and just accepted that she wouldn’t be sleeping that night and had instead started drafting her resignation letter, so she wouldn’t need to do it later in the office, something Miranda would have, without a doubt, found beyond irritating. She made slow progress, getting lost in her own thoughts time and time again.

Everything in her life seemed so unclear right now, a new job she hadn’t started looking for, the situation with her friends and family, Miranda. Well, she hoped Miranda was willing to become the constant among this sea of uncertainty, but with how she had acted yesterday, and being the person Andy knew her to be she just couldn’t be sure of anything. The only thing that remained right now was hope.

An hour later she dragged herself under the semi-hot shower and hoped it would miraculously fix the violet tint under her eyes. It didn’t. Not even her make-up was able to help her that day. Yawning, she decided on a pair of black wide-legged pants and a beige bell sleeve sweater.

At 6.23 she was the first person to enter the Runway office; usually Miranda didn’t show up until 8.30 at the earliest, but Andy felt today might be different. So, after she had printed out her resignation and put it on Miranda’s desk, ready for her to sign, she went down to the closest Starbucks for the first coffee run of the day. 20 minutes later, in the Elias-Clarke lobby she picked up Miranda’s pre-ordered stack of magazines and newspapers and made her way back up to the 17^thfloor.

Not a minute after she put the Starbucks cup next to a glass with sparkling San Pellegrino the distinct clack-clack of heels on tile echoed down the hallway towards her, a sound-pattern Andrea knew by heart and that was so unmistakably Miranda that Andrea’s heart began to hammer in her chest whenever she heard it.

Despite everything that had happened, today was no exception. Maybe today was even worse than usual because of what had happened. Sleep deprived and anxious she watched Miranda turn a corner and walk straight towards the office, where without saying another word or looking at her, she flung her coat and bag on Andrea’s desk and marched on to her own.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Andrea put everything away before nervously rubbing her clammy hands on her trousers. This day really couldn’t have started any worse.

“Andréa.”, at the sound of her name falling from the older woman’s lips the butterflies in her stomach automatically started fluttering. Notebook and pen in hand she approached, waiting for a sign that the previous week and a half had not been a dream.

Miranda was leaning over the newest issue of Vanity Fair, slowly flipping through the pages but remaining silent otherwise. Andrea squirmed in her Chanel pumps and cleared her throat.

Blue eyes met hers, icy and distant and the butterflies inside her automatically froze. “What, pray tell, is this?”, she pointed to the coffee cup.

“Your coffee.”, Andy was too tired to argue right now. Miranda looked at her as if she had never heard something more idiotic and Andy almost flinched. Incredible how ten days could change a person’s perception of someone to such an extent. The brunette had gotten so used to Miranda’s warmth, it felt like a lifetime ago she had seen her boss look at her like this.

“It’s lukewarm, at best.”, Miranda spat.

Andy frowned. Slightly less than center-of-the-sun-coffee surely couldn’t be the only reason for Miranda’s disastrous mood. Was she trying to deflect from their relationship by being especially cruel today? Or had something happened during the few hours they hadn’t seen each other?

Ignoring the little voice inside her head that told her it was her fault, she slowly advanced towards Miranda. “Did something happen?” She asked, just to make sure.

Closer now, Andrea could see the dark circles under the editor’s eyes that rivalled her own. The soft skin around them appeared red even through the dark eyeshadow on her lids and Andrea wanted nothing more than to cradle her face in her hands and hold her gently, press a comforting kiss to her lips and tell her whatever had happened, they’d find a solution together. She couldn’t do that, too afraid someone might walk in despite the early hour. Instead, she let her fingers trace delicately over Miranda’s hand and arm, only the barest hint of a touch and the older woman’s breath audibly hitched in her throat.

“Andréa.”, she repeated, panting in no more than a whispered hush and squeezed her eyes shut. Andy could all but see the heaviness of whatever was bothering Miranda weighing down on her shoulders. Despite her better judgement, she reached out after all, tracing the sharp line of the older woman’s jaw and forcing their eyes to meet once again.

“Tell me what happened.”, Andrea demanded quietly, trying to convey that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Miranda, with a single look. The older woman sighed heavily, looking conflicted.

“Andréa, I can’t d-”, just then the glass door to the outer office was being pushed open and they both sprang apart as if scorched by proximity alone. Not a second later Emily appeared in the doorway – crutch-less by now – ready for Miranda to relay her full list of assignments for the day; the panic about Miranda already being at the office clearly written across her face.

Disappointed, Andy watched how Miranda once again put the mask into place, jaw tense, lips pursed, eyes sharp and detached. She beckoned Emily closer, picked up her coffee and turned to Andy without ever really looking at her.

“Bring me a new one. You can’t possibly expect me to drink something that tastes like warmed up dishwater.”

Andy shook her head, sighed, took the cup, and left for her second coffee run of the day.

She didn’t see all that much of Miranda that day, as the older woman sent her on errand after errand and slowly, she began to wonder if she was doing it on purpose – with how increasingly ridiculous the tasks were becoming - to keep her busy and away. When she finally returned many hours later, Miranda had already gone home, leaving Andy to wait for The Book and the dry-cleaning. The silence of an empty office gave her ample time to think, or in her case overthink; something she had done way too much during the past few weeks. But who could blame her with all this up and down? She knew Miranda and her needed to talk, but as with everything regarding Miranda, it was easier said than done.

She arrived at the townhouse at quarter past nine that night where she was immediately greeted by two grinning twelve-year-olds waiting for her by the stairs.

“Hi Andy.”, they whispered in unison as if they had rehearsed it.

Andy put the clothes in the closet and The Book on the table. “Hi guys. It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Cassidy shushed her, pressing her pointer finger to her own lips; meanwhile Caroline peaked up the stairs, then back to Andy and spoke.

“She doesn’t know we’re still up.”

“Yes, we sneaked down because we knew you were coming.”, Caroline grinned mischievously. Andy raised an eyebrow, half accusing, half intrigued.

Cassidy fluttered her eyelashes innocently, but the glint in her eyes told a different story. “Can you come over on Friday? We always watch movies on Fridays because it’s the weekend. We might even let you choose which one.”

“And you can play our new game with us. I bet you’re much better at Wii Sports than mom.”

Andy had to bite the inside of her cheek to refrain from smiling, inevitably having imagined Miranda trying to get the hang of a video game.

“What’s your favorite food?”, Cassidy blurted, seemingly under the impression Andy’s hesitance was an almost-no. “We’ll tell the cook to make it. He can make anything.”

“Are you trying to bribe me with food, Cassidy?”, Andy chuckled, and the redhead smirked sheepishly. “I like anything, really. I’m not picky. But ask your mom first and if she says yes, I’ll happily come on Friday.”

Okay, so Andy definitely had overreacted. It had been the first day back at the office, of course Miranda was tense and busy. Everything was alright if she hadn’t told Caroline and Cassidy, she would never be allowed at the Townhouse ever again. Right?

“Really?”, Caroline squeaked happily. Andy nodded.

“Haven’t I told you two to go to bed over an hour ago?”, bellowed a stern voice down the staircase, followed by the dull sound of descending steps. Miranda appeared behind her daughters, who avoided turning around; probably hoping that as long as they couldn’t see her, they weren’t in any trouble.

“Straight to your rooms now. And if I hear a single word of protest tomorrow morning, I’ll cancel the cakes you wanted for your birthday.”

With a drawn out ‘mooom’ and a rushed goodbye to Andy they hurried up the stairs. The brunette looked after them with a smirk until they had disappeared, then her gaze shifted to Miranda, who didn’t look any better than this morning. She had already removed her make-up which only intensified the darkness around her eyes, her skin was pale, paler than usual, and her lips looked chapped. She stretched out her hand, palm up. Andy wondered if this was the invitation she had waited for since the previous afternoon, if she should just take her hand and Miranda would lead her upstairs, into her life. Then, the editor’s gaze focused on something behind her, and she realised that she was waiting for Andy to hand her The Book. As disappointment settled heavily around her heart she turned to do as was expected of her.

Miranda clutched The Book to her chest. She was standing on the last step, which meant that even in heels Andy was smaller than her when she usually had a few inches on the older woman.

“Is everything okay?”, she eventually enquired when Miranda didn’t say anything else.

Blue eye shifted down, latching onto the seemingly very interesting carpet leading up the stairs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

When she looked back up Andy shrugged. “Have you eaten?”, she knew how neglectful Miranda could be, about certain things other humans needed to live, like food, or sleep.

The editor exhaled slowly but audibly through her nose. “I sent your resignation letter to HR. Tell me when you need a reference.” She deflected and turned around to climb the stairs again. On the third to last one, she stopped and looked at Andy again, her grip vice-like around the banister. “Be on time tomorrow. 6.30.” Then she disappeared out of sight and left Andrea there, at the bottom of the stairs, even more confused.

When she arrived at Runway the next morning, Miranda was already behind her desk, and yet there was no coat or bag tossed hastily across the keyboard of her computer. She proceeded to hang her own coat in the wardrobe and found that dark red fur had already been neatly placed inside it. Andy frowned and stepped into the editor’s office.

“Good morning.”, she smiled, hoping that her good mood might melt Miranda’s glacial one a bit. Kill ‘em with kindness, or something like that, right? She only got a distracted hum in return. “You’re in early.”, she took a couple of steps forward stopping directly in front of the glass surface of Miranda’s desk. The older woman still refused to look up, too focused on the glossy 4 x 6-inch printouts of the spring photoshoot for the march issue. “Did the twins behave this morning?”

Miranda sighed irritated and looked up at Andy over the rim of her glasses. “Where’s my coffee, Andréa?”

Eyebrows pushed together; Andy huffed annoyed. “I’ll get it in a minute. I wan-”

“Well, I don’t pay you to do things in a minute, I pay you to do them now.”, Miranda interjected, breaking eye contact once again.

“Alright.”, refusing to get angry, Andy sighed and walked around the desk, turned Miranda’s chair, and thus forced her to at least look in her direction. “You will tell me what’s wrong now.”

Miranda’s eyes opened a fraction, blue so light it appeared almost grey. “Oh, that’s just impertinent.”

“Impertinent?!”

“I told you nothing is wrong, stop asking.”, she was about to turn around again and give her entire focus to her work, when Andy quickly grabbed the armrest of her chair and stopped the motion. Miranda’s eyes twinkled cold and dangerously but Andrea fumed, fury burning in her stomach, she loomed over the older woman. Okay, maybe she was angry after all. Miranda’s eyes observed, roamed over her face, pausing at her lips, before quickly snapping back up again. Andy grinned triumphantly and the anger flickered away, turning into something else entirely. She leaned in, only mere inches apart. “What are you doing?”, Miranda croaked quietly, the words ghosting over Andy’s mouth.

“Distracting you.”, she murmured in reply and connected their lips. Immediately, Miranda’s hands found the lapels of Andy’s blouse and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Oh, so she was playing hard to get? The brunette relished the possessive gesture and the feeling of Miranda’s warm mouth against hers after having missed it for two days now. Two days wasn’t actually that long, but two days away from Miranda felt like an entire lifetime.

When the older woman suddenly got up from her chair without ever breaking the kiss and pressed Andy against the edge of her desk a small whimper escaped the assistant’s throat and Miranda instantly drew back an inch, panting against the wet skin of her lips.

“Please, Andréa. Don’t.”, gone was the frost in her eyes, replaced by want and something so despondent Andy couldn’t bare to examine it further.

“No one’s here yet.”, Andy tried to reassure her. “It’s just you and me.”, gently she pushed a silver curl back behind Miranda’s ear. It wasn’t long enough to stay there, but Andy couldn’t resist the gesture.

Miranda shook her head and brough some distance back between them, straightening her already pristine clothes in the process. She looked just as tired as the previous day, Andy noticed, but now there was a red splash of colour painted high on her cheekbones. She cleared her throat and took her seat in her office chair once again, grabbing her glasses and one of the pictures she had abandoned sometime before their little break just then.

“The girls want me to invite you on Friday.”, she said it as if suddenly completely unaffected by their kiss. “Don’t wait for The Book if it doesn’t arrive by 6. Dinner is at 7.”

And wasn’t that the glimmer of hope on the horizon Andy had hoped for. Most likely, Miranda was simply against any sort of display of affections in the office, and she was right, Andy supposed. All sorts of people could walk in at any minute, yesterday it was only Emily, who hadn’t seen anything, but tomorrow it could be someone like Irv Ravitz; and that needed to be avoided at all costs.

Andy nodded; a bright smile once again splayed across her lips. “Can’t wait.”

For Andy it felt like the rest of Wednesday dragged on endlessly, with Miranda and Emily out of the office for most of it. All there was left for her to do was check e-mails and answer phone calls. Around 4.30 Nigel stopped in front of her desk.

“Where’s her majesty?”, he asked, peeking inside Miranda’s abandoned office.

Andrea hit the sent button on an email to The Mirror, then turned to Nigel. “Meeting with Chanel.”, she shrugged.

He arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing here then?” Andy cocked her head, clearly confused. “She takes you everywhere. You are basically her shadow. Where Miranda goes, Andy goes.” Immediately her good mood from this morning diminished. “Don’t tell me something happened, Six.” He gasped in pretend shock.

The better question was, what didn’t happen? But as much as she liked Nigel and viewed him as a friend, she had promised Miranda to not tell anyone, and especially no one at the office. So, she only shook her head and put on her best pokerface.

“And how was your Christmas, New Year’s and everything in between?”, he grinned teasingly. “How is Mama Priestly?”

Andy had almost forgotten that she had already told Nigel about going to England with Miranda. In hindsight she wanted to punch herself in the teeth for being so idiotic; there was probably no one in the entire office who loved gossip more than the Art Director himself. Even though Andy was convinced he would never betray her or Miranda’s trust like that.

“She is nice, they’re all very nice.”

“Nice?”, Nigel dead-panned. “Is this all the words they teach you at that little college of yours?”

Andy sighed; she knew he wouldn’t leave it be. Miranda was persistent but Nigel could be unyielding if he wanted to be. She had only wished he would ask in a few weeks, or months (or never) when things made more sense, when she had finally sorted all of her thoughts so she could understand them herself, when she had had a chance to talk to Miranda properly and not just for two tense minutes every morning in her office.

“They’re very welcoming, and kind. A bit much at times with how similar they all are to Miranda, but…they’re also not at all like her. I-” Nigel watched her acutely as she spoke. “She is nothing like she is here, Nige.” Andy’s gaze was unfocused, and she lost herself in memories for a while. How gentle the older woman could be, how she had held Andy to comfort her, reassured her, cared for her, worried about her. Suddenly she longed to take Miranda away, away from prying eyes and excessive work that made the editor push her away like she had done since they had returned.

“No?”, he asked softly, and thus brought her back to reality.

Andy swallowed hard around the lump suddenly stuck in the back of her throat and shook her head. No.

When she delivered The Book that night the house was dark and silent. She left after waiting a minute for something to happen, for Miranda to saunter down the stairs and tell her everything would be okay.

She did the same on Thursday. The house remained dark and silent.

When Friday rolled around, Andy was an emotional mess; excitement and anxiety mixing uncomfortably in her stomach, making for a particularly toxic blend. She used the time she had while watching the phone not ring at the office to write a list. She needed to get her thoughts straight before she could even think about talking to Miranda. She wanted answers, wanted to know where they stood exactly and where they would go from here and she couldn’t do that with her feelings strewn all over the place.

She hated being so afraid in the face of having to talk to Miranda, feeling like while they had taken one step forward at her mother’s house, they had taken two back since being back.

Of course, The Book did not arrive by 6 o’clock so she left the office with only the dry-cleaning and her notes; the piece of paper neatly folded in the back pocket of her crème-coloured slacks. Usually leaving much later, Andy wasn’t used to the catastrophic traffic during this time of the day, and she grew more restless with each passing second.

When they still hadn’t made any significant progress 15 minutes later, she told Roy to not bother. She would simply walk the rest of the way, which meant she would still be late but there was nothing she could do about it now.

No Book and at least 5 minutes late (which meant 20 minutes in Miranda-time); luck really wasn’t on her side. As she passed a row of little shops, her eyes immediately fell on a few arrangements of flowers, neatly placed in front of one of the tall windows, that really didn’t have any business looking this vibrant in early January. Quickly she stepped inside and chose a small bouquet of yellow and red tulips, hoping Miranda would like them. The elderly lady behind the counter desperately tried to sell her freesias, claiming they were perfect to display in the colder months. Andy paid and left in record speed, then hurried down the street with equal pace.

“You’re late!”, Andy emerged from the hall closet, only to be confronted by two icy stares and similarly pursed lips. It was truly frightening how much Caroline and Cassidy Priestly could look like their mother if they wanted to.

“I’m sorry, guys. I swear it was bec-”

“What’s that?” Caroline immediately interrupted, the bouquet in Andy’s arms having distracted her enough to forget she was meant to be angry. The brunette pressed her lips together to refrain from grinning.

“Flowers.”

“Duh!”, Cassidy rolled her eyes. “For mom?”

Andy nodded, hoping the twins wouldn’t bash her choice too much. Thankfully, they only smiled excitedly. “Where is your mo-”

“MOOOOM!”, they both shouted at the same time in a volume that made Andy’s ears ring a bit. A second later Miranda emerged from upstairs; still clad in the same midnight blue dress she had worn to the office earlier. She had, however, lost the silver Dolce & Gabbana stilettos and her jewellery, which didn’t make her look any less beautiful.

“How many times have I told you two not to shout.”, her gaze fell on Andy then, who still stood in the entrance, closet door open behind her and flowers cradled into the crook of her arm. “Oh.”, once again she stopped on the last step, still giving her a tiny height advantage over Andy. “Hello, Andréa.”

“Hi.”, the brunette smiled and contemplated leaning in for a kiss, but two pairs of very inquisitive children’s eyes were still intently trained on them. “Here.”, she held out the flowers to Miranda, in lieu of something better to do. All she got in response was a perfectly plucked arched eyebrow and she instantly regretted her selection, maybe she shouldn’t have brought flowers at all, maybe wine would have been a better idea, but then again, Miranda was one of those people who only drank the best and most expensive wine and Andy’s meagre pay-check just couldn’t compete with that.

Nonetheless, Miranda plucked the bouquet from her clammy hands and walked towards the kitchen, not sparing her another look. The twins grabbed her by the arms and marched on right behind their mother.

Andy had never seen more of the first floor than the hallway and a glimpse into the living room and the kitchen; based on that the reveal of the dining room shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. It was gigantic, the entire room bigger than Andy’s entire apartment and she wondered how often Miranda had guests over that it could warrant for a dining table of such measurements.

“We’re having Pizza.”, Caroline explained as they took a seat, even though it was already sat steaming on the table. For a second, she wondered if Miranda had remembered that it was her favourite or if it was a coincidence.

While Andy and Miranda ate in complete silence, the twins happily chattered through the entire affair, nearly forgetting to take a bite from time to time.

Apparently, Caroline had scored three times during her last soccer match and Cassidy was eagerly rehearsing for Dalton’s drama club auditions. Obviously, and in true Priestly fashion, she was aiming for the part of the leading lady.

“It’s a musical, Andy!”, she exclaimed excitedly, almost dunking an entire strand of her red hair into the tomato sauce and cheese in the process. “Mom’s helping me practice. Did you know she can sing really well?”

Andy’s eyes immediately snapped over to Miranda, who pretended to nonchalantly eat her salad. She remembered when the older woman had confessed how much she liked musicals, Andy had just never thought that she could maybe perform them just as well. “I didn’t.”, she smiled while Miranda still avoided eye contact. “Maybe she’ll let me listen one day.”

“If you’re all done, I suggest you choose a film soon or it’ll get too late.”, and with that she got up and left the room. Andy looked to the twins, but they only shrugged and stomped out and up the stairs. Exhausted she exhaled deeply and rubbed over her eyes, for once not caring that she was wearing make-up.

Alone again, Andy sighed heavily. Why must this whole love business be so complicated. Why was this so difficult to figure out? Why did they have such problems to just talk to each other? Why was there a need to talk in the first place? It was obvious, wasn’t it? She liked Miranda and Miranda liked her, right?

Then why?

Chapter Text

“Mom, Caroline was allowed to choose last time! I wanna watch Freaky Friday.”, Cassidy whined, hands clinging to her mother’s dress, no doubt wrinkling it in the process.

They had been arguing for well over fifteen minutes and Andy knew that Miranda would lose her temper soon, indicated by the ever-deepening crease between her eyebrows and the way her thumb kept rubbing over her temple trying to fight off an oncoming headache. Ever the perfect assistant, the suggestion of getting some Tylenol from downstairs was already tickling on Andy’s tongue.

“But we only watched that two weeks ago. And we haven’t seen 13 going on 30 in so long.”, Caroline countered, already waving the DVD case in front of her mother’s face.

Andy watched Miranda’s jaw tense and decided this was the perfect time to intervene. “How about you let me decide, mhh? I have great taste in movies, and you said last time that I could.”

Three pairs of deep blue eyes turned towards her; seemingly having forgotten she was even in the room. Caroline and Cassidy then turned to look at each other, probably communicating through some secret twin telepathy channel. The nod that followed indicated they had come to some sort of agreement.

“Okay, but only this week. Next time is our turn again.”, Andy nodded, happy that she had managed to avert a catastrophe. She risked a small glance over to Miranda, but the older woman was looking down, appearing deep in thought. Foregoing the movie completely was all Andy wished for right that second; she was desperate for some time alone with Miranda, far away from the office, far away from work and far away from the twins, no matter how much she liked them.

But this was their night, and she was a mere guest who had gotten the privilege of being invited into a Priestly family tradition, so she would sit through a movie, she would sit through a thousand movies if it meant at the end of the night, she could be certain she would get this privilege for the remaining Fridays of her life (or at least until Caroline and Cassidy were too old to spend Fridays at home).

“Pick a movie, then!”, Caroline commanded, cocking her head in a way that made any kind of DNA test superfluous.

Andy bit her lip in consideration. She sneaked another peek at the editor, but she was still tensely starring everywhere but her assistant.

“How about The Sound of Music?”, that got Miranda’s attention and her gaze snaped up, solely directed on Andy, who gave her a small smile. Miranda did not return it, but she saw the softness reflected in the older woman’s eyes, nonetheless. She wanted nothing more than to reach out, take her hand and hold it for the next two hours or however long it took for the movie to end, but two armrests and a small side table separated them. It felt like the deepest, widest cleft.

The twins were not at all enthusiastic and only put the disk in the DVD player under much protest and annoyed groaning, claiming that the video was way too old and the movie boring, despite never having seen it.

Naturally, Caroline fell asleep after 30 minutes, softly snoring against Miranda’s side, who had an arm protectively wound around her shoulders and was gently caressing through her daughter’s red hair.

Cassidy on the other hand couldn’t keep her eyes away from the TV, completely engrossed in the plot; at some point Andy wondered if she even blinked. They were about a little over an hour into it when she suddenly gasped next to Andy.

“Oh my God, he likes her, doesn’t he?”

It was true, of course, but Andy would have never guessed it so early on, not when the Captain and Maria were arguing more than they were talking.

Miranda seemed to be just as confused. “Why do you think that baby?”

“Just listen, mom.”

‘-my children by any chance been climbing trees today?”

‘Yes, Captain.’

‘I see. And where, may I ask, did they get these…these-‘, he held up a dripping piece of fabric.

‘Play clothes?!’, Maria cocked her head confidently.

‘Oh, is that what you call them?’, he sounded incredulous.

“You see? He’s being extra mean because he likes her.”

“Bobbsey, I don’t think that’s ho-”, Miranda lamely tried to convince her daughter that being mean by no definition equalled love but was immediately interrupted.

“And Maria is the only one who argues with him, everyone else just does what he says and that’s why he will fall in love with her. Easy.”, she shrugged.

One thing was clear, for a twelve-year-old, Cassidy Priestly was extremely perceptive. Or maybe she was just an expert regarding very cliché romantic movies because this was certainly not what happened in real life.

And when they finally kissed on screen about an hour later, her only comment was a smug ‘told you so’.

“What did I miss?”, Caroline mumbled as she woke just when the credits started.

Her sister rolled her eyes and sprung up from the sofa. “Only the entire movie, moron!”

“Cassidy!”, Miranda warned with a stern voice, then she sighed. “It’s late; time for bed. I’ll be up in a minute to say goodnight.”

Reluctantly Caroline peeled herself off her mother’s side and stood up, yawning. “Can Andy come say goodnight too?” It took a moment for Andy’s brain to register the request, but when it finally did a warm feeling instantaneously spread through her chest. She would have never expected that the twins to take to her so much and in such a short amount of time. Miranda, on the other hand, just pursed her lips, hesitating. Oh.

“Please, mom.”, Cassidy begged, and they both put on their best puppy-dog-eyes imitations that Andy definitely could not have resisted. And Miranda couldn’t either, as it seemed, because not five seconds later she gave in. The twins grinned triumphantly, sprinted up the stairs and two doors were slammed shut a moment later. Miranda flinched marginally and emptied the wine glass she had taken the occasional sip of over the course of the evening. Andy’s counterpart sat still half full on the coffee table in front of her.

“You know, I can just wait here if you don’t want me t-”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Andréa.”, with an exhausted huff she elegantly stood up as well and walked over to the staircase, climbing it without saying another word. This was probably Andy’s cue to do the same, and she did so tentatively.

Once upstairs she followed the voices to the end of the corridor, where two doors sat slightly ajar opposite each other and Andy chose the one Miranda was currently not behind.

Caroline’s room was enormous, to put it bluntly. The walls were painted a pastel mint-green colour, contrasting the dark hardwood floor nicely, though a twelve-year-old could probably not appreciate the colour scheme the same way.

“Andy.”, Caroline croaked from where she was already snuggled under the covers in her equally gigantic bed. Despite her obvious weariness she held out her small hand, meaning for Andy to come closer. Sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed felt like an intrusion despite it being exactly what Caroline had asked for. “Will you come to my match next week?”

The brunette smiled, heart warming at the question and she nodded. “Of course, I will.”

Maybe she should ask Miranda first, but it was Caroline’s event and if she wanted her there who was Andy to deny her that wish, especially when the girl was asking with so much earnestness colouring her voice.

“Thanks, Andy, you’re the best.”, she smiled, eyes already fluttering close. “Goodnight.”

Andy carefully heaved herself off the mattress. “Goodnight, Caro.”, she whispered before closing the door behind her. In the hallway between the twin’s rooms, she bumped into Miranda. “I think she’s already asleep.”

The editor sniffed. “I will check on her regardless, if you don’t mind.” And with that she brushed past her, leaving Andy in the darkness.

She decided to swallowed her frustration for a little while longer and instead knocked on Cassidy’s door, who immediately commanded her to come in and sit on the bed just like she had for her sister; the only difference being that Cassidy was a lot more awake than Caroline had been.

“Andy…”, she whispered excitedly and leaned in closer. “It’s just like with you and mom.”

“What is, Cass?”

In return, she got That Look that made Andy understand she was being extremely stupid. Of course. “Mom is like the Captain, and you are like Maria, just how it was in the movie. She can be really mean; I’ve seen it before. But she’s never mean to you.”, well, wasn’t that a bit inaccurate? “Or not anymore, I don’t really know.”, she bit her lip and wrung her hands together in deep contemplation, with an innocence and naivety only a child possessed. “And you’re in love, too, right?! Just like they are.” Her blue eyes were wide and hopeful, and Andy was at a loss. What does one even say to something like that? Even if she could confidently answer the question with a ‘yes’, would she dare to? Right to the face of Miranda’s daughter?

“I like your mom very much.”, she admitted instead and thankfully Cassidy accepted it without further questioning. “But it’s time to sleep now, come on.” The redhead pulled the blanket up to her nose and mumbled a quiet but contented ‘goodnight’.

By the door Andy turned off the lights and returned the sentiment. She was about to leave the room when Cassidy called her name again.

“Yes?”

“I like it when you’re with us. It’s so much better than with Stephen.”, the darkness surrounding them made the confession a lot more intimate, struck her right in the heart and Andy had to blink away the tears that suddenly burned behind her eyes. She cleared her throat before whispering a broken “Thank you. I like being with you all too.” back to her and eventually left the room.

How tragic that the twins seemed to want Andy around a lot more than their mother did.

Speaking of, Andy made her way back down into the living room where she had abandoned her wine and took a generous swig, trying to collect herself a bit and simultaneously calm her frayed nerves. As if they hadn’t been bad enough without such an admission from one of the twins.

“You really didn’t need to wait for me.”, Miranda sauntered into the room, looking absolutely majestic despite the late hour and the lack of complete attire.

“That’s okay, I only just came down.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

Why was this so difficult, Andy asked herself for the umpteenth time. She cleared her throat again. “I think Cassidy enjoyed the movie.”

Miranda nodded, plucking an invisible lint from her dress. “I suppose she did. But she likes musicals, as you now know.”

“I wonder who she gets that from.”, Andy smirked, stepping close and slowly letting her fingers trail over the skin of the other woman’s naked arm and collarbone. Miranda’s breath caught in her throat the same way it had only three days ago in the office, where they had been in a scarily similar position, only then they had been interrupted or Andy would have-

Slowly, she leaned in, watched fascinated how the tip of Miranda’s tongue peaked out for a second to wet her lips before she brushed them together for a featherlight touch. At first Miranda stood stock-still, and Andy nearly pulled back to once again ask if everything was okay or if she had somehow overstepped, but then the older woman inhaled shakily against her mouth and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Her hands found their way into Andy’s neat bun at the back of her head, loosening it in the process until her long dark-brown tresses splayed over Andy’s shoulders. Hands on her chest pushed her until the back of her knees hit the edge of the sofa and she fell back. Miranda immediately followed, climbing into her lap with her legs on either side of Andy’s thighs and sought her lips for another searing kiss.

Maybe they didn’t actually need to talk, this was better, this was what Andy wanted to do every second of every day. Miranda’s mouth was warm, and wet, and inviting. She tasted of red wine and desire, Andy’s favorite flavor.

Her fingers fluttered over the dark fabric on the editor’s hips and waist, then leisurely reached behind her for the tiny zipper down her back, the sound unexpectedly loud in the silence around them.

“Let me see you.”, Andy whispered as her mouth peppered open mouthed kisses over Miranda’s jaw and down her neck.

With a quiet whimper the editor pulled away. “The girls.”, her voice sounded distressed even through the softness with which she spoke. “I can’t.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a bedroom.”, Andy grinned, trying to lighten the mood and elevate some of the other woman’s concerns. The only thing it got her was Miranda climbing off of her and immediately turning away, leaving Andy to stare at her exposed back.

“I think you should go.” It came so out of nowhere that Andy thought she had misheard, at first.

“What?”, she asked perplexed.

“Please leave.” The rejection stung. But the fact that Miranda didn’t even trust her enough to speak with her slashed right through her heart strings.

Andy exhaled deeply, getting up as well. “Uhm, sure, but can…can we talk…before I do that?”

The other woman, still barely risking a glance, arched an eyebrow under the silver forelock that artfully curled across her forehead. “Aren’t we talking right now?” Of course, Andy was doomed to fall in love with the most complicated woman on earth.

“Miranda.” Andy gently grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around again, taking the older woman’s hand in hers. Miranda’s shoulders tensed instantly but she thankfully didn’t pull away again - small mercies. “Please. I just…want to understand.”

The editors lips pressed together into a thin line. A few moments passed in which she didn’t say anything, clearly contemplating her next words and Andy thought she might have a heart attack before the wait was over. Then Miranda shook her head ever so slightly. “I just can’t do it.”

“That’s okay. If you’re concerned about the twi-”

“No, Andréa.”, her voice was pleading, desperate in a way Andy had never heard before. “It’s too much.”, she rubbed her hand over her face, suddenly looking even more tired than she had the past few days.

Andy’s heart sunk, it sunk into her stomach and settled there, heavy, and uncomfortable, making her feel sick and hysterical with how fast she was losing comprehension over the situation. “We-we can go slower. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Please.” Miranda begged once again; Andy had never heard her use that word so often and in such quick succession before. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

An incredulous, frantic chuckle escaped her. “But it isn’t hard at all.” she seized Miranda’s jaw gently and forced their eyes to meet, hoping to find answers there if the older woman was not willing to offer them verbally. “Miranda, all I want is to be with you.”

Silence again. Andy’s heart pounded against her ribs, twice, three times. Miranda watched her, studied her, blue eyes roaming over her face. Then suddenly she pulled back again, took a step back, as if the lack of touch alone could shield her from whatever she was so afraid of. “Oh, don’t be absurd.”, her words lacked the usual bite that accompanied them whenever she had uttered them in the past. This time they were soft, floating through the air with genuine incomprehension.

“I’m not!”, Andy tried to implore. “Is it so difficult to believe that I might like you? Really? After everything? There is nothing I want more in this life than to kiss you every day, tell you how beautiful you look and bring you flowers and make you happy, care for you the way you deserve.”, a sudden wave of confidence surged through her, or maybe it was a last desperate attempt to stop Miranda slipping away from her with every passing second. “And I know you want to be with me, too.”

Miranda just looked at her, eyes glinting in the light with unshed tears as if her own words hurt her just as much as they did Andy, and Andy…she just didn’t understand, she felt like a fish on land, out of her depth. Her eyes stung and the back of her throat felt raw with the emotions stuck there, scratchy, and uncomfortable.

“You have no idea what I want.”, Miranda whispered weakly, hands clinging to her own body, to her arms, trying to protect herself. Andy’s insides suddenly burned with white, hot fury, despite the other woman’s gentle tone.

“No? I don’t remember you complaining a few days ago.”, she snarled.

“I-”, Miranda’s cheeks glowed a deep crimson and she sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “That was completely different.”

“How? No, please enlighten me, Miranda. Because maybe I’m too much of an idiot to understand, so tell me how everything that happened, all the kisses, all the touching…how-”, her voice broke and she took a few deep breaths, needing to calm down a bit before being able to continue. “How can that possibly mean nothing to you?”

She stared at Miranda, chest heaving with anger, and heartbreak, and confusion. Miranda stared back, all of a sudden appearing very small, almost fragile, her eyes watery but the tears not daring to fall. Her voice was faint as she spoke, as if every word she uttered weakened her and Andy wondered what could change the other woman’s demeanour from one second to the other to such an extent. “A swallow doesn’t make a summer, Andréa.”

Andy didn’t flinch, she felt numb like this was all happening to someone else and she was simply watching, screaming for this torture to stop but no sound came, her demands remained unheard. “No.”, she shook her head slowly, in disbelief.  “I know what you’re trying to do. Despite what you may believe, I’m not stupid-”

“I never thought you were.”, her gaze was intense, filled with so much sincerity that it made Andy almost crumble right there on the carpet of Miranda’s living room.

“Oh. That’s right. I’m the smart, fat girl, how could I forget?”, she soldiered on. Whatever was tumbling from her lips now happened unconsciously, she knew Miranda didn’t really believe that. Or maybe she did, she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, it seemed.

“Andréa…”

“Why is it always like this with you? Always blowing hot and cold. No one ever knows what they get, one day you’re the most caring person on this earth and the next you act as if we barely know each other. It’s exhausting, Miranda.”, she regretted it the moment it left her mouth, having to watch Miranda put her already cracked façade together again hurt more than anything she could have thrown back in her face.

“You’re right.”, the room temperature instantaneously sunk below zero. “It is exhausting to have you think we could ever be equal. There is so much-”

“I know you don’t mean that, Miranda.”, Andy tried to reach out again, apologize or get Miranda to apologize, take her hand, get her to stop destroying whatever remained of the possibility of a them. But Miranda immediately retreated, her face marked by sorrow and pain. Andy felt sick. “I know you’re just trying to…I don’t know…push me away to be chivalrous for some stupid, incomprehensible reason-”

 “Even if that was the case…” A hard swallow. “It’s for the best, you need to understand that. We would have never lasted in the first place…”

“You can’t possibly know that.” A fresh wave of tears pooled forth and Miranda actively turned around, looking away, when she had first caught sight of the glistening moisture leave its salty tracks down her cheeks .

“Believe me, Andréa, when I say I do know.”, her voice sounded strained, regretful and it broke on every second syllable. “Please leave now. I don’t want the girls to wake up.”, looking back, Andy didn’t remember how she had made her way outside, but soon enough the biting January air crept under the fabric of her coat. She looked up to Miranda one last time, who was watching her from where she stood in the doorway, her own tears now smudging her make-up, painting black streaks down her face.

“And Andréa?” It was foolish to turn around and expect Miranda to have changed her mind during the last minute, to apologize and wave her inside again, it was stupid to hold onto hope even in such a moment. “I think it’s best if you don’t come to the office next week. I-”, she squeezed her eyes closed for a second, before opening them again and blinking swiftly. “Goodbye.”

The door didn’t slam shut, but Miranda firmly and quickly closed it behind her, as if the barrier now between them would prevent her from doing something reckless.

It was kind of comical how life could change in the span of mere minutes, seconds even.

Maybe if she had just remained calm, talked to Miranda instead of getting angry things would be different now.

No, they wouldn’t. Andy had to face it, Miranda had been acting distanced since their return, maybe even before that. She tried to come up with a reason why the older woman seemed so afraid to be with Andy, and Andy knew a relationship between them would never be easy but was avoiding that difficulty really worth all that pain, all that suffering. Because she knew that she wasn’t the only one who felt her chest had been ripped open and left bleeding. Andy had seen it in Miranda’s eyes, had heard it in her words and felt it on her skin.

And now she didn’t know what to do with herself, this was worse than losing her parents, this was losing the only person she knew understood her, saw her for who she was instead of who people wanted her to be. This was pure, agonizing, unbearable pain. This was losing everything.

You can’t lose something that was never yours to begin with, she reminded herself. Because despite the despair settled deeply within her gut, her brain was apparently not too hazy to still take one last stab at her.

Settling on the last step outside the townhouse, she buried her head in her hands. If this was what heartbreak felt like, then she had never truly grieved before. Even the tears had decided to leave her company now as she only felt their residue sticking to her cheeks and throat. She probably looked awful, she felt worse, and she needed to leave. But where to go? There was nothing, nowhere left.

With unfeeling fingers, she plucked her phone out of her coat pocket, moving as if on autopilot. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d freeze to death right outsight Miranda’s home, and wouldn’t that be a pathetic sight. Scrolling through her contact list, she realized that she didn’t know many people at all, and even less people would pick up if she called now. What would she even say? Why did she feel the need to burden someone else with her problems? She should just go back to her apartment and drown herself in more wine until the pain throbbing inside every cell of her body started to subside.

Her phone started vibrating in the lose grip of her hand; without checking who was calling she answered. There was only ever one person who called her this late, even if that person had just kicked her out after breaking her heart. “Miranda?”, she rushed out. “Please, just listen-”

“It’s me, Six.”

“Oh, Nigel.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic.”, he joked. “I called because there were some scheduling issues for next month’s shoots, but I see this is a bad time to bother you with work.”

Andy just so managed to listen; the sudden realization that there would be no more schedules to oversee, no more next month’s shoots to accompany Miranda to (or accompany Miranda anywhere) winding her. She took in a few shaky breaths, squeezing her eyes shut against a new wave of nausea washing over her. “Emily.”, she panted. “Ask Emily.”

“Andy…”, his voice was uncharacteristically soft, lacking the usual underlying humor. “Where are you?”

“I-”, she pressed her lips together, trying to refrain from sobbing into Nigel’s ear, but it was to no avail. “In front of Miranda’s house.”, she pushed out between clenched teeth.

“Come over.”, what followed his request was a series of breathless huffs, nos and I can’ts from Andy. “Get in a cab, Six, and. Come. Over!”

“That’s what she said?” The brunette nodded, snuggled into a soft tartan blanket on Nigel’s equally soft couch, an already well used tissue box next to her on the armrest. The art director stopped his pacing and looked down at her with a disconcerted frown. “I’ll let you in on a secret.”, he plonked down next to her, Andy followed the movement with her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “That day you came to me all bewildered that Miranda’s mother invited you along for the holidays I told you it would be good for you.” Andy nodded again, sniffling repeatedly. “It’s because I knew she liked you; Miranda, I mean.”

“Did she tell you that?”, Andy interjected, heart immediately beating twice as fast. It was stupid to keep clinging onto the older woman like that, when she had made it so clear there was no future for them and the sooner she accepted that the sooner she could start to move on. But barely an hour had passed, and she wasn’t ready to do so yet, not when she knew for a fact that Miranda’s words did not reflect what she really wanted. When she knew that the other woman was probably just as miserable as her across town. And yes, maybe she should just respect the editor’s decision and be done with it but if she spent her time now holding on to every little chunk of hope that rolled her way, then so be it. She could always be rational later on, when it didn’t ache so much anymore.

“Of course not. But God…”, he raised his hands to his head in exasperation. “…it’s so obvious. Just the way she looks at you, as if you paved the way her Prada pumps clack on. It was so painful to watch at times, you two dancing around each other. And then she finally, finally, got rid of ‘Mr. Perfect’…”, he interrupted himself with a short gagging sound. “So, you know, nothing stopping you two anymore…”

“I think you got it wrong, Nige.”, another tear trickled down her cheek. “There is clearly something stopping us, or her.”

Nigel looked at her for a long moment; it was so different to the way Miranda did it, Andy noticed, so much less sharp, it didn’t make every cell of her body tingle under the attention, it didn’t make her squirm with nerves. “Maybe she just needs time. You know her.”

She did, and she hoped with all that was left in her that Nigel was correct, but the doubt had already begun to grow.

So, she wouldn’t approach Miranda again right now, her words had been more than clear, and hadn’t she ultimately always done what Miranda wanted her to do?

Cassidy was wrong, she had never once in her life disobeyed Miranda Priestly, not even that day in Paris she had nearly walked away from her, because, in the end, she had come back, hadn’t she?

Andy spent her Saturday and Sunday alone in bed, crying and thinking and despite everything still hoping for a message from Miranda. None came. Her phone remained dejectedly silent, except for the occasional text from Nigel checking in on her.

On Monday morning, after the third night of barely any sleep, the melancholy within her had started to settle, ceased it’s iron-grip around her heart and made room for the all-consuming fury coursing through her blood.

How dare she? How dare Miranda make decisions that clearly belonged to the two of them? Her words had eventually reached through the thick fog clouding Andy’s brain since Friday and were now fresh and glowing, burned into the cerebral cortex of her brain. It was one thing to reject Andy because she was really simply not interested, but it was entirely different to cast her out, push her away and not even explain herself, as if Andy just had to live with Miranda’s choice, not allowed to raise any protests or even be given the chance to know what she might want to protest against. It all felt terribly unfair to Andy but what was worse is that there was nothing she could do about it but wait.

Tuesday passed with around fifteen texts per hour from the Art Director trying to distract her, not think about it any more than was necessary, which, once again, was so much easier said than done.

By Wednesday she had managed to convince herself that waiting simply wouldn’t do; she was in a constant inner battle with herself between wanting to respect Miranda’s decision no matter how much it hurt her and trying to talk to her again. Didn’t she at least deserve an explanation?

This was how she found herself pacing the living/dining room of her apartment that evening, phone in hand, starring at the editor’s contact information. It took her five more minutes of nervously throwing her phone on the sofa and picking it up again a second later, before she found the courage to actually dial.

It rang, once, twice, five times. Voicemail.

She tried again ten minutes later. Same thing.

And again, after an hour. “Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voicemail sy-”

On Thursday she left the first message, after three more of her calls remained unanswered. Maybe Miranda’s silence should have been indication enough for her just to give up, let the matter be, let it settle, let the wounds close and scar. But no, she couldn’t just do that without at least trying. If nothing else, her own stubbornness would eventually be her own downfall, she was sure.

“Uhm…hello, Miranda. It’s- eh…it’s Andy- Andrea, but I suppose you know that because… caller-ID.”, she bit her tongue, cringing. Hadn’t she wanted to come across as tough and the opposite of sad? What had happened to that plan? She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Anyway, I think we should…you know, talk again…properly, without any screaming, or…or fighting because I think…you know, eh- I’d like a bit of clarification of some…stu- on some things. Okay. Eh- please, call me back. Bye.” Well, that had been worse than anticipated.

When Miranda hadn’t called her back by midnight Andy sent a goodnight-text, feeling pathetic and hurt all over again. The night was spent counting the new cracks across the ceiling above her bed.

The sound of an incoming call on Friday afternoon nearly put her into cardiac arrest, and she answered, once again, without checking who was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Andrea.” Ann-dree-ah. “I’m Tom…Williams, I work for David Remnick at The New Yorker and-”, this time Andy’s heart skipped a beat for reasons wholly unrelated to Miranda Priestly. She had completely forgotten about the pressing need to find a new job and how she had sent out application letters to any major and minor publication in New York City (again).

Her and Tom talked for a while before they settled on a date for her interview and said their goodbyes.

Giddily she did a little spin around the room, almost having been able to not think about Miranda for a few blessed minutes before reality crashed down on her again.

On Saturday, after two hours of restless sleep, she woke up to another text from Nigel inviting her to brunch. Well, it was less of an invitation and more of a command, after he had let her rot in her apartment for over a week now. Reluctantly she put on a low-effort outfit that did not consist of sweatpants and an oversized shirt and heaved herself over to the closest subway station.

Brunch, in Nigel’s case, meant extraordinary amounts of alcohol and delicious but comparatively little food. Andy was more than okay with that concept.

“You know…”, she took another sip of her mimosa. “…the last time I was this tipsy was when Miranda took me to a Christmas Market. She was so…tender that day.”, the memory sucked her in for a while until Nigel had to literally snap her out of it. “Sorry.”, she mumbled apologetically and took another sip to swallow down the awkwardness.

“Andy, Andy, Andy…”, he sighed, shaking his head; his eyebrows drawn together by pity. “What are we to do with you?”

“I hardly know what to do with mys-”, her phone, the one that she should have, by the way, given back to Runway over a week ago now, vibrated on the table, announcing a new message, and making the cutlery around it jump in the same rhythm.

Despite knowing better, she turned it around with bated breath.

Chapter Text

stole moms phone

Andy stared down at the three words. Her eyes flickered up; Miranda’s name glared at her from the top of the screen. Another interval of vibration followed; another message.

shes in the shower

It vibrated again.

my match is today

Again.

u promised to come. 2pm

And again. One last time.

this is Caroline btw

When she looked up, Nigel met her eyes across the table inquisitively. With everything that had happened in her life during the last week, which was more than anyone should have to deal with in the span of only 8 days, she had completely forgotten about Caroline’s request for her to come to see her game. Things had been so different when she had agreed, she had been honored to be invited, to be wanted there, and she still was but now the whole endeavor left an accompanying bitter taste in her mouth. On top of that the glacial grip of guilt wound itself inside her tummy for having failed to remember something so important.

“It’s Caroline.”, she mumbled while taking another peek down at the illuminated screen of her phone, just to make sure she hadn’t imagined the messages just because she was desperate for another chance to talk to Miranda.

“Priestly? Caroline Priestly? That Caroline?”, the Art Director asked incredulously, abandoning his drink next to him on the table just to convey to Andy the full dimension of his shock. The brunette refrained from rolling her eyes and opted for a simultaneous nod while shrugging, instead. She slid the little device over the light wood surface to Nigel so he could convince himself, and maybe offer some advice while he was at it. His gaze flickered from one message to the next and then back up again for a few long moments. “I’ve known the little devils since their birth, yet I have never seen them be so…let’s say, open with anyone. Andy Sachs, what is it with you and the Priestly women.”, he grinned, and Andy felt her cheeks flush, reaching out to quickly grab her phone from his hands again.

Nothing was with her and the Priestly women, as at least one of them couldn’t even look at her without almost crying and the other two were twelve.

Grabbing her jacket and purse she stood up, suddenly feeling the effect of alcohol a lot stronger than she had while sitting. “I’m sorry, Nige. I have to go.”

“You’re actually gonna go, Six?”, his shock was laced with a hefty dose of genuine surprise.

“Of course. I promised.”

****

The shower upstairs turned off. Shit!

Quickly, Caroline sent another text with the address and then deleted the six messages she had sent and put the phone back into her mother’s purse where she had fished it out from just a little over five minutes ago, hoping that Andy would not send a reply, not even a single affirming ‘Yes’ or she would be so so screwed.

She sprinted up the stairs as quietly as she could and closed the door to her room behind her, biting her tongue in deep concentration to make sure it didn’t make even the tiniest, quietest of sounds. Mere moments later it was being flung open again and her mother stood, as always dressed to perfection, in her daughter’s doorway.

“Caroline, we leave in ten minutes. Why are you not dressed?”, she barked and eyed the green pyjamas Caroline still had not changed out of. “Hurry up!”, she warned and then immediately left, closing the door again, not even waiting for or expecting a response. The redhead instantly exhaled a deep breath of relief and let herself slump back onto her bed.

Her mother had been in a disastrous mood all week and Caroline had the sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Andy’s absence every single evening. Now it was Emily again who brought The Book at night; Cassidy had unwisely asked their mother on Wednesday why that was but only got a very uninformative “Andréa does not work for mommy anymore. Now off with you.”.

When her twin had crawled into bed next to her that night and told her of their extremely brief chat, Caroline had frowned and wondered aloud why their plan hadn’t worked. Andy liked mom, and mom liked Andy too, so why hadn’t it gone to plan?

She thought of her friend Jessica at school. She and Josh, a boy from their math class, had said they liked each other, gotten together and then married during lunch break (Caroline had officiated) all in a single day. So why did it take their mother so long? Her and Andy could have gotten married at least 30 times by now (at least if Stephen, that jerk, wouldn’t annoy them anymore).

Of course, Cassidy had only shrugged, yawned, and said that just because Andy didn’t work at Runway anymore didn’t mean her and mom didn’t love each other.

Caroline had kicked her out before Cassidy could fall asleep in her bed again and keep her up all night with her constant movements, but her words stayed with Caroline, even hours after Miranda had come up to tuck her in.

No, something had gone wrong, Caroline could feel it.

When she heard footsteps outside her room approaching once again, she quickly scrambled off the bed and exchanged her sleepwear for her soccer uniform.

****

Riding the subway at 1 am on a Saturday, feeling dizzy and hot despite the weather outside was maybe not the best idea Andy had ever had. But it was the quickest, easiest, and especially cheapest way to get where she wanted to be.

In spite of wanting nothing more than a chance to talk to Miranda again, even if it was the last time she’d ever get to, she felt not so sure of herself anymore. Was her daughter’s soccer match, where Miranda definitely did not expect to encounter her, really the best place for a conversation of such caliber. The brunette spent the entire train ride contemplating whether she should even seize the opportunity or simply be there in support of Caroline, cheer her on and congratulate her to a well-played game afterwards no matter the outcome.

She still hadn’t come to a conclusion when she approached the playing field and joined the other spectators and parents on the stand, lowering herself into one of the red plastic seats there.

Swiftly, she gazed across the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the iconic silver hair. Nothing. Would Miranda even be here? Or maybe Andy simply couldn’t see far enough from her position. Feeling the whirls of disappointment and relief swirling together within her, Andy decided to focus her concentration on the beginning game instead.

She spotted Caroline immediately - the red hair was a dead giveaway – and watched her zoom across the field. The girl nearly managed to score two time and Andy was right there with her, clapping and cheering her on. When the referee blew the whistle to announce halftime Caroline’s eyes scanned across the sea of spectators and finally fell on Andy; a bright smile stretched over her face, and she waved at her excitedly before following her teammates to the changing rooms for a short break. Andy reciprocated with a small wave of her own.

The whole affair ended a good hour later with the Dalton team winning 2:1; Caroline had scored the last, winning goal during the remaining ten minutes and the people had gone wild, shouting and whistling and applauding.

Andy stood to the far left of the field when Caroline approached her, still dressed in her blue uniform that was now covered in green and brown stains. It reminded Andy of the poor soul at Miranda’s favored dry cleaners who had to try and get them out and then hope to god the editor was satisfied with their work. Andy herself had had to call them often enough and demand an explanation for their ‘atrocious’ work on behalf of the older woman.

“Andy! You came!”, the girl flung herself into Andy’s arms as if they had been friends forever. In the twins’ head they surely had been. The brunette, still not quite sober, struggled a bit against the weight but found her footing again rather quickly, chuckling.

“Caro, you were brilliant. Congrats.”, she smiled down at the girl, genuinely proud of her achievement; a feeling she wasn’t sure she was entitled to feel. But who should ever know?

“Thanks. I really wanted to win today.”,  the dimples on her cheek deepened as her smile broadened. Andy had to involuntarily grin at her words, leave it to Miranda’s children to make winning sound like a decision.

“That you did. Did yo-”

“Have you seen mom already?”, Caroline interjected, both twins were prone to do that, a trait they had no doubt absorbed from the cradle. The question took Andy aback. So, Miranda had seemingly not talked to the girls about their break-up or whatever you call a separation from someone you were never really in a relationship with. That would also explain Caroline’s invitation today despite the fact.

Slowly, Andy shook her head. “No, but I don’t think tha-”

“Caroline!”, the soft voice drifting through the chilly air automatically made Andy’s muscles tense. She had spent so much of her time today, yesterday and all the days before that since last Friday thinking about a moment like this. And now that she was right in the middle of it, she didn’t know how to react. Stay, try to talk, to get an explanation, to understand or run away as fast as she could and hide in the safety her bed provided?

Caroline left her side to join her mother and sister a few steps down the lawn.

“Hi, Andy!”, Cassidy grinned excitedly at her then turned to Miranda. “Mom can Andy join us for cake at home?”, she faced Andy again. “We baked chocolate cake with Cara yesterday.”, she explained.

Before the brunette could even so much as inhale before giving an answer, Miranda beat her to it. “I don’t think Andréa is available today, Bobbsey.”, her blue eyes bore into her, pleading her to play along. Andy had half a mind to thwart that wish and just agree but as much as she wanted another opportunity alone with Miranda, she wouldn’t betray her like that.

“I’m sorry, guys.”, she said to the twins. “Your mom is right. I have loads to do today. Maybe some other time.”

Of course, they protested and whined and tried to convince Andy to change her mind until Miranda sent them off to wait in the car and thus stopped their complaining.

Surprisingly, the older woman did not turn to join her daughters immediately. Instead, she stayed back but remained silent and avoided all forms of eye contact. Andy’s mouth felt dry, her throat parched, and she licked her lips in a hopeless attempt to calm her still alcohol induced nerves a bit.

“Miranda…”, Andy took a step closer, not particularly fond of the idea that any of the other parents walking past them every couple of minutes might be able to listen in.

“Andréa.” A manicured hand reached out, stopping her dead in her tracks without a single touch. It kept hovering in the air between them, and the depths of the swirling sea that were Miranda’s eyes pinned her in place, just to be sure. “I haven’t changed my mind. I meant what I said.”, transfixed, she watched Miranda repeatedly swallow around something in her throat and she knew this conversation might be even harder for the editor than it was for Andy. Might. “Please just…give me some time. I’m not saying we can’t see each other ever again…as- as friends. Just…give me time.”

Andy nodded, feeling like a marionette whose strings were pulled by some unknown force above her. Last week she had been ripped open, a wound causing a kind of pain she had never experienced before, not like that, not with such intensity; this week she had gotten used to the sting, and now not even the affliction the salt that were the other woman’s words surprised her anymore. They still hurt more than anything, but the sharp edges of surprise were missing.

“All I want is to understand, for you to explain wha-what…”, she suddenly felt terribly wrung out, head vacant of any fitting words.

Miranda regarded her softly; it was almost worse than having to bare the frost she usually held for everyone else. “Some day, I will. I just…I can’t right now. Not now. Please.”

Another nod. Miranda mirrored her before turning to leave. Andy raked her brain for something to say, anything that might make Miranda stay for just a minute longer.

“I have an interview on Tuesday.”, she blurted. She felt terribly foolish, but it had the desired effect. A small, sad, but genuine smile tucked at the corners of the editor’s lips. “For The New Yorker.”, she added quietly, as an afterthought.

“They’d be idiots not to hire you.”

***

Leaving Andrea standing there in the midst of green grass and grey skies was the second hardest thing Miranda ever had to do; the hardest had been telling her to leave her house, her life a mere week ago. It was nothing compared to any fashion week, any print deadline, not even compared to the birth of her girls and that had been incredibly strenuous and agonizing. And now there she stood, so unexpectedly, so surprising, so Andrea. The brunette had never not surprised the editor, from day one she had turned Miranda’s life upside down and now they had to deal with the consequences.

Without looking back, she marched on towards the car because she knew if she only so much as took a peek the last remnants of her resolve would crumble and she could not allow that to happen, not again. She had refused, held herself back from taking her calls, or listening to her voicemail because she knew it would be over for her then. And she would not be responsible for causing Andrea even more pain that she already had. Andrea was young she’d get over it soon, find someone else, someone better fitting, someone not as destructive.

The twins were suspiciously silent when she slid into the driver’s seat. Miranda watched them for a long moment through the rear-view mirror, for some reason they found that a lot more intimidating than being looked at directly. Surveying them now, they were the picture of innocence and Miranda didn’t know if she should scold them for their meddling or take them into her arms for being so concerned about her happiness.

Instead, she didn’t say anything and just started the engine, wanting nothing more than to get home and lie down, or bury herself in work for some time. The car ride passed in unfamiliar silence until Caroline seemingly had enough of it.

“Don’t you and Andy like each other anymore, mom?”, she sounded genuinely curious, her little face marked by confusion as her eyebrows drew together and Miranda’s heart throbbed painfully in her chest. It took her a long moment to find an answer, and it took her even longer to voice it, and even then, she doubted she’d ever be able to find the right words for any of it.

“We do, baby. I do.”, she paused. “ Sometimes it’s just not that easy.”

“Why?”, Cassidy mirrored the expression on her sister’s face.

Miranda inhaled deeply, hoping for someone to give her the strength she really did not have in her right now. “You’re not old enough to understand that yet.”

“Of course. If you don’t explain, we won’t understand.”, Caroline sniffed. “Nothing to do with age.”, she added quietly.

She ignored the urge to glare at her daughter, once again through the mirror, and instead bit down on the inside of her cheek to refrain from ruining the conversation with one of her cutting remarks. Besides, Caroline was right, of course.

“Sometimes…”, she started carefully. “…it’s not enough to simply like each other. Sometimes there are…other things keeping you apart. Or things you know will hurt the person you l-like. And you don’t want them to be hurting. Caroline you wouldn’t do anything that might hurt your sister, would you?”, it was meant as a rhetorical question and yet some part of her mind expected, hoped for her twelve-year-old daughters to give her an answer, to tell her she made the right decision. It was ridiculous, and it put pressure on their shoulders they weren’t even aware of (which was for the better).

Caroline nodded at her through the mirror, Cassidy remained silent, deep in thought.

They arrived at the Townhouse only three minutes later. While Miranda told Caroline to go take a shower and put her clothes in the laundry basket or there wouldn’t be any cake later, she grabbed The Book from her downstairs-office and went to join Cassidy in the living room.

“Can I put on a movie, mom?”

Miranda agreed only if Cassidy promised not to put the volume too high and that she had already finished all of her homework. The editor settled into the love seat next to her daughter and popped the cap of her signature red pen, ready to put all of her frustrations out on the latest Runway drafts for a couple of hours.

If Miranda was good at anything it was to immerse herself into work to the extent that she became almost completely unaware of her surroundings, something her (ex-)husbands had always been bothered by.

So, it came as no surprise when it took her brain a few minutes to register the notes of a very familiar melody drifting through the living room.

“-To sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray.

 I go to the hills when my heart is lonely
 I know I will hear what I've heard before …”

The Book open in her lap, she watched Cassidy for a long while. Her daughter’s blue eyes, bright and glimmering with joy, followed every little movement on the screen; her voice occasionally hummed along to the songs. A warm smile spread across Miranda’s lips at the sight. Despite how that evening last Friday had ended, she couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through her chest seeing Cassidy enjoying the film just as much as she had always done.

“You really like that movie, don’t you, Bobbsey?”, she inquired softly.

Cassidy turned to her mother, which surprised Miranda slightly given the fact that last time she wouldn’t have been able to get her younger daughter away from the TV, not even by luring her away with the promise of sweets.

“It makes me think everything will be alright.”, Cassidy confesses, the expression on her face wise beyond her age.

They looked at each other for a long minute. Upstairs the shower stopped, and a door slammed shut loudly. Miranda scooted a little closer, abandoning The Book on the coffee table. “That would indicate something is not alright. You can talk to me a-”

“I just don’t think you’re right, mom.”, Cassidy implored. Miranda’s hands stopped the gentle strokes through her daughter’s hair. She wanted to ask what she was not right about, but Cassidy beat her to it, simply going on. “I know Andy likes you so much, and you like her too. I don’t understand what’s hurtful about that.”, her nose scrunched up in confusion.

Miranda inhaled deeply; she really had not been prepared for a conversation like that, not today, not ever actually. The sudden realization how grown her two babies already were put Miranda into an even more melancholic mood. Soon they’d be in high school, and before she realized it would be time for them to pack their things and go off to college.

“Nothing.”, her slow touches continued. “There is nothing hurtful about that. But sometimes the hurt comes from outside, it’s external. Mommy knows lots of people, Bobbsey. And sometimes those people don’t like me-”

“Like people at newspapers that always write shit about you?”, she gave Cassidy a sharp, reprimanding look that made the girl immediately grin apologetically.

“Yes, people like that, for instance. You and your sister know well enough how…unfair they can be, and I just don’t want them to hurt Andrea because she is my…friend.”

“Or girlfriend.”

Miranda cleared her throat.

What a silly word, what a silly thing to be at her age. You had boyfriends and girlfriends at 17, not 47. Well, Miranda didn’t have either, no matter how much she longed for the latter, or rather how much she longed for that one particular person to be her form of the latter. All she had was one ex-husband, and another one getting that downgrade not soon enough.

“And that’s the reason you and Andy decide to be unhappy forever?”, Cassidy cocked her head, honest curiosity reflected in her eyes.

“Andrea will find other people, baby, new friends. But this is nothing you need to worry about, Cassidy.”

The movie still playing in the background seemed long forgotten now as the girl scooted even closer to her mother, snuggling into her side. She looked up, leaning her head against Miranda’s arm and shoulder while the older woman reached out to tuck a few stray strands of her fiery hair out of her face. “We want you to be happy too, mom. We really didn’t want to cause you any trouble.”, she bit the inside of her cheek guiltily and something within Miranda settled, something that had been floating around aimlessly within her since leaving the UK.

“Ah. I suppose this is about your brilliant plan you involved Grandma in?”, despite the gnarly subject a small smile played on her lips in the presence of so much care and thoughtfulness from her girls. She knew they had only meant well by meddling. “Or maybe the one about inviting Andrea to your sister’s game today?”

Cassidy raised her shoulders towards her head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, mom. We just thought since Stephen is gone you could be with someone you liked, or we all liked. And Caroline is matchmaker for her friends in school all the time.”

“I’m not upset with you. Just…”, she sighed deeply. “Just don’t try to do that again, okay?”

Cassidy nodded and they both turned back to the screen to concentrate on the film still playing there.

“Mom?”, Miranda hummed, giving her to understand that she was listening. “I get what you said but…please don’t forget about Andy.”

“I won’t, baby. I couldn’t.”

Chapter Text

From: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]]

Sent: Tue 01/16/2007 5:19 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: SHE’S GONE MAD

Six,

She’s fired two new assistants in as many days. I think Emily is slowly losing her mind having to do the job of both assistants and dealing with her majesty’s brilliant mood all day long.

And I forgot my phone at this doctor guy’s place who I may or may not be seeing. More on that Friday. Is 6.30 still working for you? And tell me immediately how your interview went!

***

From: Tom Williams [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 01/17/2007 4:37 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: Schedule  

Hi Andy, as discussed see attached for your work schedule starting Feb 1^st, 2007.

If there are any other inquiries, you might have don’t hesitate to reach out.

Looking forward to working with you.

Best Regards

Tom

***

From: Emily Charlton[[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 01/22/2007 8:42 AM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: Your Phone!!

You still have not handed back your mobile to IT.

Do it asap!

From: Emily Charlton[[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 01/22/2007 8:44 AM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: [no subject]

And finally clear out your desk. Five new second assistants have had to work in your chaos.

From: Emily Charlton[[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 01/22/2007 9:28 AM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: [no subject]

Forget it. It has been emptied out by the cleaning people; I presume. Your fault for procrastinating.

***

From: Sarah Walker [[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 01/24/2007 10:33 PM

To: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Subject: ANSWER YOUR BLOODY PHONE!

Miranda,

Mum has been trying to call you for weeks now (and so have I, by the way). Is it really so difficult to take two minutes out of your day to at least call back?

Don’t think I’m not able to find Andy’s number and have her force you on the phone.

We’re starting to get worried. At least say that you’re just busy and not lying dead in some ditch.

***

From: Cassidy Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Thu 01/25/2007 6:05 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: Hiiii 

hi andy!!!!!

u might be wondering where i got ur email address from. me and caroline copied it from moms little phone booklet thingy she forgot at home yesterday ;) dont tell her

but this is great right? we can write all the time now. maybe ill get my own cell for my birthday and then we can call and text all the time. anyway i wanted to tell u that i got the part I wanted for the musical ahhh ill be belle!!!

maybe u can come to opening night in a few months??

i should be doing my homework and mom will be home soon so i have to go now. we miss u

byeeee

***

From: Jill Abbot [[email protected]]

Sent: Tue 01/30/2007 4:48 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: more pics

Hey Andy,

Tobey has grown so much since I last sent you pictures. He can smile now. JUST LOOK AT HIM!! (I attached some photos we took on Saturday in the park).

How are you? How is work? Maybe if M. let’s you have a few days off work you could come visit.

Please call me back.

Love you!

Jill

***

From: Caroline Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Sun 02/04/2007 11:25 AM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: lots of things

Hi Andyyy

We won again yesterday. 4:2 yaaaay. I scored the first goal which was really cool.

Do you think my birthdsy cake should be green or blue? I still haven’t decided but I’ll send you a picture of what it will look like so its maybe easier to choose.

Mom is being really weird btw more than usual I mean

Before she was like in a really bad mood all the time and now she is not in any mood at all. Idk

Anyway let me know about the cake. maybe you can come to our birthday too that would be so cool

Byebye

From: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 02/07/2007 04:13 AM

To: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]]

Subject: Lace Shoot / Monday’s Run-through

Nigel,

I still don’t have the prints from LAST MONTH’S lace shoot. Why is everyone in my employ completely incompetent to keep a simple schedule?

About last Monday’s run-through: we still have not decided whether to use the amber or the saffron jacket. Is it so difficult to follow my instructions?

Miranda

From: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 02/07/2007 04:49 AM

To: Sarah Walker [[email protected]]

Subject: re: ANSWER YOUR BLOODY PHONE!

I’m fine. I can’t talk at the moment.

And tell mum to stop calling me at work.

From: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 02/07/2007 07:08 AM

To: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Subject: re: Lace Shoot / Monday’s Run-through

Dearest Miranda,

We looked through the prints you mentioned just last week. Together. We agreed to use 20988732_040107.jpg , 20988732_150107.jpg , 20988732_660107.jpg and 20988732_076607.jpg (I’ve attached them for you).

About the jackets, you told Jocelyn to use the amber-colored one.

I’ll come by your office later.

Yours most devotedly,

Nigel

***

From: Peter C. Alkalay [[email protected]]

Sent: Fri 02/09/2007 11:14 AM

To: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Subject: re:re:re: Adultery Allegations

Dear Miranda,

Mr. Tomlinson’s lawyer has agreed to our proposal, which means we can move forward and put forth a date for the court appointment. I will send over the ones you have suggested if you don’t have any objections.

Kind Regards

Peter Alkalay

Matrimonial and Family Law

McLaughlin&Stern

T: 212-448-6201

F: 212-448-0066

E: [email protected]

***

From: Emily Charlton [[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 02/19/2007 10:51 AM

To: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]], Serena Rodrigues [[email protected]]

Subject: help!

Today she looks like death warmed over. I think she even fell asleep at her desk earlier. What do I do? Nigel, talk to her. Serena, bring some blush; she is paler than a ghost and she has a 2 o’clock appointment.

From: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 02/19/2007 11:36 AM

To: Emily Charlton [[email protected]], Serena Rodrigues [[email protected]]

Subject: re: help!

Calm down, Emily. Maybe she just stayed up too late last night brooding over The Book.

And Serena, stay away with that blush or I’m sure she’s gonna bite your hand off.

From: Emily Charlton [[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 02/19/2007 11:38 AM

To: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]], Serena Rodrigues [[email protected]]

Subject: re:re: help!

She had not a single task for me today, Nigel.

From: Nigel Kipling [[email protected]]

Sent: Mon 02/19/2007 11:40 AM

To: Emily Charlton [[email protected]], Serena Rodrigues [[email protected]]

Subject: re:re:re: help!

Okay shit!

***

From: Cassidy Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Tue 03/06/2007 4:21 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: super duper awesome news

Omg Andy moms getting divorced on thursday and then we never have to hear from Stephen ever again. Not that he ever talked a lot with us but he was annoying and im happy when moms finally rid of him.

And even befire our birthday thats like the best present ever. Or the new harry potter movie mom is getting for us early

both is pretty cool I guess

Cass&Caro

PS pls pls pls come to our birthday we promise mom wont be upset. She hasn’t been upset about anything lately so its fine. Actually u cant say no bc its our birthday so we can decide

***

From: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 03/08/2007 11:43 PM

To: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Subject: Congrats

Miranda,

Heard your divorce was finalized today.

I’m really happy for you.

From: Miranda Priestly [[email protected]]

Sent: Wed 03/08/2007 11:44 PM

To: Andy Sachs [[email protected]]

Subject: re: Congrats

 Thank you, Andrea.

Chapter Text

March hit New York with a fresh wave of cold wind and freezing temperatures; Andy barely noticed it, too immersed within her new job. It had come as the perfect distraction, keeping her busy all day long, wearing her out so much that she just barely managed to eat whatever was left in her mostly empty fridge when she got home, before crashing into bed and falling asleep almost immediately. It wasn’t a life, or it wasn’t living at the very least, but she was glad for the little free time it afforded her, nonetheless. It meant her brain had less capacity to think about Miranda.

Unfortunately, ‘less capacity’ didn’t mean ‘no capacity’ as the older woman still haunted her in her sleep, occupied her dreams, keeping Andy on a symbolic leash even after weeks, months of not seeing her.

It was draining, she felt drained, and she missed having her mind all to herself. At least the pain inside her chest had subsided and instead crawled up her neck and turned to an almost constant, but only dull, throbbing headache.

Caroline and Cassidy kept in touch, who were besides Nigel (who didn’t count, as they never talked about Miranda or Runway anymore) the only indirect contact she had to the editor.

Exactly a week ago she had sent the first message to Miranda in two months. She hadn’t dared to hope she would ever get a response, hadn’t expected it, wasn’t even sure if she really wanted one. When her phone, which she had still not given back, pinged on her nightstand announcing a new message, she had almost knocked it to the ground in her hurry to check who it was from. It was unlikely to be Miranda, she reminded herself, she had only just hit ‘send’ on her email a minute ago. And why would she bother replying to Andy anyway when she had never done so before, when she had actively requested Andy to stop with the calls and messages?

Thank you, Andrea.

Three words, three simple words and Andy’s world was spinning, her heart not beating at all and then beating way too fast. So much for having made progress. Oh, who was she kidding, she was still as attached to Miranda Priestly as ever, as she would ever be.

Now it was Wednesday again. Miranda had been officially single for exactly eight days and only now did the news hit New York’s papers with headlining speculations of ‘Who will be the next Mr. Priestly?’ or ‘The Dragonlady’s next prey’or one particularly nasty one reading ‘How to avoid partners like the Devil-Editor – a 5-Step Guide’.

On her way to work Andy threw dirty looks at everyone who even so much as sold garbage like that and was glad when she finally made it to the office, ready to get to work and forget about all that for a little while again.

Sadly, not even the most professional journalist was immune to gossip, so naturally all eyes were on her the moment the elevator stopped on the floor of The New Yorker. She suspected Miranda’s unusually short separation period of only four months to be the culprit of so much idle chatter. Even if she had known the details, her colleagues could not actually expect her to spill the proverbial beans. Though, she had to admit to wondering the same when Cassidy and Caroline had broken the news to her.

“Please, Andy, you can’t leave us hanging like that.”, Alice, who she shared a desk with, begged.

Andy chuckled lightly as she put her coat over the backrest of her chair and removed the scarf from around her neck. In reality she felt more like throttling them all with the cashmere fabric. Cashmere. This wasn’t even hers, she suddenly realized, not having noticed earlier when putting it on, still half asleep. This was Miranda’s, she must have accidentally packed it into her suitcase all those weeks ago. The smile slipped from her lips, and she inhaled shakily.

“I don’t know any more than you guys do. Now, let me work.”, it came out sharper than she had intended but it had the desired effect and they all quickly turned back to their own computers, avoiding eye contact. This would be a long day.

Thankfully, no one else thought to approach her on that topic (or any other) and for the first time since starting at the magazine she was happy when she could finally go home and be alone.

On Thursday she finished an article on something that no one cared for or would ever be interested in reading. But everyone started somewhere and the fact that she didn’t have to write obituaries was all she could have hoped for when this job had been offered to her.

On Friday, Chris, head of the politics department, praised her for her article, telling her she had done good work. Andy left his office smiling brightly and with a spring in her step.

On the way home she decided to reward herself with a bottle of red wine that was slightly better than the cheapest and some Chinese takeout, which she would both devour in front of her crappy TV watching one of her guilty-pleasure movies. She was thrilled.

Around 9.30 her phone rang the first time, but it was still in her coat pocket and that was too far away from where she was sprawled on the lumpy couch, nursing her second glass of pleasantly burning grape juice. It rang again – whoever was trying to reach her could just as well write an email or leave a message. She was not getting up for something undoubtedly unimportant. It rang a third time.

With an annoyed huff she paused Dirty Dancing while murmuring “for fuck’s sake” into the silence of her apartment and went in search for her coat. She found it on the floor of her bedroom where she had shed her clothes like a snake did its skin and plucked the offensively loud device from the heap of fabric.

“What? I’m busy.”, she snapped down the line at whoever was daring to disturb her Friday evening.

“So sorry, Six. Are you home?”, it sounded like someone else was talking in the background, but Andy couldn’t make out what they were saying, nor who the voice belonged to.

“Not if it’s not important.”, she sniffed, but her voice had immediately softened upon realizing it was Nigel on the other end. Why was she even in a bad mood; her day had been great.

“It’s important! We’ll be there in 10.”, he hung up before Andy could inquire any further and ask something like ‘who is we?’. Probably his doctor-lover-almost-boyfriend-guy she had heard so much about but not actually met yet. She wondered why this meeting had to happen today and went back into the living room to tidy up as much as she could while she waited. Glancing down at herself, she quickly pondered if she should change into something more formal than an old pair of checkered light-pink pyjamas but Nigel was infiltrating her flat (almost) unannounced, so she was allowed to wear whatever she wanted.

The thin walls of the building announced her visitors before the doorbell could. Despite it, she did the polite thing and waited for the official signal, which came not a minute later. Andy slithered along the cheap parquet flooring of the tiny hallway and threw the door open.

“Not that I don’t appreciate th-”, the words died on her tongue when her gaze fell on the person in Nigel’s company. Not quite his new man. “What’s she doing here?”, only a second later Andy realized how rude the question sounded and clenched her jaw to refrain from saying any more stupid things she didn’t mean.

The other woman turned to leave. “I knew this was a bad idea. We shouldn’t ha-”.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Nigel grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back and forcing her past Andy into her apartment. That was new. “I won’t let you two leave this building until you have spoken. This…”, he vaguely waved his hand between the two women. “is miserable. One of you can’t be alone with her own thoughts and the other one can’t escape them. If I have to wait outside all night, then so be it. But no one can handle this anymore. I’m begging you to just talk, get it out there and then move on or make up. I don’t care. Just please spare the rest of the world your moping.”, he huffed frustratedly, aimed one last warning glare at them and then strutted out, slamming the door as he went, something her neighbors would surely not be too exhilarated about.

“He’s in a good mood.”, Andy offered awkwardly after the silence had stretched for a bit too long between them. Heart beating violently against her ribcage, Andy sneaked a glance at Miranda. “You look tired.”, it tumbled out before she could stop it. The second rude comment in five minutes, might be a new record. But it was true.

Actually, no it wasn’t. It was the understatement of the century.

She had seen Miranda tired before, now she looked like she was close to death.

“I haven’t been sleeping well, lately.”, the editor confessed unexpectedly and wandered over to the small couch, letting herself plunge into the throw-pillows. It was the first time Andy had seen her be slightly less than completely graceful; it was worrisome. Reaching forward she snatched the still half full wine glass from the tiny coffee table and took a deep swig. Andy didn’t mention that she had used the glass up until they had appeared at her door; the older woman probably knew that already and just didn’t care. As Andy carefully lowered herself on the furniture next to the editor, Miranda kept staring straight ahead. “I apologize for just showing up.”

“It’s fine.”, Andy blurted, then proceeded to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, trying to gather her cool that she had lost somewhere between the door and here. “You’re not here of your own volition, so…”, she didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t want to add another ‘it’s fine’, but Miranda understood her regardless. Obviously.

“Well, that’s not entirely true.”, of course, she didn’t think it necessary to explain further and usually Andy would just roll her eyes but ultimately not press her for clarifications. Usually. Enough was enough, though. She had accepted and respected Miranda’s request to give her time, to not call, but now Miranda was in her apartment, after two months of silence, no less.

So, she arched both eyebrows, pursed her lips and gave the editor a taste of her own medicine, looking at her sharply. “Go on!” A command.

Miranda visibly gulped, looking at her, then looking down again, taking another sip of wine, maybe to steady her nerves, maybe to have something to do instead of fidgeting.

“Nigel is right. This is-- I have never—before it has never…”, she sighed deeply, frustrated, and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and pointer finger. When she looked at Andy again the mascara was slightly smudged underneath the lower lashes. The brunette didn’t alert her to it, liking the imperfection a bit too much. Miranda put the wine glass down. “I thought if I gave myself time to get over it, I eventually would. Nothing has ever intervened with my work…or my life… like that, and I need it to stop, I just need to be able to think clearly again.” Their eyes met for the first time that evening, properly, without anyone looking away a second later. “God, Andréa…”, it came out as no more than a breath, anguished and drained and suddenly Andy wasn’t sure if she was ready for this conversation, certainly not with the prospect of Miranda leaving again once she had spilled her heart out. She could already feel the dagger pressed to the scar of the wound that had taken two months to even scab over. “…not a day, not a second passes in which you’re not on my mind. I can’t concentrate, I can’t sleep, I forget meetings, I forget decisions I’ve already made, I forget important deadlines because there’s only you. Only you.”

Andy swallowed against the empathy welling up inside her. She ignored the sudden reincarnation of the butterflies in her stomach and suppressed the surprised gasp that almost tumbled from her lips. She didn’t want to be empathetic right now. This was Miranda’s fault; she had pushed her away, thrown her out without so much as an explanation and now she was on her couch and…what? Begged Andy to take her back?

“Don’t pretend it’s my fault. I wasn’t the one to put the metaphorical chain on the door.”, however, she wasn’t angry either, not truly, not anymore. Perhaps she was weary of Miranda’s indecision, tired of her thinking she could have what she wanted, whenever she wanted it. But not angry.

“No, you’re right.”, Miranda paused for a second, adjusting her position, leaning away. “And I don’t expect you to fix it. I don’t even want you to. I- I really don’t know what Nigel is trying to achieve here.”

“Me neither.”

Silence fell around them. At some point Andy just resumed the movie and they quietly watched Johnny trying to teach Baby to dance. Miranda finished the glass of wine for her, refilled it and then offered it to the younger woman without a word. They shared the rest of the bottle until the credits rolled. Andy just let them, too comfortable to reach for the remote or get up to turn the TV off.

“I shouldn’t have taken you to my mother’s.”, the voice came so quietly, Andy almost missed it over Merry Clayton’s ‘Yes’ disturbing their not quite comfortable silence. Maybe it had taken Miranda a bit of liquid courage to say what she really wanted to say. “But I was a spineless coward, too afraid to tell my own mother no. Maybe too afraid to disappoint her again.”, Andy wanted to protest, wanted to reassure her that she had never gotten the impression that Anne was a mother who was easily disappointed with her children, but Miranda moved on without taking so much as a breath. “And I shouldn’t have given in to….”, she made a vague gesture with her hand before letting it fall down into her lap again. Andy observed her from the side, head leaning against the backrest of the sofa.

“You regret it?”, part of her didn’t want to know the answer, a stronger part needed to.

Miranda took a long time to answer, just keeping her gaze locked on her fingers that kept nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. Eventually she shook her head. “Of course, I don’t. Andréa…you must know that being with you-- like that, those three days…”, she rolled her eyes, but Andy knew this time it was not directed at her. “…those ten days were all I ever wished for, deep down. Each minute with you has meant more to me than…”, she paused for a while until Andy wasn’t sure anymore if she’d ever continue or if she had simply given up on their conversation.

“Than?”

She watched Andy for a moment longer, eyes searching. “I don’t know. There is nothing that compares.”

The muscles in Andy’s throat tightened at the admission, at hearing Miranda’s voice sounding so despondent despite the meaning her words held and she tried to swallow around the lump. “Then why, Miranda?”

“How long do you have?”, it was meant as a joke, neither of them laughed. “I’m a nearly 50-year-old, twice divorced mother of two. You’re so young, you have every option still open for you. Other than money there is nothing I could ever offer you.”

Andy stared at her, dumbfounded, probably gaping like a fish, which was undoubtedly not a very attractive sight. “You’re kidding?”, she chuckled in agitated disbelief. “That’s what you think? That’s your reason for all this- this-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andréa.”, the editor quickly interrupted before Andy could talk herself into a fury. Despite the older woman’s words, Andy detected a waver of uncertainty in her voice. “That is the least concerning part of this whole…thing.”, she exhaled deeply, smacking her lips together in a silent request for more of Andy’s cheap wine. Too bad Andy was out.

“Talk to me.”, the brunette prodded carefully.

“There is so much; I hardly know where to start.”

“How about at the very beginning?”, Andy grinned lightly. Miranda looked at her for a second before a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

“A very good place to start.”, she quoted, and the lightened mood lasted for a short moment before it slowly turned solemn again. Miranda cleared her throat. “Evidently, I’m not cut out for relationships. I struggle maintaining them, I have problems showing my feelings, I can’t compromise, I’m easily irritated, I demand more than I’m willing to give-”

“Miranda.”, Andy cut in. “Even if all of that was true. I know your…idiosyncrasies. I know you, probably better than anyone else, definitely better than Stephen ever cared to.” At that, Miranda bit her lip to refrain from grinning. “Nothing about you could ever put me off.” The older woman looked at her, the little crease between her eyebrows a bit deeper than it had any business to be at such a profession. “I thought I made that clear. You don’t believe me?”

“What about Paris?”, Miranda asked quietly, seeming almost embarred by her question, or maybe by the admission that Andy almost leaving her had stung her more than she had let on. “The mere suggestion that we might be in any way alike sent you running for the hills.”

At the mention of the situation that could have become one of the biggest mistakes of Andy’s life had Nigel not stepped in, her heart sunk and the guilt she had mostly managed to keep locked away burst forth with sudden ferocity. “You think that’s why I wanted to leave?”, Miranda shrugged in response, promptly finding great interest in some nonexistent crease in her Donna Karan blouse. A touch to her arm stopped Miranda’s nervous movements and directed her attention back to the conversation. “I left- wanted to leave because I thought if you could do something like that to Nigel, someone you’ve known for years and who I presumed was your best friend, then you might do the same to me, a mere assistant and I knew I couldn’t have borne that.”

“Andréa…”, Miranda’s hand found Andy’s, which was still gently resting on top of the other woman’s arm, and carefully cupped it. “Despite my reputation, these sacrifices don’t actually come easy to me. I’m well aware how much I hurt Nigel that day, but I stand by what I said; there is no one who can do what I do. And the magazine would have suffered. Runway means a lot to me, a great deal more than people tend to realize and if Irv Ravitz, or Christian Thompson, or Jaqueline Follet…”, she sneered her name. “…or anyone else thinks they can take it away from me then they will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands. Yes, I should have handled the situation with Nigel differently. Yes, it probably makes me the selfish bitch everyone thinks me to be, anyway. Yes, that commitment was, no doubt, the source of most of my marital problems. But Runway is who I am, it’s in my blood and I’d be nothing without it, so I refuse to be without it.” Miranda inhaled deeply affording Andy time to voice her opinion on the matter.

“I woul-”

“Having said that…”, or not. Andy could definitely just stay silent and listen for a little longer. “…If for some reason something happened to the people I care about, to my girls…or—or you, for that matter, forcing me to hand over the reins then I would do that without hesitation, Andréa. You were never just a mere assistant; you are not just anyone.”

Andy’s heart fluttered in her chest. She had known Miranda liked her to some extent,  knew she cared enough to be so affected by their self-inflicted distance that she had seemingly lost a bit of focus on things that used to be most important to her. But for Miranda to admit that Andy was more important to her than Runway, to be put on the same level as her daughters…It was frankly unbelievable, suddenly making her feel untethered in a weirdly thrilling way. “Mi-”

“Let me speak!”, alright, still not her turn, then. Miranda huffed annoyed, though not at Andy. “What I mean is…there is more I wish to say and if I don’t say it now that I’ve started, I never might. So, please, just…let me finish first.” Andy nodded. “Leaving Runway would…hurt but ultimately, I’d survive without it. I’m in a position where I’m privileged enough to not have to work anymore if I didn’t want to. Having to leave Runway would not interfere with my daily life apart from not knowing what to do with all that free time.” Andy chuckled. Miranda didn’t. “So, to answer your question, that’s why!”

Huh? Andy frowned. What’s why? “What’s why?” For someone as eloquent as Miranda, who somehow always managed to find the right words to command, or intimidate, or terrify someone, she did not make all that much sense right that second.

Thankfully, Miranda spared her the you-idiot look this time around.

“Why I can’t allow myself to…”, she pressed her lips into a thin line, obviously struggling to get out the words that were soaring through her mind. “…to be with you. If anyone found out about this - and you know how the press can be as you’re now part of it – they would turn it into something disgusting, people would talk, not caring that you’re a real person with real feelings, they’d say I abused my position to force myself onto you and simultaneously they’d twist it around and say that you slept your way up to get your new job or any future job when the time comes. Don’t you see?”, she sighed defeatedly. “No matter what, it won’t end well. The only difference for us are the consequences. As I said, Andréa, I’m in a position where I don’t have to worry about money. I could retire right this second and continue to live my life not giving a damn about what anyone said about me. But it would ruin you. They’d ruin you; I would ruin you and you would come to resent me. And I can’t let that happen; I can’t complicate your life any more than I already have.”

Andy watched Miranda for a long while, even after the older woman had finished her speech. She wasn’t looking back at Andy, keeping her eyes focused on the TV that was now showing the DVD’s menu-screen playing the same set of scenes on repeat. Andy felt stunned and simultaneously her mind was clearer than it had been in a long time. She would have laughed if Miranda didn’t make for such an inconsolable picture of misery right in front of her. “Can I say something now?”

Miranda didn’t say yes, she didn’t even nod. All she did was arch one eyebrow and give a vague tilt of her head. “You’re an infuriating woman, you know that?”

“I’ve been told, yes.”, she responded dryly, clearly not catching the humor in Andy’s voice.

“You think you have to carry the burden of the entire world on your shoulders, don’t you?”

Miranda opened her mouth, ready to protest but Andy cut her off before she could even utter a single syllable. “My turn to speak now! Let me tell you, you’re not responsible for everyone and everything. Not everything that goes wrong will be blamed on you, and even if it does, what does it matter? Let the people talk, let the press write what they want, I don’t care, and neither should you. You can’t control people’s opinion of me, so stop trying. If they want to find something negative, they will, so why even bother? What’s worse, though, is that you think that is actually the problem here.”

“Because that is the problem, Andréa! I’ve already managed to separate you from your family and friends an-”

“No, you haven’t!”, her voice was stern, not leaving any room for Miranda to object. The older woman snapped her mouth shut. “You told me that those people don’t deserve me if they don’t love me for who I am, and you were right. It was not you who pushed them away from me and it wasn’t me either. It was their own narrow-minded, prejudiced views and choices and I know that now. And for the record, the issue here is your absolute lack of communication skills. I know you just did what you thought was best for me but…Miranda…”, Andy slowly turned her hand underneath the editor’s, so they were palm to palm and squeezed it gently. “…never do that again! I mean it. Come to me, talk to me and we’ll find a solution. You’ve hurt me, I’m still hurting. And I don’t think that it’s worth to endure this kind of pain for an otherwise ‘easy’ life.”

It took Miranda a moment to register her words it seemed, but eventually she nodded. It was a small nod, barely noticeable but Andy knew it was there. “Cassidy said something similar.”

“Smart kid.”, Andy smiled.

“Smart enough to convince their grandma to invite their mother’s assistant for the Christmas holidays, it seems.”, she rolled her eyes with the affectionate but long-suffering expression only a mother could hold for her children.

Andy chuckled. She wasn’t surprised at all that the twins had had their scheming little fingers in the pie. She should have known based on her experience from the first night she had met them, alone. “Ah. Another mystery solved, then.”

Miranda hummed in quiet agreement. The silence surrounding them now was a lot more comfortable but this thing between them was a long way from being settled.

“So, where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know, Andréa.” She watched as Miranda raked her mind for something to say, her blue eyes ablaze with indecision and self-doubt. When she spoke again her voice sounded hoarse, so quiet it was barely louder than a whisper. “I’m scared.” Andy frowned, scooting a bit closer to Miranda to offer comfort; she knew how difficult it was for the older woman to reveal so much of herself and thus appreciated it all the more, in spite of their circumstances. The editor intertwined their still touching hands, clinging onto her as if she was afraid the brunette might vanish into thin air if she didn’t. “I’m scared that if I…if we-…then everything will happen exactly as I predicted, and you will grow tired of me. I’m scared you will realize that I’m not like Miriam at all; I can’t be her, I’m not her. And I’m scared you’re going to regret all of it.”

Andy smiled wistfully, eliminating the remaining space between them, their thighs now touching. She cupped Miranda’s face with her free hand, the other one still firmly in the older woman’s tight grip. “My love – sorry, broke Rule Two there.”, she grinned. “You really don’t understand, do you?”, she gently wiped away the single tear trailing down Miranda’s cheek with her thumb. “I. Don’t. Care. About any of it. I’m so in love with you, it’s ridiculous. You’re able to see me in a way no one else ever has, you understand me, and I think I understand and see you too. We’re good together, far better than we are apart. And I won’t trade in something like this, something that happens maybe once in a lifetime just because people can’t mind their own business. You’re right, I’m young and people are gonna say I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m old enough to know what I want and that’s you, not a particular version of you. Just you. Sure, things are going to change, maybe I’ll have to give up this job and do something else for a while, but nothing is set in stone yet and I’ll manage as long as it means keeping you. We’re not doing anything illegal, Miranda.”

The DVD- Player in the background had turned itself off at some point during Andy’s little speech. The silence around them now almost stifling with how much the brunette needed Miranda to comment, to say something, anything, really. But the editor just stared, her eyes keeping Andy pinned in place. “Say it again.”, when she spoke it was soft, as if she was afraid, she might break the moment with the volume of her voice alone.

“We’re not doin--”

“No!”

Andy frowned, had to retrace her own words, which was harder than expected given the fact she had just poured her heart out without any sort of structure. Oh. A small smile graced her lips. “Miranda, …I’m in love with you.”

Another set of stares followed, disbelieving eyes roaming over Andy’s face before they seemed to find what they were looking for. “I…”, she disentangled herself from Andy and quickly got to her feet, hand pressing to her forehead and the sound of her stilettoes echoing across the floor. “I’m sorry, Andréa.”, an incredulous snicker left her throat. “I suddenly realize I never actually apologized for the way I behaved towards you and…I’m sorry for that night and how I left things. If I could go back and change it, I would.”, she turned around again, Andy still observing her from her position on the couch, hoping Miranda was not about to flee her apartment. “I can’t promise you I will never have doubts. Not about you, but my position in your life. Oh, God.”, she groaned and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment to collect her thoughts. “I really don’t understand how you manage to always get me so…”, again she didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. Andy knew what she meant. They understood each other.

The younger woman took this as her cue to get up as well, gently placing her hands on Miranda’s shoulders.

“It’s okay.”

“Not really.”, Miranda stated, but her breathing instantly calmed and she stopped her frantic movements and the pacing, probably much to the delight of Andy’s downstairs’ neighbors. “You really shouldn’t just do that, you know. You shouldn’t just be okay with the way I treated you and…welcome me back with open arms.”

Andy smirked, reaching up to brush the tip of her thumb over the worried creases between Miranda’s eyebrows, smoothing the skin. “Oh, I’m not. I’m still mad as hell and I expect a boatload of groveling from you.”

“Ah.”, the editor averted her gaze, looking down. Andy let her hands sink to her sides. “Yes, I deserve that.”, her fingers reached forward in the limited space between them and found Andy’s, linking them almost shyly. “I promise to do it right this time.”, their eyes locked again. “I’ll love you right, I mean. Because I do.”

There was still enough to talk about, enough that had not been said yet but that could wait. Andy felt giddy with happiness, her cheeks hurt from trying to hold back the smiles and then from smiling too much. If anyone had told her this morning, or even three hours ago, how the day would end she would have suggested seeing a psychiatrist. But here she stood, in her living room with Miranda Priestly, who had just told her she loved her. And there were no takebacks on that.

Of course, she wasn’t so naïve as to think all of Miranda’s concerns were nothing more than just that. She was aware of the risks, of what this could mean for her life, her future, her job but the bliss she felt right that second was not worth to trade in for anything. This was ultimate contentment. The rest were simple hurdles they would deal with when the time came. Together.

They occupied each other’s space for a little while longer, needing the time to reassure themselves that this was real. Andy ignored the little, mean voice in the back of her head that told her this was doomed to fail again, that Miranda would change her mind come morning and they’d go back to not talking and being miserable. And it was true, she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure but taking the risk was worth it, more than worth it.

Miranda was clinging to her hands as if they were the last thing keeping her standing upright and Andy knew that she had suffered just as much as Andy had, regardless of having been the cause. Still, she better bend over backwards in trying to make up for it.

It was quarter past midnight when they found themselves saying their goodbyes by Andy’s apartment door. She had offered to watch another movie but Miranda had insisted she had already taken up enough of Andy’s night, which was complete nonsense, obviously.

“I still have your scarf, by the way. Wait, I’ll get it…”, she turned to retrieve the garment that was still on the floor in front of her bed. Miranda held her back by the arm.

“Keep it. And wear it! I know you like to forget. The same goes for the gloves.”

“Gloves?”

“The black ones I gave you. I put them in the little front pocket of your suitcase before we left.”

“Oh.”, so Andy had, in fact been an idiot by giving them back to Miranda over and over again when they had been meant for her this entire time. The revelations just wouldn’t end this night, it seemed.

The older woman hummed. “I’m invited to this show tomorrow, but…I could- we could have dinner on Sunday. If you’re amenable. And free.”

Andy bit the flesh on the inside of her cheek to not be caught smiling too gleefully at Miranda’s anxious attempt at a dinner invitation. “I am.”, she nodded. “Amenable and free.”

“Good. Okay. 6 o’clock?”, she nodded again, opening the door. Miranda stepped through. “Goodnight, Andréa.”

“Goodnight. See you Sunday.”

“Yes.”, she hesitated for a second in the doorway, before leaning in and letting her lips ghost over Andy’s cheek. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Text

Sleep well, Andrea.

i take it nigel got you home okay?

Roy did. Nigel fled the scene the second he

had stormed out of your door like the

petulant child he is.

don’t be too hard on him. he only meant well.

actually we should send him flowers as thanks ;)

I’m strictly against inflating his ego.

Go to bed. It’s late.

i can sleep in tomorrow :D

Well, I certainly can’t, so I will go to bed.

sleep well, too.

goodnight, miranda

Goodnight xxx

***

Andy smiled down at her phone, scrolling through the thread of messages again. Despite Miranda’s claim to be otherwise occupied for the entirety of her Saturday she somehow managed to be in constant contact. It was a lot more than Andy had hoped for. To be honest, she hadn’t expected Miranda to be in touch at all until their date on Sunday, so this was more than a pleasant surprise. Miranda had really taken Andy’s condition for groveling to heart, it seemed. Not that there was any question on whether they would have a future together, the answer to that was clear but Andy still liked to see Miranda put in the effort.

***

Tell me again why I surround myself

with imbeciles?

show not going well?

Disastrous. I should have cancelled.

What a waste of time. Mine and yours.

mine?

We could have had dinner exactly 24 hours

ealier if it wasn’t for other people’s incompetence.

patience is a virtue

I have never been accused of being virtuous in my life,

thank you very much

***

Andy enjoyed her free weekend to the fullest, not feeling the need to drown herself in work anymore in order to stay busy and distracted, as there wasn’t really anything to distract her from except, maybe, from the constant butterflies coming to life inside her tummy whenever she so much as thought about the other woman. Nonetheless, the prospect of another dinner arrangement with Miranda filled her with a mixture of giddy anticipation and a constantly nagging stab of unease reminding her of the last time she had been invited to dinner at the townhouse.

When Sunday afternoon rolled around, she had managed to clean her entire apartment, do two loads of laundry, and finally sort through the mountain of papers and documents that had been collecting dust on her desk since before starting at Runway. In hindsight it wasn’t so dissimilar from using work as a diversion actually, but she wouldn’t dwell on the specifics now.

She needed 40 minutes to decide on what to wear even though she had spent most of Saturday evening already contemplating that particular issue. Now that she didn’t have access to The Closet anymore and had given back most of what she had been lent, her selection was rather limited. She caught her own eyes in the mirror that hung on the bedroom wall and stopped. This was a date, not a job interview and it she wasn’t the one who had to do the apologizing. Yes, she loved it when Miranda liked her choice of clothing, when she did a double take that always resulted in something akin to a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, but they were long past that by now. Andy didn’t need to impress Miranda anymore, didn’t need to prove she belonged in that world and no amount of Chanel or Gucci or Louis Vuitton (or lack thereof) would waver Miranda’s opinion of her anymore. And besides, she knew she had impressed Miranda, and she could belong in that world if she so chose.

Eventually, Andy picked a simple pair of black jeans and a dark grey sheer blouse she had been gifted in Paris, one of the very few pieces she had kept for herself.

It was exactly 5.37 pm when she arrived at Miranda’s front door, still used to showing up at least fifteen minutes early to everything that involved the editor. She rang the doorbell. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute. With furrowed brows she raised her hand to ring again, just then the door flew open and the sight of Miranda Priestly in a beige apron tied around her waist greeted her. The glasses she was wearing were fogged up and she irritably pushed them up into her hair.

“You’re early.” Well, that was a first. Though, there was no bite to her words, just a hint of genuine perplexity. She stepped aside in silent invitation, which Andy took and swiftly climbed the last few steps.

“Hi.” She ignored Miranda’s question that no one else in the world would ever be able to identify as such and simply removed her coat and scarf, smiling. To her surprise, Miranda took them and hung them up herself, something she hadn’t done since London. Warmth spread through Andy’s chest, making her suddenly aware how much time had passed since then, how much time they had spent apart, and how much more time they could spend together.

Miranda showed Andy through to the kitchen and told her to sit down at the breakfast bar, if she wanted to. “You’re cooking?”

It was funny, seeing Miranda like that, so outside her natural habitat. If she hadn’t known the older woman, Andy would have guaranteed she was as calm as ever. But she did know her, like she had said, probably better than anyone. She was familiar with every little gesture, every tiny facial expression, every miniscule detail.

Miranda was nervous, noticeable in the way she breathed in more deeply, how she had seemingly forgotten the time, how she kept balancing her weight only on her tiptoes.

She silently offered Andy a glass of wine, which she accepted with a nod. “I thought I still had some time left.”, she placed the glass down on the counter. “You sound surprised.”

Andy shrugged with a grin and watched as Miranda loaded the dishwasher and eventually, when the kitchen looked pristine again, removed the apron revealing a fig-colored dress that ended just above her knees. Andy couldn’t discern the designer, nor if it was new but she knew she had never seen Miranda wear it before. The neckline revealed enough to be tempting without becoming unsophisticated, a skill Miranda had acquired to perfection. Diamond-studded hoops dangled on her ears, matching with the silver of the Jimmy Choos on her feet.

“You look lovely.”

Miranda slid into the barstool next to her, taking a sip from her own glass while her eyes roamed over Andy’s figure, taking her in the way she always did, the way she had always done.

“So do you. Paris?” Andy nodded. Miranda hummed before her gaze locked with the brunette’s and her head tilted to the side as if suddenly remembering something crucial. “I apologize. I haven’t even properly said hello.” She leaned in, just as she had done two nights ago in Andy’s apartment, pressing a soft, warm kiss to her cheek and breathed a quiet “hello” into her ear. For some reason it was almost more intimate than any kiss to the lips they had ever shared, and it left Andy slightly winded. She reached for her own glass of wine.

“How is work?”, Miranda inquired once she sat properly in her chair again. Really? They were going to talk about work now? Next, she would say what lovely weather they were having for the time of year, which would be a lie as it was still cold and dreary outside.

Andy squinted. “You hate small talk.”

“It’s not small talk if one is actually interested.”, Miranda grinned with arched eyebrows, bringing the wine glass to her cherry-tinted lips.

“Oh.”, well, that was certainly true, yet Andy had never been asked such a question outside the metaphorical walls of small talk. So, she recounted every article she had written during the last two months and ended with a “It’s fine, but I’m looking forward to more substantial work, hopefully soon.” Miranda, ever the editor, assured her that she was skilled enough to move up the ranks fairly quickly. Andy chose to believe her.

They stayed there for the duration of dinner, not bothering with the dining room, for which Andy was more than glad. It had been fine when the girls had been there as well making the gigantic room seem a little less enormous. But they could be closer here, alone; it was more private, and Andy relished in the proximity the location offered them as their knees and thighs kept bumping while they ate.

Miranda was, in fact, a very good cook even though Andy doubted she did it all that often. Whether that was due to a general absence of enough time or simply because she didn’t enjoy it, Andy wasn’t sure about. And it didn’t matter; Miranda had gone out of her way and done something she usually didn’t, just for Andy.

The editor insisted on relocating into the sitting room for dessert. Dessert! She sent Andy ahead with the promise to follow in just a minute, which she did – five minutes later – with a tray of very familiar looking miniature pies she put down on the coffee table. Andy gasped quietly in joyful surprise at the sight. Miranda settled next to her, the color high on her cheeks.

“Evidently, baking is not my strongest suit.”, she quietly admitted. At closer inspection the pastries did look a bit oddly shaped in some places, but they were perfect, nonetheless. “And I’m aware it’s not Christmas anymore. I know you l-”, Andy reached out, stopping Miranda’s nervous gesticulations with a hand to the older woman’s arm.

“They’re fantastic.”

Miranda looked at her, stunned. She blinked, once, twice. Then said matter-of-factly: “You haven’t even tried them yet, Andréa.”

Andy grinned, taking one of the mince pies from the tray and taking a hearty bite. She had been right, they were fantastic. More than fantastic. This was beyond anything that could be described in words, certainly better than the ones they had had at the Christmas market and those had been heavenly. She groaned around the flavors in her mouth.

“You’re wasted as an editor.”, she exclaimed, immediately taking another bite. “This is your true calling. Open a bakery or something.”

“Well…”, Miranda cleared her throat, voice gruff. “I’m glad you enjoy them.”

As Andy licked the remnant of her dessert from her fingers as Miranda suddenly bolted up from the couch and all but fled the room with a murmured “I almost forgot…”. She returned with a large bouquet of whites and reds, the flowers already expertly cut and now presented to her in a crystal vase. Andy shortly wondered where she had hidden them since her arrival, but she supposed the house was big enough for Andy to not have seen them. “I did appreciate your flowers last time, though it may not have appeared that way.”, she gave her a remorseful look. “Yellow and red tulips, hope and love.”, she sighed. “And I just…I just ruined that.”

Andy didn’t tell her that she hadn’t the faintest clue about the language of flowers and that she had simply chosen the colors because they had looked pretty together. Ironically, the meaning had fit, though.

“These…”, she pointed to the flower with the tiny white petals. “…are Lilies. They mean apology and represent rebirth and the start of a new chapter.”, she quickly looked away and moved on to the red petalled plant. “And these are asters.”, their eyes met. “They symbolize undying devotion.”

Despite Miranda’s business-like tone Andy felt the heat creep into her own cheeks, then spread through her body like a wildfire, rapid and uncontrolled.

“I don’t often promise things, Andréa, I vow even less, only twice in my life so far and I meant it perhaps once. So, be assured the one I’m about to make…I mean it with my entire being when I promise to be by your side, to be yours as long as you’ll have me. There is still so much I need to make up for, but maybe this could be a start.”, she carefully touched her pinky to Andy’s, then gently interlocked their fingers. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever realize but I hope to at least be able to show you a fraction of how much I—I love you. Even if I failed to do so in the past.”, she squeezed her hand for a second. “After everything, I can’t expect you to trust my words, and that’s perfectly understandable. I’m just happy to have been given a chance and I want to take it, prove to you that I won’t betray your trust…again.”

There was a lot Andy wanted to say, she wanted to reassure Miranda that, deep down, she knew all that already, that Miranda didn’t need to feel bad for the rest of her life, that she loved her too. But her tongue felt heavy, lead-like as it pressed against the back of her teeth.

“Kiss me, please.”

It took her a moment to recognize the request as her own, her brain and mouth having made that decision seemingly on their own. But she realized that’s all she had wanted since the beginning of the evening, since the last time they had shared a kiss, and suddenly she felt desperate for it, absolutely parched. Miranda gave her a soft look, her brows only just on the verge of frowning. Any nodded; yes, she was sure.

Their lips met almost shyly, softly, as if they had never done this before; and in some sense they hadn’t. It didn’t feel new like that first time under that mistletoe, it didn’t feel so precarious, so all-consuming, so unrestrained in all the worst ways. It was warm, slow, like coming home, like this was exactly where they should be right that second. There was no heat, no urgency to take, take, take before it would be gone again. This was safety, reassurance, a vow. And in some way, it felt like a first kiss; a new chapter.

“Please, stay.”, a mere whisper against her lips, before Miranda claimed them again. When she pulled away her eyes were bright, like the purest sapphires, glimmering with poorly concealed hope. “In the guest room if you wish.”, she added, probably not willing enough to retract the offer completely.

Truly, there was nothing Andy wanted to agree to more. “I can’t, Miranda.”

“Ah.”, she pulled back further but kept smiling at Andy in a more or less successful attempt to not look too disappointed. Almost absentmindedly, she brushed a stray lock of hair behind Andy’s ear. “Whatever you feel most comfortable with.”, she gave a tiny nod.

“No…”, Andy took one of Miranda’s hands in her own, softly caressing the back of it with her thumb. The other found their way to Miranda’s cheeks, preventing the editor from looking away. “I just have work in the morning, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Next time…I’d love to stay overnight.”

Something passed over Miranda’s face then, something akin to recognition and she quickly rose once again. “Come along, Andréa.”, with that she left the room. Some things would seemingly never change. Grinning, Andy followed the other woman, who had already vanished down the corridor.

With another set of glasses perched on her nose, Miranda leaned over the desk in her second-floor home office, rummaging around for something in a drawer. Andy stepped closer, resting her hips against one of the bookshelves adorning nearly every wall of the room, waiting.

Miranda brought forth a cardboard box no bigger than the ones for shoes but with the Prada logo visibly printed on the top. She beckoned Andy closer.

Opening the box, she dangled the brunette’s key in front of her face. Andy knew it was hers as the little leather keychain she had embellished it with still swung from its tail end.

“I want you to keep it.”, Andy stared at Miranda for a long moment, her hair and skin glowing almost ethereally in the dim, warm light. This was different to being given a key to be at Miranda’s beck and call at all hours of the day and night; this was being given a key to her home, to her heart, to Miranda herself. Admittedly, it crossed Andy’s mind for a second to question if this was maybe going a bit too fast, but they had all done it backwards in any case and why waste time now when they had already been apart for so long. If Miranda gave it freely, gave herself, why shouldn’t she accept. Wasn’t that exactly what she had wanted her to do, to prove?

“Thank you.”, she uttered quietly, feeling slightly overwhelmed in the best way possible. Their hands touched for a moment longer than necessary as she took the key from her. “I’ll-”, her sight fell onto the little box, or rather the remaining contents inside it. “Are those the things from my desk?”, she asked despite knowing the answer, yet not quite believing it had been Miranda to clear out her things. It wasn’t much, so she really didn’t know why she was making such a fuss. Her notebook, a few pens and a couple of lemon drops.

Miranda cleared her throat. “I took to liberty to…eh- to take them with me, before they’d inevitably end up in the bin.”

Andy looked back at her, giving her an inquiring look, asking permission. Hesitation, then Miranda nodded; they were Andy’s, after all. She removed them from the box and-

She hadn’t noticed before. How could she have, with the key and everything? But there was a lot more in that little carton than initially expected. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she quickly discarded the book and pens on Miranda’s desk to take a closer look.

A pair of simple black Chanel sunglasses was the largest item in the small collection. Andy frowned for a second before remembering where she had seen them before. They were her own or had been for some time; technically they belonged to Runway. She had only ever worn them once, the day after The Book incident, the day Miranda had sent her on the (nearly) impossible Harry Potter manuscript hunt.

“Andréa…”, Miranda’s tone sounded almost apologetic, laced with a fair amount of embarrassment. Andy reached forward again, producing the next item, and thus silencing Miranda in whatever attempt at speech she had wanted to make. This had probably not been meant for her eyes, but she couldn’t look away now. This was-

Two pressed flowers, one yellow, the other red, were carefully placed underneath what appeared to be a receipt from a restaurant. Upon closer examination she realized it was from the day they had had tea together at Mrs. Harrison’s Café. Andy wasn’t sure what surprised her more, that Miranda had held onto something like a reminder of that day or that she had actually kept something from the bouquet Andy had given her, eternalized it so it would keep existing long after they were both gone. It was terribly romantic, almost Shakespearean, in a way.

Her fingers softly brushed over the petals, not wanting to risk breaking them, and not being able to just look.

Quickly, she blinked, trying to keep the tears from falling.

Miranda loved her.

She had believed the older woman when she had told her two days ago, earlier even, and yet it had taken two tulips to make her understand.

Andy risked a glance at Miranda, whose eyes - the palest blue - were already trained on her, sharp, attentive so as to not miss a single thing.

The last item was a photograph.

It had been taken in Paris. Andy recognized the background as the hallway in front of Miranda’s suite of the Hotel they had been staying in. It was just her and Miranda in the picture. She couldn’t remember the moment it had been taken, or what they had talked about anymore, maybe they had just gone over the schedule for the day but looking at the picture now, looking at the way they were watching each other…

Nigel was right, it was painfully obvious. Photo-Andy was smiling down at the silver-haired woman, while Miranda looked back as if her assistant had hung the moon and the stars, an expression she had never once before noticed on her face despite it seemingly having been directed at her however many times in the past.

“Nigel gave it to me a few weeks ago.”, Miranda’s voice broke through the silence and in spite of its softness startling Andy a tiny bit in the process.  “I know his intention was for me to get the hint and talk to you…”, she paused for a moment, looking down at the picture while Andy was watching her. “It should have been me. I shouldn’t have waited until I was all but forced into a conversation with you. I should have done it on my own; I feel like it’s…worth less, now, somehow. And I’m sorry for that.”

Andy put the picture down, shaking her head and cupping Miranda’s hand with hers. “Of course, I would have wished you had talked to me from the beginning but the circumstances around your words don’t make them any less valuable, Miranda.”

Miranda didn’t say anything, just nodded, relishing in the contact their hands shared. Andy’s eyes fell to the box again. “By the way, those glasses are not mine. You should get Emily to bring them back to The Closet.”, she chuckled.

Miranda remained serious, plucking up the shades and turning them contemplatively in her free hand. “You wore them the day after I realized I liked you more than I should. It’s disgustingly sentimental but when I saw you left them in your desk…”, she gave her a short, reprimanding look that didn’t hold any of the usual harshness she directed at others. “…I had to keep them.” I had to keep them if I couldn’t keep you. She didn’t say it but Andy knew she meant it.

“Hold on!” Sudden realization. “You worked out you were in love with me when I interrupted your fight with Stephen, and you gave me that bone-chilling look? I thought you would kill me, not love me…” Miranda shrugged, pursing her lips in apparent unease. “And that was so many months ago, almost a year.”

The editor scoffed. “Alright, when did you know, then?”

Well, she had kind of brought that on herself, hadn’t she. She shuffled on her feet, the heat creeping to her cheeks once more. “I…uh- so, you see…okay- I knew…I had a little…crush on you right before we left for Paris. When my…eh- my boyfriend and I were breaking up you called me and he said something like…the person who’s always calling me, that’s the relationship I’m in… and it kinda clicked in my brain, I suppose. Like, it finally made sense why I-…Anyway, the night I found you…crying in your room… in Paris, that was when I knew I was in love with you, that it was more than just a crush.” Miranda gave her another apologetic look; tough, whether it was because she regretted dismissing her so coldly that evening or because of what Andy had to endure the next day, she wasn’t sure about. “That I love you hit me when I was talking to your mom. Felt like a revelation even though it was so obvious, in hindsight.”

Miranda hummed, letting her thumb trail softly over Andy’s cheek. “Isn’t it always.”

Silence fell around them. They had them often, Andy noticed, these small, sometimes larger patches of tranquility, of quietness. It was different than it had been with Nate, who had always felt the need to talk, maybe afraid that if he allowed the quiet to persist for too long, they might realize how unfit they actually were for each other. But, of course, it was different with Nate, not because he was different from anyone else, but because Miranda was.

They didn’t discuss the contents of the box, or the revelation it imparted about Miranda, about her sentimentality. Andy was fine with that; Miranda had let her see it and that was more than enough. She couldn’t expect for Miranda to suddenly change overnight and become a completely different person and she didn’t want her to. Nonetheless, she appreciated the effort the editor had clearly put into this evening and into her endeavour to make things right.

It was late when Miranda accompanied Andy to the door after ringing Roy out of bed despite the brunette’s protests. Helping Andy into her coat, Miranda flattened the lapels of the black wool fabric. She took a step closer, breaching Andy’s personal space as she kept her hand there, pressed against her chest, the touch warm even through multiple layers of clothing.

“It’s the girls’ birthday next weekend.”, it was a fact, not a question. And no question followed, either. Andy bit the inside of her lip to refrain from grinning.

“That’s nice.”, yes, she was making it harder for Miranda on purpose. If she had the opportunity to tease her, she would.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Take this as an official invitation, then.”

She gave the older woman a mocking pout. “I won’t get a little pink card? ‘You’re invited to Caroline and Cassidy’s 13th Birthday. Join us March 24th, 2 pm’”

“If you wish to be difficult, I’ll let the girls know you won’t be present.”, she gave a haughty sniff, though Andy knew she didn’t really mean it.

“I’m just kidding.”, she chuckled. “I’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Miranda gave her a satisfied smile, her hands gliding down and closing the last button of her coat before coming to rest on her hips. “Good.”, she leaned in for a quick peck but Andy would have none of that, pulling her closer again and connecting their lips for a proper kiss.

It took them another ten minutes to part and by that point it was already so late that Andy was tempted to revoke her earlier reasons and stay overnight after all. But poor Roy had been waiting for well over twenty minutes by that point and there was still the problem with a new set of clothes for the morning.

“Text when you get to your apartment.”, Miranda insisted as Andy was already halfway down the stairs.

“Will do.”, she grinned up at her, feeling utterly content and steadfast in the knowledge that Miranda was only letting her go for convenience sake and not because she wanted to, that she would miss her, that she loved her and would continue to do so. Andy was in love and for the first time in months, she was truly, completely happy.

***

home now

I’m glad. Sleep well, Andrea. xxx

you too <3

***

Please distract me. Irving’s constant twattle

is giving me a headache.

are you in a conference?

Yes, board meeting.

are you texting under the table ;)

Evidently.

that’s breaking the rules!

What rules? I’m not in school.

You’re texting back. From work.

Shouldn’t you be writing articles or something?

seems like you’re a bad influence ;P

***

can’t sleep

too much coffee

Count sheep.

ha ha

why are you still awake?

what are you doing?

Reviewing the book.

it’s 2am !!!

“Can’t sleep”

The house is too empty.

I miss you too

***

can you explain to me why there is

a $2000 dress in my livingroom?

There should be a note.

‘This is yours’

???

not crytic at all

Wear it tomorrow.

Noon.

The girls and I are looking forward to seeing you.

don’t distract!

can’t wait to see you either <3

***

Andy arrived at the townhouse feeling like her legs might give in under the weight of a bag filled to the brim with only the essentials she needed for one night in Miranda’s house and a batch of neatly wrapped presents; and the stilettoes she had paired with the ominous dress weren’t helping either. Climbing the stairs, she tried to remember in which coat pocket she had put her key. As usual, it was in the one she currently couldn’t reach; typical.

“Andy!”, a high-pitched voice shrieked from somewhere in front of her. “What are you doing out there?” Not seeing.

“Cassidy, help Andréa with her…things.”, the bag was roped from her shoulder with a breathless ‘oof’ and finally she could distribute the rest of her baggage between both her arms.

“Sorry, Cass.”, she said apologetically and put down the gifts on the nearest table.

Caroline appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, grinning. “Are those for us?”

“Nah, they’re for all the other birthday girls around.”, Andy teased as Caroline and Cassidy silently demanded hugs. “Happy Birthday, guys.”, she murmured as she held them in her arms, watching Miranda over their shoulders; a small, pleased smile played on the older woman’s lips.

The twins said their thanks, but rather quickly vanished back into the living room, apparently just about to finish the first quest of their new video game they had gotten this morning.

“Are you moving in?”, Miranda asked, smirking, and eyeing the leather bag Cassidy had managed to carry to the foot of the stairs.

Andy moved closer, admiring the form fitting suit Miranda had chosen to wear for the day. Her fingers lightly bushed over the shimmering mother-of-pearl buttons holding the waistcoat together in the front. “For one night, yes.”

Leaning back a few inches, Miranda’s arm slung around Andy’s back as her gaze appreciatively roamed over her body. Or maybe just the dress, who could tell.

Andy arched one eyebrow. The dress had arrived just the previous afternoon in inconspicuous white wrapping, with only a single note in its company.

“Do you like it?”, the editor asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do you?”

Miranda gave a vague, but affirmative sound. “I knew I would.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Ah. There it was again; Andy had almost started to miss it. The you’re-such-an-idiot look.

“Did you fail to read the label, Andréa?”

Bottega Veneta.

She suddenly remembered why the designer had sounded so familiar. She had simply brushed the feeling of faint recognition aside yesterday and attributed it to her time at Runway. She was, in fact, an idiot. The dress was red, mahogany, it had golden shoulder clasps. Oh.

‘This is yours’. Not because she had bought it - which had been a silly thought to begin with as she would surely remember to have spent $2000 on a dress, of all things – but because in Miranda’s mind this dress had been hers since the day she had wanted and failed to purchase and gift it to her.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful, I love it.”, she smiled and leaned in for a kiss, or two, or five. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”, another kiss; they should count themselves lucky the girls were distracted with their game. When she pulled away again, just a couple of inches, Miranda was frowning. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I shall not do it again.”

Silly woman. Andy just had to kiss her again.

The party officially started three hours later. A group of 13-year-old girls could be louder than Andy remembered from her own teenage years, but they spent their afternoon happily ignoring Miranda and thankfully, Andy as well, except when they wanted more snacks, or drinks, or cake.

Apparently, Caroline had come to a decision regarding the color of hers, Andy mused, as it sat on the kitchen counter in a vibrant moss green. Cassidy’s on the other hand, was a warm, sunny yellow. Earlier, she shortly wondered who on earth would eat two entire cakes, but she hadn’t considered how much you could eat when you were young and never sat still for longer than five minutes.

As Caroline, Cassidy and their friends started infiltrating the upstairs living room, Miranda cut two slices of the remaining cake and handed one on a plate to Andy. They enjoyed the little treat in silence, while the older woman kept eyeing her from the side. Andy tried not to grin.

“This is the first year they insisted on celebrating their birthday at home. Usually, we had to go to some sort of attraction or theme park.”, Miranda remarked, letting Andy know it was on her now to coax out what the editor actually wanted to say.

She pursed her lips in contemplation but didn’t want to voice an assumption that might come across as offensive. “Why do you think that is?”

Miranda shrugged in a way that told Andy she knew the reason or believed to know it but didn’t want to come forth and say it outright. She did so, anyway. “I couldn’t possibly know. Perhaps…it’s due to Stephen’s absence that they feel more…comfortable at home.”

Andy hummed in agreement, considering whether she should ask the question that had been burning on the forefront of her mind since the news of Miranda’s divorce had reached her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”, Miranda took another forkful of cake, brought it to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Andy rolled her eyes, the editor smirked. “Go ahead.”

She hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words for such a delicate subject. “I’m no expert on divorces but…yours was unusually short.”

Miranda regarded her for a long moment, before putting her plate down on the counter. “That wasn’t a question, but I shall give you an answer, regardless.”, she sighed. “It came to my attention that during our marriage, Stephen saw it fit to get his…eh- his needs met by someone else…someone younger and less ‘frigid’.”, her fingers painted quotation marks into the air. “I got someone to get me undeniable prove and used it to ensure a shorter separation period.”, she shrugged as if it was something she did every day.

Now it was Andy’s turn to abandon her plate. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of the cake anymore, anyway. Learning of Stephen’s infidelity left a bitter taste in her mouth. God, how she hated him. Taking a few steps forwards, she got hold of one of Miranda’s hands, trying to comfort her with a simple touch. “I’m really sorry. That’s awful.”

In return Miranda offered her a combination of frown and arched eyebrow. “Under normal circumstances I might agree but I’m glad to be rid of him and focus on far more important things.”, she gave Andy a meaningful look that made the brunette’s cheeks turn rosy with warmth and pulled her closer. She was glad the situation did not seem to weigh down on Miranda’s shoulders. “You really do look quite acceptable in mahogany.”

Andy gasped in fake outrage. “Quite acceptable?”

“Perhaps perfectly acceptable.”

She grinned. “Just perfect, you mean.”

“Mhhh.” Their lips met, tongues tasting the remnants of sugary green frosting as Andy’s hands found their way into Miranda’s silver hair and Miranda’s arms around her waist pushed their bodies together.  

Andy knew it would take some time until all this felt completely normal, she knew about the risks and that the situation they had found themselves in was far from perfect. And maybe this was not their happily-ever-after quite yet. But they were getting there, and for now that was enough. Miranda loved her, and Andy loved Miranda in return, the rest they would figure out.

This was her life; this was what she wanted more than anything and she had been lucky enough to be granted this piece of utter happiness. The press could think whatever they liked and so could her parents, and so called (ex-)friends. She wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

“Gross!” Caroline had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a disgusted groan upon seeing Andy and her mother so close together. A second later she was over it. “Andy, can you come play Mario Party with us?”

“Caroline, don’t you have enough friends over to play with?”, Miranda asked with only the slightest hint of reprimand in her voice. It was her daughters’ birthday, after all.

“Sure, but we want Andy.”, she looked from her mother over to Andy again. “Pretty please.”

With a chuckle Andy agreed and let herself be dragged into the living room.

Utter happiness, indeed.

Chapter Text

DECEMBER 25th, 2007

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”, Helen murmured for the fourth time during the last hour, clearly upset with their scheme from the year prior and the fact they had deigned to reveal that particular nugget of truth just earlier that day.

They were all gathered in Anne’s living room once again, the Christmas tree alight in the corner and classical music softly wafting through the air from where the record player had become a consistent installment next to it.

Sarah snorted, putting down the book she had been reading. “Well, it is sort of obvious now.”, she gave Andy and her youngest sister a stern look over the rim of her reading glasses. “I mean look at them, they’re unbearable.” Andy only grinned back at her from behind Miranda’s shoulder, pulling the editor closer against her chest and breathing a little kiss to her neck right below the slightly darker hair at her nape.

“Still. It would have been nice to not be the last one to know.”, Helen huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Hey, we didn’t know either.”, Diane interjected, though sounding a lot less agitated.

Sophie grinned smugly, abandoning her IPod for a second. “I did.”

“We know!”, came the chorus from the three oldest sisters.

“You should be grateful we told you at all.”, Miranda sniffed haughtily, leaning back against Andy, where she was still comfortably sitting on her lap.

Over the last year Andy had come to understand that all the times the older woman had said she didn’t like the display of affections when other people were around, she had lied. She loved it, loved showing Andy off, loved holding her hand, touching her so everyone around them knew they belonged together.

Which was, ironically, also how the press had eventually gotten wind of their relationship. It had been an accident more than anything, a simple, but rather intimate touch of hands in the park while walking Patricia last October. One rumorous article about them in PageSix had been enough to get the remaining press’s attention and thus they had become the protagonists in the eternal grind of New York’s gossip-mill for some time.

Luckily, Andy had been able to convince Miranda to put her worries aside and to simply not hide. Two weeks later, after the paparazzi had caught a kiss between them through the windows of a restaurant, the truth was out.

Naturally, the following month had been hell. Everyone wanted a statement, another picture or even an interview which they had been advised not to give by Miranda’s publicist.

Miranda, stubborn as ever, had ignored that very clear instruction, strutted outside the Elias-Clarke building one rainy afternoon, where journalist had all but started camping to so much as get a glimpse of her, and given the shortest interview in existence.

“Yes, Andrea and I are in a relationship.”

“No, this is not a PR stunt.”

“Obviously. I’m with a woman, an interest in women is sort of a requirement.”

“It’s the 21st century, we love each other. Get over it.”

Of course, Miranda’s little performance dominated the headlines for the following week. As predicted, everyone seemed to think they were entitled to an opinion and there was enough negative press to last Andy a lifetime. However, despite Miranda’s fears, Andy did not get sacked as Chris and the magazine’s EIC were glad for the new wave of readers The New Yorker gained that month.

In spite of the not insignificant amount of positive responses Andy was relieved when people quickly grew tired of them soon after and latched onto the next, remotely interesting bit of tattle society had to offer, leaving Andy and Miranda to finally enjoy just being together without having to look over their shoulder every two minutes.

“Mum, you didn’t know, did you?”, Helen’s indignant voice broke through the memory and brough Andy back to the present.

Anne didn’t even bother putting down the newest issue of Runway she was leafing through as she gave her murmured response. “Of course I knew, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m happy for you.”, Diane offered a genuine smile and thus finally put a stop to her sister’s verbal sulking.

Miranda turned in Andy’s arms, her own slung across the brunette’s shoulders, and gave her a warm, if barely present, smile. “I’m happy for us too.”, she purred against Andy’s mouth and connected their lips not a second later.

Helen groaned frustratedly. “There are children present!”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m 22, mum.”

To everyone’s great relief Helen calmed down rather quickly after having voiced her indignation about Miranda and Andy’s little bout of dishonesty and finally, after more than enough time spent in the presence of her family, Miranda was more than happy to return to the privacy of their room.

“I really don’t understand why you insisted on spending the holidays here again. We could have just as well passed our time back home. Maybe even better, I would wager.”, she turned off the lights in the bathroom and sauntered over to the bed with a sense of poise Andy was sure she would never grow tired of.

The brunette sighed, a loving smile tugging at her lips as she watched Miranda slide into bed next to her, pressing close like she did most nights. Without hesitation, Andy put her arm around her, gently running her fingers through the silver strands as Miranda’s head pillowed itself on her chest. “Maybe I simply wanted to return to the scene of the crime.”, she grinned. “And besides, I’d wager that the change of location won’t stop us from having a good time.”, she whispered against Miranda’s temple, voice sultry as she felt the older woman’s pulse quicken under her lips. The editor turned around, surveying her love with a reproachfully raised eyebrow. Though, the glimmer of avidity in her darkened eyes gave her away.

Andy leaned down, pressing a kiss against the corner of Miranda’s mouth, barely grazing the soft skin of her lips. A hand snaked itself into her hair, guiding the younger woman with a gentle, but commanding push of fingers into a proper kiss; warm, and wet, and familiar.

“I think they might be right; we are unbearable.”, Miranda hummed and then leaned in again.

As they lay in the darkness hours later, Miranda’s naked back pressed against Andy, who held her in place with a possessive arm around her waist, the brunette contemplated the subjectivity of time. She had lived through 26 years and yet none of them had been as eventful as this last one. Breaking up with Nate, being with Miranda, her parents, being with Miranda, a new job, moving into the Townhouse, coming out to some, then coming out to all, being with Miranda.

Loving Miranda was like nothing Andy had ever done; it wasn’t difficult because, ultimately, Miranda Priestly wasn’t a difficult person to love. All she needed was to be held and understood.

Being loved by Miranda, however, was something else entirely. Her words, often so sharp and cutting, could be soft, tender, laced with unspoken promise. And whenever her eyes fell upon Andy it was with a look that held a hint of forever, a love not bound by conditions, a devotion so deep Andy’s mind was hardly able to grasp it.  Miranda loved her so meticulously, so wholeheartedly, it nearly took her breath away sometimes.

She was-

“Stop thinking so much.”, Miranda’s words were barely audible through the weariness with which she mumbled them against the pillow as she intertwined her fingers with Andy’s.

Outside the church bell struck 1 a.m. Andy nuzzled even closer.

“A year is a long time, when you think about it.”, she whispered back, feeling oddly nostalgic all of a sudden. Miranda squeezed her hand lightly.

“It isn’t nearly enough, Darling.”, drowsiness always made the older woman more uninhibited.

Andy smiled as her lips pressed another kiss to Miranda’s exposed shoulder. “Sleep well, Miranda.”

“Mhh.”

She was home.