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chainofclovers(This is a story I posted at the comment fic-a-thon a while back. I realized I never made an entry for it here, and I'm trying to get my fic index in good shape again. Having all my stuff in one place helps. If you missed this one during the fic-a-thon, enjoy!)
Title: Agreeable
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Devil Wears Prada.
Andy pulled the front door shut as quietly as possible; she was still a little buzzed, so she devoted more concentration to the task than usual. It was late, past one in the morning, and she didn’t want to wake the twins. The lock clicked reassuringly, Andy placed her purse in its usual spot on one of the tables in the hall, and she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up in the closet. Sometimes Miranda appeared in the hallway to greet her at this point, but tonight the house was still. And, except for the porch light that had ushered her inside, mostly dark. Andy tiptoed down the hall, searching for the pool of light, or maybe a thin line of it shining out from under a closed door, that would indicate Miranda’s location. Lamplight spilled from Miranda’s study, so Andy headed that way.
She stopped short in the doorway, her mouth open--ready to say Miranda’s name--but silent. Miranda was asleep on the leather sofa in the corner. She sat upright, a novel turned words down on her lap, as if she’d thought to rest her eyes for a moment and wanted to mark her place. Andy closed the door behind her and moved quietly across the room, and Miranda’s eyes fluttered open just as she reached the sofa. “Hey,” she whispered as Miranda blinked several times and settled her eyes on Andy with a tired grin.
“Have fun?” Miranda asked, scooting against the armrest to make room for Andy even though there was plenty of space.
“Yeah,” Andy replied. She tucked herself against Miranda’s side, snaking an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “I missed you, though.” She hadn’t planned to add this part, but she meant it. She’d had a good time tonight, trying out a new bar with Lily, Doug, Lily’s work friend Karen, and a visiting friend from college. None of her friends brought dates with them tonight, but sometimes they did, and it hurt Andy to know that she couldn’t bring her date along. Or rather, that her date wouldn’t come along.
“Oh dear. Did Lily ask about me again?”
Andy peered at Miranda, trying to read her face. She and Lily had met twice, both times for dinner at the townhouse, and while they weren’t exactly fast friends they’d gotten along quite cordially. “Not tonight. I got pretty agitated last time she asked after you,” Andy admitted. “I think she gets it. When the time is right, I’m sure you’ll--”
Miranda sighed. “The time was probably right a long time ago.” Andy certainly felt this way, and had tried to be as honest about it as possible given the delicate circumstances. They’d been together nearly six months, and Miranda’s divorce from Stephen had been final for five of them. The twins and Andy’s immediate family had been informed of the relationship, as had Andy’s closest friends. Andy spent several nights per week at Miranda’s, and occasionally, when Caroline and Cassidy were with their father, Miranda stayed at Andy’s. They were fixtures in each other’s lives, they felt essential to each other, and, save for the first six months of Andy’s position at The Mirror, it had been like this for a long time. Of course “assistant” and “girlfriend” were two different titles entirely, but neither term was a simple one. The lines between professional and personal commitment were blurry, and would be blurrier still if Andy hadn’t jumped ship in Paris.
“Miranda, it’s okay,” Andy said, although it wasn’t. She didn’t want a press conference or a public show; she wanted Miranda next to her in restaurants, on walks. Maybe someday they could take a vacation.
“It’s not. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” Miranda looked down at her lap, where her clasped fingers twisted.
“I think,” Andy swallowed. “I think that because, um, so much of this has been hard for you, that going out in public with me seems like a bigger deal than it actually is.” Andy assumed Miranda would balk at this. She didn’t like being reminded, even indirectly, of how only six months ago she’d sworn to Andy that she wasn’t attracted to women, had been rather aggressively hesitant about sex, had beaten herself up over every crack in her facade. Andy understood that she’d shaken Miranda’s previous foundation to the core, and so she tried to be patient.
Miranda only nodded. “I know,” she said, and nodded more vigorously. “Next time, all right?”
Andy smiled. “‘Next time’ is tomorrow,” she said. “Doug’s having a potluck. Is that okay?”
“Fine,” Miranda said, but she didn’t sound begrudging. She had never told Andy she’d do something without follow-through, hence the many social refusals, which seemed increasingly at odds with what was otherwise a stunningly fulfilling relationship. “What are you--we--supposed to bring?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Andy casually inched a bit closer to Miranda. “So, how tired are you?”
“Not very,” Miranda said quickly. “We can go upstairs now--”
“We can do it right here,” Andy said, with very little finesse. She felt clear-headed and sober, but she’d used all her diplomacy earlier in the conversation. She used the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Miranda’s shoulders to figure out the zipper on Miranda’s trousers. Miranda assisted, which made Andy chuckle.
“Right here,” Miranda repeated, nervous and calm and very agreeable.
Title: Agreeable
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Devil Wears Prada.
Andy pulled the front door shut as quietly as possible; she was still a little buzzed, so she devoted more concentration to the task than usual. It was late, past one in the morning, and she didn’t want to wake the twins. The lock clicked reassuringly, Andy placed her purse in its usual spot on one of the tables in the hall, and she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up in the closet. Sometimes Miranda appeared in the hallway to greet her at this point, but tonight the house was still. And, except for the porch light that had ushered her inside, mostly dark. Andy tiptoed down the hall, searching for the pool of light, or maybe a thin line of it shining out from under a closed door, that would indicate Miranda’s location. Lamplight spilled from Miranda’s study, so Andy headed that way.
She stopped short in the doorway, her mouth open--ready to say Miranda’s name--but silent. Miranda was asleep on the leather sofa in the corner. She sat upright, a novel turned words down on her lap, as if she’d thought to rest her eyes for a moment and wanted to mark her place. Andy closed the door behind her and moved quietly across the room, and Miranda’s eyes fluttered open just as she reached the sofa. “Hey,” she whispered as Miranda blinked several times and settled her eyes on Andy with a tired grin.
“Have fun?” Miranda asked, scooting against the armrest to make room for Andy even though there was plenty of space.
“Yeah,” Andy replied. She tucked herself against Miranda’s side, snaking an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “I missed you, though.” She hadn’t planned to add this part, but she meant it. She’d had a good time tonight, trying out a new bar with Lily, Doug, Lily’s work friend Karen, and a visiting friend from college. None of her friends brought dates with them tonight, but sometimes they did, and it hurt Andy to know that she couldn’t bring her date along. Or rather, that her date wouldn’t come along.
“Oh dear. Did Lily ask about me again?”
Andy peered at Miranda, trying to read her face. She and Lily had met twice, both times for dinner at the townhouse, and while they weren’t exactly fast friends they’d gotten along quite cordially. “Not tonight. I got pretty agitated last time she asked after you,” Andy admitted. “I think she gets it. When the time is right, I’m sure you’ll--”
Miranda sighed. “The time was probably right a long time ago.” Andy certainly felt this way, and had tried to be as honest about it as possible given the delicate circumstances. They’d been together nearly six months, and Miranda’s divorce from Stephen had been final for five of them. The twins and Andy’s immediate family had been informed of the relationship, as had Andy’s closest friends. Andy spent several nights per week at Miranda’s, and occasionally, when Caroline and Cassidy were with their father, Miranda stayed at Andy’s. They were fixtures in each other’s lives, they felt essential to each other, and, save for the first six months of Andy’s position at The Mirror, it had been like this for a long time. Of course “assistant” and “girlfriend” were two different titles entirely, but neither term was a simple one. The lines between professional and personal commitment were blurry, and would be blurrier still if Andy hadn’t jumped ship in Paris.
“Miranda, it’s okay,” Andy said, although it wasn’t. She didn’t want a press conference or a public show; she wanted Miranda next to her in restaurants, on walks. Maybe someday they could take a vacation.
“It’s not. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” Miranda looked down at her lap, where her clasped fingers twisted.
“I think,” Andy swallowed. “I think that because, um, so much of this has been hard for you, that going out in public with me seems like a bigger deal than it actually is.” Andy assumed Miranda would balk at this. She didn’t like being reminded, even indirectly, of how only six months ago she’d sworn to Andy that she wasn’t attracted to women, had been rather aggressively hesitant about sex, had beaten herself up over every crack in her facade. Andy understood that she’d shaken Miranda’s previous foundation to the core, and so she tried to be patient.
Miranda only nodded. “I know,” she said, and nodded more vigorously. “Next time, all right?”
Andy smiled. “‘Next time’ is tomorrow,” she said. “Doug’s having a potluck. Is that okay?”
“Fine,” Miranda said, but she didn’t sound begrudging. She had never told Andy she’d do something without follow-through, hence the many social refusals, which seemed increasingly at odds with what was otherwise a stunningly fulfilling relationship. “What are you--we--supposed to bring?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Andy casually inched a bit closer to Miranda. “So, how tired are you?”
“Not very,” Miranda said quickly. “We can go upstairs now--”
“We can do it right here,” Andy said, with very little finesse. She felt clear-headed and sober, but she’d used all her diplomacy earlier in the conversation. She used the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Miranda’s shoulders to figure out the zipper on Miranda’s trousers. Miranda assisted, which made Andy chuckle.
“Right here,” Miranda repeated, nervous and calm and very agreeable.
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-10 03:32 pm (UTC)Oh, poor Miranda. Poor both of them, really. I really hope things go as well tomorrow night as Andy seems to think they will. :-/
Although, actually, I like the little hints of Lily here, because I feel like she and Miranda could probably be good friends if they had a reason to try (Andy): for one thing, they have plenty to talk about (they both love fashion, they can geek out about the fine arts together); and Lily's not the type to go all starstruck the way Doug might. It also doesn't hurt that Lily knows how to dress herself. I always wish I had some idea of what's going through her head in canon ("glamazon"???), because she'd be such a useful and interesting character if only I could make enough sense of her to write her.
Good to see you around these parts. *tips hat* How are things these days?
no subject
Date: 2011-05-15 07:24 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading this tiny little story, and for your comments. I felt bad for both of them here as I wrote, though I'm an optimistic narrator.
I hope you're well, and I'll be in touch!
CoC
no subject
Date: 2011-05-22 08:41 pm (UTC)Very nicely done. Thanks for the read.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 05:05 am (UTC)