FIC: Cause/Effect
Title: Cause/Effect
By: bargara_b
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own none of it.
Status: complete,
Genre: one shot, pwp, slightly crackish
Summary: Miranda has a secret
Cause/Effect
“Hey, I’m just the delivery guy.”
Andy glared at the brown shirt and shorts as the delivery guy strode off down the hall. Great, now she’s got to deal with two largish boxes stacked on the floor next to her desk. Why the guy had to deliver them to Miranda Priestly’s office and not the front desk or -- better yet -- her house, Andy didn’t know. What she did know was that she had to deal with the boxes right now or be subject to Miranda’s wrath. Miranda hated dealing with the minutia … that’s why she had two assistants and hordes of other underlings to do her bidding, for god’s sake. Andy turned her glare to the boxes.
“And what are those doing here?” Miranda Priestly stood in front of Andy’s desk casting her own glare of disdain at the two cardboard boxes partially blocking the thoroughfare.
Andy’s flinch was internal. “I’m sorry, Miranda, I’ve got it handled.” Almost a year with Miranda and her greatest accomplishment was always (almost) coming off as in control around her boss.
“Hmm, I think if you truly had it handled, Andrea, that delivery would not be cluttering this office.” Miranda turned her glare to Andy. “Fix it.”
“Um, okay, but they are addressed to you personally not to Runway.” Andy met Miranda’s glare with her own glare which was now more of a defensive if not self-preserving look. Andy hated to employ such a look but she was tired of just having to be so on all the time. She was tired of the constant one-step-ahead mindset. It was exhausting. That, and her all-consuming crush on her boss. Now that was exhaustion to a factor of infinity. And it certainly didn’t help right now when Miranda was standing in front of her looking so fucking fabulous.
Miranda stuck her hand out and huffed. “Fine.” Andy handed her the bill of lading and watched Miranda’s jaw drop after which came an epic eye roll as she read through the paperwork.
“Good god. Not another one -“ Miranda muttered and glanced over at the boxes “-two.” Now came the lip pursing. “Andrea, you are to take these to my home,” she said. Then folding the paperwork in half very neatly she deposited it in her Prada bag and snapped it shut. Instead of continuing immediately into her office, Miranda drew her self up to full height and looked down her nose at Andy. It was if Miranda was saying ‘Well?’ and ‘What?’ at the same time. And that was just very odd. “But, in my office, first,” Miranda said with a small jerk of her head.
Andy instantly grabbed her notepad and climbed around the offending boxes to follow Miranda who took her sweet time wandering around her desk, purse still in hand. Andy then watched as Miranda rummaged to the bottom of her purse and pulled out her ring of keys. Searching through them she zeroed in on a smaller silver one and proceeded to separate it from all the others then held it up between her thumb and forefinger. Miranda’s image faded into the back ground as all of Andy’s focus landed on that key. Um. Okay?
“There’s a room in the basement,” Miranda said, holding out the key to Andy. “Put them in there.” She gave Andy a head to toe once over and dropped the key in Andy’s palm. “That’s all.”
===
The boxes were heavy and awkward and Roy had helped Andy get them up the steps and into the townhouse. Now, Andy stood alone in Miranda’s home with a slight sheen of sweat covering her face. She had found her way down the small lift at the back of the house and faced the only locked door in the basement. Andy slipped the key into the lock and turned the handle.
Oh. My. God.
“What the --?” Andy’s eyes roamed the room in confusion. Miranda’s secret locked room was lined floor to ceiling with dozens of boxes all matching the dimensions of the two sitting in the hall behind her. None appeared opened. “What the hell.” Andy stepped around a row that ran down the middle of the room. All of them were, in fact, addressed to Miranda Priestly and they were all sent from the same place. A company called Slice with a PO box somewhere in California. Weird, just plain weird. Just then Andy’s phone beeped a text message. Shit, now Miranda needed her to make a few stops on the way back to Runway.
Later that night, as Andy lay in bed, her mind churned through all the possibilities. Hmm. Perhaps Miranda had a secret QVC addiction. Andy had seen a show about hoarders once where a lady had rooms full of unopened boxes of purchases. But Andy was having trouble imaging Miranda collecting Hummel figurines or any kind of ‘collectible’ for that matter. Drugs - no. Food stuffs - huh, maybe Miranda had an inside lead on Armageddon -- but no. Water - too boring. Gold bars - mmm, shiny but way too heavy. Oooo, guns - Andy had an image of Miranda as Lara Croft flash through her mind which was delicious - but no. She sighed and then she slept.
But Andy had been unable to let it go. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and now a few days later she stood once more in front of that basement door. For reasons only known to her subconscious, Andy had neglected to return the key to Miranda and Miranda, for her part, hadn’t asked for it back. She slipped into the room and pulled a borrowed box cutter from her purse. Slicing through the tape Andy lifted the flaps up to reveal an envelope resting atop a layer of brown paper. It was good quality and reminded her of the envelopes containing most of the invitations Miranda received requesting the pleasure of her company at whatever event. She carefully slid her finger under the flap and slipped out an embossed card.
“To Miranda Priestly”
“In Appreciation” it read.
Then Andy’s brain skidded to a halt.
“For Andrea Sachs”
It took all of a matter of seconds for Andy to tear away the brown paper covering a box beneath. What Andy saw nothing short of baffled her. Gears strained in her brain to understand what she was seeing as she stared very very hard at the contents. Finally, the penny dropped then clanged then rolled around in tighter and tighter circles faster and faster until stopping only once it fully impacted on Andy’s consciousness. “Oh, holy fuck.” The heat that flushed through her was immediate and she was rendered breathless as she fell into the rabbit hole.
From Andy’s position on the floor she looked around the room as all the boxes loomed and seemed to tilt and sway towards her. Then another realization came upon her and Andy responded with “No. Fucking. Way.” She leapt from her crouch and tore open the next closest box. She spared no concern for the envelope as she all but ripped it in half to get to the card inside. It read the exact same thing with the sole exception of the name at the bottom. From there it was a flurry of paper, tape, cardboard and Andy’s disbelieving exclamations flying through the air as she tore through the boxes. So far all contained the same card with only the second name differing.
“So, you couldn’t resist,” came the dulcet tones of Miranda Priestly.
Andy froze mid-tear.
“I had wondered if you could,” she continued. Andy, with heart pounding, slowly turned to face her boss. Miranda stood with a shoulder propped against the door frame as cool as could be bearing a knowing smirk. Between her fingers she held the card which contained Andy’s name. “You know, this really is rather satisfying,” Miranda said as she sauntered into the room. She walked down one wall running her finger along the boxes still lining the wall. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Miranda turned and faced Andy. “Knowing that I’ve made such an … impact on people.”
“I -,“ Andy sputtered. “But Miranda th-there are dozens of these,” Andy flung her arm in a wide arc before gasping. “Oh my god! That means that you -“ Andy shot a frantic glance all around the room.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. I don’t even know 90% of these people.” It was Miranda’s turn to gesture at the boxes with a toss of her hair. “Honestly,” Miranda now huffed, “I’m not even -“
“You’re not?”
“Of course not.” Miranda turned to leave. “Now tidy up this mess and get back to the office. There’s too much for you to do to continue wasting my time with your nosiness.” And with that Miranda dismissed the matter.
===
For weeks Andy remained unspeakably mortified but Miranda never made mention of Andy’s snooping nor did there seem to be any punishment forthcoming. No obtaining the impossible manuscript. No insults, veiled or direct, on Andy’s performance, intellect or figure. If anything Miranda came to depend on Andy even more. Emily stewed while Andy got all the plum assignments and even got to travel out of town with Miranda to several shoots. Gradually, Andy’s embarrassment lessened only slightly as she tried very hard to focus on her job and not her boss. She was not very successful, however, due to the increased time she spent with Miranda it was all but impossible to rid herself of her tortured crush. Worse, Andy knew that Miranda knew. And Miranda’s knowing looks got longer and a smugness often tugged at the corners of her mouth. So Andy redoubled her efforts to be the perfect assistant: punctual, accurate, professional with an unsurpassed attention to detail. After a time, the smugness in Miranda’s gaze was gone but the looks remained.
A very long week had almost ended and it was late afternoon as Andy studiously transcribed her notes from the day when a digital device was shoved in front of her.
“Sign here,” said the delivery guy.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Andy stood and backed away. Her heart sank as she noticed a familiar shaped box sitting on the floor next to her desk.
“Look lady, I’m just the delivery guy no need to get testy with me.” He shoved the device at Andy.
With a shaking hand Andy took the plastic stylus and signed the blank screen.
“Last name?”
“Um, Sachs.”
Andy watched the brown shirt and shorts until they disappeared down the hall.
“Shit,” Andy whispered as tears stung her eyes. Miranda was already at home so that meant Andy would have to relive her utter and complete humiliation once more. Unless … unless Andy just didn’t deliver it. Yeah, Miranda would never have to know. Buoyed by her decision, Andy stooped to pick up the box when she glanced at the label just to be sure. Nope, there it was. It was the same sender: S.L.I.C.E. from the same PO box in California and it was address to Miran - Andrea Sachs. Oh. Jesus.
Once more her hands shook as she slit the box open and pulled out the envelope with her name written in fancy calligraphy. Taking a deep breath she slid the card out and read it.
Oh.
If Andy had been standing she would have fallen. Removing the protective brown paper Andy saw the box inside. It was stainless steel no less.
Within the half hour Andy was letting herself into Miranda’s townhouse. She hadn’t bothered waiting for the Book or picking up the dry cleaning. Instead she walked straight back to the study where she knew she’d find Miranda perusing something or other and entered unannounced.
“Andrea, I don’t recall ask--”
“There was another delivery today, Miranda,” Andy interrupted.
Miranda stared at Andy for a moment and then gave a short laugh. “Oh, well then, you know where it goes, right?” Miranda looked almost gleeful at Andy’s presumed discomfort.
“Oh no, Miranda, it wasn’t addressed to you.” Andy took several steps toward her. “It was addressed to me.” She now stood over Miranda and leaned down to her ear. “And guess whose name was on it?” Andy’s breath was hot on Miranda’s ear and she sensed a shiver in response. Emboldened, Andy ran the tip of her tongue around the shell before whispering, “Yours.”
Pulling back, Andy let her eyes wander slowly over her stunned boss. “So now I have a dilemma, Miranda. And do you know what that might be?” Miranda gave the barest shake of her head and Andy smiled victorious. “I now have to make room in my tiny little apartment for a toaster oven.”
~~fin
AN: Many thanks to cheyne55 for the acronym S.L.I.C.E. = Strategic Lesbian Intensive Conversion Experience. As in slice of toast. Hee! She’s fabulous.