My Demands Are Small 1/1
My Demands Are Small 1/1
Title: My Demands Are Small
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nothing in this fandom belongs to me.
Prompts: 1. They would not have made these so strong if they didn't intend on any heavy usage. 2. 'Miranda, you know you can't wear that out of the house right?' 3. Corsets
Author's Notes: Written for ubiquitousmixie. A little fluff.
Summary: Christmas and New Year's time in the Priestley/Sachs household(s).
*********
I can only give you love that lasts forever
And a promise to be near each time you call
And the only heart I own,
For you and you alone,
That's all, that's all...
*****************
"I'm working Christmas." Andy says through a mouthful of strawberry pop tart as she perches one foot up on the chair she's currently occupying, in Miranda's kitchen. The brunette looks on expectantly as Miranda paces about calmly, stopping to rinse a glass in the sink before placing in in the nearby drying rack.
Her phone dings softly, sign of a new e-mail, and reaches the breakfast table to pick it up and reply as she types, "That's quite all right. I might stop by the office for a couple of hours, myself. The girls will be with their father by noon."
"Are you serious?"
"Evil never sleeps," She jokes dryly before looking up with a soft smirk, which dissolves into a look of sheer annoyance when Andy bites into her snack, "For god's sake, Andrea. When did you manage to sneak those back in here?"
Andy smiles back innocently and beams at the other woman after swallowing and licking her lips, "I'm actually a CIA agent. Don't look behind the fridge."
"Do you have any idea how many calories are in that thing?"
"A million," She replies mockingly, "--and I'm enjoying every last bit of them."
"It's nice to see that, while I've managed to build some good taste in you, the old you still lingers very loudly." She eyes Andy's child-like seated pose, one arm hugging the leg bent at the knee.
Andy smiles. "Listen, you haven't told me what you want for Christmas yet."
At this, Miranda turns away and heads for the door, "Andrea, you do not need to get me anything."
Andy lingers behind, pops the last of her treat in her mouth and rolls her eyes up at the ceiling as she chews, before hopping up and following suit.
"It's not about NEEDING to get you something. I mean--" They begin on the stairs and she pauses before reconsidering, "--no, scratch that. I do. I NEED to get you something. My life depends on it."
Miranda scoffs over her shoulder, then sighs in frustration. "Andrea, I really don't do gifts."
Getting lost in the sway of her girlfriend's ass for a moment, Andy shakes her head, "Miranda, people buy you gifts on a daily basis."
"This is untrue."
They come to the third floor landing and Andy throws her head back and laughs as she is lead into Miranda's bedroom. "Miranda, your CAR was a gift from Porsche."
"That proves nothing," She answer quickly, leaving no room for argument as she adds, "Andrea, I just don't understand your fervent need to buy me things."
Andy shrugs and, much to Miranda's silent disapproval, drops unceremoniously onto the large, centered, bed, "Not--things. And not always. It's Christmas. I want to get my girlfriend something special."
Miranda groans, "That word." In passing, she gently taps Andy's foot, "Shoes."
Obediently, a pair of Prada pumps are kicked off with a scandalous clatter as Miranda disappears into the large walk in closet.
Andy lies on her stomach, cheek pressed against a pillow she's pulled under her head. She sighs and says sweetly, "You are my girlfriend." Silence. "I don't know why you hate being called that. That's what you are."
"After a certain age, you stop being a 'girlfriend'. I'm sorry to tell you," Comes a muffled retort.
"Nonsense." Andy pouts. "Sorry I can't go to the party with you. I just have so much I need to get done. I don't think I'll sleep tonight."
"That's all right, Andrea. Work first."
"I know I know....at least Nigel is going with you, though. He can--shoo the flies away on my behalf. You're sure I can stay here tonight?"
"Yes..." Miranda exits the closet dressed in a completely different outfit. It's a cream colored, floor length Grecian, drape dress, which at first sight, makes her look nearly nude, as the particular length melts against her skin like a coat of paint. The waist is singed and perfect, and Andy is very near changing her mind about her evening, "...the girls are at a sleepover. You will have time and space to work."
"Um, wow." Andy says, once she's found her voice. She sits up and meets Miranda's smiling eyes, "Miranda, you look amazing."
"You like it." She says plainly.
"Uh--Yes, I would say--'like' is an understatement." She motions with her finger, "Let me see the back."
Miranda turns slowly to showcase the draping cut and partial bare back.
Andy lets out a low whistle and her tone is just as such when she speaks next, "Is there any way you can stay here tonight instead?"
Miranda smiles to herself and proceeds toward the nearby dresser, where she has already set out a diamond studs and a matching bracelet, "Unfortunately, no. I cannot."
"Well, then I am sorry, Miranda, but I won't allow you to leave the house in that."
Miranda laughs, turns after securing the second stud in her ear and says, "Is that so?"
"That's so," Andy nods promptly.
"And what, may I ask, will I do, cooped up in here while you're cooped up in my study, working? Shall I knit?"
"Mmhmm--" The brunette turns her chin up as her lover steps closer, "--like a good little wife."
"Very funny." Miranda's tone is a slight sing-song as she leans over and places a short kiss over Andy's lips. She touches her cheek and lingers closely as she says softly, "Work hard." As she nears the door, she looks over her shoulder and asks with a double meaning tone, "And stay up."
Andy sighs and momentarily worries her bottom lip before calling out, "Don't drink too much!"
As it turns out, Miranda does drink a little too much. Not enough to make her sloppy, but enough to send her straight to bed when she gets home. Andy is disappointed to find her lover dead to the world by the time she crawls into bed at four in the morning. Still, she enjoys a calm, resting Miranda as much as the next Runway employee.
****
Missing their only window to sex in a very long time, proves to be a severe mistake.
Miranda is up and out before Andy's alarm even sounds off the following morning.
Their morning greeting takes form in a neatly handwritten note that is pinned to the fridge with a magnet, Andy reads it with a smile before tucking it inside her pocket, then proceeds to grimace at the missing box of pop tarts, which she later locates in the trash bin.
"I need you to remain healthy..." She can hear Miranda say. Which is a nice way of saying "if you don't fit into couture, I will never be seen in public with you".
After a dedicated search, Andy manages to locate a fresh box of hidden breakfast treats. "And just like that, America wins," She mumbles proudly to herself.
****
"I think you need more sex."
Nigel looks up through a mouthful of chicken, chews the last of it and swallows before questioning his lunch companion, "Excuse me?"
Andy shrugs as she slices through a steak and replies, "You're all grumpy and hateful. You bad, bad queen..." She smiles when she bites.
Nigel glares, breathes in, and seems almost smug as he replies briskly, "I had sex last night. You, on the other hand, have not gotten any in--oh--I would say, two weeks? If I'm going by Miranda's mood, that should be about right."
Andy's facetious smirk quickly dissolves and she sulks, eyes averted as she bites into her meal again, "Can we change the subject, please?"
Her dinner companion laughs and in a moment of feign understanding, reaches out to gently pat her hand, "Oh, there-there. That's what happens when you date powerful people. They're not available when you want them to be."
She nods in agreement and licks her lips clean, fork in one hand, "This is our first Christmas. Our first--you know, 'together' Christmas. I have no idea what to get her."
"Hmm--" He nods, "--that is a tough one."
"What will you get her?" She inquires, hoping to maybe garner some ideas from Nigel. He is her oldest friend after all.
He sits up and shakes his head instantly, "Oh no, it's not the same thing. I'm not sleeping with her--"
"--but you want to--" She jokes.
He ignores her, "--you need to figure this one out on your own. What Miranda expects from an old friend is completely different than what she expects from a lover. This, I can assure you."
"Well--" She scoffs, "--that does not help me."
Chewing and mulling over a thought, Nigel replies after a moment, "Think simple. Nothing flashy, or--too elaborate. Her life is complicated enough. You would be surprised by the level of humility this woman possesses. Of course you didn't hear this from me--"
Andy leans in, suddenly more hungry for information than the delicious meal in front of her, "Of course. I won't say a word."
"--well, she keeps things. Little things around her home. You wouldn't notice them at first glance because they're so carefully placed, they're almost hidden in plain sight." He smirks softly, leaning in closer as he adds, "--she collects first Edition novels. Classics, contemporary, you name it."
"Really? I didn't know that." Andy is suddenly filled with warmth at the thought of Miranda, curled up on the couch, engrossed in a classic novel. She wonders what her favorite is. She wonders why she doesn't already know this.
"Oh, yeah. She's sentimental as well. Don't let her fool you. She has a portfolio full of old sketches of gowns I've designed for her. Some of them are scribbles on paper napkins, pages ripped off of notebooks. She likes that sort of thing. Personal things..."
Andy is suddenly speechless. She listens on and is in awe of the woman Nigel is describing. How she had not noticed these things in the past few months, is beyond her. But she's glad she knows them now. She forgets to eat and can hardly concentrate on work the rest of the day, anxious to shop for a Christmas present.
****
"How was your day, Andrea?"
Andy smiles at the tenderness in Miranda's voice and drops the pen in her hand in favor of listening more intently. She arcs her back against the backrest of her desk chair and holds the phone closer to her ear before saying, with equal warmth in her tone, "It was great. Long and busy, but great."
"Busy is good." And just like that, the usual professionalism is back in Miranda's voice.
Andy smiles and rolls her eyes at the only aspect of Miranda's personality that can be considered predictable. "Yes, it is. How was your day, Miranda? Busy as always?"
"Busy as always--" She echoes, a certain tilt to her tone that tells Andy, she is being playfully mocked. "--how is your schedule this weekend?"
"Uh--it's looking quite open, actually. Why? Feel like making plans for me?" She asks, hopeful for the sight of the older woman after nearly four days.
Miranda chuckles softly on the other line. "Perhaps."
Andy shivers. She worries her bottom lip and sinks lower into her seat, pressing her knees together at the instant throbbing between her legs. She hates the way she reacts so quickly to the woman's voice. She thinks, sometimes, it might be a medical condition. She knows, however, she wouldn't like to have it rectified any time soon. "What did you have in mind?"
"I was hoping you would cook for me."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"REALLY?"
An exasperated sigh is heard before Miranda retorts, "Andrea--yes. Must you make me repeat everything a million times before you comprehend it?"
"Well--someone is grumpy."
"Yes, well...I've had no stress relief for quite a long time now, I'm sure you understand."
Innuendo is always rare with Miranda, and short lived, so when the opportunity presents itself, Andy is more than glad to hear it. She sighs dramatically and looks up at the ceiling, "Yes, I do. I definitely empathize with you."
"Hmm."
"I even wore that green Michael Korrs top you gave me."
"Did you now..."
"Oh, yeah," Andy glances down at the green silk camisole cut blouse and opts to leave out the part about the mustard stain, "I'm wearing it now, actually. I thought it would at least, offer some sort of thrill."
"Oh, my--" Miranda states blandly, "--you are living dangerously."
"You have no idea."
"If you think that's dangerous, you should see the shoes I am wearing today."
"Are they thrilling?"
"Like heroin on stilts." Miranda says.
Andy laughs. "How was Thanksgiving?"
"Oh--the girls made paper turkeys and wore turkey bibs to dinner. It was quite the formal event."
Andy laughs, "That sounds amazing."
"How was your dinner with your friend--Lily is it?"
"Yes. It was great. Lots of leftovers. I might eat that for the next week or so."
"That sounds awful, Andrea."
"Turkey sandwiches are a revelation. I don't understand how you don't know this."
"Hmm--" Miranda replies, then quickly changes the subject, "--are you available this weekend or not?"
"Yes."
"Great."
"Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Andrea. Goodbye."
"Night. See you Friday."
"Saturday."
"Friday. Take it or leave it." Andy is joking, of course. But her blood begins to run cold at the lingering pause that follows.
"Fine. Friday."
*********
A small, white sugar container falls and shatters on the floor, spilling it's contents in a spider web pattern across Andy's kitchen floor.
"That was my grandmothers--" She pants in between desperate kisses, arms draped over thin shoulders, body trapped between the refrigerator and Miranda.
The older woman pulls away and asks through bated breath, "Are you serious?"
"No--" Andy replies, pulling the woman's lips back.
She's always found it amusing how, in spite of their obvious height difference, Miranda always appears to tower over her. She thinks, it's maybe because she likes to push her up against walls and various kitchen appliances, the ways he's doing now, with no warning, apology or the slightest of consideration for breakables.
They never even addressed dinner. They got as far as the kitchen before Miranda lunged forward and crushed Andy against the fridge, causing her to drop the small porcelain container she has been holding.
Miranda has an infatuation--borderline obsession--with Andy's breasts. She likes to grope them, pinch them--Andy’s favorite is when she bites and licks through whatever clothes she's wearing, the way she's doing now.
But at the rate things are going, and with the time they've had since their last encounter, the young woman finds it difficult to believe she will last very long if that evil little mouth keeps sucking through the plain, white tee shirt.
Andy throws her head back against the silver fridge and shuts her eyes, mouth falling open in a quartet of heavy breaths before she manages something coherent, "Stopstopstop..."
"Why?" Miranda asks, but her hands are already undoing Andy's jeans.
"We're going to break more things and I really don't feel like cleaning, let's go to my bed."
Miranda stops in a huff, and when she lifts her gaze up to Andy's, she flushed and looks frustrated as hell, "Really, Andrea? We're going to break your refrigerator?" Her hands resume their astute undoing and as she pulls the leather tongue of Andy's belt from its confinement, a smirk plays on her lips slowly while she says softly, "They wouldn't have made these so strong if they weren't meant for--heavy usage."
"Fuck--" Andy curses under her breath. This makes Miranda smile wider and her hand slips inside the brunette's pants.
She leans forward and kisses her soundly, leading with a gentle tug at Andy's lip, licking teasing lightly while southward, she cups her sex and squeezes softly.
When she's had her fill of Andy's mouth, she falls slowly, leaving a trail of kisses over the young woman's torso before falling to her knees and ridding of the woman's pants altogether.
"Oh fuck..." Andy moans up at the ceiling, right hand gripping the sturdy door handle to the refrigerator as she gets lost in the feel of Miranda's tongue.
*********
"Did you get new glasses?" Lilly inquires while makes her way out of Andy's kitchen, Jack and Coke at hand. She stares intently at the glass as she comes to stand behind the couch, where Andy is currently reclining.
"Uh, yeah. Since the last time you were here, I guess."
"These are nice!" Her friend adds, turning the glass over, "Is this actual, honest to god, crystal?"
"No..." Andy snorts, taking a sip of her own brownish concoction.
"Yes, it is." Doug pipes up as he enters the room with a drink of his own, offering Andy a smug little smile as he plops down beside her. "They were a gift."
"Oh," Lilly says knowingly, "A gift, huh? From Miranda?" She says her name strangely. In a higher tone than her voice usually goes.
"No..."
"Yes they were."
"Doug, I'm going to kick you where it most hurts, I swear."
"Why are you embarrassed?" Lilly asks, rounding the couch to sit in a stuffed chair across the room, "Your girlfriend is rich. She will occasionally lavish you with expensive gifts. There’s nothing to be ashamed of."
"I am not--ASHAMED." Andy protests, "I just--I'm still getting used to it, okay?"
"Well, I say, tell her to keep the gifts coming, your new place needs to start looking like a new place." Lilly tells her, inspecting their surroundings with distaste, "Tell her you need some new furniture."
"Speaking of gifts--" Andy cuts in, "--I have no idea what I'm going to get her for Christmas. Nigel says she likes simple things--"
"Oh!" Doug sits up quickly, "She collects first editions--"
"How the hell do you know this!" Andy demands, suddenly afraid that everyone in the world might actually know more about her girlfriend than she does.
Doug shrugs, "She's Miranda Priestley. And I'm gay. Osmosis."
Lilly nods in approval, "It's true."
"So I should get her a book?"
"Something nice." Lilly replies with a small shrug, "You know. Nice."
"Nothing too fancy." Doug adds.
Andy stares blankly at the two, who simply nod and repeat in unison, "Something nice."
"Yeah, I have no idea what that means."
"You'll figure it out," Lilly quickly waves her off.
"Oh, she hates Robert Frost." Doug says.
Andy frowns, "Who hates Robert Frost?"
"Miranda Priestley." He replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Andy laughs and throws her head back with a groan, "Oh god, I'm fucked."
**************
"How was the Christmas party?" Andy asks, face still on her pillow, eyes closed, and mumbling before she yawns.
"It was fine--" Miranda sounds absolutely bored, "--until Tom Ford stuck his tongue down my throat."
Andy opens one eye and feels suddenly fully awake, "He did?"
"It was the most insincere kiss I've ever been on the receiving end of."
Andy laughs against her pillow then, voice still hoarse from sleep, "Sneaky queens."
"Yes. How was your little Christmas gathering?"
"Not as great, it seems. No one stuck their tongue down my throat, that's for sure."
"That's good."
"Doug is wasted, though."
"Is?"
"He's right here next to me," As if on cue, Doug erupts in a loud snore behind Andy.
"He's gay, right?" Miranda asks.
"As that kiss you got tonight."
"It's really too bad. Tom Ford is a very attractive man."
"Very funny," Andy says dryly.
"Goodnight, Andrea."
"Goodnight, Miranda."
****************
"You are being impossible, Andrea."
Silence.
"Andrea, if you're going to sit there, you better talk."
Silence.
"If you insist on behaving like a child, I will treat you like one," Her eyebrow goes up and her hands move up to brace on her hips, staring at the back of Andy's head as she continues to ignore her, "Andrea." She says sternly.
"What are we doing, Miranda?" Andy says suddenly, anger still evident in her tone.
Miranda doesn't like it, "If you have to ask, Andrea, I honestly don't know what to tell you."
"You need to tell people."
"My personal life is no one's business."
"It was when you were married."
"For Christ’s sake..."
"I refuse to be a secret."
"Andrea, don't do this."
"You don't do this. I deserve better than this. If you respect me--if you love me, you will take me seriously. I am not a child, regardless of what you might think. I respect you, and I admire you, and I would never do to you, what you're doing to me. I am not going to sit around while you're photographed around town with random men and it's a guessing game as to which one you're dating. And I know you're not-- I know there's nothing going on, but--" She turns towards Miranda now, her eyes searching the icy blue for understanding, "--please just get where I'm coming from, Miranda."
There is a moment where nothing is said. Where Andy thinks she might actually leave Miranda's home empty handed tonight. Her insides turn. She nods and fights the tears as she stands, "Okay."
"All right." Is all Miranda says.
When Andy looks at her, she seems angry still, but less tense.
"All right," Miranda repeats, this time looking at the brunette as she says so.
"Really?" Andy offers a tearful smile.
"I don't like ultimatums, Andrea."
It isn't that Miranda leaves the room without another word, it's the way she does so. Her eyes seem glossy with bitter tears, her jaw is set, her teeth are gritted, and Andy briefly wonders if she's biting her tongue. This pisses Andy off even more and she quickly jumps to her feet to follow, soon catching up to her just outside the study, "There was no ultimatum."
Miranda stops, turns sharply and Andy barely has a moment to breathe before she is pulled back in the room with a harsh tug at her arm.
The door is slammed behind them and Miranda points a finger at Andy, furious and breathing harshly, "You don't get to tell me when I decide to make my private life public. I have children to think about. I have a whole other life you are slowly coming into and a very large part of that is still none of your concern, Andrea." She shakes as she inhales and Andy can tell that she is trying like hell not to yell, "I like having some things to myself. I like not having a camera shoved in my personal relationships. If you're with me for the attention, then--"
"NO. No, that's not what this is about."
"Then what?"
"A little validation!" Andy exclaims, stopping herself to lower her tone, in spite of the rush of adrenaline, "You make me happy. And I think I make you happy. I need us to be real. I can't live in just sneaking in and out of your house. I know you have children--are you kidding me? That's all I think about every time they print a puncture of you with some random guy! I just--" She sighs and shuts her eyes momentarily before continuing, "--Jesus Christ, Miranda. This is a fight! A stupid fight! One of many to come, why can't you just reassure me?"
Miranda stares back in silence, for a great while before carefully replying, "I will have something printed in the magazine. I will give you that. I understand this is a stupid--a very stupid--fight that is aggravating me to no end, I hope you know this."
"Yell at me, then." Andy says through narrowed eyes. Later, she will feel stupid for provoking the woman, but damn it, she feels like fighting and she will not be dismissed.
"I am not some pedestrian--" Miranda sneers.
"Yell at me! If you're pissed off, yell at me! This is what couples do! They fight! Because they give a shit! You don't get to just pat me on the head, give me what I want and tell yourself it's what happens when you date a child..."
"Andrea, for the love of god, shut up!" Miranda really yells now. Her chest is heaving, and somehow, in between Andy's rant, she's moved closer.
They're inches apart now and Andy can smell Miranda's perfume. Much to her surprise, she's pulled into a hug, that is more tender than she deserves. She's in flats and Miranda is in platform stilettos. For once, Andy is thankful, because this brings them to just about the same height and she quickly surrenders to Miranda's hold, pressing her cheek to her shoulder as she closes her eyes. "I'm sorry," She exhales, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
As she strokes her hair, Miranda asks, "What happened to you today, Andrea?"
"There was a picture of you--in the paper today--with some guy from French Runway...some guys at the office said some things. I might have slapped one of them."
Miranda chuckles and they slowly pull apart, but not before a soft kiss is placed swiftly on Andy's cheek.
"--I didn't know what I was allowed to--disclose or--how to justify defending you." Andy mumbles.
Miranda touches her hand to Andy's cheek, then pushes strands of hair away, "You never have to defend me, Andrea."
"Yes, I do." She insists, watching as Miranda slowly understands that it's more for Andy's benefit than anything else.
"Okay." The silver haired woman finally concedes.
"Okay."
A week later, there is a "leaked" picture in The New York Times of the two women leaving a restaurant together, with the caption "Miranda Priestley: Newly Outed Cougar and her Cub".
The office was quiet that day. Andy was happy. Miranda didn't say a word about it.
*****
Miranda hasn't said a word. She's staring at the book with an unreadable expression. Her index finger is gently tracing the worn out leather spine, until she licks her lips and looks up with a smile Andy is sure is only seen very rarely.
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She lifts her hand to her lips and Andy shivers. Miranda Priestley is speechless. In a good way. And Andy did that. She's never been happier.
"I'm going to take this awfully long silence as a positive reaction."
Miranda nods, her eyes falling over the faded title again. "War and Peace was my father's favorite book." She finally says. Her voice so small, Andy has to lean to hear over the sound of distant traffic. She shivers and sinks her hands deeper inside her coat pockets. Miranda isn't wearing a sweater and Andy wonders if she's freezing.
"I should have waited until tomorrow--" The brunette begins, apologetically, "--but it's Christmas eve, and I really wanted you to have it tonight, and--also, I'm a little bit drunk, and Doug said it would be romantic..."
"It is..." Miranda cuts in. She seems to hesitate as she leans forward. Then, finally, reaches out, pulls at Andy's coat tail and crushes her to her, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss that makes Andy feel literally, weak in the knees.
Public displays of affection are not exactly Miranda's cup of tea. To say that a kiss in plain view, outside Miranda's home, is out of character for her, would be an understatement. And damn it, it's turning Andy on like a furnace.
When they pull apart, Andy takes Miranda's hand, "You're freezing," She's breathless and trying to seem cool and nonchalant. She doesn't think she's pulling it off, but she follows through anyway, "You should go inside and I'll see you tomorrow, maybe."
"Come inside and say hi to the girls." Miranda replies.
"Are you sure?"
Miranda tugs at Andy's hand, "Come inside, Andrea."
****************
"Don't move." Andy says with warning in her tone, leaving Miranda politely seated at the edge of her bed.
"All right." Miranda says, running a carefree hand through immaculate silver hair.
It's well past two in the morning, they're both a little drunk after spending New Year's eve in separate parties. The racket outside seems to have died down and Miranda wishes Andy would hurry up and get back because she's had only one thought in mind since the ball dropped at midnight.
"Andrea, I am not above leaving..." The sentence falls short and disperses into thin air as the younger woman returns, dressed in a black, lace number that consists of a corset, matching embroidered panties and topped with thigh highs and a garter belt.
"You're going to have to ask nicely for things tonight." Andy says, her voice like silk.
Miranda's mouth is dry suddenly and her tongue darts out to moisten her lips.
She clears her throat, then asks, as her foot swings back and forth in the air with a very minimal sign of interest in the particularly perky cleavage in front of her, "Why is that?"
"Because--" Andy begins seductively as she comes to stand a hair's breath away from the other woman. She looks down at her and smiles before continuing, "--I'm going to tell you what to do. And you're going to do it. We're ringing in the New Year with a bang. So to speak.: Miranda begins to roll her eyes, and so, Andy acts quickly before she loses control over a silly joke. She nudges Miranda's knees apart with one of her own, surprising the older woman with the applied force as the brunette steps between her thighs and says sternly, "--take of your dress and lay back."
Andy is expecting defiance, maybe even a little snaky scolding. But what she gets instead surprises her.
Silence.
Miranda says nothing as she stares up at Andy for a while, then rises to her feet, their chests grazing as she does so.
They look at each other for a what seems like a torturous eternity. Miranda longs for Andy's lips and in return, Andy craves all of Miranda. Still, she's getting at something, so the young woman waits patiently while Miranda turns around and looks over her shoulder, motioning with her eyes towards the back zipper of the sleek black dress.
Miranda seems to sigh as the zipper slides down to mid waist, and Andy slips both hands over the smooth skin reveled until she's cupping both Miranda's breasts in her hands and her lips trail along the side of her neck as she palms them gently.
"We should get married." Miranda whispers in a heavy breath that Andy almost doesn't hear.
The rest is blur of limbs and skin and gentle declarations that culminate in a lazy, sleepy dance of lips and tongues that lead Andy to say a simple, "I'll marry you, Miranda." Their eyes already closed before they drift off in exhausted bliss.
And fireworks continue to explode outside Andy's window.
END