New fic: Light Up, Part VIII
Light Up
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: I don’t own Miranda or Andy, or anything remotely related to the Devil or Prada. Alas.
Rating: M
Note: Melodrama alert! Couldn’t resist. Thanks as ever to my beta, Xander, who helped immensely in keeping this one on track. Xan, you’re a star!
Part VIII.
Wrapped around Andrea securely, Miranda was not paying attention when Andrea’s parents returned. She didn’t notice when they came to stand just at the room’s entrance. But somehow the air changed, and Miranda instantly knew why.
Though Andrea made a disappointed sound when Miranda put distance between them, she spotted her parents after only a moment. “Hi guys,” she said.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Charles said.
“Not at all,” Miranda replied. “Please, come in.”
They did, pulling chairs close to Andrea’s bedside, and Miranda stood to make it a little less awkward for everyone. She didn’t remove her hand from Andrea’s shoulder, however; she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“What happens now?” Charles asked.
“They should release me soon, and we can go home,” Andrea said. “I mean, home to Miranda’s. Would you, I mean,” Andrea turned to Miranda. “Can they--”
“Yes, of course.” Meeting Charles’ eyes, she said, “You’re both welcome at the townhouse. I’ve plenty of room. If you don’t mind. I know it’s an odd situation, but I expect we all want to be near Andrea right now, and my home is yours.”
Andrea looked up at Miranda as though she were speaking an alien language. If Miranda weren’t so drained, she’d have been amused.
“That’s very generous, Miranda. We accept. But the photographers--there were a bunch outside the entrance we came through. Is that normal?”
Andrea chuckled. “They’re not here for me. They’re here because of Miranda.”
“I wonder if they’ve sussed it out yet,” Miranda said. “Your name stayed out of all the early reports. The girls didn’t realize until I told them myself.”
“I don’t want you to end up in the papers--” Andrea started.
“I’m not so concerned that they’ll get a photo, but I would like to get you in the car without risk of injury. You’ve been through enough today. I’m going to check with the doctor. I’ll be back shortly, and then I’ll phone Roy and find an appropriate exit.” She squeezed Andrea’s shoulder, and a hand came up to clasp hers.
“Promise you won’t be long?”
“I promise.”
Miranda did her best not to worry about the anxious look in Andrea’s eyes.
Within fifteen minutes, Andrea was signed out, and Miranda had notes on how to care for her wounds. She also had a sizable handful of Lorazepam samples in her pocket. Miranda thought she might want to keep a few of them for herself. One of the nurses led their little faction to a quiet loading dock where deliveries were made, and when the woman pushed open the heavy door, Miranda was relieved to see the silver Mercedes idling. The snow fell steadily; there were five inches on the ground by now. The sidewalks had been salted, so Miranda found herself clinging to Charles Sachs’ arm as she made her way toward the car. Andrea trod carefully between her parents, and soon they were inside the warm vehicle. Miranda sat in the passenger seat in the front. Roy had driven her going on six years, and never once had they sat next to one another.
“Glad to see you two, Ms. Priestly,” Roy said, his dark eyes rich and warm. “Been a hard day.”
Miranda sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Yes, it has. Did you have trouble getting here?”
“Not at all. The cops let me through. I guess somebody finally got upset about the paparazzi and called. Made my life a lot easier.”
“Good. Be careful. The roads might be slick.”
Roy tipped his hat and smiled indulgently. “Yes ma’am.”
Miranda turned around once to give Andrea a reassuring look. “We’ll be home in no time.”
Unfortunately, they weren’t. An accident snarled traffic at the corner of Broadway and 110th, adding an extra twenty minutes to their journey. The classical music helped keep Miranda calm, as did the gentle cadence of Andrea’s voice as she explained to her parents some of what had happened. She left out a few things; the bullet that missed her by inches, the initial assault, the violent moments before everything came to a close.
By the time the car slid to a stop on 73rd, Charles and Isabelle were pale, but they appeared resolute in their desire to keep their misery from Andrea. That scored them points in Miranda’s book.
To Miranda’s intense relief, no cameras lurked outside her door. She wondered if someone had fed misleading tips to the press, but at that point, she didn’t care. As fast as she could, she trundled Andrea and her parents inside, throwing Roy a grateful look. She lifted a hand in farewell, and he waved.
Once inside, Miranda heard two shrieks. She felt Andrea’s flinch at the sound and lifted a hand to warn the twins not to throw themselves at Andrea as they rushed forward. They got the message and stopped short, faces tense. “Andy,” Cassidy said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good, kiddo. Come ‘ere,” she replied, holding out her right arm. Her left, she kept pinned to her side, and the girls instinctively knew to avoid jostling it. They moved in to cling to her, and Andrea laid her chin on top of Caroline’s head. “I’m glad to be home. Are you two okay?”
“Yeah,” Caroline said. “We were so scared for you. And your eye!” The girl grimaced. “It looks really bad. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“It’s not so awful, is it?” Andrea joked, touching the purple skin at the edge of the bruise. “I guess I won’t be able to make my modeling gigs this week, huh.”
Cassidy reached up to pat Andrea near her collarbone. “It’s okay, Andy. It will go away. I got a black eye playing dodge ball at school.”
“Thanks.”
Andrea kissed Cassidy’s temple, and the girls stepped back, only to fly into Miranda’s arms. They were so warm, and they clutched at her, burying their small faces against her breast. “Hello, darlings.” She stroked their long, red hair, and held them securely.
“Mommy, who are those people with you?” Cassidy whispered.
“They’re Andrea’s parents. They’re going to stay with us.”
“Do we have to be nice to them?” Caroline asked.
“On your best behavior.”
“Okay,” came two tandem whispers. “Is Andy really okay?” said Caroline.
Miranda nodded firmly. “But she was very frightened today, and we have to be calm and quiet around her.”
“Should we make her dinner? She looks sick,” Cassidy said.
Food. Miranda had forgotten. Thank god Samuelson had given her that hamburger this afternoon. It was late, and she’d bet Andrea’s parents hadn’t had a thing to eat all day either. “Yes. I think that’s a brilliant idea. But let’s get inside and sit down before we decide.”
Charles and Isabelle followed them into the large room that opened out into the kitchen. Miranda saw Andrea’s indecision at where to be, and as much as she wanted to wrap her in her arms, with a bob of her head, she encouraged her to sit between her parents. They took the long sofa, and Miranda sat across in a comfortable chair with one twin at each arm. Now that she was seated, she thought it might be very difficult to get up again. Her feet were still cold and wet, so she kicked her wretched shoes off. But the idea of going upstairs to change clothes seemed virtually impossible. Fatigue was setting in, making Miranda’s limbs heavy.
“Andy, Elissa is still here. Are you hungry?” Caroline asked.
Andrea’s head did not move from its resting place along the side of her father’s arm. “No. But I was before. They made me eat a protein bar in the hospital. I guess I should have something.”
“Elissa can make anything you like,” Miranda said, encouragingly.
“This sounds dumb, but,” she began in a soft voice, “I really want a grilled cheese.”
Miranda thought a grilled cheese would be fantastic. “Yes. Yes, that’s perfect. Charles? Isabelle?”
The two looked at each other with wide eyes, and nodded back to Miranda. “Sounds good,” Charles said.
“Lovely. Girls, could you speak to--”
The two streaked toward the kitchen before she could even finish.
The room was silent once more. Miranda could not think of one thing to say.
Isabelle cleared her throat. “You have a lovely home,” she said, her smile uneasy.
With a small chuckle, Miranda smiled. “Thank you.” She looked up at the crown molding of the ceiling, letting her eyes travel down the stained bookshelves all the way to the Moroccan rug she’d brought back from Marrakech ten years before. “This wasn’t exactly the circumstance I’d hoped you’d first visit for.”
Stroking Andrea’s head for a moment, Isabelle finally said, “I was surprised when I saw you at the hospital. Hell, I was surprised you even called today. After everything Andy told us about working for you, this was the last thing we expected.”
Andrea lifted her head and frowned. “Sorry, guys. I just thought you’d… freak.”
“It’s all right, Andy. I think we can save that discussion for another time. Right now, we just want you to relax.”
“Okay, but we’re together and that’s all there is to it.” Andrea’s eyes were a little panicked.
“Honey, don’t worry about that. We just want you to be happy. And if that’s with Miranda--” Isabelle looked over at her-- “Then that’s fine with us. I promise.”
Andrea gazed at her mother. “Really?” Her voice trembled.
“Oh honey, absolutely. We can tell that Miranda cares for you very much.”
Miranda sat up a little straighter. “Loves. I love her very much.” All three heads swiveled in her direction. “This is not a passing fancy. I won’t say that you have nothing to be concerned about, because clearly our relationship could be seen as… unconventional. But I want only the best for Andrea, and we are happy together.” Miranda swallowed, suddenly uncertain how to continue. “That’s all.”
Andrea’s mouth curved into the most authentic smile Miranda had seen in the past few hours. “Yeah,” Andrea whispered.
Charles pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well. I suppose.”
Andrea sat back and relaxed, and Cassidy ran into the room. “Can you come sit at the table? We’re making drinks.”
That was enough motivation for Miranda to head upstairs for something different to wear. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I have to get out of this skirt.”
“I think I’ll join you,” Andrea said. She kissed her parents on the cheek. “Be right back.”
The two of them climbed the steps slowly, and Miranda was glad the bedroom was only on the second floor. “I’m burning these clothes,” Andrea said. She had on a green hospital shirt and the jeans she’d worn out of the house. “I stink. I want to shower.”
“You can’t get the stitches wet yet. Can you wait till after supper and I’ll draw you a bath?”
Andrea nodded glumly. “Okay.”
“Here, I’ll help you.” The green shirt unbuttoned, and Miranda opened the small closures and maneuvered the fabric off of Andrea’s uninjured side first. She peeled the other side down, avoiding the bandages, and gasped when she saw the black and blue marks that had surfaced along Andrea’s torso. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Andrea looked down. “Oh. Yeah. It’s not bad.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Just a throb. Like my eye. I’ll live.”
You’ll live, Miranda thought. She brushed her fingers along the back of Andrea’s neck. “When did you get to be so tough?” she murmured, kissing the shell of an elegant ear.
Andrea snorted. “Today, I guess.” She slumped back against Miranda’s body, nearly dead weight. “I feel terrible. Sad, even though I should be so relieved to be here. Be all right, I mean. But I’m just… miserable.” She put her hand over Miranda’s when it curled around her waist. “Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again?”
With a nod, Miranda replied, “Oh, yes. In time.”
“I don’t like this feeling.” Her nails dug into the flesh of Miranda’s hand. “I was so happy this morning. Remember?”
Miranda let out a breath, chuckling. “Mm-hmm.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that we made love. I held onto it. All day long, it was like you were with me. Your smell on my fingers, your taste in my mouth. I held on to you.”
“I did as well, darling,” Miranda said softly, overwhelmed by grief at the loss Andrea was going through. A loss of innocence she could never reclaim. Miranda held her carefully, until goosebumps rose on Andrea’s skin and she shuddered. “Let’s get you dressed. You need to eat.”
---
Andrea laid out the undergarments with such an adoring expression that Miranda found it extremely difficult not to laugh. “It’s just underwear,” she said.
“It’s fantastic. You shouldn’t bother with the gown. You’ll look better without it.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hand me the bra.”
“No way. I’m the dresser for tonight. I do the work.”
Miranda smirked. “Typically when I hire a dresser, I get to put on my own lingerie.”
“Aren’t you lucky I’m atypical then,” Andrea purred as she slipped the corset bra into place and fastened the eye hooks one by one. A kiss landed on Miranda’s shoulder blade, and she tried to mask her small gasp. Fingers traced along Miranda’s rear end, skating the sensitive triangle of flesh at the base of her spine.
“The panties?” Miranda said, wishing her sultry tone was not so apparent.
“Mm. Very pretty.” Andrea reached over and snagged them. “Left leg first.”
Though she’d wanted Andrea to help her get dressed, Miranda decided she might be in over her head when that slim, sweet-smelling body knelt at her feet as if in supplication. Already off-balance, she lifted one foot and then the other. After an excruciating, slow breath, Andrea slid the lacy garment up her thighs.
“That feel good?” Andrea looked up, eyes large and dark, face very close to the juncture of Miranda’s thighs. One finger snaked along the edge of the lace.
“You know it does,” Miranda whispered.
Andrea’s tongue reached out and flicked.
Miranda flushed, heat scorching her face.
“Let’s see. Where are those stockings?” Andrea reached behind her and selected the stretch of silk, gathering it carefully in her hands. “Here we go. Left.” Miranda lifted, breathing growing deeper as Andrea inched the stocking up her skin. Slow, slow, until the lace band that held it in place was around her thigh. By then, Andrea’s head was leaning against her belly, blowing soft air against her panties. “Mm. I love these.”
“Hah,” Miranda exhaled, wishing Andrea would stop all this torture and put her out of her misery. The sooner she could finish dressing and get out of the house, the sooner she could return and spend the rest of the night in the bed, or on the floor, or wherever it pleased her, ravishing Andrea. She wished they could attend the party together, but she simply… wasn’t ready. Neither of them were; they’d barely broached the subject. Andrea had yet to tell her friends, or family, or anyone about their relationship, though Miranda had given tacit permission.
Of course, at the moment, she didn’t care about any of that. What she wanted was Andrea’s mouth between her legs. But instead those lips were trailing gently along her knee, and higher, as she pulled up the right stocking. And when Andrea snapped the elastic against the back of Miranda’s thigh, her hips jerked. She gazed down into Andrea’s eyes, all fire and heat, and said, “How long will I have to wait?”
“No time at all,” Andrea replied with a knowing smile, and went straight for her. Miranda leaned back against her dressing table as Andrea licked her through silk and lace. The friction was luscious, as was the feeling of long fingers tickling her ass, teasing and dancing as Miranda arched in pleasure. Her mouth was dry; she spread her legs further and Andrea pressed hard, bringing her teeth into play, raking over her clit. Panting through her nose, Miranda hovered near that edge, already so close she cursed. She wanted to last, but she never could. With Andrea, the first time was always quick. Andrea wound her up fast with her fingers and mouth and snapped her into the sky like a rubberband.
In the mornings, Miranda took longer to get fired up. She tended to wake with her mind already on Runway. It was a shame, really; she sometimes wished to be the kind of person who ate breakfast and read the paper at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. Instead, she did those things behind her desk at work.
Maybe she could start a new habit soon. Tomorrow, even.
That thought was not enough to keep her distracted for very long. Andrea’s moans of delight pushed Miranda into an orgasm so exquisite she considered skipping the party altogether and doing only this for the rest of the evening.
Andrea did not give her much time to recover before she stood and shoved her own lounging pants down to the floor. She lifted one knee to the corner of the dressing table, opening up for Miranda’s hand, which slipped around in the copious moisture. Miranda knew she wanted it fast tonight too; slow would come later. She had learned Andrea’s rhythms, and loved the sense of pride that came when Andrea’s body stilled almost instantly, lips fastened to Miranda’s ear, arms crushing them together.
“Ohh, good,” Andrea said, breath hot on Miranda’s cheek. She had avoided mussing Miranda’s make up, to her great relief. She really didn’t want to spend much time retouching. “You are so hot tonight,” Andrea muttered.
“You’re making this extremely difficult,” Miranda replied.
There was a seductive chuckle in her ear. “I thought you were pretty easy.”
Miranda clutched the perfectly round ass under her hands. “Very funny.” Andrea eased back, steadying herself on two feet. “But you have ruined a very expensive pair of panties.”
“Well, lucky for you I plan ahead.” Andrea reached behind her onto the dressing table. When her hand reappeared, she held a brand new pair of underwear. It was an exact replica of what Miranda wore.
Unable to resist Andrea’s smirk of self-satisfaction, Miranda threw caution to the wind and kissed her.
Fifteen minutes later she was redressed, makeup once again flawless. Andrea followed her down the steps; Miranda felt jealous that her lover would have the opportunity to relax in comfortable clothes with the children. Miranda had few free evenings these days; work took so much energy. So much precious time.
Tonight she would go to her event, and smile, and wave, and make ridiculous small talk. All the while her mind would be somewhere else. But no one made demands on Miranda Priestly. Within two hours she would be home again, with the girls. With Andrea. Everything would be the way she wanted. The way it was supposed to be.
---
Part IX.