fic: you're everything
Title: You're Everything
Author: avenavs
Pairing: Miranda- Andrea
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. These characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. Any other characters are from the author. Song used as title from Buble.
Summary: "In this crazy life, and through this crazy times it's you, it's you, you make me sing, you're every line, you're every word, you're everything..."
A/N: A FLUFFFFFFF plotbunny stuck in my head for ages. Is inspired by this song in a different rendition. This time it's sung in duet. So just think that all the girl parts is Miranda and all the guy parts are Andy. This has no connection to the two previous one-shots I've posted. This is a bit of an AU since Miranda placed Andy in The Times rather than in the Mirror. Around three- two four years after Paris.
A/N2: unbeta-d, just churned out because it finally won't let me sleep and it rendered me helpless in the past few nights since I can't write anything more and had to erase some 1500++ words in Playing House. *grumbles*
A/N3: Will be updated everyday of this week. Count on that. :D and comments will be lovely on this *checks clock* 3:335am in the morning. :D enjoy!
You’re a falling star, you’re a getaway car,
You’re the line in the sand, when I go too far
You’re a swimming pool, on an August day,
And you’re the perfect thing to say…
Monday
Miranda was running out of patience for the incompetence of her staff and the fuse on her head is detonating at alarming speeds. The photoshoot at one of the hotels in Miami was going at a snail’s pace because the models were not cooperating (and they had the gall to do so since Miranda wasn’t overlooking the shoot) and the staff there and in the Runway offices are going ballistic. If she was the type who wishes a lot, wish on a wishing well, or a heavenly body falling from the sky, she would wish for someone in her workforce would just do his or her job that day and be thorough with it.
Was that so hard to ask?
She was elbow deep in papers, in an editorial meeting-slash-crisis management conference with everyone sweating like people awaiting their death sentences and it was only Monday.
Someone definitely needs to do damage control here or they will have to do the damage control on me. She sighed sand, of all things that might happen that moment, her tummy rumbled. Everyone in her office heard it, even Emily’s head snapped up and swiveled frantically to stare them down and not look at Miranda. The editrix was looking down on a piece of necklace Jocelyn suggested for a shoot when that happened and her eyes widened behind her Chanel glasses.
Unacceptable!
Then after a few breaths, half of her staff’s stomachs decided to chorus in too. She raised her head and glared at everyone when she heard clacking and one of her assistants squeaking and her first assistant, Carmela, hissing “you can’t go in there!”.
The glass doors parted and all heads, including Miranda (who was really worked up because her team is distracted and useless and they managed the courage to look away from her in the middle of a meeting) and saw none other than Andrea Sachs.
“My, my, Miranda. Still working in the middle of noon? Haven’t you had enough of work for a Monday?” Andy asked, her 100 megawatt smile in place when her chocolate eyes connected with Miranda’s icy, albeit tired, blue ones.
The staff widened their eyes at Andy. Nobody was able to hide his or her shock. Andy turned to face the staff cramped into the space that was Miranda’s office. It was that bad of a day, that Miranda can’t leave for the conference room, her phones are ringing off the hook and both assistants have been running around in their high heels to obey Miranda’s orders.
“How long has this meeting been going on?” She asked, her smile bright and cheery but her aura nowhere near that.
A few heartbeats passed by. No one was answering the editor for news of The New York Post.
“Okay…I’m going to ask this instead. How long has been this meeting stagnant because no one’s given Miranda what she asks for?” the atmosphere turned into scorching, sizzling…melting even. Andrea still has her cheery smile. It was disconcerting. Miranda just looked on blankly.
Jocelyn drank her Pellegrino and said,
“We’re here since 9:15 in my watch.”
Andy pivoted in her heels and faced Miranda.
“And it’s already 12:45. No wonder you’re artistic banks…” she tapped on her temple several times and faced the staff again, smile in place and the heat turned a notch higher,
“…have been squelched out like raisins. Tell you what, everyone leave this office immediately, do whatever it is that you do during lunch breaks and return to this very office after 45 minutes. In Miranda time, that’d be half an hour from now, unless you have a reason to be late, which is of course, none at all. By that time I hope all of you can do your jobs flawlessly and finish whatever crisis you’re trying to resolve. Miranda does her job and all you do is sit around and wilt. You’re not helping. So go on, be here after half an hour and do not be late.” Andy finished, her tone calm like Miranda but her words scathing and direct. Just like Miranda.
All the senior directors present in the meeting had their veins poking out of their temples by the time Andy finished her mini- litany. Preposterous! Who does she think she is? Ordering us around for creativity like some kind of a faucet that could be turned on and off as pleased?!
Miranda on the other hand was trying very hard not to blush in front of everyone, and her Ice Queen Editor mask was falling out of place. She shouldn’t be pleased that someone was talking down to half of her crisis management team and her entire art department too, in behalf of her.
But she realized that her staff may have been scandalized on Andrea’s blatant issue of orders. They didn’t know that they were going out for two years now. They’ve been very private.
When no one was still moving, Miranda sniffed and raised her eyebrows, the lone pale brow saying to everyone, ‘well? What are you all waiting for?”
“Go.” she said icily. Everyone scrambled for the door like ants splashed with water.
Andy sat on the table in front of Miranda, crossed her legs at the knee, showing off her legs sans stockings, and smiled at her woman.
“I’m sorry I had to do that. But you can’t really force them to work continuously without food in their systems. I know, you can do that but, nobody’s like you.” Andy smiled and tilted her head to regard Miranda.
“How many times do we have to talk about this? Do not interrupt me while I’m at work.” She answered, but there was no sting, probably because she wanted to bail out of the meeting herself and just chop off everyone’s heads and jump off the window afterwards.
“That’s why I said sorry. Let me make up to you. We’ll go down to my car, I’ll take you lunch, I’ll pay then we’ll do something about your early week dose of stress. I just want you to get away from this madness.” She smiled warmly at Miranda.
Miranda’s ice mask fell as she closed her eyes and sighed. What am I going to do without her?
Andy hopped off the table and grinned at Miranda.
“I’ll get the car. Get your things. Be on the lobby in five.” She jiggled her keys in front of Miranda before she sauntered towards the doors. Miranda laid back on her chair and took off her glasses as she looked on Andy. In a soft voice, Miranda called the brunette,
“Andrea.”
The brunette stop and turned to look at Miranda. she raised her eyebrows.
The way Miranda calls Andrea never fails to melt the both of them.
Author: avenavs
Pairing: Miranda- Andrea
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. These characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. Any other characters are from the author. Song used as title from Buble.
Summary: "In this crazy life, and through this crazy times it's you, it's you, you make me sing, you're every line, you're every word, you're everything..."
A/N: A FLUFFFFFFF plotbunny stuck in my head for ages. Is inspired by this song in a different rendition. This time it's sung in duet. So just think that all the girl parts is Miranda and all the guy parts are Andy. This has no connection to the two previous one-shots I've posted. This is a bit of an AU since Miranda placed Andy in The Times rather than in the Mirror. Around three- two four years after Paris.
A/N2: unbeta-d, just churned out because it finally won't let me sleep and it rendered me helpless in the past few nights since I can't write anything more and had to erase some 1500++ words in Playing House. *grumbles*
A/N3: Will be updated everyday of this week. Count on that. :D and comments will be lovely on this *checks clock* 3:335am in the morning. :D enjoy!
You’re a falling star, you’re a getaway car,
You’re the line in the sand, when I go too far
You’re a swimming pool, on an August day,
And you’re the perfect thing to say…
Monday
Miranda was running out of patience for the incompetence of her staff and the fuse on her head is detonating at alarming speeds. The photoshoot at one of the hotels in Miami was going at a snail’s pace because the models were not cooperating (and they had the gall to do so since Miranda wasn’t overlooking the shoot) and the staff there and in the Runway offices are going ballistic. If she was the type who wishes a lot, wish on a wishing well, or a heavenly body falling from the sky, she would wish for someone in her workforce would just do his or her job that day and be thorough with it.
Was that so hard to ask?
She was elbow deep in papers, in an editorial meeting-slash-crisis management conference with everyone sweating like people awaiting their death sentences and it was only Monday.
Someone definitely needs to do damage control here or they will have to do the damage control on me. She sighed sand, of all things that might happen that moment, her tummy rumbled. Everyone in her office heard it, even Emily’s head snapped up and swiveled frantically to stare them down and not look at Miranda. The editrix was looking down on a piece of necklace Jocelyn suggested for a shoot when that happened and her eyes widened behind her Chanel glasses.
Unacceptable!
Then after a few breaths, half of her staff’s stomachs decided to chorus in too. She raised her head and glared at everyone when she heard clacking and one of her assistants squeaking and her first assistant, Carmela, hissing “you can’t go in there!”.
The glass doors parted and all heads, including Miranda (who was really worked up because her team is distracted and useless and they managed the courage to look away from her in the middle of a meeting) and saw none other than Andrea Sachs.
“My, my, Miranda. Still working in the middle of noon? Haven’t you had enough of work for a Monday?” Andy asked, her 100 megawatt smile in place when her chocolate eyes connected with Miranda’s icy, albeit tired, blue ones.
The staff widened their eyes at Andy. Nobody was able to hide his or her shock. Andy turned to face the staff cramped into the space that was Miranda’s office. It was that bad of a day, that Miranda can’t leave for the conference room, her phones are ringing off the hook and both assistants have been running around in their high heels to obey Miranda’s orders.
“How long has this meeting been going on?” She asked, her smile bright and cheery but her aura nowhere near that.
A few heartbeats passed by. No one was answering the editor for news of The New York Post.
“Okay…I’m going to ask this instead. How long has been this meeting stagnant because no one’s given Miranda what she asks for?” the atmosphere turned into scorching, sizzling…melting even. Andrea still has her cheery smile. It was disconcerting. Miranda just looked on blankly.
Jocelyn drank her Pellegrino and said,
“We’re here since 9:15 in my watch.”
Andy pivoted in her heels and faced Miranda.
“And it’s already 12:45. No wonder you’re artistic banks…” she tapped on her temple several times and faced the staff again, smile in place and the heat turned a notch higher,
“…have been squelched out like raisins. Tell you what, everyone leave this office immediately, do whatever it is that you do during lunch breaks and return to this very office after 45 minutes. In Miranda time, that’d be half an hour from now, unless you have a reason to be late, which is of course, none at all. By that time I hope all of you can do your jobs flawlessly and finish whatever crisis you’re trying to resolve. Miranda does her job and all you do is sit around and wilt. You’re not helping. So go on, be here after half an hour and do not be late.” Andy finished, her tone calm like Miranda but her words scathing and direct. Just like Miranda.
All the senior directors present in the meeting had their veins poking out of their temples by the time Andy finished her mini- litany. Preposterous! Who does she think she is? Ordering us around for creativity like some kind of a faucet that could be turned on and off as pleased?!
Miranda on the other hand was trying very hard not to blush in front of everyone, and her Ice Queen Editor mask was falling out of place. She shouldn’t be pleased that someone was talking down to half of her crisis management team and her entire art department too, in behalf of her.
But she realized that her staff may have been scandalized on Andrea’s blatant issue of orders. They didn’t know that they were going out for two years now. They’ve been very private.
When no one was still moving, Miranda sniffed and raised her eyebrows, the lone pale brow saying to everyone, ‘well? What are you all waiting for?”
“Go.” she said icily. Everyone scrambled for the door like ants splashed with water.
Andy sat on the table in front of Miranda, crossed her legs at the knee, showing off her legs sans stockings, and smiled at her woman.
“I’m sorry I had to do that. But you can’t really force them to work continuously without food in their systems. I know, you can do that but, nobody’s like you.” Andy smiled and tilted her head to regard Miranda.
“How many times do we have to talk about this? Do not interrupt me while I’m at work.” She answered, but there was no sting, probably because she wanted to bail out of the meeting herself and just chop off everyone’s heads and jump off the window afterwards.
“That’s why I said sorry. Let me make up to you. We’ll go down to my car, I’ll take you lunch, I’ll pay then we’ll do something about your early week dose of stress. I just want you to get away from this madness.” She smiled warmly at Miranda.
Miranda’s ice mask fell as she closed her eyes and sighed. What am I going to do without her?
Andy hopped off the table and grinned at Miranda.
“I’ll get the car. Get your things. Be on the lobby in five.” She jiggled her keys in front of Miranda before she sauntered towards the doors. Miranda laid back on her chair and took off her glasses as she looked on Andy. In a soft voice, Miranda called the brunette,
“Andrea.”
The brunette stop and turned to look at Miranda. she raised her eyebrows.
The way Miranda calls Andrea never fails to melt the both of them.