The White Queen Falls (Miranda/Andrea); Chapter 13
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: NC-17/Mature at some point (getting closer and closer ;-D)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff
Betas: My darlings Susi and Jiggles.
Summary: What if Miranda hadn't known?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to "The Devil Wears Prada". I only want to play around with our two favourite ladies. I make absolutely zero profit of this.
A/N: Okay, sorry it took so long. Since I no longer have beta'd chapters stashed in my basement, it will take a few days longer to post them now. I'll do my best to keep them coming at the very least once a week, though! :)
Previous: [ Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 ]
Chapter 13
Andy gripped the steering wheel tightly as they drove down the quiet road through the forest. It had stopped raining some time during the night, but heavy mist still drifted through the trees and a layer of clouds obscured the sun. Miranda sat beside her, silently staring out of the window, and Andy struggled to keep her eyes on the road as she repeatedly glanced over.
Waking up and finding herself safely wrapped in Miranda's arms had been like a dream. The lingering numbness from having fallen asleep after such an emotionally overloaded day had gradually been eased away by tentative elation. Not only had Miranda patiently listened to the horrors of Andy's past, she had also held her all through the night without complaints.
Cheeks flushing in the cold car, Andy remembered the softness of Miranda's body beneath her own and how her knee had accidentally pressed into such intimate warmth. Miranda had been surprisingly gracious about the whole thing, masking her shock with fabled cramps and that lovely, crooked smirk that Andy had grown so fond of.
A truck passed them, and Miranda turned her head, causing Andy to sit up a bit straighter in her seat.
"We're nearly there," Andy said breathlessly, eyes searching desperately for signs of the nearby town.
Sitting in the confined space of a car with the woman she felt herself increasingly physically respond to was pushing Andy's limits. The almost tender way Miranda had brushed away that strand of her hair during breakfast played over and over in her mind, the ghosts of the older woman's fingertips still tickling behind her ear. For a moment, Andy contemplated that two weeks ago she would not have thought Miranda capable of such a simple gesture of affection, but once she reflected on her time at Runway, she realised that there had always been a guarded sweetness in Miranda. It had been evident in her interactions with her daughters, sometimes with Nigel, and, as much as Andy hated to admit it, with Stephen as well.
She chanced another side glance and found Miranda gazing back at her, head leaned against the headrest of the seat. At least Andy knew that Stephen was history. And whoever else might come Miranda's way in the future; for now the older woman appeared to concentrate all of that sweetness on Andy. As surreal as it felt, it was hardly something to complain about.
Her stomach clenched when Miranda kept silently studying her face, and Andy blushed again, her cheeks buzzing with heat. A quizzically raised brow made her turn her eyes back to the road, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. The fact that Miranda had chosen to be genuinely nice to her did not automatically give Andy a license to behave like a fool. She pressed her knees together, took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on driving.
Much to her relief, they reached the first few houses of the small coastal town, and it was not long until they rolled onto the supermarket parking lot. Andy found a spot close to the entrance, parked the car and turned off the ignition, her heart pounding loudly through the ensuing silence. Part of her wanted to flee from Miranda's proximity, the sporadic ticking of the cooling engine almost like a countdown, causing her muscles to twitch in preparation to jolt. When she turned her head, however, she found Miranda still looking back at her with a gaze so intense that she felt chained to her seat. Had Miranda been watching her this whole time?
"Uhm," Andy began lamely. "We're here."
Subconsciously, she had expected Miranda's response, but her breath still caught, leaving her lips slightly parted when she received that lovely, crooked smirk in return.
"So I gathered," Miranda said softly, her arched brow revealing only a hint of mockery.
Her gaze dropped to Andy's mouth, where she halted, the smirk slowly leaving her lips as her cheeks coloured a very subtle pink. Andy's eyes widened, but before she could make sense of what she was seeing, Miranda blinked and turned away, reaching for the door and quickly exiting the car.
What the hell just happened? Andy was confused.
She looked into the rearview mirror to check whether she had some breakfast left between her teeth, but she found nothing. Her mouth was clean and her lipgloss impeccable. Frowning, she grabbed her purse and stepped from the car. Miranda was already striding into the shop, shoulders squared, her back straight. She carried herself with familiar regal bearings, even if her attire was not exactly high fashion.
As Andy watched her disappear into the supermarket, she giggled into her palm, feeling slightly guilty for laughing when she was secretly thrilled that Miranda had insisted on wearing her cerulean rain jacket again. She could not argue the fact that Miranda was less likely to be recognised in jeans and boots, even if they were designer brands. And as much as she enjoyed the older woman in pencil skirts and heels, she thought the outdoorsy look suited Miranda rather well. Glad that Miranda was not around to witness her blushing yet again, Andy shook her head and snorted, before collecting a shopping cart on her way to the entrance.
When she stepped into the building, she found it quite busy for the supermarket of a small town that knew little to no tourism during winter. The cheesy Christmas music that rang from the numerous ceiling speakers did nothing to lessen the noise or heighten her spirits, and Andy felt overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of sounds, smells and people around her. The few isolated days with just Miranda had spoiled her with their peace and quiet, and she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to allow the chaos to gradually wash over her.
If she had difficulties adjusting to the pace of the world outside their safe little cabin life, then Miranda was likely finding it unbearable. Worried, Andy looked around, and she pushed the cart past a pile of plastic Christmas trees before she spotted Miranda standing in the vegetable section. Her back was turned to Andy and her head was bowed. Finding solace and time for healing in a place that was pretty much cut off from society was not that difficult, but holding on to the acquired strength as life continued might prove a challenge. There was a real possibility that seeking the confrontation with people again so soon after her breakdown had not been the wisest choice for Miranda.
Fear weighing her down, Andy slowly drew closer. Her fingers curled around the push bar of the cart and images of a broken Miranda, eyes swollen from tears and devoid of that beautiful spark ghosted through Andy's mind.
"Miranda?" She tentatively asked, stopping a foot or so behind her.
At first Miranda did not react, and Andy squeezed her eyes shut in apprehension. She knew that this time it would be a struggle to not take Miranda into her arms. Andy was convinced she would not be able to watch the older woman's pain without showing how deeply she cared.
When she dared to look again, Miranda's head was shaking slightly from side to side, and with a heavy heart, Andy reached out just as Miranda turned around.
"How on earth is anyone supposed to be able to read this?" Miranda complained, eyes squinting at the small jar in her hands, her reading glasses perched low on the tip of her nose. "The writing is tiny."
"Huh?" Was all Andy managed, fingers hovering in mid air.
"Andrea, are you not feeling well?" Miranda asked, glancing at her over the frame of her glasses. "You look pale. Where is that charming shade of magenta from just a moment ago?"
Despite the light tone there was concern in Miranda's eyes, her brows drawing together in a subtle frown. Had she not been holding onto the shopping cart, Andy would have swayed.
"No, no, I'm okay," she breathed, her chest heaving beneath her thick Chanel winter coat. The urge to throw her arms around the older woman was so strong that Andy's toes dug harshly into the soles of her shoes to keep her from lunging forward.
"I'm okay..." she repeated in a whisper, startled by how strongly her body reacted to the piercing look Miranda skewered her with, bright eyes knowingly searching for hints of what Andy so vehemently tried to hide.
"Then I'm sure you won't mind telling me," Miranda tilted her head and ever so slightly pursed her lips, "what it says on the label right here."
She pointed at the jar, and Andy had to blink a few times to jolt herself out of her state of trance. With clammy hands, she reached out and turned the jar in order to read the label, her analytical mind digging through a dozen different interpretations of Miranda's behaviour, but finding logic in none.
"Uhm," she squinted at the small print. "It says the oregano they grow is ninety-nine-point-nine percent organic. No elaboration on the remaining zero-point-one."
"Well," Miranda jutted her chin forward and removed her glasses. "It will have to do."
She took the jar from Andy's hands and placed it in the shopping cart, and Andy was almost disappointed that their fingers did not brush. As Miranda walked away, browsing over the shelves of fresh vegetables, Andy bent over the cart in frustration, her belly pressing hard into the push bar. She wanted to scream.
"Andrea?" Miranda called from a few feet away, holding up some broccoli as her eyebrows arched in question.
"Ugh," Andy straightened and hurriedly shoved the cart to her side. "Sorry, Miranda."
"Ah." Fingers suddenly fluttered against her cheek. "Your colour is back."
So was that crooked smirk.
Andy's chest burned as if she had inhaled a pack of mints.
"Much better," Miranda whispered, and there was a sudden curiosity in her gaze, as if she had glimpsed something new and intriguing. Andy felt exposed and far too tired to shield the thoughts and emotions running through her head. For a moment she feared Miranda could see right through her.
"Excuse me," an elderly gentleman stopped next to them, indicating he wanted to get to the pile of broccoli they were blocking.
Miranda stepped back to make room; as always, carefully guarding her personal space from strangers. Andy took the opportunity to shuffle away and bring more distance between them.
"I will go check out the fresh fish," she said, hands aimlessly waving in front of her as if they could somehow bring reason to what she was sure just looked like a pathetic excuse to escape. As Andy retreated with a pained smile, Miranda leaned her head to the side and squinted at her past the old man.
"See whether they have salmon," she said before Andy could hurry around the corner of another aisle to catch her breath. The way Miranda had said salmon resonated low in Andy's abdomen, the 'L' drawn out and the second syllable sounding almost like a moan. She must have imagined it, her mind playing tricks.
Andy unbuttoned her coat and loosened her scarf.
What am I going to do? She thought, fanning herself.
If she could not get her reactions under control around Miranda, any chance of building a friendship and keeping Miranda in her life, would be in jeopardy. Closing her eyes, she clutched the cart and inhaled deeply. Spending the night in Miranda's arms had been absolutely wonderful, but it had also lulled her into a far too safe and familiar frame of mind. One well-meant and comforting cuddle session did not mean she could completely disregard the rules and boundaries of friendship. There were lines one simply did not cross.
Determined to keep her body in check from now on, Andy made her way to the seafood section. She asked for two large pieces of salmon and tried to stay calm when she watched the woman behind the counter carefully fillet the slippery, pink meat. Why did she have to have her big lesbian awakening now, after living in peaceful ignorance for more than twenty-five years? Thinking back, she could not remember ever crushing on any of her female friends. Then again, there had been a few older women whom she had always thought she had simply admired, and now she realised that her feelings for Miranda were very similar, albeit a lot stronger.
"Thank you," she accepted the wrapped pieces of fish and placed them in the cart before continuing through the aisles.
Maybe the age gap had something to do with it, and she simply was not attracted to women her own age, which would explain why she had not really given it much thought in her youth. Obsessions with women far older than herself had been put down as a simple and healthy fixation on female role models, and she had never once questioned it. And when it came to guys, she had only ever been with Nate, her childhood buddy, turned high school and college boyfriend. She had thought that never looking twice at another guy just meant that she was monogamous.
She walked past shelves of laundry detergent, reminded that she needed to wash her clothes sometime soon, and from there her mind trailed back to Miranda. Images of their combined delicates tumbling in the dryer quickly turned into visuals of Miranda wearing nothing, but beautiful lace lingerie. Andy clenched her teeth, and with a frustrated huff, hauled a big plastic bottle of liquid detergent into the cart.
There was no use denying that her attraction to Miranda far surpassed innocent hero worship. Her nostrils flared as she remembered Miranda's scent and the delicious pressure of her breasts against her own as they had lain on the couch. Why did it have to be Miranda? A woman so far out of her league that she lived on another planet. A woman who had two daughters and ex-husbands and who would never look at a girl half her age as a sexual, sensual being. Why Miranda, and not someone a little more realistic?
When she rounded another corner and spotted Miranda at the far end of the aisle, Andy began to understand why.
Warmth shot not only between her thighs, but also to her heart as she watched Miranda inspect a package in her hands, eyes peering through her glasses in that inquisitive, owlish way as she read another label. She stood straight and proud, untouchable by the world around her, but there was a layer of humanity and tenderness that instantly reached out to Andy, drawing her in. That layer had always been there, from the very first moment she had met Miranda. The difference was that work-related stress and her exhaustingly inadequate relationship with Nate and her friends no longer obscured what that part of Miranda let loose inside of her.
As she stood observing the older woman from a safe enough distance, she knew the truth. How could it not be Miranda? Everything about her triggered something in Andy, be it in her body or in her mind. From the heady and direct way Miranda ran staff meetings to how her in equal parts analytical and creative brain could tackle any problems in her path. Her vast amount of knowledge, not only about design and fashion, but also when it came to art, music, history or politics was amazing, and Andy felt intellectually stimulated by it all.
That Miranda was beautiful was a simple, uncontested fact. And now that she guiltily allowed her thoughts to venture into those previously unexplored worlds of Miranda's skin, her lips and her gorgeous silver hair, Andy conceded that there had always been a physical pull as well. It was not all sexual either. As a matter of fact, the urge to simply be close to Miranda, to hold her, be touched by her, or to do something as mundane as share body heat, was still stronger than the low throb of desire in the pit of her stomach.
Suddenly Miranda looked up, eyes searching and quickly finding Andy. Seduced by the almost magnetic force of that smirk, Andy slowly walked up to her, heart hammering against her chest.
Miranda gazed back down at the package in her hands, the mirth in her face slowly turning to melancholy.
"It's quite amazing how much corn syrup and starch they can fit into one small bag of candy," she said softly, her thumb caressing the bright lettering on the plastic.
"Uhm, I guess," Andy mumbled, mesmerised by the image of Miranda Priestly standing in the middle of a candy aisle, tenderly fingering a bag of saltwater taffy.
"It's Cassidy's favourite," Miranda explained, smiling softly, and Andy's chest flooded with careful delight when she found not sadness, but hope as Miranda's lashes fluttered before she looked up.
I love her.
She could think nothing else.
I really, really love her.
She wasn't obtuse. Becoming aware of her feelings over the past week, those four letters had repeatedly skirted the edges of her subconsciousness, but she had not dared to let them form a word, still unprepared to reevaluate its true meaning. Now it felt like the big balloon in her chest and belly that had stretched and grown with each new revelation finally burst, filling her body with a sense of rightness. Love was nothing new; at some point she had felt it for Nate and her friends. And despite everything, she still dearly loved her family. But when thinking of what Miranda meant to her, the word itself took on far greater significance, majestically towering over her feelings for anyone else.
I love Miranda.
It was such a simple, obvious statement, but at that moment it defined everything.
Miranda's eyes flickered down to Andy's lips, and Andy was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her right there in the candy aisle, to the saccharine tunes of "White Christmas". The cart between them was her saviour, and she gripped the push bar tightly in an attempt to ground herself. When Miranda looked back up, mouth slightly parted, Andy decided she needed to take control of the situation before it had a chance to escalate. Whatever was going on between them, she did not want to risk it by succumbing to selfish desire.
Wordlessly, she took the bag of saltwater taffy, and after dropping it into the cart she answered Miranda's enquiring eyebrow tilt with a wide smile.
"Come on," she said as lightly as her nervous lips permitted. "We still need to find some eggs."
Before Miranda could reply, Andy turned and walked away, the sound of boots on the linoleum confirming that Miranda followed.
They resumed their grocery shopping, occasionally pausing to discuss various ingredients and even debate on a dinner option or two. Andy knew that the only place Miranda ever shopped at in New York was an organic produce market, so although this place carried a lot of local, unmodified food, it was still a journey of discovery for the older woman. Whenever Miranda donned her glasses to read a label, Andy would bite her bottom lip, gradually learning a safe balance between torturing herself and indulging.
By the time they made it to the checkout counter, their cart held not only a frozen, albeit organic, whole-wheat pizza, but also a bar of Fairtrade milk chocolate. Andy was not sure what had been more tempting: the sugary cocoa treat or the mischief in Miranda's face when she had handed it to her.
"That'll be one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and sixty-five cents," the girl at the register said, and Andy cringed as she reached for her wallet. With her future work situation not set in stone, she was wary of how much money she was spending. Before she could pull out her credit card, however, Miranda had already stepped around her and was paying for their food.
When Andy shot her an incredulous look, she merely pursed her lips in an attempt to hide Andy's favourite smirk.
"I will not have you feed me, Andrea."
"Oh, okay," Andy said with a helpless smile, her rebellious mind visualising doing exactly that. "Thanks."
Miranda nodded and then helped her load the plastic bags back into the cart. They left the store, and Andy welcomed the cold air against her heated cheeks.
"Give me the keys," the older woman demanded softly as they made their way across the parking lot. Andy did as asked and let Miranda unlock the car and open the trunk. When the food was stowed away and Andy had gone to get rid of the cart, she returned to find Miranda in the driver's seat, ready to go.
Oh boy. Andy swallowed.
She quietly slipped into the passenger side and fastened her seatbelt, hopeful that watching Miranda drive would not be as enticing as the sheer idea sounded inside her head. Of course, as soon as Miranda revved the engine, Andy was a goner. Despite having a chauffeur back in New York, Miranda was a practiced driver, and the commanding way her booted foot pressed down on the gas pedal had Andy clenching her thighs within seconds.
The twenty-minute ride back to the cabin became a raging oxymoron of delightful agony. Experiencing Miranda in control at a work situation was one thing. Watching her so easily command a large vehicle down the winding roads through the rainforest was transcending into madness. By the time they had arrived at their street, Andy was a delirious mess.
When the car approached the driveway to the cabin, Andy caught sight of Marie and her dog. She lowered the window, and Miranda stopped as the woman came closer.
"Hi, there," Marie greeted them through the malamute's bark.
"Hi," Andy said with a little wave, relieved by the distraction. She could not remember very much of Marie and her husband, but the few memories she did have were pleasant ones.
"Frank and I were wondering if you ladies would like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening."
Andy turned her head in question to find Miranda smile and politely answer, "that sounds delightful. We would love to, thank you."
"All right then," Marie returned the smile. "Come by the house around seven."
"Okay," Andy nodded. "Will do. Thanks."
"See you then." Marie waved, before calling the dog and walking off.
"Bye!"
"Hmmm," Miranda began once Andy had closed the window and they were driving the few remaining yards towards the cabin. "I wonder if they are aware that their invitation conflicts with pizza night."
The slight disappointment in Miranda's voice caused Andy to giggle.
"Well, you were the one who so readily accepted it," she teased.
The car rolled to a stop, and Miranda turned off the engine and removed the keys.
"I thought it would be nice," she looked at Andy with uncharacteristic uncertainty, "for you to talk to someone who knew your aunt during the last fifteen years."
Love roared through Andy at Miranda's concern, and unable to restrain herself, she reached out and placed a hand on the older woman's knee.
"Thank you, Miranda," she whispered, the simple words inadequate for expressing the sincerity of her gratitude. "I can't remember the last time anyone has been this nice to me."
"Well, people tend to be... stupid." Miranda said softly, looking away, and Andy could only deduce that having her knee touched was making Miranda uncomfortable.
She removed her hand and leaned back in the seat, unsure of what to say. For the first time during their stay at the cabin, the silence between them felt awkward. Andy did not know what to do with her hands or whether she was supposed to get up. To her relief, Miranda unfastened the seat belt and opened the door.
"Come on. Let's get the food inside," she spoke quietly as she stepped from the car. "After all," she continued when Andy followed suit and walked back toward the trunk, "we can't have you wriggle your way out of cooking dinner every night."
Andy gasped, and her mouth hung open in mock exasperation. Was Miranda seriously joking her way through the suddenly uncomfortable tension between them?
When Miranda looked up she completely disarmed Andy with a grin.
I guess so, Andy thought, before realising, shit! I'm so whipped.
Chapter 14