Dali and Roses 1/1
Happy Valentines Day, vinjii, I hope you have a fantastic day!
Title: Dali and Roses
Fandom: DWP
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Disclaimer: Andy and Miranda belong to Lauren, Dali belongs to his own world of crazy.
Thought
It wasn’t a loud fight. Miranda started working later, Andy started working more. The things that had migrated over to Miranda’s townhouse from Andy’s apartment began to move back, like birds in the winter. Before either of them realized it, all that was left was a toothbrush in a corner of the bathroom closet and a pair of argyle socks stuffed in the bottom of Miranda’s underwear door.
Andy, her feet aching from the hours spent trekking the city looking for quotes, let herself into the townhouse with a groan. She dropped her bag by the door and stuck her head in the lounge.
“Hey guys, your mom home yet?”
“No,” Caroline said.
“Want to play Guitar Hero?” Cassidy asked.
“No thanks,” Andy said. “I think I’ll wait for her. She did say she’d be home tonight right?”
The twins nodded, but they had already been sucked back into their video game.
A few hours after she’d sent them bed, she heard the front door click open. Her frustration had already morphed into fury, but it hadn’t lasted. It eventually settled in numb acceptance. Andy waited. She heard stilettos in the front hall, heard them stop by the stairs and walk into the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?”
Andy raised her head. “I thought we had dinner plans.”
“Oh,” Miranda frowned. “I assumed you’d be working late, so I did the same.”
“Miranda, we haven’t had sex in almost two months.”
“I know,” Miranda said. “It’s regrettable, but we’ve both been busy. We’ll have time again soon.”
“I don’t think this is working.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Miranda said.
“I’m not,” Andy said. “I’m being dead serious. I won’t ask you to put aside your career and I can’t put mine on hold either, but we never see each other. What’s the point?”
Miranda stared at her and the brief flash of hurt that jumped from her eyes made Andy flinch.
“Very well,” Miranda said, her voice strangely hollow. “If that’s how you feel.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy whispered.
“If that’s how you feel.”
“Miranda - ”
“That’s all.”
Andy left her key on the kitchen table.
Gradiva Finds the Anthropomorphic Ruins
The LA assignment, which Andy had been dreading for the past week, now couldn’t have been at a better time. She flew out of JFK, anxious for something to distract her from the swollen ache in her chest.
She realized, while she navigated the sweltering Los Angeles airport, that she was unconsciously searching for Miranda in the crowd. Some stubborn part of her subconscious had to be holding out on the crazy notion that Miranda would come after her. She stopped by a newsstand and shook herself. Miranda was even more stubborn than she was, and at the moment Miranda probably wanted nothing to do with her. That wasn’t likely to change soon.
All the stores she saw from the cab on her way to the hotel were decked out for Valentine’s day. Andy studiously ignored them. Her hotel room was clean and bland. She was turned on her phone to check for new messages, but there was only a text from her editor making sure she’d landed safely.
The LA assignment was an interview with a immigration rights lawyer who was defending a group of six women who had been in the United States illegally for the past seven years. Andy would met with her the next morning and spend the following day making sure she had everything she needed before flying out that Sunday. All her notes on the lawyer were carefully organized in her bag. She slid her background info out of its folder and a folded scrap of paper fell out of the opposite pocket. Andy stooped to pick it up. It was written on Runway stationary,
“I thought you might find this amusing. The writer obviously never completed high school. - M”
Miranda had sent it, Andy remembered, with an article on green architecture that had been riddled with grammatical errors. The article had been recycled long ago, but she had kept the note. She raised it to her nose, but any trace of Miranda’s perfume was gone.
Andy crawled to the head of her hotel bed and sobbed.
Meditative Rose
The interview went well. The woman was incredibly intelligent and eager to talk to Andy about her work. Andy had a feeling she’d be eager to talk to Andy again, maybe over drinks, but Andy waved her off. She hadn’t stopped looking for Miranda’s face in the people she saw on the street.
She trudged into the lobby, her notebook in one hand, a brown bag containing a bottle of whiskey in the other.
“Miss Sachs?”
Andy stopped, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. The inquiry had come from the young man standing behind the desk.
“Yeah?”
“You got something while you were out.”
“Oh,” Andy said. “Okay.”
“Just a sec.”
“Sure,” Andy leaned against the counter. She felt like a wino with her bottle of whiskey concealed in a brown paper bag. The clerk came back carrying a small cardboard box. Andy stuck it under her arm. “Thanks.”
Up in her room, she used her key to cut the tape holding the box shut. Nestled in lavender tissue paper was a glass paperweight. Held in the glass was a small crimson rose.
Something exploded inside her chest and spread outward, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Andy carefully lifted the paperweight out and cradled it to her chest. She and Miranda had never exchanged flowers except for once, desperate after a fight, Andy had sent Miranda the most expensive rose she could find. She had no idea how Miranda had found her now, but assumed it was infinitely within Miranda’s capacities. Still clutching the paperweight tightly, she called Miranda’s cell. And her phone was off.
Four hours later, when Andy went to bed, Miranda’s phone had not been turned back on. Andy put the paperweight back in its box and drank half the bottle of whiskey.
Leda Atomica
Extremely hung over the next morning, Andy decided she had more than enough information to write a passable piece. The subject matter would do a lot of the work for her. She flipped through the hotel provided binder of tourist locations and hailed a cab to the only place that caught her eye.
Once she had woken up in the middle of the night to find Miranda sitting up in bed next to her. She was paging through a book of Dali prints. When Andy had been surprised at Miranda’s choice of artist, she’d said softly that she liked Dali. She liked the organized chaos, every detail there for a reason. It was what she tried to do with the magazine, she said. When Andy told her she succeeded, she’d scoffed. Really, Andy had said, she did. And Miranda had kissed her.
She wandered through the small museum, getting as close as she could to the canvases the peer in the intricate details. It wasn’t very crowded, an older couple sat together on a bench, a mother and four kids all under the age of ten trooped through, followed closely by a security guard. Most people, Andy assumed bitterly, were out celebrating Valentines Day with a special someone.
Someone on Andy’s right cleared their throat gently. Andy turned and almost screamed. Miranda jerked around sharply to stare at Andy, her eyes widening slightly.
“Miranda,” Andy was terrified she was about to cry. “You came.”
The corners of Miranda’s mouth twitched slightly and she dipped her head.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t,” Miranda said. “I thought I’d have to go to your hotel.”
“Oh,” Andy stared back at the wall. “I got your package and your phone was off.” She tried not to sound wounded.
“I was flying.”
“Oh.”
“I always appreciated your quick mind,” Miranda said, but her usual malice was missing.
The elderly couple got up and shuffled out of the room, muttering something about the gift shop.
“Do you,” Andy shrugged her shoulder at the now empty bench. “Want to sit?”
“Very well.”
As soon as they were settled, they both started to speak.
“Sorry,” Andy said quickly. “You go first.”
Miranda smoothed her skirt across her knees. The silence stretched out until Andy felt like she could reach out and touch it, like taffy. “I’ve always let my lovers leave,” Miranda said quietly. “I’m usually sick of them anyway.” Andy winced. “But I wasn’t tired of you. I don’t think I ever will be,” she sounded absolutely miserable about it.
“What does that mean?” Andy asked.
Miranda glared at her and Andy knew she was supposed to understand.
“Miranda,” Andy wanted to reach for her hand. “What’s going to be different? I meant what I said about our careers, but I have to see you. I’m crazy about you.”
“I have realized… that I do not need to be as present with the magazine as I have been.”
“You have?” Andy frowned.
“The twins pointed out that I don’t have to work as much as I do. But that means,” Miranda rounded on her.
“That you have an obligation to be present as well.”
“I will,” Andy said quickly. “I’ll be there.” She was going to cry. “I can't believe you flew all the way out here.”
“Oh for heavens sake,” Miranda pulled a scarf out of her bag. Andy ignored it and slid into Miranda’s side, burying her head in Miranda’s shoulder. Miranda stiffed for a moment then relaxed, her arms coming around Andy’s shoulders. “The twins seemed to think that if I left you alone on Valentines Day I would never be forgiven.”
Andy laughed thickly, “They’re right.”
“Oh,” Miranda said. “Then I suppose it was good Valentino lent me his condo for the weekend.”
“What?” Andy raised her head. “Really?”
“The view of the beach is lovely.”
Andy beamed at her. “We’re going to be okay.”
Miranda gasped so softly that Andy would have missed it if she hadn’t been pressed next to Miranda’s windpipe. “Good,” Miranda cleared her throat. “Because I’m never letting you go away again.”
Andy sat up, “Wow.”
“I mean it,” Miranda kissed her. “Never.”
It was lucky the bench was wide, Andy pushed Miranda on to her back and hovered above her.
“Andrea,” Miranda said. “This is a public place.”
“Oh whatever,” Andy bent closer. “I’m sure Dali won’t mind.”
---
A/N: So the prompt was: "The stress of work has been causing Miranda and Andy to fight (they could both still work at Runway, but Andy's not her assistant anymore). They take a trip to Los Angeles. They at some point see a Salvador Dali art exhibit." A happy ending wasn't exactly specified, but I sort of improvised. All the links lead to different Dali paintings that inspired this. They aren't some of his most exotic paintings, but I liked them.
Title: Dali and Roses
Fandom: DWP
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Disclaimer: Andy and Miranda belong to Lauren, Dali belongs to his own world of crazy.
Thought
It wasn’t a loud fight. Miranda started working later, Andy started working more. The things that had migrated over to Miranda’s townhouse from Andy’s apartment began to move back, like birds in the winter. Before either of them realized it, all that was left was a toothbrush in a corner of the bathroom closet and a pair of argyle socks stuffed in the bottom of Miranda’s underwear door.
Andy, her feet aching from the hours spent trekking the city looking for quotes, let herself into the townhouse with a groan. She dropped her bag by the door and stuck her head in the lounge.
“Hey guys, your mom home yet?”
“No,” Caroline said.
“Want to play Guitar Hero?” Cassidy asked.
“No thanks,” Andy said. “I think I’ll wait for her. She did say she’d be home tonight right?”
The twins nodded, but they had already been sucked back into their video game.
A few hours after she’d sent them bed, she heard the front door click open. Her frustration had already morphed into fury, but it hadn’t lasted. It eventually settled in numb acceptance. Andy waited. She heard stilettos in the front hall, heard them stop by the stairs and walk into the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?”
Andy raised her head. “I thought we had dinner plans.”
“Oh,” Miranda frowned. “I assumed you’d be working late, so I did the same.”
“Miranda, we haven’t had sex in almost two months.”
“I know,” Miranda said. “It’s regrettable, but we’ve both been busy. We’ll have time again soon.”
“I don’t think this is working.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Miranda said.
“I’m not,” Andy said. “I’m being dead serious. I won’t ask you to put aside your career and I can’t put mine on hold either, but we never see each other. What’s the point?”
Miranda stared at her and the brief flash of hurt that jumped from her eyes made Andy flinch.
“Very well,” Miranda said, her voice strangely hollow. “If that’s how you feel.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy whispered.
“If that’s how you feel.”
“Miranda - ”
“That’s all.”
Andy left her key on the kitchen table.
Gradiva Finds the Anthropomorphic Ruins
The LA assignment, which Andy had been dreading for the past week, now couldn’t have been at a better time. She flew out of JFK, anxious for something to distract her from the swollen ache in her chest.
She realized, while she navigated the sweltering Los Angeles airport, that she was unconsciously searching for Miranda in the crowd. Some stubborn part of her subconscious had to be holding out on the crazy notion that Miranda would come after her. She stopped by a newsstand and shook herself. Miranda was even more stubborn than she was, and at the moment Miranda probably wanted nothing to do with her. That wasn’t likely to change soon.
All the stores she saw from the cab on her way to the hotel were decked out for Valentine’s day. Andy studiously ignored them. Her hotel room was clean and bland. She was turned on her phone to check for new messages, but there was only a text from her editor making sure she’d landed safely.
The LA assignment was an interview with a immigration rights lawyer who was defending a group of six women who had been in the United States illegally for the past seven years. Andy would met with her the next morning and spend the following day making sure she had everything she needed before flying out that Sunday. All her notes on the lawyer were carefully organized in her bag. She slid her background info out of its folder and a folded scrap of paper fell out of the opposite pocket. Andy stooped to pick it up. It was written on Runway stationary,
“I thought you might find this amusing. The writer obviously never completed high school. - M”
Miranda had sent it, Andy remembered, with an article on green architecture that had been riddled with grammatical errors. The article had been recycled long ago, but she had kept the note. She raised it to her nose, but any trace of Miranda’s perfume was gone.
Andy crawled to the head of her hotel bed and sobbed.
Meditative Rose
The interview went well. The woman was incredibly intelligent and eager to talk to Andy about her work. Andy had a feeling she’d be eager to talk to Andy again, maybe over drinks, but Andy waved her off. She hadn’t stopped looking for Miranda’s face in the people she saw on the street.
She trudged into the lobby, her notebook in one hand, a brown bag containing a bottle of whiskey in the other.
“Miss Sachs?”
Andy stopped, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. The inquiry had come from the young man standing behind the desk.
“Yeah?”
“You got something while you were out.”
“Oh,” Andy said. “Okay.”
“Just a sec.”
“Sure,” Andy leaned against the counter. She felt like a wino with her bottle of whiskey concealed in a brown paper bag. The clerk came back carrying a small cardboard box. Andy stuck it under her arm. “Thanks.”
Up in her room, she used her key to cut the tape holding the box shut. Nestled in lavender tissue paper was a glass paperweight. Held in the glass was a small crimson rose.
Something exploded inside her chest and spread outward, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Andy carefully lifted the paperweight out and cradled it to her chest. She and Miranda had never exchanged flowers except for once, desperate after a fight, Andy had sent Miranda the most expensive rose she could find. She had no idea how Miranda had found her now, but assumed it was infinitely within Miranda’s capacities. Still clutching the paperweight tightly, she called Miranda’s cell. And her phone was off.
Four hours later, when Andy went to bed, Miranda’s phone had not been turned back on. Andy put the paperweight back in its box and drank half the bottle of whiskey.
Leda Atomica
Extremely hung over the next morning, Andy decided she had more than enough information to write a passable piece. The subject matter would do a lot of the work for her. She flipped through the hotel provided binder of tourist locations and hailed a cab to the only place that caught her eye.
Once she had woken up in the middle of the night to find Miranda sitting up in bed next to her. She was paging through a book of Dali prints. When Andy had been surprised at Miranda’s choice of artist, she’d said softly that she liked Dali. She liked the organized chaos, every detail there for a reason. It was what she tried to do with the magazine, she said. When Andy told her she succeeded, she’d scoffed. Really, Andy had said, she did. And Miranda had kissed her.
She wandered through the small museum, getting as close as she could to the canvases the peer in the intricate details. It wasn’t very crowded, an older couple sat together on a bench, a mother and four kids all under the age of ten trooped through, followed closely by a security guard. Most people, Andy assumed bitterly, were out celebrating Valentines Day with a special someone.
Someone on Andy’s right cleared their throat gently. Andy turned and almost screamed. Miranda jerked around sharply to stare at Andy, her eyes widening slightly.
“Miranda,” Andy was terrified she was about to cry. “You came.”
The corners of Miranda’s mouth twitched slightly and she dipped her head.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t,” Miranda said. “I thought I’d have to go to your hotel.”
“Oh,” Andy stared back at the wall. “I got your package and your phone was off.” She tried not to sound wounded.
“I was flying.”
“Oh.”
“I always appreciated your quick mind,” Miranda said, but her usual malice was missing.
The elderly couple got up and shuffled out of the room, muttering something about the gift shop.
“Do you,” Andy shrugged her shoulder at the now empty bench. “Want to sit?”
“Very well.”
As soon as they were settled, they both started to speak.
“Sorry,” Andy said quickly. “You go first.”
Miranda smoothed her skirt across her knees. The silence stretched out until Andy felt like she could reach out and touch it, like taffy. “I’ve always let my lovers leave,” Miranda said quietly. “I’m usually sick of them anyway.” Andy winced. “But I wasn’t tired of you. I don’t think I ever will be,” she sounded absolutely miserable about it.
“What does that mean?” Andy asked.
Miranda glared at her and Andy knew she was supposed to understand.
“Miranda,” Andy wanted to reach for her hand. “What’s going to be different? I meant what I said about our careers, but I have to see you. I’m crazy about you.”
“I have realized… that I do not need to be as present with the magazine as I have been.”
“You have?” Andy frowned.
“The twins pointed out that I don’t have to work as much as I do. But that means,” Miranda rounded on her.
“That you have an obligation to be present as well.”
“I will,” Andy said quickly. “I’ll be there.” She was going to cry. “I can't believe you flew all the way out here.”
“Oh for heavens sake,” Miranda pulled a scarf out of her bag. Andy ignored it and slid into Miranda’s side, burying her head in Miranda’s shoulder. Miranda stiffed for a moment then relaxed, her arms coming around Andy’s shoulders. “The twins seemed to think that if I left you alone on Valentines Day I would never be forgiven.”
Andy laughed thickly, “They’re right.”
“Oh,” Miranda said. “Then I suppose it was good Valentino lent me his condo for the weekend.”
“What?” Andy raised her head. “Really?”
“The view of the beach is lovely.”
Andy beamed at her. “We’re going to be okay.”
Miranda gasped so softly that Andy would have missed it if she hadn’t been pressed next to Miranda’s windpipe. “Good,” Miranda cleared her throat. “Because I’m never letting you go away again.”
Andy sat up, “Wow.”
“I mean it,” Miranda kissed her. “Never.”
It was lucky the bench was wide, Andy pushed Miranda on to her back and hovered above her.
“Andrea,” Miranda said. “This is a public place.”
“Oh whatever,” Andy bent closer. “I’m sure Dali won’t mind.”
---
A/N: So the prompt was: "The stress of work has been causing Miranda and Andy to fight (they could both still work at Runway, but Andy's not her assistant anymore). They take a trip to Los Angeles. They at some point see a Salvador Dali art exhibit." A happy ending wasn't exactly specified, but I sort of improvised. All the links lead to different Dali paintings that inspired this. They aren't some of his most exotic paintings, but I liked them.