Fic: Cravings
Title: Cravings
Author: ficburd
Rating: Fluff alert! Uhm...somebody please educate me about the rating system. Okay, gonna say PG-13 just to be safe...
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Summary: Andy has cravings.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the movie the Devil Wears Prada; sadly, they belong to someone else. I make no money out of writing this story and therefore there's absolutely no reason to sue me.
Beta: wiser_dachshund
A/N: Chocolate is yummy. Feedback is yummier ^^
Cravings
The mattress creaked just a little when Andy quietly inched her way out from under the covers. Once standing, she took a quick glance backwards to see if the other occupant of the bed had stirred from sleep. She hadn't.
Moonlight filtering through half-closed curtains brought enough light for Andy to stealthily navigate her way to the door, through it and into the hallway. Proud of her ninja-like performance, Andy then tip toed her way down the stairs and into their huge kitchen. She didn't turn on any lights.
The refrigerator hummed its lonely beat at the far end of the room. To the journalist it sounded like it was saying, 'Come to me. I am the keeper of all the delicious treats in the world.' Andy made a beeline.
Just as she had gotten a blueberry yogurt in her hand and was scooping up the first spoonful, the lights went on.
“Put. Down. The yogurt.”
Busted.
Slowly pivoting to face the doorway, Andy put on her best puppy dog face, lifted the spoon to her lips and proceeded to lick it clean with long, slow swipes of her tongue.
“Andrea, we had a three course dinner two hours ago.” If Miranda sounded exasperated, it was because she was.
“Can't help it. All this pregnancy frenzy gives me cravings,” Andy pouted.
Miranda rolled her eyes, and promptly made her way to where the brunette was standing next to the kitchen counter. Settling herself between Andy's legs, Miranda took both the yogurt and the spoon in her own hands and proceeded to feed her adorable wife.
“Grandmothers-to-be don't get pregnancy cravings,” Miranda huffed, half amused, half reproachful.
“I do,” Andy hummed between spoonfuls. This was even better than the 'sneaking around and eating in secrecy' crap that she was normally forced to resort to.
“No. You, my dear, are an emotional eater,” Miranda said whilst scraping the small container to get the remainder of the yogurt all into the spoon.
“Am not,” Andy denied hotly, and then opened her mouth wide to welcome the blueberry treat that was hovering in front of her face.
Miranda shot her a pointed glare.
“Okay, so maybe I'm an emotional eater,” Andy conceded. “But only when I'm really shaken by something.”
“Or happy or sad or exited,” Miranda listed calmly. Placing the empty yogurt container on the counter behind Andy's back, she snuck her hands up to cup two deliciously firm buttocks. “Name one mood which doesn't make you think about food.”
“Uhm,” Andy scrunched up her face in concentration. Then she got it. “Aroused!”
Miranda actually looked scandalized. “Oh please! The number of expensive sheets I've had to throw away over the years because of food stains.”
“But that comes after the fact. I can't help it that I get hungry after a good romp. You know, some scientists say sex is good exercise and can burn up to 350 calories per hour,” the brunette said matter-of-factly.
“After. Before. During. Whenever opportunity calls, really,” Miranda said with a hint of a smile.
Andy looked hurt. “So, you're saying I eat too much. That I'm fat.”
“When did I ever say that?” Miranda was completely serious now.
“Three words: Smart, fat girl.”
“Now that was a low blow, even from you, darling,” Miranda said quietly, turning her face to the side so that Andy could not see her hurt and shame. “That was almost fifteen years ago. And the relationship was quite different from what we have now. We were different.”
Although she said 'we', Andy could hear the unvocalized 'I'. Suddenly she felt that warm, mushy feeling that she always got whenever the older woman was exposing the vulnerable side of herself.
“I'm sorry, baby,” Andy whispered apologetically. “I know you don't think like that anymore.”
Miranda turned her intense gaze back and searched her lover's eyes deeply with her own azure ones. “I wouldn't care if you ate us broke. I'd still love you - homeless, overweight, underweight - whatever comes. You do know that, don't you?”
Andy nodded quickly, holding back tears.
“And I don't care that almost every night you sneak down here to eat because you think...what? That I'd disapprove?”
Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. “You knew all along?”
“Of course I knew,” Miranda scoffed. “I know everything about you. And that's why I came down here tonight; because I know something's weighing on you.”
Miranda moved her hands from their warm hide-away between the kitchen cabinets and her wife's pajama-clad bottom up to cup Andy's face. “Andrea?”
“I'm not ready to become a grandma,” the brunette blurted. “I'm too young for that. In fact, you're too young for that.”
“Darling, I'm 64-years-old. I'd say that's the perfect age to become a grandmother.”
“You don't look or act sixty-four,” Andy pouted. Then she added more seriously, “The thing I'm most worried about is Caroline being so young. She's twenty-four, for Christ's sake!”
Miranda sighed deeply. “I know, honey. It isn't exactly how I pictured it would be, either. But she's in love. And they're married. Also, isn't it you who tells me every single week what a good man Bradford is? How well suited they are for each other? I guess at some point I began to believe your attestations.”
“I know,” Andy screeched frustratedly. “ I do know all that. It's just...our babies aren't babies anymore, Miranda. I know they're not going anywhere or becoming different people, but I can't help feeling this sense of indescribable loss.”
Miranda was overwhelmed, as always, when she was reminded just how readily Andrea had accepted the role of parent to her girls. “Oh darling,” she said, deep emotion coloring her voice slightly rough. When the feelings welling inside of her got to be too much, she did the only thing her instinct was telling her to do.
She kissed her wife.
It was the softest of kisses and it tasted of blueberries and mint toothpaste. Of sadness. Of exiting new things. Towards the end, it also tasted of salty tears. It felt like home.
Slowly pulling back from it, Miranda rested her forehead against the taller woman's cheek. “I think you're reacting like this because you never actually got to experience the time when they were babies.”
More tears made their way down Andy's face after Miranda's bold statement. She didn't know what to say to something like that, so instead, the journalist chose to remain silent in her wife's comforting embrace.
“It's not too late,” Miranda whispered hotly into her wife's ear.
Now it was Andy's turn to clasp Miranda's face in her hands so that she could see into her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she asked intently.
“We could still have a baby,” Miranda clarified softly. “You're not too old to become pregnant. I was two years older than you when I became pregnant with the twins.”
Andy just stood there, alternately opening and closing her mouth, pretty much doing the perfect imitation of a gold fish.
Then: “You'd do that for me? You don't think you're too...” here she cringed, realizing the dead-end she'd talked herself into. “What I meant to say was--”
“You can say old, Andrea,” Miranda allowed graciously. “And as answer to your question; no, I do not feel too old to become a mother once more. A person's age is not merely made up of numbers. It is what you feel like inside that counts.”
“Oh Miranda,” Andy managed to say through her tears before squeezing her wife in the strongest hug she'd ever given. Breathing in the older woman's signature shampoo, Andy felt happier than she'd ever felt in her life.
“I take it this means you're not opposed to the idea of us having a baby?” Miranda mumbled sarcastically into Andy's neck.
“Opposed? Honey, it's the most wonderful idea you've ever had,” Andy spoke truthfully. “I love you so much.”
“As I do you.”
“I think that we should go back upstairs and get this baby thing started,” Andy then proclaimed eagerly, and started tugging Miranda by the hand, leading them out of the room.
“Please tell me your mother didn't forget to have the conversation about the birds and the bees with you when you were younger,” Miranda said in mock dismay while eagerly following her younger spouse up the stairs.
She didn't mind that Andrea never answered the question. They were too busy kissing each other and touching each other to remember there had been words, and proclamations, and unanswered questions. The only things present in the moment were the bodies aching to be touched and the hands and lips aching to kiss. To touch. To love.
Outside the window of their bedroom lay a world blissfully ignorant of the fact that in ten months time, a child would be born into the world because of the love two very special women felt for each other in that moment in time and in all of the moments after it, until the rest of their lives.
Fin.
Author: ficburd
Rating: Fluff alert! Uhm...somebody please educate me about the rating system. Okay, gonna say PG-13 just to be safe...
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Summary: Andy has cravings.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the movie the Devil Wears Prada; sadly, they belong to someone else. I make no money out of writing this story and therefore there's absolutely no reason to sue me.
Beta: wiser_dachshund
A/N: Chocolate is yummy. Feedback is yummier ^^
Cravings
The mattress creaked just a little when Andy quietly inched her way out from under the covers. Once standing, she took a quick glance backwards to see if the other occupant of the bed had stirred from sleep. She hadn't.
Moonlight filtering through half-closed curtains brought enough light for Andy to stealthily navigate her way to the door, through it and into the hallway. Proud of her ninja-like performance, Andy then tip toed her way down the stairs and into their huge kitchen. She didn't turn on any lights.
The refrigerator hummed its lonely beat at the far end of the room. To the journalist it sounded like it was saying, 'Come to me. I am the keeper of all the delicious treats in the world.' Andy made a beeline.
Just as she had gotten a blueberry yogurt in her hand and was scooping up the first spoonful, the lights went on.
“Put. Down. The yogurt.”
Busted.
Slowly pivoting to face the doorway, Andy put on her best puppy dog face, lifted the spoon to her lips and proceeded to lick it clean with long, slow swipes of her tongue.
“Andrea, we had a three course dinner two hours ago.” If Miranda sounded exasperated, it was because she was.
“Can't help it. All this pregnancy frenzy gives me cravings,” Andy pouted.
Miranda rolled her eyes, and promptly made her way to where the brunette was standing next to the kitchen counter. Settling herself between Andy's legs, Miranda took both the yogurt and the spoon in her own hands and proceeded to feed her adorable wife.
“Grandmothers-to-be don't get pregnancy cravings,” Miranda huffed, half amused, half reproachful.
“I do,” Andy hummed between spoonfuls. This was even better than the 'sneaking around and eating in secrecy' crap that she was normally forced to resort to.
“No. You, my dear, are an emotional eater,” Miranda said whilst scraping the small container to get the remainder of the yogurt all into the spoon.
“Am not,” Andy denied hotly, and then opened her mouth wide to welcome the blueberry treat that was hovering in front of her face.
Miranda shot her a pointed glare.
“Okay, so maybe I'm an emotional eater,” Andy conceded. “But only when I'm really shaken by something.”
“Or happy or sad or exited,” Miranda listed calmly. Placing the empty yogurt container on the counter behind Andy's back, she snuck her hands up to cup two deliciously firm buttocks. “Name one mood which doesn't make you think about food.”
“Uhm,” Andy scrunched up her face in concentration. Then she got it. “Aroused!”
Miranda actually looked scandalized. “Oh please! The number of expensive sheets I've had to throw away over the years because of food stains.”
“But that comes after the fact. I can't help it that I get hungry after a good romp. You know, some scientists say sex is good exercise and can burn up to 350 calories per hour,” the brunette said matter-of-factly.
“After. Before. During. Whenever opportunity calls, really,” Miranda said with a hint of a smile.
Andy looked hurt. “So, you're saying I eat too much. That I'm fat.”
“When did I ever say that?” Miranda was completely serious now.
“Three words: Smart, fat girl.”
“Now that was a low blow, even from you, darling,” Miranda said quietly, turning her face to the side so that Andy could not see her hurt and shame. “That was almost fifteen years ago. And the relationship was quite different from what we have now. We were different.”
Although she said 'we', Andy could hear the unvocalized 'I'. Suddenly she felt that warm, mushy feeling that she always got whenever the older woman was exposing the vulnerable side of herself.
“I'm sorry, baby,” Andy whispered apologetically. “I know you don't think like that anymore.”
Miranda turned her intense gaze back and searched her lover's eyes deeply with her own azure ones. “I wouldn't care if you ate us broke. I'd still love you - homeless, overweight, underweight - whatever comes. You do know that, don't you?”
Andy nodded quickly, holding back tears.
“And I don't care that almost every night you sneak down here to eat because you think...what? That I'd disapprove?”
Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. “You knew all along?”
“Of course I knew,” Miranda scoffed. “I know everything about you. And that's why I came down here tonight; because I know something's weighing on you.”
Miranda moved her hands from their warm hide-away between the kitchen cabinets and her wife's pajama-clad bottom up to cup Andy's face. “Andrea?”
“I'm not ready to become a grandma,” the brunette blurted. “I'm too young for that. In fact, you're too young for that.”
“Darling, I'm 64-years-old. I'd say that's the perfect age to become a grandmother.”
“You don't look or act sixty-four,” Andy pouted. Then she added more seriously, “The thing I'm most worried about is Caroline being so young. She's twenty-four, for Christ's sake!”
Miranda sighed deeply. “I know, honey. It isn't exactly how I pictured it would be, either. But she's in love. And they're married. Also, isn't it you who tells me every single week what a good man Bradford is? How well suited they are for each other? I guess at some point I began to believe your attestations.”
“I know,” Andy screeched frustratedly. “ I do know all that. It's just...our babies aren't babies anymore, Miranda. I know they're not going anywhere or becoming different people, but I can't help feeling this sense of indescribable loss.”
Miranda was overwhelmed, as always, when she was reminded just how readily Andrea had accepted the role of parent to her girls. “Oh darling,” she said, deep emotion coloring her voice slightly rough. When the feelings welling inside of her got to be too much, she did the only thing her instinct was telling her to do.
She kissed her wife.
It was the softest of kisses and it tasted of blueberries and mint toothpaste. Of sadness. Of exiting new things. Towards the end, it also tasted of salty tears. It felt like home.
Slowly pulling back from it, Miranda rested her forehead against the taller woman's cheek. “I think you're reacting like this because you never actually got to experience the time when they were babies.”
More tears made their way down Andy's face after Miranda's bold statement. She didn't know what to say to something like that, so instead, the journalist chose to remain silent in her wife's comforting embrace.
“It's not too late,” Miranda whispered hotly into her wife's ear.
Now it was Andy's turn to clasp Miranda's face in her hands so that she could see into her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she asked intently.
“We could still have a baby,” Miranda clarified softly. “You're not too old to become pregnant. I was two years older than you when I became pregnant with the twins.”
Andy just stood there, alternately opening and closing her mouth, pretty much doing the perfect imitation of a gold fish.
Then: “You'd do that for me? You don't think you're too...” here she cringed, realizing the dead-end she'd talked herself into. “What I meant to say was--”
“You can say old, Andrea,” Miranda allowed graciously. “And as answer to your question; no, I do not feel too old to become a mother once more. A person's age is not merely made up of numbers. It is what you feel like inside that counts.”
“Oh Miranda,” Andy managed to say through her tears before squeezing her wife in the strongest hug she'd ever given. Breathing in the older woman's signature shampoo, Andy felt happier than she'd ever felt in her life.
“I take it this means you're not opposed to the idea of us having a baby?” Miranda mumbled sarcastically into Andy's neck.
“Opposed? Honey, it's the most wonderful idea you've ever had,” Andy spoke truthfully. “I love you so much.”
“As I do you.”
“I think that we should go back upstairs and get this baby thing started,” Andy then proclaimed eagerly, and started tugging Miranda by the hand, leading them out of the room.
“Please tell me your mother didn't forget to have the conversation about the birds and the bees with you when you were younger,” Miranda said in mock dismay while eagerly following her younger spouse up the stairs.
She didn't mind that Andrea never answered the question. They were too busy kissing each other and touching each other to remember there had been words, and proclamations, and unanswered questions. The only things present in the moment were the bodies aching to be touched and the hands and lips aching to kiss. To touch. To love.
Outside the window of their bedroom lay a world blissfully ignorant of the fact that in ten months time, a child would be born into the world because of the love two very special women felt for each other in that moment in time and in all of the moments after it, until the rest of their lives.
Fin.