Hide Behind Your Darker Side, Patty/Andy, NC17
Title: Hide Behind Your Darker Side
Fandoms: Damages/Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Patty/Andy
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Through season 4 of Damages, the whole DWP movie. I've fudged the overlap of these timelines a bit, so Andy leaving in Paris coincides with the end of the High Star case. Assume that Michael still has ties to the art scene in NYC.
Disclaimer: Not mine - these belong to their creators. It's a transformative work and no profit is being made.
Prompt: Patty/Andy, failure is lonely
Dedication: For Rediver who gave a wonderful prompt, and I'm sorry I'm a couple of days late. Please forgive me? And happy, lovely holidays to you and yours <3
It's Lily who gives her the lead--reluctantly, and with plenty of warning.
"Michael said that his Mom is a real headcase. She goes through assistants like well, like Miranda Priestly."
"And she's looking for an assistant now?" Andy seizes on the tip, because her forays into journalism are exactly as successful as they were a year ago, i.e. not very.
"Apparently she just fired one this afternoon, for letting Michael interrupt her at work."
"Huh," Andy says. "Hell, she can't be worse than Miranda, right? Might as well put all these survival skills to use. Gimme the email address."
Two hours later, Andy's freshly tweaked résumé is sent of to Hewes and Associates, and she pours herself a very big glass of Pinot Noir to wash away the taste of trepidation.
*
"This," Patty waves a careless hand around her immaculate office. "Is not a fashion magazine."
"I'm aware of that, Ms. Hewes," Andy replies with a patient smile. She's learned some restraint since her Runway interview.
"What makes you think you'll make a decent assistant, anyway? I have very high standards."
"Well," Andy hesitates. "I already know how you take your coffee--black, scalding hot--and I've been following the Shearson case in the media so I know your schedule is going to get a little crazy as of next week when it goes to court. You're on the board of three charities with fundraisers in the next month, not to mention the television appearances and newspaper interviews you'll want to make to shore up support for your clients."
"Anyone could have worked that out," Patty points out, but there's a flicker in her eyes that might suggest she's impressed.
"You only wear suits by two designers, you like high collars on your coats; the bourbon in here, and probably at home is always Woodford Reserve. Your dog walker is more important to you than your housekeeper, and you only accept interruptions for personal calls if someone is near death or being arrested."
"You've done your homework," Patty says, leaning back in her chair. "And if I call Miranda Priestly for a reference?"
"She'll tell you you're an idiot if you don't hire me. At least, that's what she told the editor of the Mirror before the company went bust and took the job offer with it."
"I see," Patty muses, staring Andy down over the black frames of her glasses. "If I said you start now?"
"I'll put my coat and bag down at the desk outside and start answering the phone that's been ringing for the past thirty seconds."
"How did you--"
"A light on your phone blinks when the phone out there is ringing. It's easy, when you know how," Andy can feel the sweat prickling at the base of her neck, this is by far the most stressful interview of her life. It's taking every ounce of strength to seem confident and unflappable, but she thinks it might just be paying off.
"Fine," Patty nods, picking up a folder from the stack on her desk.
And since there are no other instructions, Andy stands on slightly shaking legs and does exactly what she just described. An hour later, Patty appears in the doorway of her office, minus the reading glasses and the blazer she'd been wearing in the interview.
"Coffee," she barks, and Andy scurries off in search of the nearest pot.
*
Two weeks later (Andy has mastered the filing ‘system’, but not Patty’s handwriting) the sky falls, just a little. Patty is already waiting in the office when Andy arrives at the earlier time of 7.30 to get a jump on the day.
“Anything I can do for you?” Andy asks, with a sunny smile. She’s having a good day, and it takes just a fraction too long to work out that Patty lurking like this might be bad for her.
“This is something to do with you,” Patty isn’t asking as she tosses the newspaper across the desk at Andy. It takes a few seconds of scanning until Miranda’s name pops out of the text for her, but that alone isn’t a problem. It’s a small article about Miranda suing some designer, unusual only because it mentions her attorney by name. Miranda only lets other people cash in on her name when they have something she wants, or it gets publicity for one of her protègés.
“Um...” Andy offers, not quite sure why Patty is showing her this. The name in the article is familiar, Andy racks her brain as Patty glares at her, but it just won’t come.
“It would seem Miranda knows I’ve hired you,” Patty spits. “Why else would she hire Ellen?”
“Ellen Parsons is...” Andy flounders for a moment, before inspiration strikes. “She used to work for you?”
“Yes,” Patty snaps, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And now Miranda has suddenly desired to hire her. The only variable is you.”
“Patty, I--”
“I should fire you,” Patty sneers, and Andy hates herself for finding this crueler side of Patty (the one she’s heard so much about) just a little bit attractive. Andy groans inwardly; she’s reliving life with Miranda in more ways than one.
“I swear, it has nothing to do with me working here,” Andy pleads, not least because her landlord isn’t going to like the whole ‘lost two jobs in two months’ excuse.
“So,” Patty says, stepping dangerously close. Andy backs into her desk out of instinct, but Patty just keeps coming. “There’s no truth to the rumors that you were fucking Miranda Priestly?”
“What? No, I uh--” Andy can feel herself blushing furiously. How can there be rumors about something that only ever happened inside her head.
“Oh,” Patty realizes, with a malicious smile. “You just wanted to. Well, isn’t that interesting?”
Andy’s struggling to come up with words, painfully aware of just how close Patty is, but in an instant Patty’s walking away, back into the confines of her own office. Andy breathes out for what feels like the first time since she set foot in the building, and sits down heavily in her chair. Though the adrenalin is still coursing through her veins, she fires up the computer and starts dealing with the day’s work. It’s almost enough to soothe her until, half an hour later, Patty comes storming out of her office and disappears with no more than a ‘cancel my day’.
Andy drops her head to the desk, not caring that it hurts. Just glad to not be fired, she sighs and picks up the phone to begin rearranging Patty’s week.
*
She’s getting off the subway when Patty calls.
“Weren’t you bringing the court papers for tomorrow?” Patty asks, not bothering with niceties like ‘hello’. Andy wants to slap herself as she lives through the masochistic déjà vu.
“I’m almost at your apartment,” Andy points out, picking up her pace and feeling grateful she learned to run in heels. She had actually been hoping Patty would tell her not to come, after the morning’s awkwardness.
Patty hangs up, so Andy gets to assume that she’s still not fired, yet.
Thankfully Patty’s building is in view now, and Andy breezes past Perry with a smile. She’s only been here twice so far, but the doorman seems to have her memorized already. The elevator seems to take forever, but Andy knows on some rational level that it only feels that way because she’s nervous. Ridiculous, first-date levels of nervous, which should probably be more like ‘please let me stay employed’ nervous.
This is a disaster waiting to happen, and still she doesn’t walk away.
*
Patty snatches the files from Andy’s grasp the minute she steps off the elevator.
“Is that all?” Andy asks, as Patty scans the papers.
“No,” Patty says with a withering glare. “Come in.”
Andy does as she’s told, following Patty towards the kitchen, where there’s a large glass of bourbon already sitting on the counter.
“Did you want a drink?” Patty asks, and it almost sounds friendly.
“Sure,” Andy replies, feeling self-conscious as Patty fusses with fetching a new glass and the crystal decanter. “Thanks,” she says, not bothering to point out that she usually drinks it with ice.
“This morning,” Patty begins. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” Andy says, but she’s wondering what the hell happened to an apology. “You caught me off guard, is all. Won’t happen again.” She raises her glass, conjures up a smile, and takes a big sip of very nice bourbon.
“I won’t mention it again,” Patty promises, and she seems sincere. “I know you’re still walking off failing as Miranda’s assistant, and I don’t want that to ruin your promising start.”
“Hey!” Andy protests, slamming her glass down. “I did not fail.” She’s going to talk herself out of a job, maybe, but she’s not letting that one fly.
“See, that’s what I like about you, Andy,” Patty says, laughing softly. “You’ve got one hell of an attitude.”
“Yeah, I have,” Andy concedes. “But don’t push me about failing with Miranda. I’m not the one who had a full-day shitfit over their ex-associate. Or should that be ex-something else, hmm?”
“You’ve got a lotta nerve,” Patty hisses, the nasty side back in an instant. Andy wishes that tingling between her thighs would shut the hell up. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know you clearly have a thing for hot brunettes pushing thirty--is that why you hired me?”
Patty snorts, and drains her glass. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t think I am,” Andy says, and it’s like her feet make the decision to move for her. “I mean, I know you won’t make a move on me, in case I cry harassment. But there’s nothing to stop me making a move on you, right?”
“Don’t try to call my bluff, Andréa,” Patty teases, and it’s enough to make Andy’s blood freeze in her veins.
“Don’t call me that,” Andy spits. The fear passes into anger in a second, and she absolutely refuses to be ridiculed by Patty Hewes or anyone.
“Touched a nerve, did I?” Patty isn’t backing down, and Andy hates herself for it, but instead of slapping Patty’s smug face, Andy grabs her chin and pulls her into a fierce kiss. It’s a kiss that says ‘do not fuck with me’, and one that Andy didn’t realize she wanted quite this badly. Patty, the obstinate bitch, tries to pull away, but Andy is persistent. Before long Patty’s mouth yields to hers, and the kiss becomes something much deeper.
“Fuck,” Andy squeaks when she finally breaks for air.
“Quite,” Patty agrees, touching her lips almost as though she can’t believe what just happened--her hand shaking slightly in a way that makes Andy feel a flush of victory. She has rattled Patty Hewes, and it’s a pretty damn sexy sight to see.
“So,” Andy says. “What now?” She feels uninhibited, almost dangerous. There’s nothing Patty can suggest right now that she won’t agree to, it feels like.
Patty reaches out and grabs Andy by the lapels of her blazer.
“Upstairs, now. Unless you plan on going down on me here in the kitchen,” Patty all but growls.
Andy stares her down because that is--absolutely--an option. She’s enjoying the whole direct thing though, so she shrugs and decides to go along with it. The apartment isn’t exactly hard to figure out, so she takes Patty by the hand and leads her confidently towards the staircase.
They’re walking down the hallway when Andy guesses and reaches for the handle of the first door on the left.
“No!” Patty hisses, yanking Andy away. “Do not go in there, do you understand?”
“Okay!” Andy agrees, hoping to keep the peace. Shit, that must have been the kid’s room; it’s no secret that Patty lost custody of her granddaughter a few months ago. “Which one?”
Patty takes the lead now, half-leading, half-dragging Andy into the master suite. It’s quite stunning to look at, and Andy feels the huge bed calling to her in an instant.
A little while later, with work clothes thrown haphazardly across the floor, and Patty’s fingers working furiously in and out of her cunt, Andy has a fleeting thought about when she started being a plaything for someone old enough to be a grandmother. She shakes it off though, because the pressure is starting to build and damn she really needs to get off right now.
She does, and as soon as she gets her breath back, Andy shows Patty that going down on her is definitely not reserved for the kitchen; it’s beyond satisfying to hear the choked scream Patty can’t suppress when she’s coming all over Andy’s face.
“So,” Patty says as they lie there in the lamplight.
“So what?” Andy asks, because she’s tired and if this is how she gets kicked out, she’d rather get it over with then wait to talk about it all first.
“I’m going to want to do this again. Any objections?” Patty sounds almost nervous, or as close as she ever gets to it. Andy remains lying on her back, deliberately not turning to meet Patty’s eye.
“None,” Andy admits, reveling in the pleasant burn between her legs.
“As for being my assistant--” Patty starts to say, but Andy cuts her off.
“There’s no reason I can’t do both. Either way, I’m spending a whole lot of time with you, so wouldn’t it be nice to have the chance to do this?” Andy strokes her hand over Patty’s bare and sticky thigh to make her point.
“You make a compelling argument,” Patty concedes, turning over so she’s pressed against Andy’s side. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something so new.
“I know,” Andy sighs, feeling more grown-up than ever before. “That’s why you’ll want to keep me around.”
Patty kisses Andy, maybe to stop herself from agreeing with that sentiment out loud, but Andy enjoys it nonetheless.
“Should I stay?” Andy whispers when they part, daring to look Patty in the face now.
“Yes,” Patty says, and Andy has no intention of arguing.
Fandoms: Damages/Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Patty/Andy
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Through season 4 of Damages, the whole DWP movie. I've fudged the overlap of these timelines a bit, so Andy leaving in Paris coincides with the end of the High Star case. Assume that Michael still has ties to the art scene in NYC.
Disclaimer: Not mine - these belong to their creators. It's a transformative work and no profit is being made.
Prompt: Patty/Andy, failure is lonely
Dedication: For Rediver who gave a wonderful prompt, and I'm sorry I'm a couple of days late. Please forgive me? And happy, lovely holidays to you and yours <3
It's Lily who gives her the lead--reluctantly, and with plenty of warning.
"Michael said that his Mom is a real headcase. She goes through assistants like well, like Miranda Priestly."
"And she's looking for an assistant now?" Andy seizes on the tip, because her forays into journalism are exactly as successful as they were a year ago, i.e. not very.
"Apparently she just fired one this afternoon, for letting Michael interrupt her at work."
"Huh," Andy says. "Hell, she can't be worse than Miranda, right? Might as well put all these survival skills to use. Gimme the email address."
Two hours later, Andy's freshly tweaked résumé is sent of to Hewes and Associates, and she pours herself a very big glass of Pinot Noir to wash away the taste of trepidation.
*
"This," Patty waves a careless hand around her immaculate office. "Is not a fashion magazine."
"I'm aware of that, Ms. Hewes," Andy replies with a patient smile. She's learned some restraint since her Runway interview.
"What makes you think you'll make a decent assistant, anyway? I have very high standards."
"Well," Andy hesitates. "I already know how you take your coffee--black, scalding hot--and I've been following the Shearson case in the media so I know your schedule is going to get a little crazy as of next week when it goes to court. You're on the board of three charities with fundraisers in the next month, not to mention the television appearances and newspaper interviews you'll want to make to shore up support for your clients."
"Anyone could have worked that out," Patty points out, but there's a flicker in her eyes that might suggest she's impressed.
"You only wear suits by two designers, you like high collars on your coats; the bourbon in here, and probably at home is always Woodford Reserve. Your dog walker is more important to you than your housekeeper, and you only accept interruptions for personal calls if someone is near death or being arrested."
"You've done your homework," Patty says, leaning back in her chair. "And if I call Miranda Priestly for a reference?"
"She'll tell you you're an idiot if you don't hire me. At least, that's what she told the editor of the Mirror before the company went bust and took the job offer with it."
"I see," Patty muses, staring Andy down over the black frames of her glasses. "If I said you start now?"
"I'll put my coat and bag down at the desk outside and start answering the phone that's been ringing for the past thirty seconds."
"How did you--"
"A light on your phone blinks when the phone out there is ringing. It's easy, when you know how," Andy can feel the sweat prickling at the base of her neck, this is by far the most stressful interview of her life. It's taking every ounce of strength to seem confident and unflappable, but she thinks it might just be paying off.
"Fine," Patty nods, picking up a folder from the stack on her desk.
And since there are no other instructions, Andy stands on slightly shaking legs and does exactly what she just described. An hour later, Patty appears in the doorway of her office, minus the reading glasses and the blazer she'd been wearing in the interview.
"Coffee," she barks, and Andy scurries off in search of the nearest pot.
*
Two weeks later (Andy has mastered the filing ‘system’, but not Patty’s handwriting) the sky falls, just a little. Patty is already waiting in the office when Andy arrives at the earlier time of 7.30 to get a jump on the day.
“Anything I can do for you?” Andy asks, with a sunny smile. She’s having a good day, and it takes just a fraction too long to work out that Patty lurking like this might be bad for her.
“This is something to do with you,” Patty isn’t asking as she tosses the newspaper across the desk at Andy. It takes a few seconds of scanning until Miranda’s name pops out of the text for her, but that alone isn’t a problem. It’s a small article about Miranda suing some designer, unusual only because it mentions her attorney by name. Miranda only lets other people cash in on her name when they have something she wants, or it gets publicity for one of her protègés.
“Um...” Andy offers, not quite sure why Patty is showing her this. The name in the article is familiar, Andy racks her brain as Patty glares at her, but it just won’t come.
“It would seem Miranda knows I’ve hired you,” Patty spits. “Why else would she hire Ellen?”
“Ellen Parsons is...” Andy flounders for a moment, before inspiration strikes. “She used to work for you?”
“Yes,” Patty snaps, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And now Miranda has suddenly desired to hire her. The only variable is you.”
“Patty, I--”
“I should fire you,” Patty sneers, and Andy hates herself for finding this crueler side of Patty (the one she’s heard so much about) just a little bit attractive. Andy groans inwardly; she’s reliving life with Miranda in more ways than one.
“I swear, it has nothing to do with me working here,” Andy pleads, not least because her landlord isn’t going to like the whole ‘lost two jobs in two months’ excuse.
“So,” Patty says, stepping dangerously close. Andy backs into her desk out of instinct, but Patty just keeps coming. “There’s no truth to the rumors that you were fucking Miranda Priestly?”
“What? No, I uh--” Andy can feel herself blushing furiously. How can there be rumors about something that only ever happened inside her head.
“Oh,” Patty realizes, with a malicious smile. “You just wanted to. Well, isn’t that interesting?”
Andy’s struggling to come up with words, painfully aware of just how close Patty is, but in an instant Patty’s walking away, back into the confines of her own office. Andy breathes out for what feels like the first time since she set foot in the building, and sits down heavily in her chair. Though the adrenalin is still coursing through her veins, she fires up the computer and starts dealing with the day’s work. It’s almost enough to soothe her until, half an hour later, Patty comes storming out of her office and disappears with no more than a ‘cancel my day’.
Andy drops her head to the desk, not caring that it hurts. Just glad to not be fired, she sighs and picks up the phone to begin rearranging Patty’s week.
*
She’s getting off the subway when Patty calls.
“Weren’t you bringing the court papers for tomorrow?” Patty asks, not bothering with niceties like ‘hello’. Andy wants to slap herself as she lives through the masochistic déjà vu.
“I’m almost at your apartment,” Andy points out, picking up her pace and feeling grateful she learned to run in heels. She had actually been hoping Patty would tell her not to come, after the morning’s awkwardness.
Patty hangs up, so Andy gets to assume that she’s still not fired, yet.
Thankfully Patty’s building is in view now, and Andy breezes past Perry with a smile. She’s only been here twice so far, but the doorman seems to have her memorized already. The elevator seems to take forever, but Andy knows on some rational level that it only feels that way because she’s nervous. Ridiculous, first-date levels of nervous, which should probably be more like ‘please let me stay employed’ nervous.
This is a disaster waiting to happen, and still she doesn’t walk away.
*
Patty snatches the files from Andy’s grasp the minute she steps off the elevator.
“Is that all?” Andy asks, as Patty scans the papers.
“No,” Patty says with a withering glare. “Come in.”
Andy does as she’s told, following Patty towards the kitchen, where there’s a large glass of bourbon already sitting on the counter.
“Did you want a drink?” Patty asks, and it almost sounds friendly.
“Sure,” Andy replies, feeling self-conscious as Patty fusses with fetching a new glass and the crystal decanter. “Thanks,” she says, not bothering to point out that she usually drinks it with ice.
“This morning,” Patty begins. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” Andy says, but she’s wondering what the hell happened to an apology. “You caught me off guard, is all. Won’t happen again.” She raises her glass, conjures up a smile, and takes a big sip of very nice bourbon.
“I won’t mention it again,” Patty promises, and she seems sincere. “I know you’re still walking off failing as Miranda’s assistant, and I don’t want that to ruin your promising start.”
“Hey!” Andy protests, slamming her glass down. “I did not fail.” She’s going to talk herself out of a job, maybe, but she’s not letting that one fly.
“See, that’s what I like about you, Andy,” Patty says, laughing softly. “You’ve got one hell of an attitude.”
“Yeah, I have,” Andy concedes. “But don’t push me about failing with Miranda. I’m not the one who had a full-day shitfit over their ex-associate. Or should that be ex-something else, hmm?”
“You’ve got a lotta nerve,” Patty hisses, the nasty side back in an instant. Andy wishes that tingling between her thighs would shut the hell up. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know you clearly have a thing for hot brunettes pushing thirty--is that why you hired me?”
Patty snorts, and drains her glass. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t think I am,” Andy says, and it’s like her feet make the decision to move for her. “I mean, I know you won’t make a move on me, in case I cry harassment. But there’s nothing to stop me making a move on you, right?”
“Don’t try to call my bluff, Andréa,” Patty teases, and it’s enough to make Andy’s blood freeze in her veins.
“Don’t call me that,” Andy spits. The fear passes into anger in a second, and she absolutely refuses to be ridiculed by Patty Hewes or anyone.
“Touched a nerve, did I?” Patty isn’t backing down, and Andy hates herself for it, but instead of slapping Patty’s smug face, Andy grabs her chin and pulls her into a fierce kiss. It’s a kiss that says ‘do not fuck with me’, and one that Andy didn’t realize she wanted quite this badly. Patty, the obstinate bitch, tries to pull away, but Andy is persistent. Before long Patty’s mouth yields to hers, and the kiss becomes something much deeper.
“Fuck,” Andy squeaks when she finally breaks for air.
“Quite,” Patty agrees, touching her lips almost as though she can’t believe what just happened--her hand shaking slightly in a way that makes Andy feel a flush of victory. She has rattled Patty Hewes, and it’s a pretty damn sexy sight to see.
“So,” Andy says. “What now?” She feels uninhibited, almost dangerous. There’s nothing Patty can suggest right now that she won’t agree to, it feels like.
Patty reaches out and grabs Andy by the lapels of her blazer.
“Upstairs, now. Unless you plan on going down on me here in the kitchen,” Patty all but growls.
Andy stares her down because that is--absolutely--an option. She’s enjoying the whole direct thing though, so she shrugs and decides to go along with it. The apartment isn’t exactly hard to figure out, so she takes Patty by the hand and leads her confidently towards the staircase.
They’re walking down the hallway when Andy guesses and reaches for the handle of the first door on the left.
“No!” Patty hisses, yanking Andy away. “Do not go in there, do you understand?”
“Okay!” Andy agrees, hoping to keep the peace. Shit, that must have been the kid’s room; it’s no secret that Patty lost custody of her granddaughter a few months ago. “Which one?”
Patty takes the lead now, half-leading, half-dragging Andy into the master suite. It’s quite stunning to look at, and Andy feels the huge bed calling to her in an instant.
A little while later, with work clothes thrown haphazardly across the floor, and Patty’s fingers working furiously in and out of her cunt, Andy has a fleeting thought about when she started being a plaything for someone old enough to be a grandmother. She shakes it off though, because the pressure is starting to build and damn she really needs to get off right now.
She does, and as soon as she gets her breath back, Andy shows Patty that going down on her is definitely not reserved for the kitchen; it’s beyond satisfying to hear the choked scream Patty can’t suppress when she’s coming all over Andy’s face.
“So,” Patty says as they lie there in the lamplight.
“So what?” Andy asks, because she’s tired and if this is how she gets kicked out, she’d rather get it over with then wait to talk about it all first.
“I’m going to want to do this again. Any objections?” Patty sounds almost nervous, or as close as she ever gets to it. Andy remains lying on her back, deliberately not turning to meet Patty’s eye.
“None,” Andy admits, reveling in the pleasant burn between her legs.
“As for being my assistant--” Patty starts to say, but Andy cuts her off.
“There’s no reason I can’t do both. Either way, I’m spending a whole lot of time with you, so wouldn’t it be nice to have the chance to do this?” Andy strokes her hand over Patty’s bare and sticky thigh to make her point.
“You make a compelling argument,” Patty concedes, turning over so she’s pressed against Andy’s side. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something so new.
“I know,” Andy sighs, feeling more grown-up than ever before. “That’s why you’ll want to keep me around.”
Patty kisses Andy, maybe to stop herself from agreeing with that sentiment out loud, but Andy enjoys it nonetheless.
“Should I stay?” Andy whispers when they part, daring to look Patty in the face now.
“Yes,” Patty says, and Andy has no intention of arguing.