The Third Valentine's Day
My personal thanks to CeeLyn for tackling Part 3, which was originally slotted to be mine. She picked up the ball and ran with it in superb fashion. And she didn't fumble or incur any penalties!
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The Freakboat and I are at it again! This is our take on the first 14 Valentine's Days. This might not make as much sense to you if you haven't read our previous opus, The Gift of Possibilities, detailing the first 12 Christmases; but this story falls within the universe we created in TGOP.
It it weren't for the Freakboat's quick writing, you wouldn't have this post today!
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada belongs to neither me nor ceelyn . No infringement intended, no money being made. The building belongs to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. We're just redecorating. When finished, we will tear down the new curtains and fancy artwork, but leave the festive paint…
Rating: T
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Mirandy
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Third ~ CeeLyn’s
“So, she doesn’t want to do anything? At all?”
Lily’s voice went up so high at the end of that sentence that Andy had to pull the phone away from her ear. “I guess. At least, she hasn’t said anything. And honestly, I haven’t felt like doing much anyway.”
The residual effects from her recent injuries were still plaguing her on a daily basis. The occasional blurred vision, the headaches, and the general aches and pains that come from getting tossed back 20 feet on your ass by a chemical explosion were all getting better day by day, but the combined effect still left Andy dog-tired by dinner.
“Well, yeah. I get that. You got blown up, girlfriend. A little fatigue is to be expected! But hell, I figured she’d be all over this love-fest holiday by now, what with you not being dead and all.” Lily joked.
But Lily didn’t know the half of it. Miranda had been treating Andy with kid gloves since her discharge from the hospital. Despite a clean bill of health, minus the obvious, there was no medical reason for Miranda to be so…distant. She barely could get a decent kiss from her these days. It was as if Miranda was afraid she might break Andy by showing her any affection.
“It’s not like I’m asking for wild gorilla sex,” Andy mumbled.
“Uh, what?” Lily asked, totally confused by the non sequitur. “Did you just say something about gorilla sex? Woman, I do NOT necessarily want to hear about that right now, considering the dry spell I’m going through.”
“God. I said that out loud. Sorry, Lily. I’m just a little confused.”
“Okay. Fine. What? What’s going on with you two?” Andy heard Lily draw a deep breath and pictured her sinking deep into her couch, into her “fine, I’ll solve all my friends’ problems before mine” mode.
Andy, too, hunkered in for the siege and began to tell Lily all about it. How Miranda had been so unbelievably affectionate and open and, well, downright mushy while she was in the hospital. How she had waited on Andy hand and foot. How she didn’t seem to care who saw them together, or how open she was with her liberal displays of affection, or how much and how often she murmured and whispered the importance of Andy in her life and her devotion and love for the young woman. And how it had changed so drastically in the last week.
“Now, I swear, I have to drag ‘I love you’ out of her. It’s like pulling teeth to get her to hold my hand, even when we are just sitting on the couch! I don’t know, Lily. I’m starting to wonder if…maybe, she just feels like she went too far too fast. If my being hurt somehow magnified her feelings, blew them out of proportion or something. Maybe she doesn’t really feel the way she thought she does. Maybe she doesn’t really love me.” Andy whispered the last bit more to herself than to her friend. “Lily, I don’t think I could bear it…I don’t know what I’d do.”
Lily drew in a deep breath. “Look, Andy. I may not be Miranda’s biggest fan, but I’m not blind to how she feels about you. She loves you, girl. I watched her sit there in that hospital night after night…times that you thought she had gone home for the evening? No way. She stayed. She knew you knew when she was in the room, so she went to the waiting area down the hall. She would call her kids, talk to them, tell them everything about you and how you were doing. She loves you, Andy. Her and those kids. You got a package deal, honey, and a damn good deal at that. If you think she’s acting weird or pulling away, then you need to talk to her, because it’s something else, not a lack of love. Talk to her, Andy. Make her tell you what’s going on.”
***************
“Hey, Emily. Is she in?”
To her credit, Emily didn’t flinch at the sight of Andy’s still healing injuries. Well, too much, that is. “Uhm, yes, she is. But she’s in the middle of ripping Gerald a new one… you want to wait a few?”
“Hi, Six!” Nigel’s voice was a welcome sound countering the stark tension in the building. “How about you come down to my office for a bit. I have a feeling she’s going to be a while,” he called, gesturing towards Miranda’s door. Miranda’s closed door.
“She’s going after him behind closed doors? He must have messed up royal,” Andy stage whispered as she moved away from Emily’s desk. Nigel gently took her elbow and started to lead her down the hall.
“Actually, no. I’m not sure what he did. But she’s been on a tear lately, even for her. Anything going on you’d like to share with the class?”
“Nige, I wish I knew,” Andy started, only to be interrupted by a snort from Emily. Turning, Andy looked at her questioningly. “What? What is it? Do you know something?”
“Please,” Emily scoffed in her prim English accent. “Are you serious? Bright girl like you and you don’t have a clue, do you?”
At that Andy stepped up, practically nose to nose with Emily and growled, “Talk.”
Emily stepped back. “Jeez, Andy. No need to get snippy.” Gesturing towards the still closed door she said quietly, “Look at her, she’s over the top on everything. Her day is longer than ever, her temper is-believe it or not- shorter than ever, she’s practically locked in her office reaming out a poor defenseless lawyer, (at that Nigel snickered) and she’s absolutely refused every hint I have dropped about even sending you so much as a half dead fern for Valentine’s Day. Look at her Andy, she’s hiding. She’s afraid.”
At that pronouncement Miranda’s door opened and what was probably once a fairly together-looking man stumbled out, his arms wrapped around an open attaché, a jumbled wad of papers threatening to abandon the confines of the clutch. Nigel, Emily, and Andy watched in horror as the man actually started to weep as he headed for the elevator. Both turning to Andy, Emily and Nigel took a step back, giving her a wide berth to enter the lair.
Miranda sat stone faced at her desk, reading glasses perched on her nose, paperwork in hand. She didn’t even acknowledge Andy’s entrance until she heard the click of the door as it closed.
“Why is that door closed?” she snapped, while in one motion whipping her glasses from her face and standing from her chair.
For an instant Andy froze, her body apparently suffering from some sort of phantom response from her days as Miranda’s assistant. But in the next instant she caught something in Miranda’s gaze. Emily was right. It was fear. In three short strides Andy was to the desk, striking a mirror pose of the woman across from her.
“Miranda, I’d like to talk to you. But before I do that, I’d like to ask you to please not speak to me in that tone. Would you like to sit down?” Without waiting for a response Andy took a seat.
Andy’s lack of overt reaction took a bit of the wind out of Miranda’s sails, and finally she sat, shuffling the papers on her desk while never really making eye contact with the young woman who watched her so closely.
“You know, you don’t have to do this. I get it now. I really do.”
Miranda slammed the papers to her desk.
“Get what, Andrea? What do you get?”
“That you’re afraid.”
“Oh, please. Do not presume to tell me what my emotions are. Now I’m very busy. What did you want?”
At that, Andy just said quietly, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
Miranda never blinked, never moved, barely seemed to breathe. “Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well, Andrea. Now, may I get back to work?”
Once again, Andy stated quietly, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
Miranda’s gaze seemed to harden slightly, and once again she replied, “And happy Valentine’s Day to you, Andrea. Is that all?”
Andy let a few silent moments pass before saying, even softer than before, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
This time Miranda did move, but only the muscles of her jaw as she worked to keep her composure. Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears as she fought the urge to blink, and thereby break the as yet unwavering contact she had with her young, and so, so fragile lover. Andy was going to push her too far, and she was going to shatter if she wasn’t careful.
“Happy…happy…don’t make me do this Andrea. Do not make me do this.” Miranda’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Do what?” Andy whispered back. “I’m not asking for anything, Miranda. I’m just saying ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. If you want to reciprocate, hey, that’s fine. I’m just putting it out there.”
“You know perfectly well what you are asking for, Andrea. Perfectly well.”
At that, it was Andy’s turn to sit silently, watching as Miranda began to claw her way back out of the deep, dark place to which she had withdrawn.
“You are asking me to exchange pleasantries under the guise of innocuous circumstances. You are asking me to feign nonchalance at an insipid holiday greeting. You are asking me- “
Seeing the degree to which Miranda was working herself up Andy decided right then and there to step in and end her tortuous self-immolation.
“Miranda, all I am asking you for is to say it. Say it. Say you are afraid. Say you still love me. And say this damn holiday doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t. You don’t have to pretend to be some sappy, lovesick puppy. You don’t have to pretend to be caught up in the commercial hype, and you don’t have to pretend you need one special day to tell me how you really feel. I know how you feel, Miranda, and I don’t need any of that other stuff right now. And I especially don’t need you fighting with yourself about who you are and who you might think you need to be for me. I just need you being you. Can you do that? Because after the last few weeks I think we both know what we mean to each other, and I’m getting damn tired of being treated like an invalid.”
For a mere moment it appeared as though Miranda melted. Her entire persona seemed to exhale, pause, and reset. In that instant Andy caught a glimpse of the woman she knew was at the core of the iron-willed individual known as Miranda Priestly. And in that instant Andy fell in love with her all over again.
Miranda pursed her lips as her eyes roamed over the mess of papers on her desk.
“I have a bit more to do here, Andrea. I think perhaps another hour or two. Would you be available for dinner at, say, six? The girls aren’t expecting me until late.” Raising her chin she gave Andy her best no-nonsense look. “I assume you can find something suitable to wear before then?”
Andy rolled her eyes and moved around behind the desk, stepping well into Miranda’s personal space. “I don’t know, Miranda. Does it really matter what I wear? I mean, honestly, I don’t plan on keeping it on all that long once we get home.” At that she stepped up and ran her tongue lightly across Miranda’s upper lip, following with a feather-light kiss before stepping back. Miranda’s composure never wavered.
“Cheeky girl. What makes you think you’ll make it that far?”
The following motivator again comes courtesy of the wonderful and talented gloriously tabu,
tuathadedanaa
The Fourth Valentine's Day
---------------------------
The Freakboat and I are at it again! This is our take on the first 14 Valentine's Days. This might not make as much sense to you if you haven't read our previous opus, The Gift of Possibilities, detailing the first 12 Christmases; but this story falls within the universe we created in TGOP.
It it weren't for the Freakboat's quick writing, you wouldn't have this post today!
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada belongs to neither me nor ceelyn . No infringement intended, no money being made. The building belongs to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. We're just redecorating. When finished, we will tear down the new curtains and fancy artwork, but leave the festive paint…
Rating: T
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Mirandy
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Third ~ CeeLyn’s
“So, she doesn’t want to do anything? At all?”
Lily’s voice went up so high at the end of that sentence that Andy had to pull the phone away from her ear. “I guess. At least, she hasn’t said anything. And honestly, I haven’t felt like doing much anyway.”
The residual effects from her recent injuries were still plaguing her on a daily basis. The occasional blurred vision, the headaches, and the general aches and pains that come from getting tossed back 20 feet on your ass by a chemical explosion were all getting better day by day, but the combined effect still left Andy dog-tired by dinner.
“Well, yeah. I get that. You got blown up, girlfriend. A little fatigue is to be expected! But hell, I figured she’d be all over this love-fest holiday by now, what with you not being dead and all.” Lily joked.
But Lily didn’t know the half of it. Miranda had been treating Andy with kid gloves since her discharge from the hospital. Despite a clean bill of health, minus the obvious, there was no medical reason for Miranda to be so…distant. She barely could get a decent kiss from her these days. It was as if Miranda was afraid she might break Andy by showing her any affection.
“It’s not like I’m asking for wild gorilla sex,” Andy mumbled.
“Uh, what?” Lily asked, totally confused by the non sequitur. “Did you just say something about gorilla sex? Woman, I do NOT necessarily want to hear about that right now, considering the dry spell I’m going through.”
“God. I said that out loud. Sorry, Lily. I’m just a little confused.”
“Okay. Fine. What? What’s going on with you two?” Andy heard Lily draw a deep breath and pictured her sinking deep into her couch, into her “fine, I’ll solve all my friends’ problems before mine” mode.
Andy, too, hunkered in for the siege and began to tell Lily all about it. How Miranda had been so unbelievably affectionate and open and, well, downright mushy while she was in the hospital. How she had waited on Andy hand and foot. How she didn’t seem to care who saw them together, or how open she was with her liberal displays of affection, or how much and how often she murmured and whispered the importance of Andy in her life and her devotion and love for the young woman. And how it had changed so drastically in the last week.
“Now, I swear, I have to drag ‘I love you’ out of her. It’s like pulling teeth to get her to hold my hand, even when we are just sitting on the couch! I don’t know, Lily. I’m starting to wonder if…maybe, she just feels like she went too far too fast. If my being hurt somehow magnified her feelings, blew them out of proportion or something. Maybe she doesn’t really feel the way she thought she does. Maybe she doesn’t really love me.” Andy whispered the last bit more to herself than to her friend. “Lily, I don’t think I could bear it…I don’t know what I’d do.”
Lily drew in a deep breath. “Look, Andy. I may not be Miranda’s biggest fan, but I’m not blind to how she feels about you. She loves you, girl. I watched her sit there in that hospital night after night…times that you thought she had gone home for the evening? No way. She stayed. She knew you knew when she was in the room, so she went to the waiting area down the hall. She would call her kids, talk to them, tell them everything about you and how you were doing. She loves you, Andy. Her and those kids. You got a package deal, honey, and a damn good deal at that. If you think she’s acting weird or pulling away, then you need to talk to her, because it’s something else, not a lack of love. Talk to her, Andy. Make her tell you what’s going on.”
***************
“Hey, Emily. Is she in?”
To her credit, Emily didn’t flinch at the sight of Andy’s still healing injuries. Well, too much, that is. “Uhm, yes, she is. But she’s in the middle of ripping Gerald a new one… you want to wait a few?”
“Hi, Six!” Nigel’s voice was a welcome sound countering the stark tension in the building. “How about you come down to my office for a bit. I have a feeling she’s going to be a while,” he called, gesturing towards Miranda’s door. Miranda’s closed door.
“She’s going after him behind closed doors? He must have messed up royal,” Andy stage whispered as she moved away from Emily’s desk. Nigel gently took her elbow and started to lead her down the hall.
“Actually, no. I’m not sure what he did. But she’s been on a tear lately, even for her. Anything going on you’d like to share with the class?”
“Nige, I wish I knew,” Andy started, only to be interrupted by a snort from Emily. Turning, Andy looked at her questioningly. “What? What is it? Do you know something?”
“Please,” Emily scoffed in her prim English accent. “Are you serious? Bright girl like you and you don’t have a clue, do you?”
At that Andy stepped up, practically nose to nose with Emily and growled, “Talk.”
Emily stepped back. “Jeez, Andy. No need to get snippy.” Gesturing towards the still closed door she said quietly, “Look at her, she’s over the top on everything. Her day is longer than ever, her temper is-believe it or not- shorter than ever, she’s practically locked in her office reaming out a poor defenseless lawyer, (at that Nigel snickered) and she’s absolutely refused every hint I have dropped about even sending you so much as a half dead fern for Valentine’s Day. Look at her Andy, she’s hiding. She’s afraid.”
At that pronouncement Miranda’s door opened and what was probably once a fairly together-looking man stumbled out, his arms wrapped around an open attaché, a jumbled wad of papers threatening to abandon the confines of the clutch. Nigel, Emily, and Andy watched in horror as the man actually started to weep as he headed for the elevator. Both turning to Andy, Emily and Nigel took a step back, giving her a wide berth to enter the lair.
Miranda sat stone faced at her desk, reading glasses perched on her nose, paperwork in hand. She didn’t even acknowledge Andy’s entrance until she heard the click of the door as it closed.
“Why is that door closed?” she snapped, while in one motion whipping her glasses from her face and standing from her chair.
For an instant Andy froze, her body apparently suffering from some sort of phantom response from her days as Miranda’s assistant. But in the next instant she caught something in Miranda’s gaze. Emily was right. It was fear. In three short strides Andy was to the desk, striking a mirror pose of the woman across from her.
“Miranda, I’d like to talk to you. But before I do that, I’d like to ask you to please not speak to me in that tone. Would you like to sit down?” Without waiting for a response Andy took a seat.
Andy’s lack of overt reaction took a bit of the wind out of Miranda’s sails, and finally she sat, shuffling the papers on her desk while never really making eye contact with the young woman who watched her so closely.
“You know, you don’t have to do this. I get it now. I really do.”
Miranda slammed the papers to her desk.
“Get what, Andrea? What do you get?”
“That you’re afraid.”
“Oh, please. Do not presume to tell me what my emotions are. Now I’m very busy. What did you want?”
At that, Andy just said quietly, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
Miranda never blinked, never moved, barely seemed to breathe. “Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well, Andrea. Now, may I get back to work?”
Once again, Andy stated quietly, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
Miranda’s gaze seemed to harden slightly, and once again she replied, “And happy Valentine’s Day to you, Andrea. Is that all?”
Andy let a few silent moments pass before saying, even softer than before, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”
This time Miranda did move, but only the muscles of her jaw as she worked to keep her composure. Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears as she fought the urge to blink, and thereby break the as yet unwavering contact she had with her young, and so, so fragile lover. Andy was going to push her too far, and she was going to shatter if she wasn’t careful.
“Happy…happy…don’t make me do this Andrea. Do not make me do this.” Miranda’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Do what?” Andy whispered back. “I’m not asking for anything, Miranda. I’m just saying ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. If you want to reciprocate, hey, that’s fine. I’m just putting it out there.”
“You know perfectly well what you are asking for, Andrea. Perfectly well.”
At that, it was Andy’s turn to sit silently, watching as Miranda began to claw her way back out of the deep, dark place to which she had withdrawn.
“You are asking me to exchange pleasantries under the guise of innocuous circumstances. You are asking me to feign nonchalance at an insipid holiday greeting. You are asking me- “
Seeing the degree to which Miranda was working herself up Andy decided right then and there to step in and end her tortuous self-immolation.
“Miranda, all I am asking you for is to say it. Say it. Say you are afraid. Say you still love me. And say this damn holiday doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t. You don’t have to pretend to be some sappy, lovesick puppy. You don’t have to pretend to be caught up in the commercial hype, and you don’t have to pretend you need one special day to tell me how you really feel. I know how you feel, Miranda, and I don’t need any of that other stuff right now. And I especially don’t need you fighting with yourself about who you are and who you might think you need to be for me. I just need you being you. Can you do that? Because after the last few weeks I think we both know what we mean to each other, and I’m getting damn tired of being treated like an invalid.”
For a mere moment it appeared as though Miranda melted. Her entire persona seemed to exhale, pause, and reset. In that instant Andy caught a glimpse of the woman she knew was at the core of the iron-willed individual known as Miranda Priestly. And in that instant Andy fell in love with her all over again.
Miranda pursed her lips as her eyes roamed over the mess of papers on her desk.
“I have a bit more to do here, Andrea. I think perhaps another hour or two. Would you be available for dinner at, say, six? The girls aren’t expecting me until late.” Raising her chin she gave Andy her best no-nonsense look. “I assume you can find something suitable to wear before then?”
Andy rolled her eyes and moved around behind the desk, stepping well into Miranda’s personal space. “I don’t know, Miranda. Does it really matter what I wear? I mean, honestly, I don’t plan on keeping it on all that long once we get home.” At that she stepped up and ran her tongue lightly across Miranda’s upper lip, following with a feather-light kiss before stepping back. Miranda’s composure never wavered.
“Cheeky girl. What makes you think you’ll make it that far?”
The following motivator again comes courtesy of the wonderful and talented gloriously tabu,
tuathadedanaa
The Fourth Valentine's Day