A Flawed Fragility: Chapter 25
Author: TheLadyHoll
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
Chapter 25: Into Place
Alright, alright, I KNOW its been AGES since I last updated, and my sincerest apologies. Work, school, mental state etc. etc. all seem to provide the correct amount of chaos & distraction to keep my muse otherwise occupied.
Hopefully, you will accept this enormous triple length chapters & forgive me, possibly even pandering to my muse with a comment or review as her wanton ways haven't changed in the time I've been gone, in fact I think she's greedier than ever. Perhaps its the cold weather...
Anyway, I DO have plans to continue, I'm just still fighting with certain timing and plotline hiccups. So never fear, I WILL be back, and will do my absolute best not to go more than a month without posting SOMETHING.
Anyway, please enjoy! xxx
"I can't BELIEVE you haven't bought any clothes for them yet. We're more than halfway there!" Andy teased as they stopped at a children's boutique on the way back to the hotel, turning back to face Miranda only to be met with a flash of fear and guilt as it pricked at blue eyes.
"Hey, hey," Andy soothed, dropping the onesie she was holding back onto the pile and letting her hands rest on Miranda's forearms, still aware they were in a public setting. "What is it? What's the matter?"
"I haven't, I wasn't…" Miranda uncharacteristically wavered in choosing her words, her gaze seemingly drawn to the tiny sweater she still clutched in her hands.
"I didn't want to take the chance that…that they would never get to wear them, that we would have no need for them."
Andy swallowed the painful lump in her throat and stepped closer to Miranda, rubbing the older woman's hands with her thumbs as dual gazes flickered down in an unconscious gesture of protection to the curve of her belly.
"Hey," Andy choked out, forcing a smile onto her face, "we are going to meet these babies, Miranda. I won't promise, because you asked me not to. But I believe with everything in me that we are meant to have these babies, and to raise them, together. Now come on, we're going to buy these today. Although I'm sure in a month's time, the designer offerings will be pouring in. I saw the card Donatella sent you when the news first broke, believe me, the only reason these babies might not get a chance to wear all their clothes will have to do with sheer quantity."
Miranda's fingertips trailed over the soft cashmere, feeling the fine fabric and picturing it on a tiny warm body so that she could almost feel the imaginary weight of the infant in her arms and wondered if she could ever explain, even to Andrea, how her arms ached to feel that weight and the warmth of that tiny body cradled against her chest.
Once they were safely back in the chauffeured car, away from the possibly prying eyes and listening ears of shop assistants, Miranda spoke more freely at Andy's gentle probing of her previous comments. "If I fail at this, everything, I have failed everything precious in my life. My family, the girls being big sisters, your chance to be a mother…"
"I am getting the chance to be a mom. Caroline and Cassidy may not be babies, and I'm always going to regret not being able to see them learn to walk and talk and their first piano recitals and scraped knees, but they're still my daughters and they still need me, need us, need their parents. They've still got a lot of growing up to do and I'm so grateful that I get to be a part of that," here she paused, smirking slightly as she pushed a stray piece of hair back behind Miranda's ear. "Although you may need to remind me of that fact when they're teenagers and we catch them sneaking out in the middle of the night or skipping school and mouthing off."
Tonight was the gala that closed Fashion Week, and an event Miranda couldn't afford to miss. It did, however, provide the perfect opportunity to 'announce' their engagement to the press. Not that they would offer an official statement until asked, but Andy's insistence that she was never taking off the ring made the question of whether or not they would keep the news of their engagement from the press a moot one, not to mention one that charmed Miranda into an extended session of celebratory lovemaking once they had gotten back to the hotel and removed any thoughts of a nap from Andrea's mind.
Despite Miranda's insistence she was feeling much better, Andy was grateful to see Miranda take a short nap before dinner, although whether that well-needed rest was borne from common sense or sexual exhaustion Andy couldn't be sure.
Coming out of the bathroom where she'd just taken a shower, Andy smiled as she took in the sprawled, sleeping form of her lover, fiancée, she corrected herself in her mind gleefully.
One arm flung over her head and the other curled around her pillow, Miranda slept on, oblivious to the brunette's musings as she took in the awkward position of the editor presumably undertaken in a quest to find some comfortable position to sleep. Pillows lined her back, two more tucked underneath her legs and between her knees and one wedged beneath her belly to even out the odd incline. A soft but distinctive snore met her ears and she bit her lip to keep from laughing, knowing that Miranda wouldn't be amused at the explanation of pregnancy-induced sinusitis that was causing the distinctly unladylike noise.
It was moments like that Andy could almost forget the woman in her bed was 'La Priestly', and an icon she grudgingly had to share with the world as the forbearer of fashion. In those moments she was just Miranda. An hour later, however, as they got ready for the gala, Andy recalled with sudden clarity the absolute absurdity and the sheer impossibility of their coupling as 'Miranda Priestly' emerged from the closet in the Zuhair Murad gown she had before only seen sketches of - and the reality of the lush constellation of skin and stars as the fabric twinkled was so much better than any pathetic scratching or artist's rendering could ever accomplish.
Thousands upon thousands of tiny beads caught the candlelight, the warm champagne-hued silver casting its own glow upon the room as the metallic threads shimmered and hazed across ones vision.
Painstaking needlework had resulted in intricate patterns that flowed over every inch of the dress, demurely but clearly outlining the deepened curves of the editor and extolling her current state of ripeness and femininity.
Sheer three-quarter length sleeves gave a further illusion of modesty even as the deeply draping chiffon at the front and back of the dress gave tantalizing glimpses of the curve of a breast and softly framed the lithe musculature of her back.
"I am so, so lucky," Andrea breathed, tears springing to her eyes as she took in the sight of the woman she was going to marry, facing the mirror, neck arched gracefully as she demurred to Andrea to zip her up. The liquidity of the dress in motion was poetry, and Andrea once again found herself dry mouthed as Miranda turned on her heel, flaring the hem of her dress to make sure nothing was out of place.
"You know they'll all think you've lost your mind, or that the stress of the trial and the later-in-life pregnancy have finally gotten to you. Why else would Miranda Priestly choose the smart, fat girl from Ohio."
"Nonsense. If they have any sense at all, then the moment they see, or failing that, speak to you, they will understand instantly why an aging, ice queen would seek out such an exquisite, young creature through whom she could try to recapture her youth and vitality. But say what you like darling, our reasons are our own, and not even entirely understood by us if we're brutally honest."
The tension in Andy's shoulders eased as she took in the almost flippant tone of Miranda's voice. To someone on the outside, it might look as though Miranda was brushing off the younger woman's concerns, but Andrea knew that Miranda's comments were sincere, and she was unconcerned with what people would think because of her own certainty in her relationship with Andrea. No, Andrea Sachs wasn't burned, and didn't fear the fire of the 'Dragon Lady'. Instead she was warmed by it, protected by the flames.
"Miranda, how far along are you now?"
"Any problems with the pregnancy?"
"Do you know the sexes? Are you going to find out?"
"Who's going to take over Runway?"
"Is it Jaqueline Follet? Will Jaqueline be the new choice for American Runway?"
As the car pulled up to the VIP entrance to the gala, Andy laid her hand over Miranda's arm before she could move to exit the vehicle. "Just wait a sec until security's moved the paparazzi."
"Darling," Miranda squeezed her nervous lover's hand. "I will not," she corrected herself - smiling as she lifted Andrea's left hand to press her lips to the newly appointed diamond. "We will not be dictated to by the press, nor will we stop living our lives. There is plenty of security and you can be assured they know not to let anyone near the guests."
Andrea continued to worry her bottom lip with her teeth and Miranda took out a tube of lipstick from her clutch to reapply the younger woman's makeup. "I know it's difficult and it can be scary. But I have been doing this much longer than you have, darling."
The noise outside rose and fell again and Andy's eyes flickered nervously out the window and then back to Miranda, who brought her hands to rest on either side of her belly. "We're fine, Andrea."
"I love you…so much," Andy whispered and Miranda's face broke into a rare, full smile that never failed to steal Andy's breath and heart.
"And I you. Now come, let me have my moment of glory in showing the world the fair maiden the fearsome dragon lady has managed to snare."
Andy snorted as she shook her head smiling and followed Miranda out of the car into the blinding lights of the Paris evening, "sweet talker."
Miranda watched as her fiancée skillfully manoeuvred through the invasive questions of the paparazzi as they were separated on the red carpet. Blue eyes trailed appreciatively from Coleen Atwood pumps up a long, lean body, feasting on the banquet of bare skin before coming to rest on the gold lame Zac Posen that hit a good four inches above the knee.
"You don't think this is a little over the top?" the brunette had asked as they were getting ready in the suite several hours earlier. "I mean, the dress is fantastic don't get me wrong. It's sexy and sculptural and chic, but next to you…" she gestured towards Miranda, "I don't know, isn't it going to look contrived or like I'm trying too hard?"
"Andrea, you are young and beautiful and meant to be wearing and testing the limits of what fashion has to offer, especially as my partner and attending a Fashion Week event in Paris. As for myself, although I may be the arbiter of all things fashionable, I cannot at my age and my 'condition'," Miranda grimaced at the word as she always did, hating its connotations and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Wear the types of clothing and garments I would choose to feature in Runway. So to answer your question, no, no, I do not think it's too much. In fact when I chose it for you I did so because I thought the two gowns together would make a fitting visual representation and statement regarding our relationship."
"Just as long as that statement isn't gold-digger, okay?" Andy joked before leaning over for a quick kiss to let Miranda know she wasn't serious in her description of herself.
Miranda's wandering mind was yanked sharply back down to the present at the next questions from the ravening journalistsl "Andy! Taking on 4 children and a women who's driven away THREE husbands, the last with whom she is now embroiled in a bitter settlement. There's gotta be another reason."
Andy's eyes flashed darkly, although when she spoke her voice was measured but light. "Reason? I don't think there is a reason that could satisfy what I'll guess to be is your frankly limited definition."
Andy felt a warm hand settle at the small of her back as Miranda came to stand beside her, skillfully manoeuvring the younger woman away from the first reporter and drawing her into her own conversation seamlessly.
"What do you think, darling?" Miranda turned back to the reporter, "Andrea has written several articles about the protocols for city and event planning…"
Once they were inside the building, Andy turned to Miranda. "Miranda, I'm sorry," she began.
"It's alright; and you know how I cherish how protective you are. But there are always going to be those who ask inappropriate questions, or question our intentions and cast stones. If you try to fight each one, the only thing you will accomplish is in making it so that you spend your entire life fighting, which will only fuel their fire."
"I know that, I do, I swear. It's just…they make me hate what I do and then I start to question everything and I hate that even more…"
"Let them say what they will, Andrea, it will not hurt me so long as it doesn't hurt the ones I love, which most certainly includes you, darling. So don't give them the satisfaction. If they want to call me old and foolish and decrepit, let them, I have what I most desire."
"Are you kidding?" Andy looked around the room and then back at Miranda incredulously. "Believe me Miranda when I say that most every man in this room and quite a few women too I'm sure would gladly give their right arm or their lifetime rights to Prada if it meant they had a chance to fuck you."
"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, as an aspiring journalist, Andrea, surely you could find a more salient turn of phrase. I'd prefer it if that language were confined to the bedroom and the act it infers."
Andy just smiled. "Noted, but this time I did choose that word specifically…because those people I mentioned would willingly fuck you, and you could have sex with anyone, if you chose to; but as long as I'm alive Miranda, no one is going to make love to you but me."
At this, Miranda shook her head, her lips curving up ruefully as she shook her head gently. "Sweet talker…"
"C'mere, gorgeous girl, dance with me." As they'd been talking Andy had slowly been leading them towards the dance floor."
"Andrea, please," Miranda scoffed lightly, seeing the younger woman's intent flash dangerously in dark brown eyes. "I'm 5 months pregnant, I'm not exactly light on my feet."
Ignoring the older woman's feeble protests, Andrea only smiled wider as she pulled Miranda closer to her. But before they could move fully onto the dance floor, they were halted by the familiar, unpleasant tones of one Irving Ravitz.
"Miranda, I understand I'm to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. Am I permitted to ask if the wedding will take place before or after the birth of your children, or perhaps after the trial of said children's father. I suppose you'll need to wait until your last marriage is dissolved, or has the trial taken care of that as well?"
"You can ask, but that doesn't mean we'll tell," Andy's voice and expression were suitably light and teasing, but before she had had a chance to mask it, Miranda had seen the steely flash of anger and could feel the younger woman's hold which had been draped lightly around her side tighten protectively at the man's attempts to unnerve the editor.
But Miranda had had far too much experience to be moved by the empty threats of an impotent bully like Irv, and she turned elegantly, still within Andrea's embrace so that she was once more facing the younger woman.
"I believe you were going to ask me to dance?"
And whatever the accompanying text would say in the papers the next morning, there could be no mistaking the beauty of the women on the dance floor or the happiness and love radiating from both.
Walking out into the cool evening air, Andy shivered, the gold micro-mini doing little to protect her from the elements.
Pulling her creamy beige mink from around her shoulders, Miranda draped it around the brunette's bare shoulders.
"Miranda, you'll catch a chill. I'll be fine."
"Nonsense," Miranda scoffed, waving off the younger woman's attempt to hand her back the wrap. "Andrea, there is more than twice the average amount of blood flowing through my body at the moment, not to mention the added weight. I assure you, temperature-wise I'm quite comfortable."
"Temperature wise?"
Miranda grimaced slightly. "You may be called upon this evening for a foot massage if soaking them doesn't help the swelling go down," she admitted ruefully as she eyed the studded Giuseppe Zannotti's cutting into the now puffy flesh of her feet. "Besides, I am the one who dressed you for this evening, so I should bear at least part of the blame for your current discomfort."
"I think you just wanted to gloat a little."
Miranda smirked slightly, turning her head and affecting indifference although the glint in her eyes and the way they travelled up the length of the brunette's body gave her away and Andy laughed as she ducked around to steal a kiss from the smirking mouth. However she couldn't have guessed the next words that came out of Miranda's mouth.
"Do you suppose there are any cafes still open at this time of night?"
Andy quirked an eyebrow, "I saw a sign at Jacques' that said it didn't close till 10. We could probably still make it if we hurry. Why?"
Miranda did her best to look nonchalant, "I simply thought perhaps a sandwich would be pleasant before retiring."
"Mmm, okay," Andy played along. "And what would be on this sandwich?"
"Nothing elaborate," the older woman suddenly found the clasp on her clutch very interesting as she avoided Andy's amused grin. "Perhaps some cheese, toasted…"
"Miranda, my love, are you asking for a grilled cheese sandwich?" Andy's eyes twinkled merrily as a grin threatened to split her cheeks. "I think I might be rubbing off on you…That or these babies really DO share my genes."
"Really Andrea, you make it sound as if I'm some sort of insatiable glutton. It was simply an opinion I thought to voice, but if the thought is so appalling…"
"Nooo, sweetheart, I'll go and get your grilled cheese," Andy bit her lip to hide her smile as she attempted to mollify the pouting editor, who of course Andy knew, in a million years would never admit she was pouting over grilled cheese.
Miranda merely sniffed and turned away, shrugging an elegant shoulder as if to say 'do as you wish'.
Still smiling, Andy called for a second car to pick her up as Miranda stepped into the first that would take her back to the hotel.
Miranda, who in fairly short order had demolished her own sandwich and half of Andrea's the moment after it had been half-jokingly offered to her. Laying her head on Andrea's chest, Miranda unclasped the front of her dressing gown and moved the younger woman's hands to her stomach, gesturing to the stretch mark oil on the bedside table. The babies' movements were calm and sleepy now that her craving had been sated, and Miranda hoped that Andrea's touch would do the rest of the work of getting them to sleep so that she could finally attain the sleep and the rest that had eluded her in Andrea's absence.
Andy wrinkled her nose as she brought the bottle back over to the bed and Miranda opened her mouth to ask the younger woman what was wrong when the brunette climbed back on the bed still frowning. However after a moment, it became clear what the problem was as she reluctantly slid the engagement ring off her finger to set it on the bedside table. "I don't want to get it gross with the oil but I said I wouldn't take it off." Now it was Andy's turn to look adorably disgruntled, and with some difficulty Miranda managed to sit up and kiss the plump, pink pouting lips.
"You've made me so happy, Andrea."
"If I'd known all it was going to take was some fried cheese and bread, I would have tried it long ago," Andy teased before wincing and laughing at the sharp, unamused prod Miranda gave her. "Hey! Do you want this massage or not?" Andy threatened playfully as she folded long legs beneath her, wiggling her oil-slicked fingers in the air.
"You wouldn't withhold that from me," Miranda purred confidently. But what most would see as arrogance and ego was belied by the love that shone from blue eyes as they met brown.
"Mmm, no I wouldn't," Andy capitulated. "You're just lucky I love you so much," she teased.
"I am," Miranda breathed, even as sleep overtook her, "I'm so lucky…"
Andy watched the even rise and fall of Miranda's chest as she slept, her eyes skimming across the peaceful features to the elegant neck and the rise of her breasts, and the even more prominent rise of her belly.
Pulling the covers over both of them, Andy curled around Miranda, who shifted slightly in her sleep until she was wrapped in the younger woman's arms, head underneath her chin with one of Andy's knees propped between her own to take the pressure off of her spine.
They were scheduled to fly back to New York first thing the next morning, and after the events of the day before and the late night, this was only made bearable by the fact that the Runway team would now be taking the Elias Clarke jet, courtesy of Donatella Versace's bullying of Irv Ravitz the previous evening at the closing gala.
"Surely, it's a matter of economics is it not, Irving? If not, then a matter of…que cosa, what do you call it? Ah, chivalry. Surely it makes more sense to use the jet to fly a team of people back rather than one man, no? Save the money for so many tickets? Besides," the flamboyant Italian waved a fuschia-taloned hand in the air dismissively, "You are lucky to have Miranda here at all, flying across the Atlantic twice in one week and attending all these shows in her condition." She turned away from the smaller man as though the matter had been settled, but Irv hadn't quite given up, proving what Nigel had said at their first meeting about 'tiny man, huge ego'.
"Ms. Versace, I'm not sure my assistant would be able to get a flight out so late in the day, and I need to be back in New York tonight, and then there's the time difference, I don't know if she'd have her phone."
"Nonsense! That is her job is it not? If she cannot perform her duties, relieve her of them."
Ah, Andy thought, now she saw where Miranda had mimicked a certain trait from.
During this exchange, Andy had discretely removed her phone from her clutch and now held it up, smiling brightly as she broke into the conversation.
"It's done!" she beamed guilelessly, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with Miranda and Irv for entirely opposite reasons. Shrugging innocently at the looks being tossed her way, two being deeply amused and one enraged before all schooled their features almost instantaneously into polite versions of their true feelings, Andy quickly sent the booking confirmation to Irv's phone. "Once an assistant," she joked lightly before she turned slightly into Miranda's embrace as the older woman's arm wrapped around her waist, Miranda's barely concealed look of triumph and amusement quickly replaced by one of abject innocence to match her fiancees as she smoothed a hand over her belly to subtly underscore the Italian's words.
"Mr. Ravitz, you are scheduled to fly out this evening at 11:26, Gate 5 at Charles de Gaulle and the Elias Clarke flight crew has been instructed to transfer your luggage and print your boarding pass which will be waiting for you at the gate with a porter in the executive lounge."
"Donatella," Miranda chuckled darkly, shaking her head as she embraced her long-time friend with a kiss to each cheek. "Did you get my letter of thanks for the pieces you sent over for me?"
"Those white, wide legged trousers are a personal favourite", murmured Andy, her hand resting just above the asset the pants showed off to such perfection.
The older Italian chuckled, "There's a leather jacket I'll be sending over soon that I believe you'll particularly like."
Miranda quirked an eyebrow, Donatella's proclivity for leather had often been a source of their disagreements regarding what should be in fashion.
"Don't worry, Miranda. It's very subtle - the structure is very much that of a blazer that goes into an asymmetrical lambskin drape at the hem, so no need to worry about buttons or zippers. And of course, there are a few things in the works for the babies." Donatella had moved from embracing Miranda to placing her hands on the editors belly as she spoke. Andy was amazed that Miranda was tolerating this, especially in public, but she supposed Miranda HAD been friends with the woman for years, and she was grateful to her for her help with Irv and the diffusion of what could have been an ugly situation…
Knowing their flight was set to leave Charles de Gaulle at 7am, they had mutually agreed on a 5 am wake up call, but Andy wasn't surprised when she found the space next to her in bed already cold and empty when she woke the next morning.
"It seems the East Coast wasn't quite as prepared as we thought to hear about our engagement." Miranda flicked through the pile of newspapers from where she sat on one of the stiff armchairs across the room, already perfectly coiffed and dressed, scanning the headlines on the front pages.
"Are you regretting it now?" Andy asked softly from the bed, crossing her legs as she sat up, now fully awake.
"What?" Miranda looked up. "No! No, Andrea, that isn't what I meant at all. I simply meant that I should have thought about the backlash for the girls while we were on a different continent, and that perhaps I should have planned it so that we would be there for them when the news broke.
"Did you tell them you were going to propose?"
"They knew I had the ring and that I was going to bring it to Paris with me, but beyond that even I didn't know when or how I was going to propose."
"Miranda Priestly not have a plan?"
"Perhaps that's because with you, I'm not frightened of the outcome if I don't."
"You say the sweetest things." Andy had gotten out of bed and sauntered over to the other woman
"Well don't let it get out, I believe I'll need all my available 'firepower' and fear-mongering skills to deal with the press back in New York." Miranda rose from the stiff armchair and met her fiancée halfway with a cup of coffee which the younger woman accepted gratefully.
"Besides, it's not like we're getting married immediately. There's still so much that needs to happen and fall into place before we can even think of starting to plan any sort of ceremony or event. I've said before that I will not be married while I am so heavily and unattractively pregnant, and so assuming that I am able to carry these babies to at least 36 weeks that makes 13 weeks from today, plus another six after that."
"Okay, ignoring the 'unattractively and heavily pregnant' comment which is so NOT true…Another six?" Andy questioned.
There was a predatory flash in Miranda's eyes as she moved back to Andy's side, pulling the younger woman's body flush against her own so that she could whisper into her ear. "I believe that's what all those books on your bedside table say is the correct timeline to resume sexual relations…and I very much plan on consummating the wedding night."
"Oh God, Mira, you can't say things like that," Andy moaned, her voice catching and growing huskier as the lips that had been teasing the shell of her ear and ghosting over her neck suddenly bit down on her shoulder. She gasped, "Ohhh, the papers are right, you ARE evil."
In case it had slipped your mind because of the ENORMOUS amount of words since the author's note, please pander to the muse & comment!
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
Chapter 25: Into Place
Alright, alright, I KNOW its been AGES since I last updated, and my sincerest apologies. Work, school, mental state etc. etc. all seem to provide the correct amount of chaos & distraction to keep my muse otherwise occupied.
Hopefully, you will accept this enormous triple length chapters & forgive me, possibly even pandering to my muse with a comment or review as her wanton ways haven't changed in the time I've been gone, in fact I think she's greedier than ever. Perhaps its the cold weather...
Anyway, I DO have plans to continue, I'm just still fighting with certain timing and plotline hiccups. So never fear, I WILL be back, and will do my absolute best not to go more than a month without posting SOMETHING.
Anyway, please enjoy! xxx
"I can't BELIEVE you haven't bought any clothes for them yet. We're more than halfway there!" Andy teased as they stopped at a children's boutique on the way back to the hotel, turning back to face Miranda only to be met with a flash of fear and guilt as it pricked at blue eyes.
"Hey, hey," Andy soothed, dropping the onesie she was holding back onto the pile and letting her hands rest on Miranda's forearms, still aware they were in a public setting. "What is it? What's the matter?"
"I haven't, I wasn't…" Miranda uncharacteristically wavered in choosing her words, her gaze seemingly drawn to the tiny sweater she still clutched in her hands.
"I didn't want to take the chance that…that they would never get to wear them, that we would have no need for them."
Andy swallowed the painful lump in her throat and stepped closer to Miranda, rubbing the older woman's hands with her thumbs as dual gazes flickered down in an unconscious gesture of protection to the curve of her belly.
"Hey," Andy choked out, forcing a smile onto her face, "we are going to meet these babies, Miranda. I won't promise, because you asked me not to. But I believe with everything in me that we are meant to have these babies, and to raise them, together. Now come on, we're going to buy these today. Although I'm sure in a month's time, the designer offerings will be pouring in. I saw the card Donatella sent you when the news first broke, believe me, the only reason these babies might not get a chance to wear all their clothes will have to do with sheer quantity."
Miranda's fingertips trailed over the soft cashmere, feeling the fine fabric and picturing it on a tiny warm body so that she could almost feel the imaginary weight of the infant in her arms and wondered if she could ever explain, even to Andrea, how her arms ached to feel that weight and the warmth of that tiny body cradled against her chest.
Once they were safely back in the chauffeured car, away from the possibly prying eyes and listening ears of shop assistants, Miranda spoke more freely at Andy's gentle probing of her previous comments. "If I fail at this, everything, I have failed everything precious in my life. My family, the girls being big sisters, your chance to be a mother…"
"I am getting the chance to be a mom. Caroline and Cassidy may not be babies, and I'm always going to regret not being able to see them learn to walk and talk and their first piano recitals and scraped knees, but they're still my daughters and they still need me, need us, need their parents. They've still got a lot of growing up to do and I'm so grateful that I get to be a part of that," here she paused, smirking slightly as she pushed a stray piece of hair back behind Miranda's ear. "Although you may need to remind me of that fact when they're teenagers and we catch them sneaking out in the middle of the night or skipping school and mouthing off."
Tonight was the gala that closed Fashion Week, and an event Miranda couldn't afford to miss. It did, however, provide the perfect opportunity to 'announce' their engagement to the press. Not that they would offer an official statement until asked, but Andy's insistence that she was never taking off the ring made the question of whether or not they would keep the news of their engagement from the press a moot one, not to mention one that charmed Miranda into an extended session of celebratory lovemaking once they had gotten back to the hotel and removed any thoughts of a nap from Andrea's mind.
Despite Miranda's insistence she was feeling much better, Andy was grateful to see Miranda take a short nap before dinner, although whether that well-needed rest was borne from common sense or sexual exhaustion Andy couldn't be sure.
Coming out of the bathroom where she'd just taken a shower, Andy smiled as she took in the sprawled, sleeping form of her lover, fiancée, she corrected herself in her mind gleefully.
One arm flung over her head and the other curled around her pillow, Miranda slept on, oblivious to the brunette's musings as she took in the awkward position of the editor presumably undertaken in a quest to find some comfortable position to sleep. Pillows lined her back, two more tucked underneath her legs and between her knees and one wedged beneath her belly to even out the odd incline. A soft but distinctive snore met her ears and she bit her lip to keep from laughing, knowing that Miranda wouldn't be amused at the explanation of pregnancy-induced sinusitis that was causing the distinctly unladylike noise.
It was moments like that Andy could almost forget the woman in her bed was 'La Priestly', and an icon she grudgingly had to share with the world as the forbearer of fashion. In those moments she was just Miranda. An hour later, however, as they got ready for the gala, Andy recalled with sudden clarity the absolute absurdity and the sheer impossibility of their coupling as 'Miranda Priestly' emerged from the closet in the Zuhair Murad gown she had before only seen sketches of - and the reality of the lush constellation of skin and stars as the fabric twinkled was so much better than any pathetic scratching or artist's rendering could ever accomplish.
Thousands upon thousands of tiny beads caught the candlelight, the warm champagne-hued silver casting its own glow upon the room as the metallic threads shimmered and hazed across ones vision.
Painstaking needlework had resulted in intricate patterns that flowed over every inch of the dress, demurely but clearly outlining the deepened curves of the editor and extolling her current state of ripeness and femininity.
Sheer three-quarter length sleeves gave a further illusion of modesty even as the deeply draping chiffon at the front and back of the dress gave tantalizing glimpses of the curve of a breast and softly framed the lithe musculature of her back.
"I am so, so lucky," Andrea breathed, tears springing to her eyes as she took in the sight of the woman she was going to marry, facing the mirror, neck arched gracefully as she demurred to Andrea to zip her up. The liquidity of the dress in motion was poetry, and Andrea once again found herself dry mouthed as Miranda turned on her heel, flaring the hem of her dress to make sure nothing was out of place.
"You know they'll all think you've lost your mind, or that the stress of the trial and the later-in-life pregnancy have finally gotten to you. Why else would Miranda Priestly choose the smart, fat girl from Ohio."
"Nonsense. If they have any sense at all, then the moment they see, or failing that, speak to you, they will understand instantly why an aging, ice queen would seek out such an exquisite, young creature through whom she could try to recapture her youth and vitality. But say what you like darling, our reasons are our own, and not even entirely understood by us if we're brutally honest."
The tension in Andy's shoulders eased as she took in the almost flippant tone of Miranda's voice. To someone on the outside, it might look as though Miranda was brushing off the younger woman's concerns, but Andrea knew that Miranda's comments were sincere, and she was unconcerned with what people would think because of her own certainty in her relationship with Andrea. No, Andrea Sachs wasn't burned, and didn't fear the fire of the 'Dragon Lady'. Instead she was warmed by it, protected by the flames.
"Miranda, how far along are you now?"
"Any problems with the pregnancy?"
"Do you know the sexes? Are you going to find out?"
"Who's going to take over Runway?"
"Is it Jaqueline Follet? Will Jaqueline be the new choice for American Runway?"
As the car pulled up to the VIP entrance to the gala, Andy laid her hand over Miranda's arm before she could move to exit the vehicle. "Just wait a sec until security's moved the paparazzi."
"Darling," Miranda squeezed her nervous lover's hand. "I will not," she corrected herself - smiling as she lifted Andrea's left hand to press her lips to the newly appointed diamond. "We will not be dictated to by the press, nor will we stop living our lives. There is plenty of security and you can be assured they know not to let anyone near the guests."
Andrea continued to worry her bottom lip with her teeth and Miranda took out a tube of lipstick from her clutch to reapply the younger woman's makeup. "I know it's difficult and it can be scary. But I have been doing this much longer than you have, darling."
The noise outside rose and fell again and Andy's eyes flickered nervously out the window and then back to Miranda, who brought her hands to rest on either side of her belly. "We're fine, Andrea."
"I love you…so much," Andy whispered and Miranda's face broke into a rare, full smile that never failed to steal Andy's breath and heart.
"And I you. Now come, let me have my moment of glory in showing the world the fair maiden the fearsome dragon lady has managed to snare."
Andy snorted as she shook her head smiling and followed Miranda out of the car into the blinding lights of the Paris evening, "sweet talker."
Miranda watched as her fiancée skillfully manoeuvred through the invasive questions of the paparazzi as they were separated on the red carpet. Blue eyes trailed appreciatively from Coleen Atwood pumps up a long, lean body, feasting on the banquet of bare skin before coming to rest on the gold lame Zac Posen that hit a good four inches above the knee.
"You don't think this is a little over the top?" the brunette had asked as they were getting ready in the suite several hours earlier. "I mean, the dress is fantastic don't get me wrong. It's sexy and sculptural and chic, but next to you…" she gestured towards Miranda, "I don't know, isn't it going to look contrived or like I'm trying too hard?"
"Andrea, you are young and beautiful and meant to be wearing and testing the limits of what fashion has to offer, especially as my partner and attending a Fashion Week event in Paris. As for myself, although I may be the arbiter of all things fashionable, I cannot at my age and my 'condition'," Miranda grimaced at the word as she always did, hating its connotations and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Wear the types of clothing and garments I would choose to feature in Runway. So to answer your question, no, no, I do not think it's too much. In fact when I chose it for you I did so because I thought the two gowns together would make a fitting visual representation and statement regarding our relationship."
"Just as long as that statement isn't gold-digger, okay?" Andy joked before leaning over for a quick kiss to let Miranda know she wasn't serious in her description of herself.
Miranda's wandering mind was yanked sharply back down to the present at the next questions from the ravening journalistsl "Andy! Taking on 4 children and a women who's driven away THREE husbands, the last with whom she is now embroiled in a bitter settlement. There's gotta be another reason."
Andy's eyes flashed darkly, although when she spoke her voice was measured but light. "Reason? I don't think there is a reason that could satisfy what I'll guess to be is your frankly limited definition."
Andy felt a warm hand settle at the small of her back as Miranda came to stand beside her, skillfully manoeuvring the younger woman away from the first reporter and drawing her into her own conversation seamlessly.
"What do you think, darling?" Miranda turned back to the reporter, "Andrea has written several articles about the protocols for city and event planning…"
Once they were inside the building, Andy turned to Miranda. "Miranda, I'm sorry," she began.
"It's alright; and you know how I cherish how protective you are. But there are always going to be those who ask inappropriate questions, or question our intentions and cast stones. If you try to fight each one, the only thing you will accomplish is in making it so that you spend your entire life fighting, which will only fuel their fire."
"I know that, I do, I swear. It's just…they make me hate what I do and then I start to question everything and I hate that even more…"
"Let them say what they will, Andrea, it will not hurt me so long as it doesn't hurt the ones I love, which most certainly includes you, darling. So don't give them the satisfaction. If they want to call me old and foolish and decrepit, let them, I have what I most desire."
"Are you kidding?" Andy looked around the room and then back at Miranda incredulously. "Believe me Miranda when I say that most every man in this room and quite a few women too I'm sure would gladly give their right arm or their lifetime rights to Prada if it meant they had a chance to fuck you."
"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, as an aspiring journalist, Andrea, surely you could find a more salient turn of phrase. I'd prefer it if that language were confined to the bedroom and the act it infers."
Andy just smiled. "Noted, but this time I did choose that word specifically…because those people I mentioned would willingly fuck you, and you could have sex with anyone, if you chose to; but as long as I'm alive Miranda, no one is going to make love to you but me."
At this, Miranda shook her head, her lips curving up ruefully as she shook her head gently. "Sweet talker…"
"C'mere, gorgeous girl, dance with me." As they'd been talking Andy had slowly been leading them towards the dance floor."
"Andrea, please," Miranda scoffed lightly, seeing the younger woman's intent flash dangerously in dark brown eyes. "I'm 5 months pregnant, I'm not exactly light on my feet."
Ignoring the older woman's feeble protests, Andrea only smiled wider as she pulled Miranda closer to her. But before they could move fully onto the dance floor, they were halted by the familiar, unpleasant tones of one Irving Ravitz.
"Miranda, I understand I'm to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. Am I permitted to ask if the wedding will take place before or after the birth of your children, or perhaps after the trial of said children's father. I suppose you'll need to wait until your last marriage is dissolved, or has the trial taken care of that as well?"
"You can ask, but that doesn't mean we'll tell," Andy's voice and expression were suitably light and teasing, but before she had had a chance to mask it, Miranda had seen the steely flash of anger and could feel the younger woman's hold which had been draped lightly around her side tighten protectively at the man's attempts to unnerve the editor.
But Miranda had had far too much experience to be moved by the empty threats of an impotent bully like Irv, and she turned elegantly, still within Andrea's embrace so that she was once more facing the younger woman.
"I believe you were going to ask me to dance?"
And whatever the accompanying text would say in the papers the next morning, there could be no mistaking the beauty of the women on the dance floor or the happiness and love radiating from both.
Walking out into the cool evening air, Andy shivered, the gold micro-mini doing little to protect her from the elements.
Pulling her creamy beige mink from around her shoulders, Miranda draped it around the brunette's bare shoulders.
"Miranda, you'll catch a chill. I'll be fine."
"Nonsense," Miranda scoffed, waving off the younger woman's attempt to hand her back the wrap. "Andrea, there is more than twice the average amount of blood flowing through my body at the moment, not to mention the added weight. I assure you, temperature-wise I'm quite comfortable."
"Temperature wise?"
Miranda grimaced slightly. "You may be called upon this evening for a foot massage if soaking them doesn't help the swelling go down," she admitted ruefully as she eyed the studded Giuseppe Zannotti's cutting into the now puffy flesh of her feet. "Besides, I am the one who dressed you for this evening, so I should bear at least part of the blame for your current discomfort."
"I think you just wanted to gloat a little."
Miranda smirked slightly, turning her head and affecting indifference although the glint in her eyes and the way they travelled up the length of the brunette's body gave her away and Andy laughed as she ducked around to steal a kiss from the smirking mouth. However she couldn't have guessed the next words that came out of Miranda's mouth.
"Do you suppose there are any cafes still open at this time of night?"
Andy quirked an eyebrow, "I saw a sign at Jacques' that said it didn't close till 10. We could probably still make it if we hurry. Why?"
Miranda did her best to look nonchalant, "I simply thought perhaps a sandwich would be pleasant before retiring."
"Mmm, okay," Andy played along. "And what would be on this sandwich?"
"Nothing elaborate," the older woman suddenly found the clasp on her clutch very interesting as she avoided Andy's amused grin. "Perhaps some cheese, toasted…"
"Miranda, my love, are you asking for a grilled cheese sandwich?" Andy's eyes twinkled merrily as a grin threatened to split her cheeks. "I think I might be rubbing off on you…That or these babies really DO share my genes."
"Really Andrea, you make it sound as if I'm some sort of insatiable glutton. It was simply an opinion I thought to voice, but if the thought is so appalling…"
"Nooo, sweetheart, I'll go and get your grilled cheese," Andy bit her lip to hide her smile as she attempted to mollify the pouting editor, who of course Andy knew, in a million years would never admit she was pouting over grilled cheese.
Miranda merely sniffed and turned away, shrugging an elegant shoulder as if to say 'do as you wish'.
Still smiling, Andy called for a second car to pick her up as Miranda stepped into the first that would take her back to the hotel.
Miranda, who in fairly short order had demolished her own sandwich and half of Andrea's the moment after it had been half-jokingly offered to her. Laying her head on Andrea's chest, Miranda unclasped the front of her dressing gown and moved the younger woman's hands to her stomach, gesturing to the stretch mark oil on the bedside table. The babies' movements were calm and sleepy now that her craving had been sated, and Miranda hoped that Andrea's touch would do the rest of the work of getting them to sleep so that she could finally attain the sleep and the rest that had eluded her in Andrea's absence.
Andy wrinkled her nose as she brought the bottle back over to the bed and Miranda opened her mouth to ask the younger woman what was wrong when the brunette climbed back on the bed still frowning. However after a moment, it became clear what the problem was as she reluctantly slid the engagement ring off her finger to set it on the bedside table. "I don't want to get it gross with the oil but I said I wouldn't take it off." Now it was Andy's turn to look adorably disgruntled, and with some difficulty Miranda managed to sit up and kiss the plump, pink pouting lips.
"You've made me so happy, Andrea."
"If I'd known all it was going to take was some fried cheese and bread, I would have tried it long ago," Andy teased before wincing and laughing at the sharp, unamused prod Miranda gave her. "Hey! Do you want this massage or not?" Andy threatened playfully as she folded long legs beneath her, wiggling her oil-slicked fingers in the air.
"You wouldn't withhold that from me," Miranda purred confidently. But what most would see as arrogance and ego was belied by the love that shone from blue eyes as they met brown.
"Mmm, no I wouldn't," Andy capitulated. "You're just lucky I love you so much," she teased.
"I am," Miranda breathed, even as sleep overtook her, "I'm so lucky…"
Andy watched the even rise and fall of Miranda's chest as she slept, her eyes skimming across the peaceful features to the elegant neck and the rise of her breasts, and the even more prominent rise of her belly.
Pulling the covers over both of them, Andy curled around Miranda, who shifted slightly in her sleep until she was wrapped in the younger woman's arms, head underneath her chin with one of Andy's knees propped between her own to take the pressure off of her spine.
They were scheduled to fly back to New York first thing the next morning, and after the events of the day before and the late night, this was only made bearable by the fact that the Runway team would now be taking the Elias Clarke jet, courtesy of Donatella Versace's bullying of Irv Ravitz the previous evening at the closing gala.
"Surely, it's a matter of economics is it not, Irving? If not, then a matter of…que cosa, what do you call it? Ah, chivalry. Surely it makes more sense to use the jet to fly a team of people back rather than one man, no? Save the money for so many tickets? Besides," the flamboyant Italian waved a fuschia-taloned hand in the air dismissively, "You are lucky to have Miranda here at all, flying across the Atlantic twice in one week and attending all these shows in her condition." She turned away from the smaller man as though the matter had been settled, but Irv hadn't quite given up, proving what Nigel had said at their first meeting about 'tiny man, huge ego'.
"Ms. Versace, I'm not sure my assistant would be able to get a flight out so late in the day, and I need to be back in New York tonight, and then there's the time difference, I don't know if she'd have her phone."
"Nonsense! That is her job is it not? If she cannot perform her duties, relieve her of them."
Ah, Andy thought, now she saw where Miranda had mimicked a certain trait from.
During this exchange, Andy had discretely removed her phone from her clutch and now held it up, smiling brightly as she broke into the conversation.
"It's done!" she beamed guilelessly, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with Miranda and Irv for entirely opposite reasons. Shrugging innocently at the looks being tossed her way, two being deeply amused and one enraged before all schooled their features almost instantaneously into polite versions of their true feelings, Andy quickly sent the booking confirmation to Irv's phone. "Once an assistant," she joked lightly before she turned slightly into Miranda's embrace as the older woman's arm wrapped around her waist, Miranda's barely concealed look of triumph and amusement quickly replaced by one of abject innocence to match her fiancees as she smoothed a hand over her belly to subtly underscore the Italian's words.
"Mr. Ravitz, you are scheduled to fly out this evening at 11:26, Gate 5 at Charles de Gaulle and the Elias Clarke flight crew has been instructed to transfer your luggage and print your boarding pass which will be waiting for you at the gate with a porter in the executive lounge."
"Donatella," Miranda chuckled darkly, shaking her head as she embraced her long-time friend with a kiss to each cheek. "Did you get my letter of thanks for the pieces you sent over for me?"
"Those white, wide legged trousers are a personal favourite", murmured Andy, her hand resting just above the asset the pants showed off to such perfection.
The older Italian chuckled, "There's a leather jacket I'll be sending over soon that I believe you'll particularly like."
Miranda quirked an eyebrow, Donatella's proclivity for leather had often been a source of their disagreements regarding what should be in fashion.
"Don't worry, Miranda. It's very subtle - the structure is very much that of a blazer that goes into an asymmetrical lambskin drape at the hem, so no need to worry about buttons or zippers. And of course, there are a few things in the works for the babies." Donatella had moved from embracing Miranda to placing her hands on the editors belly as she spoke. Andy was amazed that Miranda was tolerating this, especially in public, but she supposed Miranda HAD been friends with the woman for years, and she was grateful to her for her help with Irv and the diffusion of what could have been an ugly situation…
Knowing their flight was set to leave Charles de Gaulle at 7am, they had mutually agreed on a 5 am wake up call, but Andy wasn't surprised when she found the space next to her in bed already cold and empty when she woke the next morning.
"It seems the East Coast wasn't quite as prepared as we thought to hear about our engagement." Miranda flicked through the pile of newspapers from where she sat on one of the stiff armchairs across the room, already perfectly coiffed and dressed, scanning the headlines on the front pages.
"Are you regretting it now?" Andy asked softly from the bed, crossing her legs as she sat up, now fully awake.
"What?" Miranda looked up. "No! No, Andrea, that isn't what I meant at all. I simply meant that I should have thought about the backlash for the girls while we were on a different continent, and that perhaps I should have planned it so that we would be there for them when the news broke.
"Did you tell them you were going to propose?"
"They knew I had the ring and that I was going to bring it to Paris with me, but beyond that even I didn't know when or how I was going to propose."
"Miranda Priestly not have a plan?"
"Perhaps that's because with you, I'm not frightened of the outcome if I don't."
"You say the sweetest things." Andy had gotten out of bed and sauntered over to the other woman
"Well don't let it get out, I believe I'll need all my available 'firepower' and fear-mongering skills to deal with the press back in New York." Miranda rose from the stiff armchair and met her fiancée halfway with a cup of coffee which the younger woman accepted gratefully.
"Besides, it's not like we're getting married immediately. There's still so much that needs to happen and fall into place before we can even think of starting to plan any sort of ceremony or event. I've said before that I will not be married while I am so heavily and unattractively pregnant, and so assuming that I am able to carry these babies to at least 36 weeks that makes 13 weeks from today, plus another six after that."
"Okay, ignoring the 'unattractively and heavily pregnant' comment which is so NOT true…Another six?" Andy questioned.
There was a predatory flash in Miranda's eyes as she moved back to Andy's side, pulling the younger woman's body flush against her own so that she could whisper into her ear. "I believe that's what all those books on your bedside table say is the correct timeline to resume sexual relations…and I very much plan on consummating the wedding night."
"Oh God, Mira, you can't say things like that," Andy moaned, her voice catching and growing huskier as the lips that had been teasing the shell of her ear and ghosting over her neck suddenly bit down on her shoulder. She gasped, "Ohhh, the papers are right, you ARE evil."
In case it had slipped your mind because of the ENORMOUS amount of words since the author's note, please pander to the muse & comment!