Fic: Playing House
Title: Playing House (1/2)
Author: avenavs
Pairing: Miranda- Andrea
Rating: NC-17 *wink*
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. These characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. Any other characters are from the author.
Summary: "For two incredibly talented and intelligent women, you both are slow on the uptake."
A/N: SO it's my birthday and I thought of posting this now instead of this December. You know, a little something from me to you, like a gift. :) Dedicated to Sky And flaming godmother. XD And a shout out to my beta for this, cannonball_312 , dear,. you rock my socks. XD :D So....happy birthday to me? XD hopefully posting the next part this week. :) Enjoy!
A/N: oh yeah, I'm really in a bad shape today, like I'm currently having an asthma attack but look! I'm all giddy and acting like I'm not catching my breath. Simply because it's my birthday. Today makes me forget I'm all dark and twisty even for a few days. I love Nov. 21st. :)
Andy slips the key into the doorknob of the townhouse. She goes in, removes her coat and hangs it up on the coat closet. She clacks into the hall going to the kitchen when she spots a wool scarf hanging on the arm of Miranda’s plush sofa. She picks it up without breaking her stride and proceeds to the end of the hall where the hamper is located. She drops the scarf on the hamper and unbuttons the cuff of her long sleeves as she walks back into the kitchen. She flicks the switch for the espresso machine as she locates the fresh ground beans she buys every two days in the drawer nearest her.
She rolls her sleeves carefully, mindful of would be creases if they are not wound back properly. She hums a song as she puts the grinds on the machine and lets it do its job. She then opens cupboards and prepares what is needed for a hefty breakfast. Only she and Miranda’s previous cook knows the editor- in- chief of Runway’s food secret: the white- haired fashionista eats like a normal human being during breakfast, of course the calories are counted, but Miranda never skips her breakfast. And once she even made this clear to Andy herself, chastising the brunette to eat her own portion of the heavy breakfast because it’s what the body uses to sustain itself the whole day, even if they don’t eat anything. Andy sighs amusedly when she remembers this as she heats the olive oil in a shallow pan.
She reaches for the fridge door, and grabs four eggs with some Portobello mushrooms and cream. She beats the eggs after she slices the mushrooms thinly. She lets the mushrooms sizzle on the olive oil as she adds a pinch of salt and twice the same amount of pepper on the egg mix. She hear the espresso machine so she turns down the heat of the mushrooms so it can caramelize, as she takes Miranda’s mug from one side of the enormous kitchen. She creates the perfect latte and sets it aside. Miranda like her coffee nuclear hot as the day proceeds but she loves her coffee in the mornings which is not going to startle her awake. Andy knows that too. She smirks at the coffee before cooking the eggs on the caramelized mushrooms. When the eggs are nearly done, she splashes some cream on the mix and whisks it gently to make a fluffy concoction.
She plates it for two and grabs the ciabatta loaf on the bread box and slices them into thin strips. She pops them into the toaster as she grabs the coffee cooled to a simmer walks down the hall, passing by the closet to retrieve Miranda’s dry- cleaning and proceeding upstairs into Miranda’s room. She opens the door and places the mug on Miranda’s side table drawer. She can’t help but smirk on the sight she sees.
A head of white hair is the only thing visible on a messy clump of pillows and coverlets on the ginormous bed. Andy taps her lip with her index finger. She then brightens up and she shakes her head as she proceeds to part the curtains to let in some sunlight. She goes inside Miranda’s walk in closet and puts the dry cleaning on the hook. Miranda groans from her pillow trap,
“Could you put those down?”
Andy chuckles, “No, I won’t because it’s the print deadline today and you need to get up, your coffee’s warm enough. You’re going to be late. You don’t want Jane to cry again do you? She just barely made it as your second assistant now she’s going nuts as your first. Give her some credit.” the brunette gathers the strewn blankets and pillows from the floor and begins to fold and fluff them. When she was done with that, Andy still can’t help a little sigh of admiration as she sees Miranda in her black silk nightgown, which makes her skin glow sensually and the scruffy bed hair Miranda has when she gets up grumpily from her bed. She busies herself in tidying Miranda’s bed. The editor stands up and stretches lazily like a cat and grabs her coffee mug on the table.
“I don’t want babies on my office. Remind me to fire her if she forgets to do one thing I ask her today.” Miranda sips her coffee and hums in delight. Only Andy is able to make her perfect coffee besides her. Andy makes an agreeing sound and finishes folding up the bed.
“Breakfast’s ready in five. Tidy up Ice Queen, you have a lot of scaring to do today.” Andy says as she walks past Miranda, who just grumbles her agreement and speeds down the stairs to check on her ciabatta. They are nicely browned and popped up from the toaster. She puts them down on plates and gets the ham and butter from the fridge. As she sets down the plates, she hears quiet padding from the hallway. Miranda shows up in her grey robe and her hair that was a head of messy goodness is now tamed a little-she holds the Book on one hand and the coffee mug on the other. Andy refills Miranda’s mug with more coffee and watches the editor place her glasses on that patrician nose and flick through the final pages of the Book. Andy drinks her coffee and melts into the comfortable silence of the kitchen. She remembers the first time that this arrangement happened.
It all started 3 weeks after Paris. Andy cannot go to sleep and even with her new job as a journalist at the Mirror, she still felt empty. Like a part of her was pulled away from her being. So she tried to do 48- hour shifts and chased down stories even though it didn’t make the first few pages of the newspaper. She killed herself working but she just feels emptier by the bucket, by the minute. She wanted to know what would calm her, and then it hit her.
She needed to make peace with the Ice Queen, the one who showed her that night in Paris that she’s not made of ice at all.
So one rainy, frantic night, after chasing three leads for a story that wasn’t going to the printers the next morning, Andy wandered aimlessly in Manhattan, until her feet found her in front of the steps of Miranda Priestly’s townhouse. She was tired, hungry and cold. If you add more shagginess to her clothing, she could pass as a beggar.
She hesitated for a while before pressing the doorbell. She hoped that Miranda would be the one who’d answer the door. She had no idea what time it was, she knew she’d be in deep shit but she’s already there. The door opened and tired brown eyes instantly connected with frantic, arctic blue ones.
When Miranda opened the door, she wasn’t prepared to see Andrea in a state of extreme exhaustion. She knew this type of exhaustion, because she experienced it once, in her earlier days as an editor of a small magazine back in France. But Andrea was not an editor and she wasn’t her. So it bothered her immensely, coupled with her confusion and irritation that someone had interrupted her cooking-something she rarely did because her cook was in the hospital and the twins were with their grandmothers, so need to call out for a delivery.
“Andrea? What do you think you’re-“
Even before the editrix was able to finish her sentence, the brunette fainted, her head and body colliding directly on the door, pushing Miranda off-balance and both of them landing on the floor, Andy on her side and Miranda on her backside.
Andy woke up, dizzy and disoriented, as she remembered where she fainted, she shot up from where she was sleeping on, which only made her dizzier and off- balanced. She looked around her vicinity through hazy eyes, she was in a bedroom, in clothes that weren’t hers and her hair was tied up on a neat ponytail. She was hyperventilating when she heard a voice through the hall,
“No, I don’t care if they don’t do deliveries. Get me that salmon or don’t bother showing up for work tomorrow. That’s all.”
Andy was frozen on her spot when Miranda entered, flipping her phone shut and throwing it on the table near the door. She abruptly stopped when she saw Andrea sitting up from her bed. Andrea gulped when their eyes met.
“M-Miranda.” Andy stuttered. Miranda lifted her chin and eyed Andy slowly. Her cheeks flushed when she had to remove Andrea’s clothes because she was wet and chilling, now they were flushing deeply again. She moved her head and stared at the soft blue paint of her bedroom.
“What were you thinking, coming here and passing out on my front door? What if the press saw you fainting and saw me carrying you up here?” her voice was soft and deadly. Andy never forgot that tone. The brunette stared at her lap and mumbled,
“I was supposed to say...that I can’t work properly because of you.”
One pale eyebrow raised slowly, “I am your reason why you can’t work properly? Do, pray tell Andrea, how come I become your reason for slacking at your job.” Miranda was positively irritated now more than ever thanks to Andy’s statement. Andy dared to look at the editor with determined eyes.
“Yes, because...I keep...” Andy’s last three words were inaudible. Miranda frowned before crossing her arms on her chest.
“You know very well how I like people talking in gibberish Andrea.”
Andy used her anger to power her statement. She took a deep breath and never backed down from the staring contest. She then said,
“I said I keep worrying about you. That’s why I can’t work. I keep thinking about your coffee, your schedules, meetings, Irv freaking Ravitz, Emily-if she could move around even if she’s on crutches, your press releases, Patricia...the twins..You.” Andy blushed furiously at the last word. She didn’t mean to blush, but she sort of admitted to the editor how she can’t work because she’s thinking about her. So fighting off her blush, she swallowed and then continued,
“I can’t work because...I know I’ve done you wrong. Leaving you so suddenly in Paris. And I can’t function properly knowing that I’ve...hurt you-made your situation more difficult than what it already was. The divorce, the twins, getting almost ousted by that sorry excuse of a man. Miranda, I worry about you.” Andy shook her head once and let her eyes drift back on her lap. Miranda uncrossed her arms and suddenly found the wall interesting. Then she cleared her throat.
“So you came here to get...absolution from me. Peace of mind so you can work properly.” It wasn’t even a question, but Andy knew she had to answer, to make the editor’s thoughts clear on why she was now inside a room in the editor’s belongings and talking to her like it was, for the lack of a better term, normal.
“No, I came here to apologize. And to...know how you’re doing-“
“You’re not indispensable Andrea.” Miranda was still looking at the wall, cursing herself inwardly for being so harsh at a person who just admitted that she worries about her every day since Paris.
Those words cut through Andy like a filleting knife. She knew that, she...she knew that. She felt warm tears flooding her vision as she whipped her head on the side to locate her clothes, they were nowhere in the vicinity. She stood up, still groggy and light- headed, and looked up at the soft blue ceiling of the room, preventing the sudden spill of tears.
“Well...uhm. So there. I’m sorry if I bothered you or your dinner. I’m not sorry that I had to leave Runway...” Andy let her head hang down, the movement causing her tears to flow down. She looked into Miranda’s blue eyes, concern and guilt flickering in them without the usual walls of difference Miranda always puts up whenever she’s talking to people other than her daughters. She tried to smile, but her lips were twitching.
“But I’m sorry if I had to leave you. I had to say that, I don’t want you to think otherwise. So uhm...I’ll leave now. I’ll just-return these clothes later. My apartment isn’t very far from here. Th-thank you for the time and for not letting me wait outside.” Andy was walking towards the door when in her midstride, Miranda called her out,
“Andrea.”
Andy paused as her hand reached for the doorknob. She didn’t dare turn around to face her former employer.
“Andrea.” The tone was soft and very gentle.
On that tone, Andy did turn around, her head hanging low. But through her teary eyes, she saw a pair of 5-inch black pumps standing a few inches away from her bare feet. She lifted her head and couldn’t suppress a gasp when her lips were so dangerously close to the editor’s. Her eyes were drawn to the lips in her level of sight, Miranda was taller than her since she’s barefoot and the editor was in her high heels. She gulped.
“Have you already eaten dinner?” Miranda said, her voice calm and normal, but her emotions were raging inside her. She knew the distance was inappropriate, but she didn’t expect the brunette to turn around. She was transfixed by the thick lowered lashes, hiding those brown orbs she kept seeing in her dreams. The same brown ones currently preoccupied by staring into her lips.
Andy on the other hand, just kept staring at those sinfully hypnotizing lips, afraid that moving her own puffy ones for an answer might accidentally brush with Miranda’s. She made a noise of disagreement that sounded more like a strangled guttural moan.
Both women had one thing in mind: kiss and taste those lips as much as they want. But they clamped down the urge and settled for the quick breaths caressing each other’s faces. After about an eternity, Miranda lifted a shaking hand and placed it on Andy’s hand, which was frozen on the doorknob. The movement made their chests brush together, and both of them stifled a moan. Miranda opened the door and went out into the second floor landing. The bright light showed how red Miranda’s neck and chest were since it was visible from the low cut blouse she was wearing for that evening.
“Let’s go down the kitchen and wait for dinner.” Miranda hurriedly said, her back still facing Andy, who was still partly hidden behind the door and the shadow created by the door in Miranda’s room.
Miranda went into the bathroom at the end of the hallway in the ground floor. She took a washcloth and ran it under the tap. She squeezed it and pressed it on her exposed chest. She was burning hot, like a fully lit furnace. What did just happen there? Why did she even helped the girl or listen her apologies? Something was wrong with her.
After five more minutes, she emerged from the bathroom. She heard sizzling and the smell of the sauce her salmon is served with. Her stomach grumbled. She was really hungry. But Miranda didn’t hear the door of the townhouse to open or close nor the clacking of her first assistant to put the food in the kitchen. When she did arrive in the kitchen, she saw Andrea cooking the sauce on her stove.
“I-I heard you’re having salmon? I know how you like your sauce that’s why...uhm...sorry if I tinkered around your kitchen.” Andrea said sheepishly. She turned back on the sauce and stirred again.
“You remembered how I like my salmon?” Miranda raised an eyebrow at her assistant who shrugged her shoulders and stared at the sauce before stirring it again. She saw a glass of what she assumed to be a Pellegrino from her refrigerator, now sitting patiently on a coaster, waiting for Miranda to drink it.
“Yes, the one you always order at Pastis when you’re extremely upset. But the sauce really makes your day.” Andy replied not once breaking her ministrations on the pot. Miranda sat on one of the stools in her kitchen and let a smile grace her lips.
“You know how to cook?” she said, as she traced the lip of the glass slowly, mesmerized on how the brunette opened several cabinets in search of whatever it was she was looking for.
“A bit, then again living with a cook for almost a year, some of the skill gets picked up eventually. Do you have white pepper?” Andy was now relaxed, babbling but relaxed. Miranda’s kitchen was huge compared to her new apartment. So she took advantage on her pent up libido and decided to snoop around the kitchen for the proposed dinner instead of following Miranda somewhere inside the house and ravage her. The kitchen is her refuge once writing and life becomes too taxing for her.
“White pepper is in the cabinet to your right, no, the other right. There’s an extra pair of salmon fillets in the freezer. I’ll cancel my order.”
Andy turned to tell Miranda that she’s fine and she only wanted to cook for the editor but Miranda had already vacated the stool and went to the hall to retrieve her cellphone
Andy suddenly bolts up from her chair and runs down the hall to grab her purse. She extracts her iPad and begins scrolling her stuff and updating Miranda’s schedule as she walks back to the kitchen. The white- haired woman is unfazed, she just continues her scrutiny of the Book as she nibbles her breakfast. Andy sits on the counter with her iPad and frowns as she taps furiously on it.
“Miranda, I’m bumping your lunch meeting with Lagerfeld to your afternoon meet with Irv. I’m putting your meeting with him at around 6pm. I’d put your dinner in the oven so it doesn’t cool down.” Andy looks up into Miranda’s icy glare and shrugs.
“What? Cassidy said you’ve been ignoring your biweekly lunch dates. You have a meeting with the features department at 10 and a run through at 11. But Roy will be taking you to Dr. Haley for your checkup. No buts buts on that one, you’ve been pencilled in for a month. You can’t cancel on that. I’m sending this schedule to Jane now.”
“Since when did you become in charge of my life again?” Miranda smirks into her coffee as Andy grabbed another ciabatta toast from the plate.
“Shut up. I have a meeting at 8 so I’ll go now. Have to catch the train.”
“Why does the associate editor for news of the Times go to her office by train? Call Roy.” Miranda waves her hand dismissively at Andy who fumbles around her purse for her notepad and pen. The editrix smirks and snorts softly.
“Associate editor huh? You still look like a meagre journalist to me.”
“Thanks for the praises Mira, really.” Andy rolls her eyes at a chuckling Miranda and tugs playfully at Miranda’s bathrobe, making the fabric slide sensually off Miranda’s bare shoulder as she walks past around her towards the foyer. Miranda grumbles something about indecency as she shifts it up and begins to collect the dishes they’ve used. It is an unspoken understanding of ten years that Miranda will always clean up the dishes after they finished eating. It has always been that way.
They had a wonderful night. Miranda never thought the brunette she’s been missing could whip up a meal and a pleasant conversation. They parted way after midnight but neither wanted the night to end. Andrea has been in the editor’s mind for the rest of the next day. She was moody because when she ordered the salmon dish for lunch they ate last night, it didn’t taste as wonderful as the brunette cooked it. She pursed her lips at the innocent salmon sitting on the bed of greens waiting for her to eat it. She wouldn’t eat that again, not if Andrea cooked it.
She called her second assistant to buy her steak. She was satisfied.
That night the twins were stuck at their father’s because of a terrible storm. Miranda was close to tearing her staff’s heads off and she almost hyperventilated while waiting for the call from her twins. Caroline and Cassidy were okay and they don’t mind being there since James’ girlfriend is stuck in a convenience store and their father can’t go there too. Only then did Miranda stopped freaking worrying so much when she understood that James wasn’t going anywhere for the safety of their children.
There were only harsh rains and winds, so with a warm cup of soup she retreated into her room, thinking of what Andrea could possibly cook at this kind of weather. She frowned mentally at herself for being so obsessed with the doe- eyed girl, they’ve only made peace with each other last night, never mind the fact that she almost kissed the woman several times while she was sleeping and that confrontation at her door.
She melted at her sheets, remembering how peaceful Andrea’s face was during the time she spent there. Was it her exhaustion that made her smell the girl’s scent on her pillows?
She was about to close her eyes when her doorbell rang. She growled and looked at her wall clock.
9:47pm. Who in their right mind would interrupt her this late? It’s not her assistant because she claimed the Book herself before going home. She wrapped herself in her robe and trudged downstairs and walked towards the door, pulling it with the force of a bear, ready to bite the head off of the person who even dared to climb the stairs of her townhouse-
“Hello Miranda.”
It was Andrea. Underneath a big black umbrella. Carrying a basket.
“What on earth-“
“I-I have this-uhm, I cooked you dinner.”
Miranda stared incredulously at Andrea for a moment. The silly girl was in a trench coat and jeans tucked into knee-high flat boots. All non-designer. Her hair was in a messy bun, strands of her chocolate curls begin haphazardly blown away by the wind.
“Uhm...sorry to bother you this late but...I can’t...uhm...I’ll better go.”
Miranda blinked twice and remembered the last words of the girl who was already at the gate of her townhouse.
“Andrea, stop frolicking in the rain and get in.”
Author: avenavs
Pairing: Miranda- Andrea
Rating: NC-17 *wink*
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. These characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. Any other characters are from the author.
Summary: "For two incredibly talented and intelligent women, you both are slow on the uptake."
A/N: SO it's my birthday and I thought of posting this now instead of this December. You know, a little something from me to you, like a gift. :) Dedicated to Sky And flaming godmother. XD And a shout out to my beta for this, cannonball_312 , dear,. you rock my socks. XD :D So....happy birthday to me? XD hopefully posting the next part this week. :) Enjoy!
A/N: oh yeah, I'm really in a bad shape today, like I'm currently having an asthma attack but look! I'm all giddy and acting like I'm not catching my breath. Simply because it's my birthday. Today makes me forget I'm all dark and twisty even for a few days. I love Nov. 21st. :)
Andy slips the key into the doorknob of the townhouse. She goes in, removes her coat and hangs it up on the coat closet. She clacks into the hall going to the kitchen when she spots a wool scarf hanging on the arm of Miranda’s plush sofa. She picks it up without breaking her stride and proceeds to the end of the hall where the hamper is located. She drops the scarf on the hamper and unbuttons the cuff of her long sleeves as she walks back into the kitchen. She flicks the switch for the espresso machine as she locates the fresh ground beans she buys every two days in the drawer nearest her.
She rolls her sleeves carefully, mindful of would be creases if they are not wound back properly. She hums a song as she puts the grinds on the machine and lets it do its job. She then opens cupboards and prepares what is needed for a hefty breakfast. Only she and Miranda’s previous cook knows the editor- in- chief of Runway’s food secret: the white- haired fashionista eats like a normal human being during breakfast, of course the calories are counted, but Miranda never skips her breakfast. And once she even made this clear to Andy herself, chastising the brunette to eat her own portion of the heavy breakfast because it’s what the body uses to sustain itself the whole day, even if they don’t eat anything. Andy sighs amusedly when she remembers this as she heats the olive oil in a shallow pan.
She reaches for the fridge door, and grabs four eggs with some Portobello mushrooms and cream. She beats the eggs after she slices the mushrooms thinly. She lets the mushrooms sizzle on the olive oil as she adds a pinch of salt and twice the same amount of pepper on the egg mix. She hear the espresso machine so she turns down the heat of the mushrooms so it can caramelize, as she takes Miranda’s mug from one side of the enormous kitchen. She creates the perfect latte and sets it aside. Miranda like her coffee nuclear hot as the day proceeds but she loves her coffee in the mornings which is not going to startle her awake. Andy knows that too. She smirks at the coffee before cooking the eggs on the caramelized mushrooms. When the eggs are nearly done, she splashes some cream on the mix and whisks it gently to make a fluffy concoction.
She plates it for two and grabs the ciabatta loaf on the bread box and slices them into thin strips. She pops them into the toaster as she grabs the coffee cooled to a simmer walks down the hall, passing by the closet to retrieve Miranda’s dry- cleaning and proceeding upstairs into Miranda’s room. She opens the door and places the mug on Miranda’s side table drawer. She can’t help but smirk on the sight she sees.
A head of white hair is the only thing visible on a messy clump of pillows and coverlets on the ginormous bed. Andy taps her lip with her index finger. She then brightens up and she shakes her head as she proceeds to part the curtains to let in some sunlight. She goes inside Miranda’s walk in closet and puts the dry cleaning on the hook. Miranda groans from her pillow trap,
“Could you put those down?”
Andy chuckles, “No, I won’t because it’s the print deadline today and you need to get up, your coffee’s warm enough. You’re going to be late. You don’t want Jane to cry again do you? She just barely made it as your second assistant now she’s going nuts as your first. Give her some credit.” the brunette gathers the strewn blankets and pillows from the floor and begins to fold and fluff them. When she was done with that, Andy still can’t help a little sigh of admiration as she sees Miranda in her black silk nightgown, which makes her skin glow sensually and the scruffy bed hair Miranda has when she gets up grumpily from her bed. She busies herself in tidying Miranda’s bed. The editor stands up and stretches lazily like a cat and grabs her coffee mug on the table.
“I don’t want babies on my office. Remind me to fire her if she forgets to do one thing I ask her today.” Miranda sips her coffee and hums in delight. Only Andy is able to make her perfect coffee besides her. Andy makes an agreeing sound and finishes folding up the bed.
“Breakfast’s ready in five. Tidy up Ice Queen, you have a lot of scaring to do today.” Andy says as she walks past Miranda, who just grumbles her agreement and speeds down the stairs to check on her ciabatta. They are nicely browned and popped up from the toaster. She puts them down on plates and gets the ham and butter from the fridge. As she sets down the plates, she hears quiet padding from the hallway. Miranda shows up in her grey robe and her hair that was a head of messy goodness is now tamed a little-she holds the Book on one hand and the coffee mug on the other. Andy refills Miranda’s mug with more coffee and watches the editor place her glasses on that patrician nose and flick through the final pages of the Book. Andy drinks her coffee and melts into the comfortable silence of the kitchen. She remembers the first time that this arrangement happened.
It all started 3 weeks after Paris. Andy cannot go to sleep and even with her new job as a journalist at the Mirror, she still felt empty. Like a part of her was pulled away from her being. So she tried to do 48- hour shifts and chased down stories even though it didn’t make the first few pages of the newspaper. She killed herself working but she just feels emptier by the bucket, by the minute. She wanted to know what would calm her, and then it hit her.
She needed to make peace with the Ice Queen, the one who showed her that night in Paris that she’s not made of ice at all.
So one rainy, frantic night, after chasing three leads for a story that wasn’t going to the printers the next morning, Andy wandered aimlessly in Manhattan, until her feet found her in front of the steps of Miranda Priestly’s townhouse. She was tired, hungry and cold. If you add more shagginess to her clothing, she could pass as a beggar.
She hesitated for a while before pressing the doorbell. She hoped that Miranda would be the one who’d answer the door. She had no idea what time it was, she knew she’d be in deep shit but she’s already there. The door opened and tired brown eyes instantly connected with frantic, arctic blue ones.
When Miranda opened the door, she wasn’t prepared to see Andrea in a state of extreme exhaustion. She knew this type of exhaustion, because she experienced it once, in her earlier days as an editor of a small magazine back in France. But Andrea was not an editor and she wasn’t her. So it bothered her immensely, coupled with her confusion and irritation that someone had interrupted her cooking-something she rarely did because her cook was in the hospital and the twins were with their grandmothers, so need to call out for a delivery.
“Andrea? What do you think you’re-“
Even before the editrix was able to finish her sentence, the brunette fainted, her head and body colliding directly on the door, pushing Miranda off-balance and both of them landing on the floor, Andy on her side and Miranda on her backside.
Andy woke up, dizzy and disoriented, as she remembered where she fainted, she shot up from where she was sleeping on, which only made her dizzier and off- balanced. She looked around her vicinity through hazy eyes, she was in a bedroom, in clothes that weren’t hers and her hair was tied up on a neat ponytail. She was hyperventilating when she heard a voice through the hall,
“No, I don’t care if they don’t do deliveries. Get me that salmon or don’t bother showing up for work tomorrow. That’s all.”
Andy was frozen on her spot when Miranda entered, flipping her phone shut and throwing it on the table near the door. She abruptly stopped when she saw Andrea sitting up from her bed. Andrea gulped when their eyes met.
“M-Miranda.” Andy stuttered. Miranda lifted her chin and eyed Andy slowly. Her cheeks flushed when she had to remove Andrea’s clothes because she was wet and chilling, now they were flushing deeply again. She moved her head and stared at the soft blue paint of her bedroom.
“What were you thinking, coming here and passing out on my front door? What if the press saw you fainting and saw me carrying you up here?” her voice was soft and deadly. Andy never forgot that tone. The brunette stared at her lap and mumbled,
“I was supposed to say...that I can’t work properly because of you.”
One pale eyebrow raised slowly, “I am your reason why you can’t work properly? Do, pray tell Andrea, how come I become your reason for slacking at your job.” Miranda was positively irritated now more than ever thanks to Andy’s statement. Andy dared to look at the editor with determined eyes.
“Yes, because...I keep...” Andy’s last three words were inaudible. Miranda frowned before crossing her arms on her chest.
“You know very well how I like people talking in gibberish Andrea.”
Andy used her anger to power her statement. She took a deep breath and never backed down from the staring contest. She then said,
“I said I keep worrying about you. That’s why I can’t work. I keep thinking about your coffee, your schedules, meetings, Irv freaking Ravitz, Emily-if she could move around even if she’s on crutches, your press releases, Patricia...the twins..You.” Andy blushed furiously at the last word. She didn’t mean to blush, but she sort of admitted to the editor how she can’t work because she’s thinking about her. So fighting off her blush, she swallowed and then continued,
“I can’t work because...I know I’ve done you wrong. Leaving you so suddenly in Paris. And I can’t function properly knowing that I’ve...hurt you-made your situation more difficult than what it already was. The divorce, the twins, getting almost ousted by that sorry excuse of a man. Miranda, I worry about you.” Andy shook her head once and let her eyes drift back on her lap. Miranda uncrossed her arms and suddenly found the wall interesting. Then she cleared her throat.
“So you came here to get...absolution from me. Peace of mind so you can work properly.” It wasn’t even a question, but Andy knew she had to answer, to make the editor’s thoughts clear on why she was now inside a room in the editor’s belongings and talking to her like it was, for the lack of a better term, normal.
“No, I came here to apologize. And to...know how you’re doing-“
“You’re not indispensable Andrea.” Miranda was still looking at the wall, cursing herself inwardly for being so harsh at a person who just admitted that she worries about her every day since Paris.
Those words cut through Andy like a filleting knife. She knew that, she...she knew that. She felt warm tears flooding her vision as she whipped her head on the side to locate her clothes, they were nowhere in the vicinity. She stood up, still groggy and light- headed, and looked up at the soft blue ceiling of the room, preventing the sudden spill of tears.
“Well...uhm. So there. I’m sorry if I bothered you or your dinner. I’m not sorry that I had to leave Runway...” Andy let her head hang down, the movement causing her tears to flow down. She looked into Miranda’s blue eyes, concern and guilt flickering in them without the usual walls of difference Miranda always puts up whenever she’s talking to people other than her daughters. She tried to smile, but her lips were twitching.
“But I’m sorry if I had to leave you. I had to say that, I don’t want you to think otherwise. So uhm...I’ll leave now. I’ll just-return these clothes later. My apartment isn’t very far from here. Th-thank you for the time and for not letting me wait outside.” Andy was walking towards the door when in her midstride, Miranda called her out,
“Andrea.”
Andy paused as her hand reached for the doorknob. She didn’t dare turn around to face her former employer.
“Andrea.” The tone was soft and very gentle.
On that tone, Andy did turn around, her head hanging low. But through her teary eyes, she saw a pair of 5-inch black pumps standing a few inches away from her bare feet. She lifted her head and couldn’t suppress a gasp when her lips were so dangerously close to the editor’s. Her eyes were drawn to the lips in her level of sight, Miranda was taller than her since she’s barefoot and the editor was in her high heels. She gulped.
“Have you already eaten dinner?” Miranda said, her voice calm and normal, but her emotions were raging inside her. She knew the distance was inappropriate, but she didn’t expect the brunette to turn around. She was transfixed by the thick lowered lashes, hiding those brown orbs she kept seeing in her dreams. The same brown ones currently preoccupied by staring into her lips.
Andy on the other hand, just kept staring at those sinfully hypnotizing lips, afraid that moving her own puffy ones for an answer might accidentally brush with Miranda’s. She made a noise of disagreement that sounded more like a strangled guttural moan.
Both women had one thing in mind: kiss and taste those lips as much as they want. But they clamped down the urge and settled for the quick breaths caressing each other’s faces. After about an eternity, Miranda lifted a shaking hand and placed it on Andy’s hand, which was frozen on the doorknob. The movement made their chests brush together, and both of them stifled a moan. Miranda opened the door and went out into the second floor landing. The bright light showed how red Miranda’s neck and chest were since it was visible from the low cut blouse she was wearing for that evening.
“Let’s go down the kitchen and wait for dinner.” Miranda hurriedly said, her back still facing Andy, who was still partly hidden behind the door and the shadow created by the door in Miranda’s room.
Miranda went into the bathroom at the end of the hallway in the ground floor. She took a washcloth and ran it under the tap. She squeezed it and pressed it on her exposed chest. She was burning hot, like a fully lit furnace. What did just happen there? Why did she even helped the girl or listen her apologies? Something was wrong with her.
After five more minutes, she emerged from the bathroom. She heard sizzling and the smell of the sauce her salmon is served with. Her stomach grumbled. She was really hungry. But Miranda didn’t hear the door of the townhouse to open or close nor the clacking of her first assistant to put the food in the kitchen. When she did arrive in the kitchen, she saw Andrea cooking the sauce on her stove.
“I-I heard you’re having salmon? I know how you like your sauce that’s why...uhm...sorry if I tinkered around your kitchen.” Andrea said sheepishly. She turned back on the sauce and stirred again.
“You remembered how I like my salmon?” Miranda raised an eyebrow at her assistant who shrugged her shoulders and stared at the sauce before stirring it again. She saw a glass of what she assumed to be a Pellegrino from her refrigerator, now sitting patiently on a coaster, waiting for Miranda to drink it.
“Yes, the one you always order at Pastis when you’re extremely upset. But the sauce really makes your day.” Andy replied not once breaking her ministrations on the pot. Miranda sat on one of the stools in her kitchen and let a smile grace her lips.
“You know how to cook?” she said, as she traced the lip of the glass slowly, mesmerized on how the brunette opened several cabinets in search of whatever it was she was looking for.
“A bit, then again living with a cook for almost a year, some of the skill gets picked up eventually. Do you have white pepper?” Andy was now relaxed, babbling but relaxed. Miranda’s kitchen was huge compared to her new apartment. So she took advantage on her pent up libido and decided to snoop around the kitchen for the proposed dinner instead of following Miranda somewhere inside the house and ravage her. The kitchen is her refuge once writing and life becomes too taxing for her.
“White pepper is in the cabinet to your right, no, the other right. There’s an extra pair of salmon fillets in the freezer. I’ll cancel my order.”
Andy turned to tell Miranda that she’s fine and she only wanted to cook for the editor but Miranda had already vacated the stool and went to the hall to retrieve her cellphone
Andy suddenly bolts up from her chair and runs down the hall to grab her purse. She extracts her iPad and begins scrolling her stuff and updating Miranda’s schedule as she walks back to the kitchen. The white- haired woman is unfazed, she just continues her scrutiny of the Book as she nibbles her breakfast. Andy sits on the counter with her iPad and frowns as she taps furiously on it.
“Miranda, I’m bumping your lunch meeting with Lagerfeld to your afternoon meet with Irv. I’m putting your meeting with him at around 6pm. I’d put your dinner in the oven so it doesn’t cool down.” Andy looks up into Miranda’s icy glare and shrugs.
“What? Cassidy said you’ve been ignoring your biweekly lunch dates. You have a meeting with the features department at 10 and a run through at 11. But Roy will be taking you to Dr. Haley for your checkup. No buts buts on that one, you’ve been pencilled in for a month. You can’t cancel on that. I’m sending this schedule to Jane now.”
“Since when did you become in charge of my life again?” Miranda smirks into her coffee as Andy grabbed another ciabatta toast from the plate.
“Shut up. I have a meeting at 8 so I’ll go now. Have to catch the train.”
“Why does the associate editor for news of the Times go to her office by train? Call Roy.” Miranda waves her hand dismissively at Andy who fumbles around her purse for her notepad and pen. The editrix smirks and snorts softly.
“Associate editor huh? You still look like a meagre journalist to me.”
“Thanks for the praises Mira, really.” Andy rolls her eyes at a chuckling Miranda and tugs playfully at Miranda’s bathrobe, making the fabric slide sensually off Miranda’s bare shoulder as she walks past around her towards the foyer. Miranda grumbles something about indecency as she shifts it up and begins to collect the dishes they’ve used. It is an unspoken understanding of ten years that Miranda will always clean up the dishes after they finished eating. It has always been that way.
They had a wonderful night. Miranda never thought the brunette she’s been missing could whip up a meal and a pleasant conversation. They parted way after midnight but neither wanted the night to end. Andrea has been in the editor’s mind for the rest of the next day. She was moody because when she ordered the salmon dish for lunch they ate last night, it didn’t taste as wonderful as the brunette cooked it. She pursed her lips at the innocent salmon sitting on the bed of greens waiting for her to eat it. She wouldn’t eat that again, not if Andrea cooked it.
She called her second assistant to buy her steak. She was satisfied.
That night the twins were stuck at their father’s because of a terrible storm. Miranda was close to tearing her staff’s heads off and she almost hyperventilated while waiting for the call from her twins. Caroline and Cassidy were okay and they don’t mind being there since James’ girlfriend is stuck in a convenience store and their father can’t go there too. Only then did Miranda stopped freaking worrying so much when she understood that James wasn’t going anywhere for the safety of their children.
There were only harsh rains and winds, so with a warm cup of soup she retreated into her room, thinking of what Andrea could possibly cook at this kind of weather. She frowned mentally at herself for being so obsessed with the doe- eyed girl, they’ve only made peace with each other last night, never mind the fact that she almost kissed the woman several times while she was sleeping and that confrontation at her door.
She melted at her sheets, remembering how peaceful Andrea’s face was during the time she spent there. Was it her exhaustion that made her smell the girl’s scent on her pillows?
She was about to close her eyes when her doorbell rang. She growled and looked at her wall clock.
9:47pm. Who in their right mind would interrupt her this late? It’s not her assistant because she claimed the Book herself before going home. She wrapped herself in her robe and trudged downstairs and walked towards the door, pulling it with the force of a bear, ready to bite the head off of the person who even dared to climb the stairs of her townhouse-
“Hello Miranda.”
It was Andrea. Underneath a big black umbrella. Carrying a basket.
“What on earth-“
“I-I have this-uhm, I cooked you dinner.”
Miranda stared incredulously at Andrea for a moment. The silly girl was in a trench coat and jeans tucked into knee-high flat boots. All non-designer. Her hair was in a messy bun, strands of her chocolate curls begin haphazardly blown away by the wind.
“Uhm...sorry to bother you this late but...I can’t...uhm...I’ll better go.”
Miranda blinked twice and remembered the last words of the girl who was already at the gate of her townhouse.
“Andrea, stop frolicking in the rain and get in.”