Another Drabbic
Again, this is from the current meme challenge going around. This one is for omiceti, who very nicely asked for Devil Wears Prada. This is Miranda/Andrea. Hope you like.
Title: Crazy
Author: Fewthistle
Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rated R
Words: 564
For Omiceti, who sweetly requested DWP. Hope that this meets with your approval, my dear. And the girlfriend’s. *g*
Unbeta’d, so all errors mine.
The girl drove her insane. Absolutely insane. She was loud, messy, completely disorganized. She left things everywhere: left books on tables, wedged into the cushions of the couch, even piled haphazardly on the stairs, booby-traps of Faulkner and Fitzgerald just lying in wait for the right pair of Christian Lous to pass by unawares. She refused to use the toothpaste from the bottom up, misplaced the cap on a regular basis. Her penchant for simply stepping out of her shoes and leaving them stranded in that very spot, like an abandoned car on the side of the road, had nearly resulted in a broken ankle and a sudden change of address, Miranda’s and Andrea’s respectively.
In bed, she hogged the covers, so that there were nights when Miranda awoke to find herself pressed urgently against Andrea’s back, her body instinctively seeking out the warmth of the younger woman’s body in an effort to replace the comfort of the thick duvet wrapped securely around Andy’s slender frame. To make matters worse, Miranda had even caught her eating a cupcake in bed. Andrea swore up and down that she hadn’t dropped any crumbs but Miranda woke the next morning to the feel of tiny grains of yellow dough and a suspicious streak of pink icing on her pillow.
Then there were the dishes in the sink, the empty coffee cup that appeared regularly on the mahogany end table in the study. Even the girls were starting to pick up Andy’s bad habits. Just last week, Miranda had bent to adjust the covers that Cassidy had thrown off in her sleep, only to find a plate with half a bagel tucked up under the edge of the bed. Not to mention the clothes on the floor, the bags hurled into corners, the shoes that littered their rooms like shells strewn across a beach.
There was no getting around it. The woman offended Miranda’s sensibilities. It was time to sort it out, before Miranda completely lost her mind.
“Andrea, we have to discuss your appalling lack of manners. The books, the shoes, the cups, the plates, the toothpaste, for Heaven’s sake. And in particular, your behavior in bed.” Miranda intoned quietly, her expression foreboding and stern.
Apparently not stern or foreboding enough.
“You want to talk about my behavior in bed, huh?” Andy grinned, sliding her hand along the waistband of Miranda’s skirt, her fingers teasing as they slipped beneath the supple fabric. She pulled Miranda flush against her, her lips unerringly finding their way to that spot just below Miranda’s ear, the one that made the older woman forget her name for a moment or two. “Instead of discussing it, why don’t I give you a demonstration and then you can tell me what I did wrong?”
In retrospect, Miranda realized, Andrea’s lips trailing along the inside of her thigh, that perhaps she should have limited her discussion to items left around the house and not attempted to include bedroom behavior. Because to be honest, aside from waking up freezing on occasion and that one incident with the smeared icing, which Andrea had obligingly licked off her face, Miranda was relatively happy with most of Andy’s bedroom activities.
Well, actually, happy didn’t quite cover it. Orgasmic was probably the better word.
Yes, definitely orgasmic, Miranda concluded, deciding that maybe insanity wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Title: Crazy
Author: Fewthistle
Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rated R
Words: 564
For Omiceti, who sweetly requested DWP. Hope that this meets with your approval, my dear. And the girlfriend’s. *g*
Unbeta’d, so all errors mine.
The girl drove her insane. Absolutely insane. She was loud, messy, completely disorganized. She left things everywhere: left books on tables, wedged into the cushions of the couch, even piled haphazardly on the stairs, booby-traps of Faulkner and Fitzgerald just lying in wait for the right pair of Christian Lous to pass by unawares. She refused to use the toothpaste from the bottom up, misplaced the cap on a regular basis. Her penchant for simply stepping out of her shoes and leaving them stranded in that very spot, like an abandoned car on the side of the road, had nearly resulted in a broken ankle and a sudden change of address, Miranda’s and Andrea’s respectively.
In bed, she hogged the covers, so that there were nights when Miranda awoke to find herself pressed urgently against Andrea’s back, her body instinctively seeking out the warmth of the younger woman’s body in an effort to replace the comfort of the thick duvet wrapped securely around Andy’s slender frame. To make matters worse, Miranda had even caught her eating a cupcake in bed. Andrea swore up and down that she hadn’t dropped any crumbs but Miranda woke the next morning to the feel of tiny grains of yellow dough and a suspicious streak of pink icing on her pillow.
Then there were the dishes in the sink, the empty coffee cup that appeared regularly on the mahogany end table in the study. Even the girls were starting to pick up Andy’s bad habits. Just last week, Miranda had bent to adjust the covers that Cassidy had thrown off in her sleep, only to find a plate with half a bagel tucked up under the edge of the bed. Not to mention the clothes on the floor, the bags hurled into corners, the shoes that littered their rooms like shells strewn across a beach.
There was no getting around it. The woman offended Miranda’s sensibilities. It was time to sort it out, before Miranda completely lost her mind.
“Andrea, we have to discuss your appalling lack of manners. The books, the shoes, the cups, the plates, the toothpaste, for Heaven’s sake. And in particular, your behavior in bed.” Miranda intoned quietly, her expression foreboding and stern.
Apparently not stern or foreboding enough.
“You want to talk about my behavior in bed, huh?” Andy grinned, sliding her hand along the waistband of Miranda’s skirt, her fingers teasing as they slipped beneath the supple fabric. She pulled Miranda flush against her, her lips unerringly finding their way to that spot just below Miranda’s ear, the one that made the older woman forget her name for a moment or two. “Instead of discussing it, why don’t I give you a demonstration and then you can tell me what I did wrong?”
In retrospect, Miranda realized, Andrea’s lips trailing along the inside of her thigh, that perhaps she should have limited her discussion to items left around the house and not attempted to include bedroom behavior. Because to be honest, aside from waking up freezing on occasion and that one incident with the smeared icing, which Andrea had obligingly licked off her face, Miranda was relatively happy with most of Andy’s bedroom activities.
Well, actually, happy didn’t quite cover it. Orgasmic was probably the better word.
Yes, definitely orgasmic, Miranda concluded, deciding that maybe insanity wasn’t such a bad thing after all.