DWP Fanfiction - No Words
Title: No Words
Rating: G
Pairing: Andy/Miranda (established)
Summary: Miranda wakes up in the middle of the night.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to The Devil Wears Prada or any of its characters.
A/N1: This is another in my series of DWP stories. This would follow Expectations and Responsibility.
A/N2: Thank you Punky96 for looking this over. I really appreciate your help. That said, any and all mistakes are mine.
Miranda gasped at her sudden awakening. What was it? Was there a noise? Miranda sat up slowly, listening. Andrea was curled up at her side sleeping peacefully. No one, other than herself and Andrea, was in the dark bedroom. The red numbers on the digital clock showed that it was just past 2:00 am. Miranda debated lying back down and going back to sleep. The bed was warm and comfortable and held her precious wife. Surely she could ease back into slumber.
Except she couldn’t, her waking was too jarring. Her mind was turned on and running down a list of what may have woken her. Until she knew nothing was amiss, there would be no sleep. With a disgusted grunt, she carefully climbed out of bed and reached for the robe laying on the padded bench at the foot of the bed.
Miranda pulled on the comfortable gray robe and slipped out of the bedroom. She winced when her bare feet made contact with the cool hardwood of the hallway but decided to go ahead with her rounds rather than go back for slippers. Crossing the hall, Miranda carefully opened the nursery door.
Even though Patricia had been gone for months, Andrea still left on a nightlight. Miranda paused as a wave of grief swept over her. From the first day they brought the baby home, Patricia slept in the nursery as if keeping watch. Andrea started leaving a nightlight on so that they wouldn’t trip over the huge dog. Since Patricia’s passing, there were moments Miranda would swear that she caught a glimpse of the gentle giant still on guard. Blinking away the tears that threatened, she slipped inside the room.
From the doorway Miranda could tell that Catherine was sound asleep. Miranda padded to the crib and gazed down on her daughter, Catherine Elizabeth. The baby was named in honor of Andrea’s beloved Grandmother and their mutual friend. From the first time Miranda held Catherine, she was in awe of the daughter her wife gifted her. Miranda rested her arms on the side of the crib and leaned in to watch the baby sleep. Miranda marveled at her perfection. It didn’t matter that there was no blood connection; Catherine was as much her daughter as Caroline and Cassidy.
Miranda smoothed the fine dark hair and decided not to pick her up. Catherine was on her back with her little arms up over her head, hands fisted. Andrea called it her touchdown pose. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Miranda twitched the blanket back over a tiny foot that had kicked free. She softly stroked a chubby cheek before retracing her steps and pulling the door closed.
Miranda moved towards the stairs and paused to listen again. Still nothing. She moved down the hall to check on the twins. Maybe one of them cried out in their sleep. Miranda paused outside of Cassidy’s room and listened. Silence. Miranda gently turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack. Moonlight creeping around the edges of the curtains provided enough of a glow to make out her daughter’s form sprawled across most of the full-sized bed.
Where Catherine signaled a touchdown, Cassidy looked like she was doing a jumping jack. Arms and legs were extended to the four corners of the bed. Even her long hair was fanned out around her head like a red corona. At some point, Cassidy kicked the covers aside with only a corner draped across her tummy. Miranda tiptoed into the room. Shaking her head, she was able to free the blanket and settle it back over Cassidy.
Again, Miranda paused and watched a daughter sleep. She smiled as she considered her eldest by seven minutes. Cassidy was always in a hurry. Miranda thought it must have been Cassidy’s idea to hasten her and Caroline’s birth and arrive three weeks early. Rushing to class, hurrying to soccer practice, or running to a friend’s house, the young teen was in constant motion. The quiet times spent at home were becoming fewer and fewer. Miranda regretted losing those times. She resolved to make the most of the occasions the family spent together. Barely restraining herself from brushing a lock of hair from Cassidy’s forehead, Miranda blew a kiss and retreated from the room.
She next crossed the hall to Caroline’s room and once again listened for any unusual noise. Easing the door open, she stuck her head in to verify Caroline’s slumber. The bedroom was lit by the faint glow of a nightlight in the attached bathroom. Caroline never liked sleeping in complete darkness. The soft pale light revealed Caroline curled up tight in the upper corner of her bed. Miranda thought it was a defense mechanism the girl picked up from the times she and her sister shared a bed. Caroline took up barely a quarter of the bed because that was all the space her sister would allow. When Miranda kissed her goodnight, Caroline would be stretched out in the middle of the bed. But sometime after falling asleep she would roll over and draw in her legs and arms. Andrea once compared her to an armadillo.
Miranda stood at the foot of the bed and looked in wonder at her daughter. Where Cassidy ran, Caroline strolled. If Cassidy rushed to judgment, Caroline considered and pondered the possibilities. Caroline paused and listened to what people said before voicing her opinions. However, Caroline was no quiet, retiring wallflower. Miranda shook her head thinking of all the times she had to remind her daughter to turn down the music blasting from her bedroom speakers. She lost count of all the friends in Caroline’s social circle. Caroline was just as outgoing as her sister, but in her own way. Blowing a kiss to her darling daughter, Miranda slipped out of the room.
Miranda paused in the hallway thinking of her girls. At thirteen the twins were growing up so fast. They weren’t just her babies but individuals getting ready for their own life journeys. She wondered what kind of person Catherine would become. She was anxious to see but then again she wasn’t. She wanted to hold on and enjoy this time for as long as possible.
She loved them all so much her heart ached and her breath hitched. The love she felt for her children and Andrea meant she would wander the hallways and rooms of this house to make sure they would stay safe. Miranda rolled her eyes and groaned. She decided she must be tired because she was indulging in melodramatic hyperbole.
Miranda moved back to the head of the stairs and listened. Still nothing out of the ordinary. She made her way down to the second floor and after pausing descended to the main floor. The front door was still locked. A quick look out the window did not reveal anything going on in the streets. Miranda turned and wandered down the hall to the sitting room.
She moved to the corner to check on the resident of the dog crate. Meg, a young tri-color beagle, was sprawled out on the cushion snoring softly. The little dog had not been with them very long but was fitting in nicely. Andrea and the girls loved playing with Meg. Miranda didn’t tell anyone that she allowed the dog up on the couch with her as she went through the book late at night. She still missed Patricia but Meg helped fill the empty spaces. Satisfied the dog was not the cause of her awakening, Miranda went through to the kitchen and checked the back door. Everything was fine, so she silently made her way back down the hall and up three flights of stairs.
Just as Miranda arrived back on the third floor, a disheveled Andrea stumbled out of the bedroom looking up and down the hall. Miranda wondered how she could even see, since her eyes were barely open. Andrea staggered to Miranda and wrapped her arms around her wife. Before she could say anything, Miranda gently kissed her and guided her back towards the bedroom. If Miranda could keep Andrea from saying anything, she would fall back asleep as soon as she got in bed. However, once she started asking questions neither woman would be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Miranda would spend the next hour answering questions about possibly hearing a noise, checking on the girls, touring the house, and whatever else Andrea could think to ask.
Luckily she was able to distract her wife long enough to help her into bed. Miranda threw her robe back on the padded bench as she came around the end of the bed to get in on her side. Miranda slid under the covers and spooned in behind Andrea wrapping her arm around her wife’s middle. Andrea sighed and slid back into sleep. Miranda took a deep breath and let her body relax as she thought of how much she loved her wife and children.
It’s ironic, she thought, that one little four letter word encompassed so much meaning. It seemed an inadequate description for what she felt for her family. Andrea was a writer and quite creative. Maybe Miranda would talk to her wife tomorrow about coming up with something that would adequately reflect the depth and breadth of what she felt - because Miranda had no words.
Rating: G
Pairing: Andy/Miranda (established)
Summary: Miranda wakes up in the middle of the night.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to The Devil Wears Prada or any of its characters.
A/N1: This is another in my series of DWP stories. This would follow Expectations and Responsibility.
A/N2: Thank you Punky96 for looking this over. I really appreciate your help. That said, any and all mistakes are mine.
Miranda gasped at her sudden awakening. What was it? Was there a noise? Miranda sat up slowly, listening. Andrea was curled up at her side sleeping peacefully. No one, other than herself and Andrea, was in the dark bedroom. The red numbers on the digital clock showed that it was just past 2:00 am. Miranda debated lying back down and going back to sleep. The bed was warm and comfortable and held her precious wife. Surely she could ease back into slumber.
Except she couldn’t, her waking was too jarring. Her mind was turned on and running down a list of what may have woken her. Until she knew nothing was amiss, there would be no sleep. With a disgusted grunt, she carefully climbed out of bed and reached for the robe laying on the padded bench at the foot of the bed.
Miranda pulled on the comfortable gray robe and slipped out of the bedroom. She winced when her bare feet made contact with the cool hardwood of the hallway but decided to go ahead with her rounds rather than go back for slippers. Crossing the hall, Miranda carefully opened the nursery door.
Even though Patricia had been gone for months, Andrea still left on a nightlight. Miranda paused as a wave of grief swept over her. From the first day they brought the baby home, Patricia slept in the nursery as if keeping watch. Andrea started leaving a nightlight on so that they wouldn’t trip over the huge dog. Since Patricia’s passing, there were moments Miranda would swear that she caught a glimpse of the gentle giant still on guard. Blinking away the tears that threatened, she slipped inside the room.
From the doorway Miranda could tell that Catherine was sound asleep. Miranda padded to the crib and gazed down on her daughter, Catherine Elizabeth. The baby was named in honor of Andrea’s beloved Grandmother and their mutual friend. From the first time Miranda held Catherine, she was in awe of the daughter her wife gifted her. Miranda rested her arms on the side of the crib and leaned in to watch the baby sleep. Miranda marveled at her perfection. It didn’t matter that there was no blood connection; Catherine was as much her daughter as Caroline and Cassidy.
Miranda smoothed the fine dark hair and decided not to pick her up. Catherine was on her back with her little arms up over her head, hands fisted. Andrea called it her touchdown pose. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Miranda twitched the blanket back over a tiny foot that had kicked free. She softly stroked a chubby cheek before retracing her steps and pulling the door closed.
Miranda moved towards the stairs and paused to listen again. Still nothing. She moved down the hall to check on the twins. Maybe one of them cried out in their sleep. Miranda paused outside of Cassidy’s room and listened. Silence. Miranda gently turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack. Moonlight creeping around the edges of the curtains provided enough of a glow to make out her daughter’s form sprawled across most of the full-sized bed.
Where Catherine signaled a touchdown, Cassidy looked like she was doing a jumping jack. Arms and legs were extended to the four corners of the bed. Even her long hair was fanned out around her head like a red corona. At some point, Cassidy kicked the covers aside with only a corner draped across her tummy. Miranda tiptoed into the room. Shaking her head, she was able to free the blanket and settle it back over Cassidy.
Again, Miranda paused and watched a daughter sleep. She smiled as she considered her eldest by seven minutes. Cassidy was always in a hurry. Miranda thought it must have been Cassidy’s idea to hasten her and Caroline’s birth and arrive three weeks early. Rushing to class, hurrying to soccer practice, or running to a friend’s house, the young teen was in constant motion. The quiet times spent at home were becoming fewer and fewer. Miranda regretted losing those times. She resolved to make the most of the occasions the family spent together. Barely restraining herself from brushing a lock of hair from Cassidy’s forehead, Miranda blew a kiss and retreated from the room.
She next crossed the hall to Caroline’s room and once again listened for any unusual noise. Easing the door open, she stuck her head in to verify Caroline’s slumber. The bedroom was lit by the faint glow of a nightlight in the attached bathroom. Caroline never liked sleeping in complete darkness. The soft pale light revealed Caroline curled up tight in the upper corner of her bed. Miranda thought it was a defense mechanism the girl picked up from the times she and her sister shared a bed. Caroline took up barely a quarter of the bed because that was all the space her sister would allow. When Miranda kissed her goodnight, Caroline would be stretched out in the middle of the bed. But sometime after falling asleep she would roll over and draw in her legs and arms. Andrea once compared her to an armadillo.
Miranda stood at the foot of the bed and looked in wonder at her daughter. Where Cassidy ran, Caroline strolled. If Cassidy rushed to judgment, Caroline considered and pondered the possibilities. Caroline paused and listened to what people said before voicing her opinions. However, Caroline was no quiet, retiring wallflower. Miranda shook her head thinking of all the times she had to remind her daughter to turn down the music blasting from her bedroom speakers. She lost count of all the friends in Caroline’s social circle. Caroline was just as outgoing as her sister, but in her own way. Blowing a kiss to her darling daughter, Miranda slipped out of the room.
Miranda paused in the hallway thinking of her girls. At thirteen the twins were growing up so fast. They weren’t just her babies but individuals getting ready for their own life journeys. She wondered what kind of person Catherine would become. She was anxious to see but then again she wasn’t. She wanted to hold on and enjoy this time for as long as possible.
She loved them all so much her heart ached and her breath hitched. The love she felt for her children and Andrea meant she would wander the hallways and rooms of this house to make sure they would stay safe. Miranda rolled her eyes and groaned. She decided she must be tired because she was indulging in melodramatic hyperbole.
Miranda moved back to the head of the stairs and listened. Still nothing out of the ordinary. She made her way down to the second floor and after pausing descended to the main floor. The front door was still locked. A quick look out the window did not reveal anything going on in the streets. Miranda turned and wandered down the hall to the sitting room.
She moved to the corner to check on the resident of the dog crate. Meg, a young tri-color beagle, was sprawled out on the cushion snoring softly. The little dog had not been with them very long but was fitting in nicely. Andrea and the girls loved playing with Meg. Miranda didn’t tell anyone that she allowed the dog up on the couch with her as she went through the book late at night. She still missed Patricia but Meg helped fill the empty spaces. Satisfied the dog was not the cause of her awakening, Miranda went through to the kitchen and checked the back door. Everything was fine, so she silently made her way back down the hall and up three flights of stairs.
Just as Miranda arrived back on the third floor, a disheveled Andrea stumbled out of the bedroom looking up and down the hall. Miranda wondered how she could even see, since her eyes were barely open. Andrea staggered to Miranda and wrapped her arms around her wife. Before she could say anything, Miranda gently kissed her and guided her back towards the bedroom. If Miranda could keep Andrea from saying anything, she would fall back asleep as soon as she got in bed. However, once she started asking questions neither woman would be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Miranda would spend the next hour answering questions about possibly hearing a noise, checking on the girls, touring the house, and whatever else Andrea could think to ask.
Luckily she was able to distract her wife long enough to help her into bed. Miranda threw her robe back on the padded bench as she came around the end of the bed to get in on her side. Miranda slid under the covers and spooned in behind Andrea wrapping her arm around her wife’s middle. Andrea sighed and slid back into sleep. Miranda took a deep breath and let her body relax as she thought of how much she loved her wife and children.
It’s ironic, she thought, that one little four letter word encompassed so much meaning. It seemed an inadequate description for what she felt for her family. Andrea was a writer and quite creative. Maybe Miranda would talk to her wife tomorrow about coming up with something that would adequately reflect the depth and breadth of what she felt - because Miranda had no words.