Chapter 45: The Return
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...
I'm alive! And it's no joke! Please accept this as my apology for the long hiatus as 5 months ago I was diagnosed with a brain tumour (benign, thank God) & it was only a month or so ago that I had it removed. It's presence and subsequent lack of presence are the reason behind my not updating sooner, the creative part of my brain was affected and I was essentially mentally immobilized in regards to any sort of 'artistic' endeavor. Bit by bit, I'm coming back to myself and finding myself able to write again. If you are still with me, thank you for your patience and all your kind words in the meantime asking me to continue. They've cheered me to no end as I've been recovering from surgery.
With that said - carry on!
Love, TheLadyHoll
Miranda was extremely pregnant now. To the point where Andy was more than a little concerned about the older woman managing the stairs even just between the floors of the townhouse. As a collective, Andy, Emily and Nigel were having to get even more creative in finding ways to limit Miranda’s movement even within the Elias Clarke building; all the while doing so without her finding out.
More and more meetings were taking place at the Runway offices themselves and even showings from the different design houses were being transplanted so that Miranda wasn’t being sent all over the city. Logistically speaking, it had the potential to be an absolute nightmare given the complications that would arise given the editor’s increased need for readily available restroom facilities as well as the issue of frequency of getting in and out of the car and into buildings which may or may not have elevators as climbing multiple flights of stairs was no longer an option of any sort.
“No, no, no!” the redhead all but shrieked into the phone as she ran a mad circle around her desk, gathering papers and discarding old magazines as she flipped the phone from one ear to another and held it against her shoulder as she used one Vivienne Westwood heeled boot to tip the recycling bin towards her. “Those fabric samples had better be delivered by this Thursday and on Miranda Priestly’s desk or you can be sure never to snip another thread for Runway magazine, be it on both our heads!” She slammed the phone down just as Miranda cleared her throat and froze, her back still to Miranda, who surprisingly simply turned to throw her jacket on the second assistant’s desk and stride into her own office.
The tension in the art director’s protégé’s shoulders eased somewhat and she turned around and stepped towards Andy who hadn’t moved since the initial outburst.
“A little warning would have been nice,” the redhead grumbled under her breath before a look of terror crossed the usually haughty features as she realized she’d spoken aloud and in the presence of the editor who had suddenly appeared once more in the doorway of her office, looking, of all things, amused.
“My apologies, Emily,” Miranda smirked slightly, enjoying the younger woman’s discomfort even as she alleviated any concern the redhead may have had over the consequences of her slip.
“The proofs for the magazine cover arrived. I’ve arranged for the ones from the private shoot to be sent directly to the townhouse via messenger and to have Cara or the housekeeper receive them and put them in your study.
“You know how I despise the thought of appearing on the cover of my own magazine. It’s gauche. The photographer is never his own subject is he not?” Miranda directed her statement towards Andrea.
“Um Miranda, I think you just negated the entire concept of the selfie.”
“Precisely my point.”
Picking up the glossy sheets, Andy saw for the first time the results of that day’s photo shoot.
Andy was turned towards the older woman, an arm around her shoulders and a hand featuring a stunning engagement ring resting protectively over the swollen curve of Miranda’s white-clad stomach. Miranda stared out at the camera, coolly confident as usual, but there was a softness and a radiance coming from her face that matched the tenderness with which her hand rested on Andrea’s wrist.
“I love these,” she moved closer to Miranda and her breath warmed and then cooled the moistness on Miranda’s cheek, causing the older woman to shudder involuntarily with desire.
“I think,” red lips murmured as the travelled down the elegant arch of Miranda’s neck.
“That you look,” they sucked the blood to the surface over a pulse point before nipping gently and soothing over the mark with her tongue and Miranda’s knees began to weaken.
“Like you feel good,” hands slid over her rear to rest at the small of her back as Andy leaned back so she could look Miranda in the eyes.
“That’s what I love most about those pictures, and seeing you like this. This is the Miranda I know, and not because of the makeup or the clothes, because really, we both know I could care less about that. The Miranda I know, this side of her, is an entirely self-made woman, an icon and a legend in her industry and she knows it and she owns it. No one and no thing can take her down when she’s in her element like this. And that strength and surety is comforting to me because I trust you, I trust your judgement and experience and if you believe that something is a non-issue or not worth worrying about then so do I."
“I wish I could be strong for you all the time,” Miranda murmured regretfully, her back stiffening under Andrea’s hand.
Andy just shook her head, moving her hands from the small of Miranda’s back to run up and down the tense musculature.
“But that’s just one side of you. I fell in love with all sides of you and I wouldn’t trade any one of them in for the world.”
“Why?” Miranda breathed, her eyes wide but piercing as she questioned the younger woman. “How, I, what did I do that allows you to claim these things. I - no one has ever, it hasn’t ever,” Miranda struggled to find her words and Andy took Miranda’s hand in hers and squeezed, bringing the joined pair to her lips which quickly found the pear-shaped stone Andy had placed there months ago and which hadn’t been removed since.
“You didn’t have to do anything, you don’t have to do anything, to keep me. I’m here of my own free will Miranda and I’m staying. Hell if I wanted to leave I could have done so months ago and made a fortune writing a tell-all book, so believe me when I say I’m staying.”
Miranda’s face had blanched at the journalist’s mention of a tell-all piece and she had automatically stiffened. But Andy’s protracted hold on her and the words that preceded and followed that sentence allowed her to slowly relax again as she felt the flood of panic recede, telling herself that Andrea was still here, she hadn’t left.
Miranda pressed a hand against her belly, hard, as a sudden pain rocked through her, and the motion certainly wasn’t missed by the brunette who was at her side instantly, one hand covering Miranda’s and the other at the small of her back. The pain was gone now, as quickly as it came and Miranda straightened once more, exhaling deeply and sweeping back a loose curl with a subtle toss of her head.
“Miranda, what was that?” Worry tinged the young woman’s voice and Miranda could feel her panic and attempted to quash it along with her own.
“I’m not sure,” she murmured, moving her hand back and forth over where the site of pain had been. “It’s gone now, I feel fine.”
“Are you sure? No dizziness or headache?” Andy was standing in front of Miranda now, her hands on either side of Miranda’s stomach as she looked intently into the older woman’s eyes to see if she was telling the truth.
Miranda nodded. “It’s gone,” she shook her head lightly and leaned forward to kiss the frown off of pouting pink lips. “I’m alright, darling. Pregnancy comes along with many aches and pains, this is simply one of them I’m sure.”
“If you’re sure…” Andy looked unconvinced.
“I am,” Miranda nodded decisively. “Now go, I’ll meet you at home for dinner should this afternoon’s meetings not prove as disastrous as The Book would have me think.”
“Try not to breathe too much fire,” Andy joked, leaning in for a final kiss before exiting Miranda’s office and leaving the editor to prepare for her meeting with the layout team.
Miranda entered the conference room looking every inch the indomitable figurehead of Runway, although she felt her knees weaken slightly as she hastily passed by the spot at the table where she had collapsed only a few weeks prior and nearly lost her children.
Taking a seat at the head of the table she noted that Nigel and Serena had also chosen to sit as far away from that seat as possible, leaving a gleeful new hire to glory in getting the shiny ‘new’ chair that had replaced the one stained with Miranda’s blood.
Halfway through the meeting, Miranda’s grip on her pen tightened until her fingers were white and bloodless. Her breath had stopped as well as the pain returned and she forced herself to exhale slowly, willing for the sharp ache in her belly to fade even as her throat threatened to catch on a sob. No, no, why was this happening again? But the pain was gone again as quickly as it had come and no one at the table seemed to be the wiser, everyone it seemed had had their heads down studying the changes she had just mandated on the periphery of the forty seventh page. But still, being in this room and having made a promise to Andrea, Miranda made a snap decision and standing, closed her folder and peered over her glasses at the art director, hoping the worry she was feeling wasn’t apparent in her gaze.
“Nigel, I believe you’re more than capable of guiding the rest of the group through the rest of the revisions. I expect to see much progress when I receive the Book tonight.” Her voice was icy and cool and belied no trace of her inner turmoil as she stalked out of the conference room, resisting the urge to press her hand against the troublesome spot and instead took out her cellphone once in the hallway and barking into it “5 minutes. Outside. Go.”
Thoughts?