A Flawed Fragility: Chapter 23
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 23: Growing Pains Pt.2
The next installment is here! Things might be slowing down a little as school and work have both started again...oh the joys of a university student. But I shall try my best to have another update out within a few weeks. Definitely October.
Alright, so without further ado, there you are! Please let me know your thoughts/comments/adulations/critiques/ yada etc. as I THRIVE off of them amongst the dry, droning, drivel of academia (although my last paper did focus on phallocentrism and the feminist stance in media which I'll admit was more interesting than some topics I've done even if only for the reason that I got to title the document and email 'Phallocentrism' as a subject line.
Where was I? Ah yes. Review!
xxxx - TLH
By the end of Fashion Week, the entire reserves of Runway personnel had been completely and utterly spent. Nigel was exhausted from taking over a greater part of Miranda's duties - honestly, how the woman did it was a mystery to him even when she WASN'T pregnant with twins. Emily was exhausted from teaching the 'new her' the ropes even as she tried to handle them herself in addition to having to keep an 'eye on Miranda' for Andy and report back to the irksome, altogether bothersomely besotted brunette who had insisted she not let on or tell Miranda about these 'reports'. Andy was exhausted from trying to bury herself in her work so that she didn't obsess too much about Miranda as well as from the time difference that meant staying up with the editor when she couldn't sleep because of jet lag. And Miranda was exhausted from carrying not only two children in the midst of a significant growth spurt, but also the masthead of Elias Clarke during the most important week of Runway's calendar and with the world's media gaze planted firmly on her growing midsection.
Emily had been doing her best to mitigate the amount of interviews and invitations accepted on behalf of Miranda, and in the spirit of keeping her promise to Andrea to 'take it easy', Miranda had agreed to let Nigel fly solo for a few shows and statements to the press. It would be good practice for when she stepped away during her maternity leave; she had told herself and the arts director - not knowing who needed more reassurance.
But despite the collective effort of the group, Miranda woke the Thursday morning feeling as though she had been beaten with a baseball bat repeatedly. Added to her misery was the fact that she was out of her anti-nausea prescription and she had sent Emily out to accompany Nigel on a breakfast meeting and so the extra pills were somewhere floating down the Seine drinking mimosas. It was only ten more hours, Miranda told herself, wincing as she slipped her swollen feet into the 4 inch Ferragamo's. Miranda Priestly could certainly 'suck it up' for the next few hours until Andrea's plane arrived this evening.
Try as she might however, the older woman couldn't help but to fall into old patterns of behaviour and the 'dragon lady' rose again - something that did not escape the notice of her most loyal minions as they watched the aggrieved editor send countless lackeys scurrying and more than one cry. Galliano had looked close to tears as well when he realized Miranda had been absent for half of the show.
"Good God, what hell hath you unleashed on the fashion world today, Emily?"
"She is in fine form," Emily agreed under her breath, consulting her clipboard to make sure there was zero room for mix-ups or error on the schedule that would have her head on the chopping block next.
"You would think having Andy arriving tonight she would be in the best of moods," Serena offered, coming up behind the pair to rest a soothing hand on her girlfriend's back.
"Well, it's bloody well Andrea Sachs isn't it? God knows she'll have done something worthy of the temper ta-"
Serena's grip tightened painfully on the Brit's waist, not letting go even when the woman tried to pull away from the painful grip. This ended up to be a good decision as her hold on the redhead was the only thing keeping Emily upright as a cool voice sounded behind them.
"Perhaps my current temperament is due to the fact that my employees, supposedly some of Runway's best and brightest, see fit to stand around fruitlessly discussing and gossiping about the editor-in-chief of said magazine instead of doing their jobs."
"I, Miranda, I…" stuttered a shaking Emily as she tried to recall the exact working of the snide comment she had just made and decide whether pre-emptive suicide was still a viable possibility. But Miranda was having none of it and was in no mood to listen to any erstwhile excuses the three could offer her.
In the privacy of her own mind, deep in the dark recesses past denial Miranda knew, she understood that her demands had reached a new level of impossible. That flicker of guilt and momentary self-doubt faded instantly as her stomach cramped nauseously, setting off a new wave of pain in whatever muscle she had pulled in her back that had been plaguing her ever since she woke this morning.
Miranda turned to ask Emily for the prescription bottle with the extra medication Andy had packed for her, but another sickly gurgle in her lower abdomen meant that she spun on her heel in the other direction towards the private bathrooms in the hotel lobby.
"Right then," Nigel turned back towards the group and clapped his hands together. "Off we go then. Emily, please tell me you have the notes from the breakfast meeting this morning?"
Feeling the cool porcelain against her clammy skin, Miranda was reminded of the first day of the trial, when Stephen had spouted an unprecedented level of what could only be termed 'bullshit' and she had been unable to settle her nerves or her stomach.
Miranda let her eyes close as she remembered the feel of Andrea's hand curving around her waist to hold her steady and the gentle circles Miranda never seemed to be able to replicate with her own hand on the swell that the younger woman had so lovingly christened the 'baby belly'. Only ten more hours…"
By the time the show had finished and the Runway quartet had been seated at Massimo's closing luncheon, Miranda's stomach had finally settled down, but she could barely breathe for the pain radiating from the small of her back rendering her all but useless as anything but a groaning mass.
"Miranda, what is it?" Nigel murmured, jerking his head at Emily to make sure no one was watching.
"I…it's my back," Miranda whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain as she gripped Nigel's arm and the side of the chair and struggled to control her breathing.
"Is it the baby?" Despite the slim cut of the Galliano skirt she was wearing in homage to the designer whose show they had attended that morning, Emily managed to crouch down next to the editor as well.
Miranda shook her head, eyes still tightly shut against the tears the pain was inciting. "No, no it doesn't feel like that, I - I think it's just the muscle being pulled. Damn!" The editor swore vehemently under her breath, her voice cracking as another spasm rocked through her.
Emily and Nigel seemed stunned at the profanity, mild as it was, coming from Miranda's lips and said nothing but continued to gape uselessly.
"Oh for God's sake," Serena rolled her eyes and sent a prayer upwards that she wouldn't be torn limb from limb as she steeled herself before laying her hands on Miranda's back, trying to work out whatever knot was causing Miranda so much pain.
"Oh…Better, that's better," the editor's eyelids fluttered again, this time in relief as the nearly bruising pressure eased the sharp, shooting pains that curved from her spine, outwards and down.
"It's not the babies?" Emily asked nervously, still eyeing the editor as though she were afraid she would explode, give birth or swallow Serena whole for taking such familiarity, or possibly all three as she wouldn't put it past her mercurial boss.
"No, it's the sciatic nerve," Serena murmured, pressing on a spot just above Miranda's ass as Emily looked on with a mixture of fear and astonishment at her girlfriend who was essentially groping the fashion icon.
A sharp hiss from the editor told the Brazilian beauty she had found what she was looking for and she nodded decisively, moving her hands back to Miranda's hips as she stood to block her actions from the view of any lurking photographers.
"I'll find a massage therapist or a chiropractor to come to the room," Emily added, already scrolling through the contacts on her phone.
"I will not have some stranger's hands on me. The answer is no; is that clear?"
"Yes, Miranda."
"Miranda, would it be preferable if I were to try and offer some relief?" Serena offered, keeping her voice low and her gaze unreadable as the older woman's eyes lost their teary wince of pain almost instantly to bore into her own suspiciously. "You know from my resume that in addition to my certification as an aesthetician, I am also a trained massage therapist," the Brazilian offered.
"Andy's not going to be here for another 8 hours, Miranda. Do you really want to wait that long and be in pain when she gets here?" Serena continued, emboldened by the obvious discomfort of the editor and knowing what she was offering was best for her.
"Even if your back pain isn't affecting the babies, it can't be good for your blood pressure," Nigel added softly as he peered over the top of his glasses at the seated woman who was still gripping his hand tightly as she struggled with both the pain and the decision.
Miranda shot a deadly glare at arts director and then at the other woman, but nodded at Nigel to help her stand. Emily expected Serena to let go of Miranda, but instead the head of the beauty department simply moved her hands back to Miranda's hipbones with her thumbs positioned firmly against the small of Miranda's back. Emily didn't understand until the editor went to rise and blanched instantly as the pain returned tenfold. It was only the careful application of pressure from the blonde-streaked goddess that kept the older woman upright as the former dug her thumbs into her spine.
"Keep your hand under your belly to take some of the weight off of your back until you get to the car," Serena murmured into Miranda's ear, her long blonde hair sweeping forwards so that the ends tickled Miranda's cheek as they hid the younger woman's lips and words from view.
Once they were in the car, which was thankfully a full size limousine as the team had travelled to the show together this morning, Miranda cried out again as the door was closed.
"I can't, I can't. Oh God, my back…please, I need Andrea."
Emily looked as though she might faint and Nigel merely looked completely flummoxed what to do with the moaning woman in his arms, and so Serena took the situation into her own hands again after directing the driver to take them back to the hotel.
"Emily, raise the privacy screen. Miranda, why don't you lay across the seat? It will take some of the pressure off of your back."
The editor looked as though she might cry again as she weighed the embarrassment of lying across her employees against the shooting pain in her spine, ultimately deciding to do what she knew Andrea would have told her to and stretching out on her side on the back bench of the limo, her head resting against the scratchy wool of Nigel's checked trousers and her feet slipped out of her shoes laying across Serena's lap as the Brazilian continued to press against a trigger point in her spine.
"When you were walking out to the car, was the pain any better when you used your hands to lift your belly."
"A - a little," Miranda huffed, her breathing easing up as the trigger point Serena was manipulating released some of the tension she now realized she had been carrying in her hips.
"I'm fine. Just a slight backache."
"You're not fine. I can hear it in your voice," Andy chided gently hoping to draw the other woman out. "What's the matter?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Serena saw the editor's lower lip tremble slightly and she excused herself with a small nod towards Miranda. She didn't dare catch the older woman's eye lest Miranda know that Serena had seen her in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness for the second if not third time today.
Once she was alone, Miranda released a shuddery breath. "Everything," she snapped. "Everything's the matter. I ache all over and I'm exhausted. I missed half the Galliano show, sitting in the bathroom willing myself not to vomit so John apparently thinks I'm snubbing him. Now Serena says the babies are pressing on my sciatic nerve and that my pelvic muscles are stiff from the extra weight and Justine isn't here and I'm lying here half naked while my employee intends to see and touch me. And YOU'RE not here, which is even worse and I only want YOUR hands on me but I can hardly stand as it is, and, and." A single disconsolate sob interrupted Miranda' s rant and Andy wished she had flown out a day earlier as she'd originally planned, maybe then Miranda wouldn't have pushed herself so hard or at the very least she could have tried the maternity support hose and 'Belly Band' that Andy had ordered and which had arrived at the townhouse while Miranda was gone. The more rational part of her brain cut in after a moment, reminding her that it was necessary to stay in New York if she wanted a job to return to on Monday.
"Oh baby, I'm sorry you're not feeling good. How's the pain now that you're lying down? Did you want me to call Dr. Graeme to come to the suite or call Dr. Jansen and ask her opinion?"
"No," Miranda replied, and Andy swore she could hear the sulk in the other woman's voice. "Just be here, as soon as possible." And with that, Andy was left smiling ruefully at a dial-tone as her cab sped towards JFK and towards Miranda.
"Hey sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?" Andy woke Miranda with a kiss after she had arrived at the hotel and put her luggage in the closet to put away later. She had originally intended to let the pregnant woman sleep, but she hadn't been able to help herself as she approached the prone figure curled around a pillow as though it were Andy in the positions they normally slept in.
"Mmm, don't you mean sleeping dragons?" Miranda flexed her toes as she came awake slowly, testing her muscles for any residual spasms or stiffness and was pleasantly surprised to find none. "I thought you weren't supposed to wake sleeping dragons," she added in a voice still husky from sleep and feeling deliciously drowsy and content now that Andrea was here.
"I believe that's tickle," Andy supplied as her lips did just that at Miranda's ear before continuing their path down a throat and milky white shoulders left exposed by her gaping robe.
Once more losing the ability to think or speak clearly as the younger woman continued in her tender ministrations, Miranda still managed to choke out a slightly dazed "What?"
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
"I'll repeat myself Andrea," Miranda's voice dropped warningly, reminiscent of when Andy had first started out as her assistant. But instead of fear, now coiling tendrils of heat and smoke unfurled in the younger woman's belly at the sound and laughing she replied, "From Harry Potter…it's the Hogwarts motto."
Miranda sighed and moved to sit up only to have Andrea's body press back down to the bed. "You know it really is troubling that I have such little effect on you anymore," Miranda murmured, only half kidding. "There was a time my voice would make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and this lovely pale skin to erupt in gooseflesh," she added, her fingers ghosting over said skin and the editor bared her teeth in a grin as her touch elicited said effect on the brunette.
A choked noise was muffled in the back of Andy's throat. "Ah-I would say you definitely still have that effect Miranda." Her hands had found the ties to the robe and her lips had continued in their decent down the precious body until Miranda felt a tongue swirl in her navel and she shuddered violently. "Except now I think we both enjoy it a whole lot more. Besides, if I was still scared of you, there would be very little chance of me doing this."
The long, lithe body had again shifted and teeth closed gently around one nipple, continuing to lavish the attentions of her hand on its equally sensitive counterpart; rolling the rosy tip between her fingers until Miranda could feel the ache all the way between her thighs. "And that would be such a shame now, wouldn't it?"
"No more talking." Miranda choked out the words, now able to do little more than gasp and groan as she writhed and arched into Andy's hands and against the young, firm body pressed against her that God had somehow seen fit to grant her in her dotage. She gasped again, more thankful than ever to the Brazilian goddess than the woman should ever know as her body moved in liquid rhythm in its quest to find release.
In turn, not seeing Miranda for a week meant that Andy all but combusted at the first ghost of fingertips against overheated folds.
Hours later, not having the strength or inclination to move her body where she had all but collapsed after her final orgasm, Miranda turned her head to press her lips to the damp shoulder beneath them. Nearly unconscious herself, Andy managed to discern the words out of the faint mumbles coming from the other woman.
"Excuse me?" Andy's voice had turned cold and she sat up swiftly, pulling the blankets away from Miranda to cover herself. "Did you just say 'Serena?' What the fuck Miranda?"
"Oh God, darling no." Miranda, awake in an instant as she was all but pushed off the brunette, was overcome with laughter and it was a long moment until she was able to gather herself enough to be able to correct the younger woman's assumption, and only because she could see the hurt tears forming in the brown doe eyes whose hurt it seemed always managed to touch her own soul.
"She performed the adjustment on my back. Remember when I told you the awful pain from my sciatic nerve? I could barely move."
Andy slowly inched back towards the entreating figure before relaxing fully into the embrace of the beckoning arms.
"God, Miranda, don't ever scare me like that again," Andy's voice was muffled as she buried her face into Miranda's shoulder.
"I promise darling, I'm sorry."
"Good," Andy nipped the skin beneath her lips sharply and Miranda yelped. Those same lips soothed over the spot they had marked on her shoulder as Andy growled possessively. "You're mine, Priestly, and don't you forget it."
Miranda shivered, not totally out of desire as the words reminded her of the ones spat in anger from Stephen's mouth the night of the attack. But the difference now was that she knew without a doubt that she was safe with Andrea, and even more significantly, she wanted to be hers, to give herself to the younger woman entirely - something she had never felt and thought she never would.
A dull throb at her shoulder blade as the brunette shifted her head as she sought sleep brought a smug, almost rueful smile to Miranda's lips as she was reminded with equal intensity that neither did that mean Andrea was passive or the 'bottom' in their relationship. Mmm, no, quite the opposite in fact."
As the pair drifted off, Miranda thought idly that perhaps it was because she knew the younger woman would never hurt her, she had when she had left, but not intentionally or out of malice - it simply wasn't in the girl's nature.
"I'm sorry I was such a bitch earlier on the phone," Miranda murmured, wanting to know that there was nothing left that was bothering the younger woman.
"Mmm, I've gotten used to it," Andy teased; but instead of the slap she was expecting she heard a sniff from the other side of the bed and she turned to look at the woman now hiding her face in her shoulder, dismayed at seeing a tear roll down the pale cheek until it fell onto Andy's skin.
"Oh Miranda, I'm sorry. Hey, you know that was a joke. The fact that you even acknowledged that you were slightly, and I do mean only slightly snippy is huge. Why do you think you came off as bitchy?"
"But I am," Miranda insisted forlornly, and Andy was reminded that even the great Miranda Priestly wasn't exempt from the powerful reach of pregnancy hormones.
"Come on Miranda…D'you really think I would be cuddling with someone I thought that about?"
"Miranda Priestly does not cuddle," came the muffled reply as Miranda entwined herself with the long limbs and tucked her head underneath the brunette's chin.
"Of course not," Andy murmured, tightening her hold and slipping her hand beneath the fabric of Miranda's robe so that the older woman could feel the warmth of her skin against her own as she sweetly stroked and petted over the form so obviously 'not' snuggled into her still sniffling slightly. She knew Miranda would also deny any insinuation that she was affected by pregnancy hormones and so she simply continued to soothe the, obviously hormonal, woman in her arms who seemed to be suddenly so scared of losing her, the gentle kicks of their unborn children between them comforting them both until sleep overtook them.
"You know, I fully did not expect to have sex with you last night," Andy commented around her toothbrush as she unpacked from the night before. "Not that I'm complaining, if that's the kind of welcome I can expect I think I'll start a new career as a flight attendant or something so I get to come home to that a lot more often."
Her back to the closet door as she hung up the borrowed couture, Andy felt something warm and soft press against her back before a harder swell molded itself just above the curve of her ass and she let go of the hanger, letting the Jill Sanders shift fall to the floor as she found her arms suddenly full of Miranda.
"Such treatment of couture," Miranda chided lightly, even as she moved closer into the embrace.
"I've got something much better in my arms." A hand travelled lightly over the curve of her hip and moved to part the robe tied so loosely already that it was essentially completely ineffective at covering any part of the editor.
"Shall I simply wear you instead," Andy's fingers stopped just before the still swollen, tender juncture that had been the focus of much of last night's attentions. "Yet another exclusive for Miranda Priestly?" The young woman continued her teasing banter, raising her eyebrows suggestively as she tried not to laugh. "I can guarantee a perfect fit."
Miranda laughed, the sound rich and true as she brought Andy's hand to her lips instead. "Darling, you couldn't afford this," Miranda gestured with her free hand
"Good thing I have the only 'All-Access' Runway pass then." Andy teased, picking up the fallen sheath.
"Not today you don't." The older woman shocked Andy by plucking the garment from her hands once more and tossing it over the rack. "Today, you're mine." Miranda watched in satisfaction as the full mouth could do nothing more but open and close as Andrea was lost for words.
"What? I…um, Miranda? It's Fashion Week…in Paris. You - reigning queen of the fashion and publishing industry are probably expected to be there."
Miranda shrugged nonchalantly, but her devilish grin gave away her pleasure at having so fully thrown her lover for a loop.
"But your job…Irv."
"Andrea," Miranda effectively shut the younger woman up by covering the protesting lips with her own.
"I definitely do not want to talk about Irv today. I promise you, it's been taken care of, and yes - a raise is in the cards for Emily for throwing this on her. Are you satisfied? Can we continue with our day or would you like to go on questioning me about work and Irv instead of seeing the Paris I robbed you of last year."
Andy shut her mouth with some difficulty, but the beginnings of self-doubt she could see creeping into Miranda's eyes had her shaking her head and pulling the other woman close, or at least as close as the prominent bulge at her waist would allow.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Andy couldn't help herself from asking; brown eyes once more filled with love and mild concern as her hands travelled gently down the line of Miranda's spine.
"I feel wonderful. Better than I have in ages. No nausea, no stiffness or aches, and I promise to let you know if I need to stop or rest at any point. We have the whole day before the Closing Gala tonight. Does that satisfy you my darling worrier?"
Andrea was almost giddy now with anticipation at the prospect of a whole day, uninterrupted, with Miranda, which was likely the reason for her next comment. "Well then, 'Lay on, Mac-Up-the-Duff.'
Andy blushed bright red and squeezed her eyes shut as she realized what she had just said out loud; but when she opened them again Miranda was merely staring at her, a faint smirk on her lips as she shook her head.
"What am I to do with you, Andrea?"
"Ermm, lay on?"
Miranda threw back her head once more and laughed, the sound widening the already impossibly bright smile on Andrea's face, and she dropped down into a crouch after stealing another kiss.
"Did you hear that babies? We're going to see Paris!" The younger woman's excitement was obviously infectious as a series of soft kicks followed her words as she spoke to the rounded abdomen before bouncing back upright and continuing to get ready at lightning speed. Finally, hopefully, the 'City of Lights' would live up to its name. After all, didn't they live on hope?
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 23: Growing Pains Pt.2
The next installment is here! Things might be slowing down a little as school and work have both started again...oh the joys of a university student. But I shall try my best to have another update out within a few weeks. Definitely October.
Alright, so without further ado, there you are! Please let me know your thoughts/comments/adulations/critiques/ yada etc. as I THRIVE off of them amongst the dry, droning, drivel of academia (although my last paper did focus on phallocentrism and the feminist stance in media which I'll admit was more interesting than some topics I've done even if only for the reason that I got to title the document and email 'Phallocentrism' as a subject line.
Where was I? Ah yes. Review!
xxxx - TLH
By the end of Fashion Week, the entire reserves of Runway personnel had been completely and utterly spent. Nigel was exhausted from taking over a greater part of Miranda's duties - honestly, how the woman did it was a mystery to him even when she WASN'T pregnant with twins. Emily was exhausted from teaching the 'new her' the ropes even as she tried to handle them herself in addition to having to keep an 'eye on Miranda' for Andy and report back to the irksome, altogether bothersomely besotted brunette who had insisted she not let on or tell Miranda about these 'reports'. Andy was exhausted from trying to bury herself in her work so that she didn't obsess too much about Miranda as well as from the time difference that meant staying up with the editor when she couldn't sleep because of jet lag. And Miranda was exhausted from carrying not only two children in the midst of a significant growth spurt, but also the masthead of Elias Clarke during the most important week of Runway's calendar and with the world's media gaze planted firmly on her growing midsection.
Emily had been doing her best to mitigate the amount of interviews and invitations accepted on behalf of Miranda, and in the spirit of keeping her promise to Andrea to 'take it easy', Miranda had agreed to let Nigel fly solo for a few shows and statements to the press. It would be good practice for when she stepped away during her maternity leave; she had told herself and the arts director - not knowing who needed more reassurance.
But despite the collective effort of the group, Miranda woke the Thursday morning feeling as though she had been beaten with a baseball bat repeatedly. Added to her misery was the fact that she was out of her anti-nausea prescription and she had sent Emily out to accompany Nigel on a breakfast meeting and so the extra pills were somewhere floating down the Seine drinking mimosas. It was only ten more hours, Miranda told herself, wincing as she slipped her swollen feet into the 4 inch Ferragamo's. Miranda Priestly could certainly 'suck it up' for the next few hours until Andrea's plane arrived this evening.
Try as she might however, the older woman couldn't help but to fall into old patterns of behaviour and the 'dragon lady' rose again - something that did not escape the notice of her most loyal minions as they watched the aggrieved editor send countless lackeys scurrying and more than one cry. Galliano had looked close to tears as well when he realized Miranda had been absent for half of the show.
"Good God, what hell hath you unleashed on the fashion world today, Emily?"
"She is in fine form," Emily agreed under her breath, consulting her clipboard to make sure there was zero room for mix-ups or error on the schedule that would have her head on the chopping block next.
"You would think having Andy arriving tonight she would be in the best of moods," Serena offered, coming up behind the pair to rest a soothing hand on her girlfriend's back.
"Well, it's bloody well Andrea Sachs isn't it? God knows she'll have done something worthy of the temper ta-"
Serena's grip tightened painfully on the Brit's waist, not letting go even when the woman tried to pull away from the painful grip. This ended up to be a good decision as her hold on the redhead was the only thing keeping Emily upright as a cool voice sounded behind them.
"Perhaps my current temperament is due to the fact that my employees, supposedly some of Runway's best and brightest, see fit to stand around fruitlessly discussing and gossiping about the editor-in-chief of said magazine instead of doing their jobs."
"I, Miranda, I…" stuttered a shaking Emily as she tried to recall the exact working of the snide comment she had just made and decide whether pre-emptive suicide was still a viable possibility. But Miranda was having none of it and was in no mood to listen to any erstwhile excuses the three could offer her.
In the privacy of her own mind, deep in the dark recesses past denial Miranda knew, she understood that her demands had reached a new level of impossible. That flicker of guilt and momentary self-doubt faded instantly as her stomach cramped nauseously, setting off a new wave of pain in whatever muscle she had pulled in her back that had been plaguing her ever since she woke this morning.
Miranda turned to ask Emily for the prescription bottle with the extra medication Andy had packed for her, but another sickly gurgle in her lower abdomen meant that she spun on her heel in the other direction towards the private bathrooms in the hotel lobby.
"Right then," Nigel turned back towards the group and clapped his hands together. "Off we go then. Emily, please tell me you have the notes from the breakfast meeting this morning?"
Feeling the cool porcelain against her clammy skin, Miranda was reminded of the first day of the trial, when Stephen had spouted an unprecedented level of what could only be termed 'bullshit' and she had been unable to settle her nerves or her stomach.
Miranda let her eyes close as she remembered the feel of Andrea's hand curving around her waist to hold her steady and the gentle circles Miranda never seemed to be able to replicate with her own hand on the swell that the younger woman had so lovingly christened the 'baby belly'. Only ten more hours…"
By the time the show had finished and the Runway quartet had been seated at Massimo's closing luncheon, Miranda's stomach had finally settled down, but she could barely breathe for the pain radiating from the small of her back rendering her all but useless as anything but a groaning mass.
"Miranda, what is it?" Nigel murmured, jerking his head at Emily to make sure no one was watching.
"I…it's my back," Miranda whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain as she gripped Nigel's arm and the side of the chair and struggled to control her breathing.
"Is it the baby?" Despite the slim cut of the Galliano skirt she was wearing in homage to the designer whose show they had attended that morning, Emily managed to crouch down next to the editor as well.
Miranda shook her head, eyes still tightly shut against the tears the pain was inciting. "No, no it doesn't feel like that, I - I think it's just the muscle being pulled. Damn!" The editor swore vehemently under her breath, her voice cracking as another spasm rocked through her.
Emily and Nigel seemed stunned at the profanity, mild as it was, coming from Miranda's lips and said nothing but continued to gape uselessly.
"Oh for God's sake," Serena rolled her eyes and sent a prayer upwards that she wouldn't be torn limb from limb as she steeled herself before laying her hands on Miranda's back, trying to work out whatever knot was causing Miranda so much pain.
"Oh…Better, that's better," the editor's eyelids fluttered again, this time in relief as the nearly bruising pressure eased the sharp, shooting pains that curved from her spine, outwards and down.
"It's not the babies?" Emily asked nervously, still eyeing the editor as though she were afraid she would explode, give birth or swallow Serena whole for taking such familiarity, or possibly all three as she wouldn't put it past her mercurial boss.
"No, it's the sciatic nerve," Serena murmured, pressing on a spot just above Miranda's ass as Emily looked on with a mixture of fear and astonishment at her girlfriend who was essentially groping the fashion icon.
A sharp hiss from the editor told the Brazilian beauty she had found what she was looking for and she nodded decisively, moving her hands back to Miranda's hips as she stood to block her actions from the view of any lurking photographers.
"I'll find a massage therapist or a chiropractor to come to the room," Emily added, already scrolling through the contacts on her phone.
"I will not have some stranger's hands on me. The answer is no; is that clear?"
"Yes, Miranda."
"Miranda, would it be preferable if I were to try and offer some relief?" Serena offered, keeping her voice low and her gaze unreadable as the older woman's eyes lost their teary wince of pain almost instantly to bore into her own suspiciously. "You know from my resume that in addition to my certification as an aesthetician, I am also a trained massage therapist," the Brazilian offered.
"Andy's not going to be here for another 8 hours, Miranda. Do you really want to wait that long and be in pain when she gets here?" Serena continued, emboldened by the obvious discomfort of the editor and knowing what she was offering was best for her.
"Even if your back pain isn't affecting the babies, it can't be good for your blood pressure," Nigel added softly as he peered over the top of his glasses at the seated woman who was still gripping his hand tightly as she struggled with both the pain and the decision.
Miranda shot a deadly glare at arts director and then at the other woman, but nodded at Nigel to help her stand. Emily expected Serena to let go of Miranda, but instead the head of the beauty department simply moved her hands back to Miranda's hipbones with her thumbs positioned firmly against the small of Miranda's back. Emily didn't understand until the editor went to rise and blanched instantly as the pain returned tenfold. It was only the careful application of pressure from the blonde-streaked goddess that kept the older woman upright as the former dug her thumbs into her spine.
"Keep your hand under your belly to take some of the weight off of your back until you get to the car," Serena murmured into Miranda's ear, her long blonde hair sweeping forwards so that the ends tickled Miranda's cheek as they hid the younger woman's lips and words from view.
Once they were in the car, which was thankfully a full size limousine as the team had travelled to the show together this morning, Miranda cried out again as the door was closed.
"I can't, I can't. Oh God, my back…please, I need Andrea."
Emily looked as though she might faint and Nigel merely looked completely flummoxed what to do with the moaning woman in his arms, and so Serena took the situation into her own hands again after directing the driver to take them back to the hotel.
"Emily, raise the privacy screen. Miranda, why don't you lay across the seat? It will take some of the pressure off of your back."
The editor looked as though she might cry again as she weighed the embarrassment of lying across her employees against the shooting pain in her spine, ultimately deciding to do what she knew Andrea would have told her to and stretching out on her side on the back bench of the limo, her head resting against the scratchy wool of Nigel's checked trousers and her feet slipped out of her shoes laying across Serena's lap as the Brazilian continued to press against a trigger point in her spine.
"When you were walking out to the car, was the pain any better when you used your hands to lift your belly."
"A - a little," Miranda huffed, her breathing easing up as the trigger point Serena was manipulating released some of the tension she now realized she had been carrying in her hips.
"I'm fine. Just a slight backache."
"You're not fine. I can hear it in your voice," Andy chided gently hoping to draw the other woman out. "What's the matter?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Serena saw the editor's lower lip tremble slightly and she excused herself with a small nod towards Miranda. She didn't dare catch the older woman's eye lest Miranda know that Serena had seen her in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness for the second if not third time today.
Once she was alone, Miranda released a shuddery breath. "Everything," she snapped. "Everything's the matter. I ache all over and I'm exhausted. I missed half the Galliano show, sitting in the bathroom willing myself not to vomit so John apparently thinks I'm snubbing him. Now Serena says the babies are pressing on my sciatic nerve and that my pelvic muscles are stiff from the extra weight and Justine isn't here and I'm lying here half naked while my employee intends to see and touch me. And YOU'RE not here, which is even worse and I only want YOUR hands on me but I can hardly stand as it is, and, and." A single disconsolate sob interrupted Miranda' s rant and Andy wished she had flown out a day earlier as she'd originally planned, maybe then Miranda wouldn't have pushed herself so hard or at the very least she could have tried the maternity support hose and 'Belly Band' that Andy had ordered and which had arrived at the townhouse while Miranda was gone. The more rational part of her brain cut in after a moment, reminding her that it was necessary to stay in New York if she wanted a job to return to on Monday.
"Oh baby, I'm sorry you're not feeling good. How's the pain now that you're lying down? Did you want me to call Dr. Graeme to come to the suite or call Dr. Jansen and ask her opinion?"
"No," Miranda replied, and Andy swore she could hear the sulk in the other woman's voice. "Just be here, as soon as possible." And with that, Andy was left smiling ruefully at a dial-tone as her cab sped towards JFK and towards Miranda.
"Hey sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?" Andy woke Miranda with a kiss after she had arrived at the hotel and put her luggage in the closet to put away later. She had originally intended to let the pregnant woman sleep, but she hadn't been able to help herself as she approached the prone figure curled around a pillow as though it were Andy in the positions they normally slept in.
"Mmm, don't you mean sleeping dragons?" Miranda flexed her toes as she came awake slowly, testing her muscles for any residual spasms or stiffness and was pleasantly surprised to find none. "I thought you weren't supposed to wake sleeping dragons," she added in a voice still husky from sleep and feeling deliciously drowsy and content now that Andrea was here.
"I believe that's tickle," Andy supplied as her lips did just that at Miranda's ear before continuing their path down a throat and milky white shoulders left exposed by her gaping robe.
Once more losing the ability to think or speak clearly as the younger woman continued in her tender ministrations, Miranda still managed to choke out a slightly dazed "What?"
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
"I'll repeat myself Andrea," Miranda's voice dropped warningly, reminiscent of when Andy had first started out as her assistant. But instead of fear, now coiling tendrils of heat and smoke unfurled in the younger woman's belly at the sound and laughing she replied, "From Harry Potter…it's the Hogwarts motto."
Miranda sighed and moved to sit up only to have Andrea's body press back down to the bed. "You know it really is troubling that I have such little effect on you anymore," Miranda murmured, only half kidding. "There was a time my voice would make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and this lovely pale skin to erupt in gooseflesh," she added, her fingers ghosting over said skin and the editor bared her teeth in a grin as her touch elicited said effect on the brunette.
A choked noise was muffled in the back of Andy's throat. "Ah-I would say you definitely still have that effect Miranda." Her hands had found the ties to the robe and her lips had continued in their decent down the precious body until Miranda felt a tongue swirl in her navel and she shuddered violently. "Except now I think we both enjoy it a whole lot more. Besides, if I was still scared of you, there would be very little chance of me doing this."
The long, lithe body had again shifted and teeth closed gently around one nipple, continuing to lavish the attentions of her hand on its equally sensitive counterpart; rolling the rosy tip between her fingers until Miranda could feel the ache all the way between her thighs. "And that would be such a shame now, wouldn't it?"
"No more talking." Miranda choked out the words, now able to do little more than gasp and groan as she writhed and arched into Andy's hands and against the young, firm body pressed against her that God had somehow seen fit to grant her in her dotage. She gasped again, more thankful than ever to the Brazilian goddess than the woman should ever know as her body moved in liquid rhythm in its quest to find release.
In turn, not seeing Miranda for a week meant that Andy all but combusted at the first ghost of fingertips against overheated folds.
Hours later, not having the strength or inclination to move her body where she had all but collapsed after her final orgasm, Miranda turned her head to press her lips to the damp shoulder beneath them. Nearly unconscious herself, Andy managed to discern the words out of the faint mumbles coming from the other woman.
"Excuse me?" Andy's voice had turned cold and she sat up swiftly, pulling the blankets away from Miranda to cover herself. "Did you just say 'Serena?' What the fuck Miranda?"
"Oh God, darling no." Miranda, awake in an instant as she was all but pushed off the brunette, was overcome with laughter and it was a long moment until she was able to gather herself enough to be able to correct the younger woman's assumption, and only because she could see the hurt tears forming in the brown doe eyes whose hurt it seemed always managed to touch her own soul.
"She performed the adjustment on my back. Remember when I told you the awful pain from my sciatic nerve? I could barely move."
Andy slowly inched back towards the entreating figure before relaxing fully into the embrace of the beckoning arms.
"God, Miranda, don't ever scare me like that again," Andy's voice was muffled as she buried her face into Miranda's shoulder.
"I promise darling, I'm sorry."
"Good," Andy nipped the skin beneath her lips sharply and Miranda yelped. Those same lips soothed over the spot they had marked on her shoulder as Andy growled possessively. "You're mine, Priestly, and don't you forget it."
Miranda shivered, not totally out of desire as the words reminded her of the ones spat in anger from Stephen's mouth the night of the attack. But the difference now was that she knew without a doubt that she was safe with Andrea, and even more significantly, she wanted to be hers, to give herself to the younger woman entirely - something she had never felt and thought she never would.
A dull throb at her shoulder blade as the brunette shifted her head as she sought sleep brought a smug, almost rueful smile to Miranda's lips as she was reminded with equal intensity that neither did that mean Andrea was passive or the 'bottom' in their relationship. Mmm, no, quite the opposite in fact."
As the pair drifted off, Miranda thought idly that perhaps it was because she knew the younger woman would never hurt her, she had when she had left, but not intentionally or out of malice - it simply wasn't in the girl's nature.
"I'm sorry I was such a bitch earlier on the phone," Miranda murmured, wanting to know that there was nothing left that was bothering the younger woman.
"Mmm, I've gotten used to it," Andy teased; but instead of the slap she was expecting she heard a sniff from the other side of the bed and she turned to look at the woman now hiding her face in her shoulder, dismayed at seeing a tear roll down the pale cheek until it fell onto Andy's skin.
"Oh Miranda, I'm sorry. Hey, you know that was a joke. The fact that you even acknowledged that you were slightly, and I do mean only slightly snippy is huge. Why do you think you came off as bitchy?"
"But I am," Miranda insisted forlornly, and Andy was reminded that even the great Miranda Priestly wasn't exempt from the powerful reach of pregnancy hormones.
"Come on Miranda…D'you really think I would be cuddling with someone I thought that about?"
"Miranda Priestly does not cuddle," came the muffled reply as Miranda entwined herself with the long limbs and tucked her head underneath the brunette's chin.
"Of course not," Andy murmured, tightening her hold and slipping her hand beneath the fabric of Miranda's robe so that the older woman could feel the warmth of her skin against her own as she sweetly stroked and petted over the form so obviously 'not' snuggled into her still sniffling slightly. She knew Miranda would also deny any insinuation that she was affected by pregnancy hormones and so she simply continued to soothe the, obviously hormonal, woman in her arms who seemed to be suddenly so scared of losing her, the gentle kicks of their unborn children between them comforting them both until sleep overtook them.
"You know, I fully did not expect to have sex with you last night," Andy commented around her toothbrush as she unpacked from the night before. "Not that I'm complaining, if that's the kind of welcome I can expect I think I'll start a new career as a flight attendant or something so I get to come home to that a lot more often."
Her back to the closet door as she hung up the borrowed couture, Andy felt something warm and soft press against her back before a harder swell molded itself just above the curve of her ass and she let go of the hanger, letting the Jill Sanders shift fall to the floor as she found her arms suddenly full of Miranda.
"Such treatment of couture," Miranda chided lightly, even as she moved closer into the embrace.
"I've got something much better in my arms." A hand travelled lightly over the curve of her hip and moved to part the robe tied so loosely already that it was essentially completely ineffective at covering any part of the editor.
"Shall I simply wear you instead," Andy's fingers stopped just before the still swollen, tender juncture that had been the focus of much of last night's attentions. "Yet another exclusive for Miranda Priestly?" The young woman continued her teasing banter, raising her eyebrows suggestively as she tried not to laugh. "I can guarantee a perfect fit."
Miranda laughed, the sound rich and true as she brought Andy's hand to her lips instead. "Darling, you couldn't afford this," Miranda gestured with her free hand
"Good thing I have the only 'All-Access' Runway pass then." Andy teased, picking up the fallen sheath.
"Not today you don't." The older woman shocked Andy by plucking the garment from her hands once more and tossing it over the rack. "Today, you're mine." Miranda watched in satisfaction as the full mouth could do nothing more but open and close as Andrea was lost for words.
"What? I…um, Miranda? It's Fashion Week…in Paris. You - reigning queen of the fashion and publishing industry are probably expected to be there."
Miranda shrugged nonchalantly, but her devilish grin gave away her pleasure at having so fully thrown her lover for a loop.
"But your job…Irv."
"Andrea," Miranda effectively shut the younger woman up by covering the protesting lips with her own.
"I definitely do not want to talk about Irv today. I promise you, it's been taken care of, and yes - a raise is in the cards for Emily for throwing this on her. Are you satisfied? Can we continue with our day or would you like to go on questioning me about work and Irv instead of seeing the Paris I robbed you of last year."
Andy shut her mouth with some difficulty, but the beginnings of self-doubt she could see creeping into Miranda's eyes had her shaking her head and pulling the other woman close, or at least as close as the prominent bulge at her waist would allow.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Andy couldn't help herself from asking; brown eyes once more filled with love and mild concern as her hands travelled gently down the line of Miranda's spine.
"I feel wonderful. Better than I have in ages. No nausea, no stiffness or aches, and I promise to let you know if I need to stop or rest at any point. We have the whole day before the Closing Gala tonight. Does that satisfy you my darling worrier?"
Andrea was almost giddy now with anticipation at the prospect of a whole day, uninterrupted, with Miranda, which was likely the reason for her next comment. "Well then, 'Lay on, Mac-Up-the-Duff.'
Andy blushed bright red and squeezed her eyes shut as she realized what she had just said out loud; but when she opened them again Miranda was merely staring at her, a faint smirk on her lips as she shook her head.
"What am I to do with you, Andrea?"
"Ermm, lay on?"
Miranda threw back her head once more and laughed, the sound widening the already impossibly bright smile on Andrea's face, and she dropped down into a crouch after stealing another kiss.
"Did you hear that babies? We're going to see Paris!" The younger woman's excitement was obviously infectious as a series of soft kicks followed her words as she spoke to the rounded abdomen before bouncing back upright and continuing to get ready at lightning speed. Finally, hopefully, the 'City of Lights' would live up to its name. After all, didn't they live on hope?