Chapter Text
Unacceptable.
Miranda stewed over the invitation she received months ago, lying innocently on her desk after being buried and forgotten, debating whether she should tear it into shreds or throw it straight into the garbage bin where it belonged.
At first, she thought it was a joke or maybe even a mistake, and that they would rescind the content of the invitation they sent. She did not deign to confirm her attendance at it, and now they’re hounding Runway for details on what time they should expect Miranda to arrive. After all, they had been notified by the hotel that La Priestly had yet to check in when she should have been there as of today because the event is happening this evening, and those fools simply assumed that silence means yes.
It seemed incompetence was a viral plague, and while she didn’t care who might lose their jobs over her refusal, Miranda couldn’t act as she pleased for the time being, with HR already breathing down her neck. She scoffed at their recent intervention about her shady comment — their words, not hers — on New Jersey. They act as if Elias-Clarke didn’t rack up millions from bad publicity thrown at her.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted her musings.
Nigel came inside without waiting for her to say so, and she already knew what he was going to say, so she cut him off before he could even speak.
“Nigel, my answer is no,” She spat vehemently. “And there’s nothing you can do to convince me to stand beside that second-rate, trying hard copycat.”
Nigel stared at her for a moment, and he let out a tired sigh. “I have a suggestion.”
Her eyes narrowed. It didn’t have the desired effect as Nigel pushed through with his idea instead of leaving her office. “Send Six on your behalf.”
At the mention of Andrea, her ire began to dwindle. Oh, she’s still annoyed, but the thought of Andrea arriving on the red carpet and simply being the most beautiful of all the women there in a couture of her choosing is a more welcome distraction to her.
Before she could lose herself further in her thoughts of Andrea, she heard Nigel cough loudly, once again interrupting her. She glared at him in return, and Nigel, dear Nigel, openly smirked at her as if he had just read her mind.
“Assemble a bag and have my assistant deliver it straight to the hotel Andrea and I would be staying in for this insipid event,” Miranda stood and gathered the proofs she still needed to go through, along with the invitation. “Include that dress from Ralph and the black velvet Valentino.”
She marched right past him and barked out instructions to her assistant to coordinate with Nigel. The sooner they leave the better, and that would give her more time to thoroughly enjoy the plans she has for Andrea. Even though she had already narrowed down her choices to two, it wouldn’t hurt to try on a few more.
She watched them scramble around her, and she smirked at the chaos she caused. Now, no one would take notice of her quick strides to Andrea’s office and the excited spring that accompanied her steps.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t even be here to deliver the news personally. That’s what assistants are for. But they have been so busy lately — her own doing and Andrea’s commitment to her work — she was willing to take any chance she had just to get one glance at her, and no, she would never openly admit that she missed her. Not yet.
When Miranda noticed that she was only a few feet away, she slowed down and treaded carefully so her heels won’t make a sound. Somehow along the way there she had decided to surprise Andrea, and now, standing right before the glass door to her office, she was glad she had made the right decision.
In the empty hallway, Miranda stood still, letting her eyes peruse Andrea, who was sitting at her desk, furiously writing in her notebook while one hand massaged the column of her neck. Miranda eyed the burgundy blazer that hung on her figure, filing a note in her mind how that shade complimented her well, and it led to her wondering about that particular Versace cut-out dress she had envisioned Andrea in when she saw it a few months ago.
Miranda continued her observation with rapt attention, quite content to watch in the shadows for now. Or until Andrea would finally take notice of her as she always had whenever they were in the same room together. She watched the scenery before her unfold with fascination as Andrea suddenly jolted like she’s been woken from a trance, her eyes fluttered closed as she put her pen down, then she stretched as a puppy would, and Miranda had to stifle a chuckle as her acute hearing let her hear the crisp sound of joints cracking. The sound reminded her of a night they spent together where she had Andrea bent over the desk in her study as she fucked her mercilessly from behind, and whatever afterglow they were supposed to have was drowned in shared laughter and whining — from Andrea only — when she teased her about her cracking joints.
They finally made eye contact, and Miranda felt her chest constricting upon being caught, but it only lasted for a moment as the shock written on Andrea’s face immediately morphed into delight — only Andrea would dare look at her as if she was genuinely happy to see her. Soon she was greeted by a bright, dazzling smile that outshone the sun itself, and only then could Miranda let out a sigh of relief.
Andrea stood up quickly and went around her desk, and Miranda’s eyes automatically flew downwards to the black pumps adorning her feet, then upwards to the sharp cut of her dress pants that matched the shade of her blazer. Her gaze lingered to the white cotton camisole that fit her snuggly — she’ll strongly deny that she spent more than five seconds staring at her chest if asked. Then her eyes met her lover’s enchanting doe eyes again.
Andrea opened the door for her and beckoned her inside, her smile now turned shy as she greeted Miranda. “Hi.”
“Hello, Andrea.”
Her face softened at the same time a pleased smile painted Andrea’s kissable lips when she heard her name uttered in the way only Miranda does. Her eyes drifted towards those lips; her gaze was intense as she contemplated giving in to the impulsive need to kiss Andrea senseless, but then she saw Andrea step back from her.
Her brows furrowed in concern, and she was about to ask what warranted such a reaction when she caught the very same hunger she had just felt openly expressed in Andrea’s as well.
She tilted her head knowingly, but she knew Andrea saw her do it to hide the relief she felt from knowing that she didn’t willingly pull away from her.
“Um,” Andrea mumbled, her teeth catching her lower lip, and Miranda nearly growled at the sight of it. “Is there anything I can do for you, Miranda?”
Your job.
She once answered callously.
But before she could even give Andrea a proper response, they heard shuffling footfalls from the hallway.
Andrea sat back down in her chair behind the desk in a flash, she smiled at Miranda reassuringly before schooling her expression to an inquisitive one. Her eyebrows arched cutely and just for that, Miranda gave her a small smile before donning her own professional mask.
From the reflection of the window pane behind Andrea, she saw Nigel and Amari approaching the features editor’s office.
When they’re both in earshot, she tossed the invitation with a snarl. “Do not disappoint me.”
It landed perfectly at the center of the table. Miranda chanced a glance at Andrea, and her commitment to the show they’re displaying almost dissipated when she saw chestnut pupils blown wide with arousal.
“Andrea,” She growled her name like a command, her eyes twinkled when Andrea managed to get ahold of herself. She perused her quickly and gave a small nod. Then she turned to walk out of the office, putting an extra sway to her hips — a reward for Andrea since she managed to pull herself together and a promise of something more to hold onto since their moment was abruptly disrupted.
“Call Roy, have him on standby to pick us up, and tell him to figure out a route to the hotel that wouldn’t take more than forty-five minutes,” She didn’t notice Nigel almost stumbled while Amari did a hundred eighty-degree turn to hear the rest of her instructions.
“Then have Andrea come up to my office as soon as Nigel’s done with briefing her.”
“I already called Roy, we can go there right now.”
Miranda stopped in her tracks and sharply turned on her heel to look at her presumptuous assistant. Her ire, which has been calmed by the moment shared with Andrea, has returned tenfold, along with the initial annoyance she already harbored toward half of the party that has interrupted said moment.
“When I said ‘us’,” Miranda said with an icy glare. “I meant Andrea and me.”
Eviscerating her assistant sounded like a good outlet to let go of some stress — HR told her that she needed to find some activity or hobby aside from firing incompetent people, so they can’t write her up for this.
Then she heard Andrea ask softly. “Nigel, what’s this all about?”
Miranda backpedaled on her plans, deciding that Andrea doesn’t need any more added stress on her plate, knowing that the silly girl would come running to her side the moment she caught wind of the evisceration in process.
“Go fetch the Bulgari, Graff, and Swarovski that arrived yesterday and give it to Nigel,” Miranda ordered. “That’s all.”
She resumed her walk back to her office, pondering what kind of face Andrea had when she heard her raise her voice. She pursed her lips at the thought of missing out on it. Well, whatever explanation Nigel gave has been tuned out as she busied herself with her phone, typing down additional items for him to include in the bag she’s having assembled.
Miranda sauntered into the executive suite, promptly throwing her coat aside to the armchair before plopping down on the chaise lounge with a huff. The car ride, however short it was, given Roy’s efficiency, did not alleviate her need to push Andrea to the nearest flat surface she could find and capture her lips in a searing kiss before enticing other pleasurable noises from her
It would be a total lie to say that Andrea did not drive her to the brink of madness when she appeared in her office almost an hour after their encounter in a new outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit that accentuated her body, and the damn tie knotted around her neck that swayed with every slight movement she made — Miranda wanted nothing more but to use it as leverage to pull Andrea in for a kiss.
Miranda Priestly was a woman of action, and she wouldn’t be deterred from getting what she wanted, which is Andrea, who is cluelessly taking in her surroundings, unaware of the woman eyeing her from behind, who is concocting Machiavellian schemes in her head, and is getting ready to conduct one right now.
“Wait, wait. I hope that’s not what you’re wearing tonight.”
She sat upright as Andrea slowly turned around to face her, wearing a bemused look, her eyebrows furrowing in distress at her statement.
She clicked her tongue before Andrea could defend her choices and continued. “Did I not teach you anything?”
It was a rhetorical question, and her bright blue eyes gleamed with mischief, gleefully reveling as her words posed a challenge to the woman before her. Miranda watched with an amused smirk that she didn’t bother to hide at the indignation welling up in Andrea.
“Technically, Nigel -”
“Had his turn,” Miranda beckoned her forward with a tilt of her head, inwardly pleased with her quick acquiesce and unusually giddy at how easily Andrea could still read her as if twenty years hadn’t gone by at all.
Recognition flashed in Andrea’s eyes, her countenance turned playful, and she swayed to an imaginary beat as she waited for the next scenario to play out. Miranda raised an eyebrow, and that’s all it took.
“Are you going to have your way with me, Miranda?” What a loaded question.
Miranda did not respond verbally; instead, she stood slowly from her perch, letting Andrea have her fill of her as those doe eyes she adored so much gazed at her with a familiarity intimate only to them.
She took a step closer, inhaling a scent of citrus that she knew came from the shampoo Andrea preferred.
Her hand reached out to touch Andrea, fingertips landing on the silk fabric of the jumpsuit at her waist. Then it moved upwards in a glacial pace while it left behind a trail of heat that the silk underneath her palm couldn’t hide. The steady rise and fall of Andrea’s chest may have fooled her, but the moment her palm rested on its center, she felt the thunderous beat thumping because of her, for her.
All this she did while holding Andrea captive with her stare, not the kind that would have designers shaking in their heels, nor the one that would’ve parted the masses to make way for her. It was a look that solely belonged to Andrea, her Andrea, who had gotten better at maintaining a calm facade and yet would willingly let her in without preamble.
Miranda removed her hand and grazed her knuckle teasingly on Andrea’s breast, which earned her a sharp inhale. A moment later, she settled her hand on the tie lying on her décolletage. A heated gaze of ocean blue and warm chestnut met in understanding familiarity.
She wrapped her lithe fingers around the tie and tugged on it like a leash. “Come along, Andrea.”
Andrea closed the distance between them in one step, grabbing her by the waist and pressing their bodies flushed together, breaths mingling in the minuscule space. Andrea squeezed her hips, and Miranda tilted her head slightly, barely brushing her lips against Andrea’s.
The sound of a door creaking open momentarily snapped them back in place, suddenly remembering that they weren’t alone in the suite. There’s still a matter of Miranda’s assistant, a.k.a. HR’s watchdog, hovering over them, who’s also overly enthusiastic in offering assistance towards Andrea. Miranda grumbled as she remembered several instances where the girl had repeatedly inserted herself in Andrea’s personal space.
“Hey,” Andrea whispered. She pressed a brief kiss on her temple, soothingly rubbing her thumbs over her hipbone to assuage her. “It’s okay.”
Andrea began to pull away, but Miranda stopped her with a well-placed hand on the small of her back.
“Miranda?” Andrea searched her face for an answer or anything at all because she cares too much and loves her far more than she had ever deserved.
“Stay,” Miranda uttered with conviction. She trusted Andrea to understand the multitude of unsaid declarations that one word carried. It was “no more hiding”, and was “I want to love you without reservation”, and was “I’m ready”.