Title: Always at My Side

Pairing: Miranda/Andrea

Rating: K+ (Part 4 and beyond will be M)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wears Prada.

A/N: Miranda POV; begins on Andrea's first day at Runway, slight AU; slow build Mirandy, with super brief mention of Stephen early on. Total of 4 parts, each with about 5 chapters. Enjoy :)

Part One: The frumpy girl

Chapter 1

It's Monday morning and Roy cannot manage to get me near Runway in time for my meeting. Huffing, I throw open the door and forge my own way, weaving between the parked cars along Fifth Avenue. Walking along the sidewalk in front of me is an unfortunately frumpy woman—I say 'unfortunate' because once I stormed past her, I saw her youth. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-five, though her ill-fitting and mismatched clothing might have said otherwise. For a moment, I almost stopped walking. Her pure beauty—full lips, deep brown eyes, thick, long (no doubt natural) brown hair—the most marvelous canvas in the world. Oh, the things I could do with her, I think, quickly shaking myself from the notion as security opens the non-revolving door for me at Elias Clarke.

As I wait for an elevator to take me up to my domain, I hear an unfamiliar voice asking security for a Miss Emily Charlton. Turning my head, I meet her eyes. She's no doubt here for the second assistant position, as there would be no other reason for Emily to associate with such an unfashionable woman. "Robert, she's with me," I call, gesturing for her to step forward. After getting her horrific briefcase stuck in the turnstile, she meets me, reaching out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Andy," she said. "And you are?"

"One should always know the name of one's potential employer prior to the interview," I stated. "Take the next elevator to eighteen," I added, stepping in and pressing the button before the girl could follow me. I'm not sure why I feel so drawn to her—she's really quite hideous at first glance—but there is something about her that's almost attractive, that makes me want to go all soft, and over what? A frumpy woman I encountered on the street? Damn, I need to get laid, I thought. Pulling out my phone, I quickly texted my husband, "Sex tonight?" He responds immediately, "Sure. Does 10:15 work?" I write back one word: "Yes."

It's really no secret that my marriage is less than perfect, but Stephen dresses up well, is always willing to attend dinners and benefits if there's liquor involved, and someone once commented that we looked good together because our hair matched. What an odd thing to say, but at least they couldn't call me a cougar.

The elevator doors opened and Emily was there to greet me. Sometimes, I don't quite understand how she knows exactly when I'm going to arrive. Part of me wants to be devious and exit on the seventeenth floor and take the north stairwell up to my office just to see the look on her face. I think I might do that soon. She is clearly getting too comfortable with our routine.

"Emily, I expect the position of second assistant to be filled by the end of the day today. I expect to evaluate all potential candidates myself, seeing as the last three you selected were highly incompetent." Emily tried to say something, but all I could think about was the frumpy girl. "That's all," I said, waving Emily away as I entered my sanctuary.

Looking through some of the notes on my desk, I begin making my list for the day when Emily approaches my door. "Miranda, the first candidate has arrived and, well, you don't even need to—" I looked up over the rim of my reading glasses, glaring at the young woman who dared tell me what I need or don't need.

"Send her in. That's all," I say, returning my gaze to my paperwork.

"Umm, hi, Mrs. Priestly, I'm Andy. Remember? We met downstairs? I'm here for the position of second assistant." Remember? I thought, How could I forget? Her hand, suspended in midair, hovered over my desk. Staring at her fingers, her long elegant fingers—god, what those fingers could do to me, I thought. Quickly reacting, I reached up and placed my hand in hers. She shook vigorously, the harsh movement resonating all the way up to my shoulder. It was a brusque and manly handshake, but somehow it brought a smile to my face, as I expected no less from the frumpy woman.

"Your given name is?" I asked, tapping my pencil against the desk.

"Uhh, Andrea Elizabeth?" she replied, as if she was unsure of her own name.

"Andrea, call me Miranda," I instructed, drawing my hand back. "Why do you want this position?" I asked her. "You don't know a thing about fashion—have you ever even read Runway?"

"No, but—" she whined, as if there existed an excuse for my argument while she dangled a resume over my desk. But something about her, the way she didn't cower when I criticized her, how she was almost proud that she was so supremely unqualified. "Have Emily settle the paperwork with HR. She will show you your desk and train you. That's all."

Even after dismissing her, she still stood in my office, dangerously close to my desk and the chairs no one dared touch. I looked up from the paper I was reading. Did she not hear me properly? Meeting my eyes, she began taking a few steps backwards, still in shock, apparently. Well, so was I, because all I could think of were those long fingers stroking my folds, full lips pressed to my nipple.

She turned on her heels, almost curtsying as she headed over to Emily's desk. I turned again to my phone. "We need to make it earlier," I texted. "12:15 at the Four Seasons?" he replied. "OK," I wrote back, tossing my phone back to the table with an audible thud. I didn't know if I could wait even five hours as her presence alone left a mysterious air in the office. Who are you Andrea Elizabeth and why am I so allured? I wondered, thumbing through photographs.

The morning dragged. No matter what I tried to focus on, my thoughts drifted to the young woman who hovered so clumsily outside my office.

"Miranda, it's noon. Roy is downstairs for you," Emily called. I quickly stood from my desk and headed for the outer office, taking my coat and bag from the ever-efficient Emily.

"Bye, Miranda! Have a good lunch!" Andrea called, waving animatedly. I groaned aloud as I turned on my heel and stormed out of the office, anxious, hoping that the elevator would move more quickly by the mere centripetal force of my marching in circles.

"Roy, circle the block. I'll be no more than thirty minutes," I instructed as I stepped out of the car and into the Four Seasons. Sonia, the assistant manager, recognized me and inconspicuously greeted me, handing me a key to the room. Sighing, I pressed the elevator, riding to the twenty-third floor and tightly clenching my thighs.

As I entered the room, I realized Stephen has not yet arrived. Quickly, I walk over to the desk and set down my bag. I step out of my heels and unbutton my blouse, draping it over the back of the chair. Unzipping my skirt, I slide it down my legs and neatly fold it on the desk. I cannot understand why the young woman is infiltrating my thoughts, but all I can think about is her hair, her lips, her eyes, those fingers… Forcing my thoughts aside, I sat on the chair, pulling out my Blackberry and scrolling through emails.

I heard the keycard in the door, and took a deep breath. Finally, some release, I thought. I dropped my phone into my bag and stood, smoothing my hands over my body. Today, I was wearing black lace lingerie with thigh-high stockings. Perfect, I thought, grinning slyly as I approached the door.

Stephen had just shut the door behind him when I pushed him against the door, knocking the keycard out of his hand and to the floor. I unclasped his belt and slid his pants down, stroking and licking his already hard cock. He quickly slipped out of his suit coat and tossed it on the nearby chair. I climbed on top of the bed and kneeled, knowing he would follow me.

Twelve minutes later, I'm peeling myself up off the bed, my muscles aching from the shattering orgasm I so willingly endured. I buttoned my blouse and spritzed some j'adore perfume. My husband stepped out, looking completely put together—something I knew I could never manage today. "Have a good afternoon," I whispered, softly pecking his lips as I passed by him and slipped into the bathroom.

"I have to rush back to the office. I'll see you later tonight? After 10?" he called.

"Mmm, I'll wait up," I replied. The door opened and shut, signaling his departure. Those were the only words we had spoken to each other all day, save the few text messages arranging this tryst. Perhaps that was what attracted me to Stephen more than anything: his economical approach to words.

As expected, I was right on schedule, walking out of the building at 12:38pm. Everything in my world was precise, even when unexpected. But now, now I had to return to the office, where the new girl, Andrea Elizabeth, would no doubt be.

Preparing myself to reenter the office, I tried to quell my irrational thoughts. Andrea is an assistant, and will likely fail me sooner rather than later, I tell myself, No, she will not be interested in going home with you, so don't even bother thinking about it. Why did it seem so much more acceptable for men to have mistresses at work?

"Where is what's-her-name?" I ask Emily. "I don't recall dismissing her, did I?"

"No, no, Miranda. She's with Nigel and Serena. They, um, decided she needed a crash course in fashion," Emily stammered.

I nodded, not needing to know the details. "You will continue to deliver the Book until she is fully trained," I told Emily as I walked into my own office. Hours went by. Hundred of emails read and replied to. Promptly at six o'clock, I strode past Emily's desk to the closet to retrieve my own coat. It was funny, watching the redhead's stunned face as I picked up my own items, as if hell had frozen over or something.

Riding in the car to my home, I couldn't help but feel like I should have said goodbye to Andrea, stopped by the Art Department or given her some small sign that I was pleased with her—why, I don't know, she hadn't even done anything for me yet.

When Stephen came home, the girls were already asleep, and I, too, had crawled into bed with a book. I always tried to read the NYT top bestsellers, but for some reason, this one was not capable of capturing my interest. I heard the beep of the alarm when he entered, heard him toss his keys on the desk in the kitchen and grab a bottle of water before heading upstairs. He was so incredibly predictable.

He quietly opened the door, apparently not wanting to wake me. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, "Vince was there, so I couldn't slip out, but—"

"Shh," I said, glancing at the clock and since it was just past 11pm, "just come to bed." I placed my bookmark between the pages and set it on the nightstand, along with my reading glasses. I couldn't have looked very desirable—my damp hair drying in waves framing my makeup-less face. I wore a sleeveless cotton-blend nightgown because it was comfortable, and I was in my own bed: the one place I could let the layers slip away. Once Stephen crawled into the other side, I reached over and turned out the bedside lamp. "How was your meeting?" I asked, not really listening to his reply, just nodding and feigning interest.

"What was going on with you today?" he asked me. "It's been months since I've gotten a horny text from you."

"Oh," I said, grateful the darkness hid my blush, "just, you know, stressed with the Board." I lied. I didn't want to tell him about my new assistant, how I was fantasizing about her and needed release. I knew the lie wouldn't last long. I was lucky to be shrouded in darkness and exhaustion tonight. Tomorrow, I might not be so lucky.

"Well, it was a welcome surprise," he said reaching over and wrapping his arm around me, "We should do it more often."

"Mmm, can you imagine the headlines: 'Miranda Priestly seen exiting the Four Seasons for an afternoon quickie with husband!'" I said, smiling as I leaned back into his strong chest. I wonder what she feels like, I thought, my mind drifting to the young woman's slim, lanky arms.

"Honey?" Stephen questioned, softly squeezing me. "I asked if you wanted to pick up where we left off this afternoon," he said, nuzzling my neck. The heat of his lips was sending jolts through my body.

"Noo," I said, softly pulling away. "I would just love to get a good night's rest," I said. I couldn't honestly let him make love to me while my mind was focused on someone completely different. One lie was enough for tonight. He asked if I had a meeting with Irv tomorrow, knowing I had a tendency to be more stressed then. "No, there's a new second assistant Emily will be training. She's…frumpy," I said, trying to be honest.

"So in other words, she won't last long and will make your lives hell for the two weeks she's there," he said, chuckling."Goodnight, Miranda," he kissed the top of my head and rolled to the other side.

TBC