Paring: established Miranda/Andy
Prompts: This story was inspired by the song Waiting Here by Kelley Mooney
Word Count: 1991
Summary: What happens when Andy works too hard to impress Miranda.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Devil Wears Prada, and I am not making any money off of the characters. I am just using them for some fun and great inspiration.
Warning: This is not a happy ending story.
A/N: This is none Beta like all my stories so any comments for improvement is greatly appreciated.
Waiting Here
We used to lay, in bed for hours
We'd laugh and talk
You'd bring home flowers
And then the cracks begin to show
Who are you?
I don't know
Fall in the bed
I try to rest
Another day
Another test
I tried so hard
I failed again
I'm not good enough for you
I guess
Now I am waiting here for you to leave me
You say I'm not that easy to take
You make me feel small
I don't think you care at all
I don't think I can fake another day
Your home from work
Who will you be?
Will you kiss or even see me?
It's not the life
I dreamed about
Please let me go let me out
Now I am waiting here for you to leave me
You say I'm not that easy to take
Well you make me feel so small
Did you ever love me at all?
I don't think I can take one more day
I want more
Unlock this door
Let me live
Let me go
Please let me go
Now I'm sick of waiting here for you to leave me
Well, you are just to much to take
So I'm packing up my years
I'm going to leave you here
I'm taking back my pride today
Yea I'm packing up my things
I'm going to spread my wings
I'm taking back my life today
Good-Bye for good
Good-Bye Sweetheart
I'm on my way
-Kelley Mooney
Here I sit at my desk, laptop open in front of me, blank screen, and the nasty cursor blinking at me. Even the computer is criticizing me. I look to the ceiling and close my eyes trying to starve off the tears that have been a constant threat lately. How did this ever happen? In the beginning it was all so different. Our love so strong, and our passion all-consuming. I thought for sure this was it, that you were the one. My soul mate.
I never knew how much I enjoyed just lying in bed until you came along. It was always a waste of time in my mind, but with you it was nurturing our love for each other. The soft kisses, gentle caresses always pulled at my heart-strings.
The weekends the girls were at their Fathers were long days spent in bed, in front of the fireplace or on the huge lounger we had in the media room making love.
Nourishment those days consisted of fruit, crackers, cheese and wine. Finger foods, easy to feed to each other. Once in a while you would sneak in chocolate sauce, whip cream, and cherries and I would be the plate.
I hated small talk but it was so easy with you, even the quiet time between us flowed easily. Words of endearment and confessions of love never meant more to me and was never easier for me to confess.
I remember the first time you brought me flowers. I never expected that from you, but those things came so easy to you. A bouquet of Forget-me-nots. I was so shocked, someone had actually put thought into buying flowers. They were not the same old boring Roses or Carnations. God I despise Carnations. Every bundle after that was an adventure, and as you instructed me had meaning.
It was so easy laughing with you. Something I could only do with the girls, and you even managed to find my tickle spot.
She smiled easily.
I remember you telling me how my "real" smile affected you. How it warmed your insides, but that was a long time ago.
Then you started coming home later and later every night, and when you did make it home there was never a kiss.
I know it because I was awake every single night, waiting for you.
Every single time you crawled into our bed and never touched me I would cry myself to sleep. I guess you heard that. Maybe not.
You missed many family time with the girls. They felt it too. You had promised to treat them like your own. You turned out just like the others. Only on a rare occasion did I miss one of their productions.
I would go on planned vacations alone because something would come up. Something that was just too important to miss. What could have been more important than time alone between us. Even I did not do that before the retirement. I missed you so much those times. You left me a weeping, heartbroken mess. You had destroyed the Dragon Lady.
I feel like I need to stay quiet because it seems every time I say something it is the wrong thing. I have never felt so powerless or insecure. No one had ever been able to crush me before you. I touch you and you flinch as if my touch burns you. I remember the days you could not keep your hands off of me.
I think about the last time you had to leave town for a story. I was excited to spend some time away from New York with you. I had ideas of candles and champagne in a bubble bath with you and long hours of making love once again. You saw me packing and asked what I was doing. My heart broke in two hearing you chide me. Telling me you could get the story done faster without me distracting you. I did not want to push knowing this was your dream, writing. I wanted you to have it all.
Six days later when you returned home you did not even kiss me just walked up stairs and fell into bed. You did not even know I had slept in the guest bedroom that night.
You spent the next four days at the office "putting the story together" as you tried to explain.
You would think I had learned my lesson after the second time, but I thought this would be different. This time I was truly in love. I had never felt this way before. You released something within me. Your touch would set fire to me and your kiss left marks on me for hours afterward. My body would quiver every time your eyes scanned over me, and I was ready to do anything for you, for us. Something I never gave to my previous relationships.
The tears once again fell from her eyes.
I once thought I was not good enough or young enough for you, but you insisted it was the other way around. I gave up everything for you. My position. My status. My job. I wanted to do that because you meant everything to me. We meant everything to me.
Now I feel as if I am giving up myself, and I am slowly dying inside.
Every night I waited for you in bed I wondered if it was the night you would never come home. If it was the night you would tell me you've had enough of me. Tired of me whining we never spend time together anymore. Tired of me constantly asking to go away together. Tired of my old body.
Our arguments have become more frequent.
You are the one not coming home so we can spend time together. Now when we have the house all to ourselves. The girls are in college and I sit here waiting for you.
We argue about you working all the time. You claim I do not want you to excel as a journalist. You claim that I still only think about myself.
Talks of us having more children curtailed years ago because you cannot take the time away from work. The house is too quiet.
Vacations stopped two years ago. Your response is always there will be time later after I have established myself.
I cannot smile anymore just nod.
I cannot love anymore just be.
I have been waiting up for you to come home. It is now three in the morning and I hear the front door close. I listen as you walk up the steps, and I hear the bedroom door open. I hope, God I live on hope. I open an eye and see the light from the hallway shine behind your shape. You are so beautiful I almost gasp. Yet once again you do not look my way, but walk straight to the bathroom.
I turn and the tears silently fall. I cannot risk you hearing me cry.
I hear you switch off the bathroom light and I feel the bed dip as you climb in. There is no touch, or kiss, all I can do is smell the lingering scent of your perfume, and my heart breaks even more.
When we committed ourselves to each other I had dreamed. Yes, the Ice Queen had dreamed of a love so pure nothing could harm it. I dreamed of a life with a partner who wanted the same thing as I. I dreamed of us as one.
Our children running through the house. Sleepless nights rocking a crying infant.
Vacations on the beach, watching the tides, kissing in the moon light, making love in the waves.
I dreamed of watching you accept awards, watching you write, and watch you search out a story. My life is happier sitting in a room watching you on your laptop than alone in this huge house.
Our arguments always end in me asking you if you want out and you tease me, chide me for being ridicules. Always asking me where that question is coming from.
I never thought anyone would be able to make Miranda Priestly feel so inadequate, but you have. Telling me I am high maintenance and you're tired of it. I love you more than life itself, what kind of feelings did you really have for me? Was it love?
I want my life, my job back. I want to be confident again. In control, and I will never let this happen to me again. I have learned my lesson and whatever it meant to you I hope you got it.
Just let me have my divorce. Why do you want to keep me around? It is obvious you are no longer attracted to me so why stay? Do you want to hurt me? Do you not want me to be me?
She stood at the counter with the phone in her hand, "Miranda they need you answer now, today. They cannot stall any longer. Do you want the job?"
I do not care about the townhouse. It is yours. There are too many unhappy memories. The twins will have their home to stay in during holiday breaks. As for me I have enough money to buy a place of my own in Paris big enough so the twins can go there too if they desire.
As it seems you have forgotten about them too. You have missed so much with them after they went to college they do not even bother to invite you to their productions anymore. Even they know.
"Yes, Irv. Tell Paris Runway I will be there on the next plane. And tell them I hope it is easier to find an assistant there than it was here in New York." The Ice Queen was back.
Miranda Priestly Editor in Chief of Paris Runway. I like the sound of that.
Miranda looked inside the townhouse one last time. Tears fell down her pale face. She looked over at the table in the foyer. Laying on it the letter and her keys. She picked up her bag, turned, walked out on to the front steps and slowly closed the door. Sunglasses on, she picked up her face and strolled to the waiting car.
The stunned woman sat at the little family table while large tears slid down her face. The letter crumpled in her trembling hand. "Oh my God I have lost her," she could barely whisper to herself.
The End