A/N

This is the first DWP-fic I've written in over a year, so please bear with me, I haven't really gotten back to the level of comfort I used to have when writing these two. In writing altogether, actually. I wasn't really sure whether or not to publish this attempt at all, but a friend of mine thought I should. So. Here you go. Please be nice. ;)

After her cell phone hit the water in the fountain, Andy had a dreadful moment of regret, one so powerful it seemed to stab her through the heart. But she steeled herself and walked on. She walked for what seemed like an eternity, at least enough to make her feet hurt so bad she staggered rather than walked. When she thought her feet would turn into raw meat, she finally gave in and entered a small bistro. Ordering a stuffed baguette (and to hell with the "danger" of eating carbs!) and a large coffee, she sat down at a small table by the window, staring out at the busy street. She barely noticed the door opening behind her, but she did notice the voice. How could she not? She had been haunted by that very voice for almost a year. Awake, asleep, Miranda Priestly's silky voice was always there.

"Un café s'il vous plaît. Chaud. Trés, trés chaud."

Andy tried to shrink in her chair, but of course it was no use. Of course Miranda saw her.

"Hello, Andrea."

"H-h-hi."

"Care to explain what on Earth has gotten into you?"

Miranda calmly sat down on the other side of the table, her eyes drilling holes into Andy's soul. At least that's what it felt like. Always had felt like.

"Andrea? I'm waiting."

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at the shows?"

"Yes, I should. So should you."

A waitress put the coffee cups and the stuffed baguette down, glanced at Miranda once and decided it would be safest to bolt. None of the two women by the table noticed. They were far too focused on each other.

"No, I shouldn't."

"And I ask you again; what has gotten into you?"

"I just… can't do this anymore."

"What is this, Andrea? Your job?"

Andy steeled herself and looked Miranda straight into the eyes.

"You see Miranda, I really don't want this life. I don't want to wear shoes I can't walk in, always being hungry because I can't eat what I like, always knowing that whatever I do, it's never enough for you, when all I ever want in life is to please you."

Uh-oh, that sounded a bit weird, Andy thought and mentally smacked herself. Miranda however still looked completely unruffled.

"You want nothing more than pleasing me, and yet you decide to leave me in the middle of Fashion Week? I must say your reasoning is quite interesting."

Her tone wasn't that poisonous, but Andy's eyes filled with tears that she tried desperately to blink away.

"I'm sorry. It's just… too much."

"I see. You want more comfortable shoes - in case you suddenly feel the urge to powerwalk through Paris again, I'm sure - and you want to eat more. Fine. Wishes granted. Do you have a third wish?"

Andy looked up at the older woman, surprised at the gentle, almost teasing tone in her voice. She dared a smile.

"Maybe, but I doubt you would want to grant that one."

"We'll see about that. I am feeling very generous today, otherwise I would be at the show with a new Emily - a skinny and neurotic airhead - instead of trying to coax the best assistant I ever had into coming back with me."

Andy blushed and suddenly saw something in Miranda's eyes that she had been too blind to notice before. It was a look she saw in her own mirror whenever she thought of Miranda. No way, this could not be. No way. She would not embarrass herself further by voicing her emotions - what if she was mistaken?

"Miranda, I…" she trailed off, blushing so fiercely she was afraid smoke would start rising from her burning cheeks. She struggled to find words, but they failed her. She sat in silence for quite some time, staring down at her coffee.

Miranda sighed.

"Perhaps the third wish is mine, then. Andrea, I would like to… ask you out."

"Like, on a date?"

"Yes. A date. I had it planned, you see. As soon as we got back to New York, I had planned on asking you out to dinner. See if there was any interest from your side. I never planned to run through the entire Paris chasing after you, though."

Andy giggled.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that…"

"Will you come back? Be my assistant for the rest of the week, and once we get back home…"

"… I hand in my two weeks notice and we go out? On a date? Just the two of us?"

It was insane. It was her dream come true. There had to be a catch. But instead of presenting one of those, Miranda merely nodded, still smiling.

"Of course just the two of us. To be perfectly honest Andrea, I would hardly like sharing you with anyone, especially not on a date."

She chuckled a little and shook her head.

"Come on, we need to find a cab so we can go back to the shows before the entire fashion world comes looking for us."

Andy nodded and stood, ready to leave with her. Miranda pointed to the table;

"Bring your carbs. I promised you won't have to be hungry, so I'll be damned if you don't eat."

Andy laughed out loud at this and grabbed the baguette.

"Want a bite? It's stuffed with shellfish."

"No thank you. I had planned on ordering pizza after the shows."

"You're kidding me!"

"No, I am not. You are welcome to share it, as long as you don't tell anyone that I indulge in such vile food."

When Miranda smiled and held out her hand for the younger woman to take, Andy felt certain that this could actually work, against all odds.