Premise: Yeah, so you probably know the drill. You turn on your iTunes® and set the music to shuffle play. Then, you write a scene/drabble during the play of each song x 5 songs. When a song ends, you move on to the next song. Admittedly, I have certain OCD tendencies (we all do, in different ways, I think), so I am a spell-check fiend while writing. This means that although none of these is terribly in-depth, they are, at least, free of most spelling/grammatical errors. I did cheat in one way - when all was done, I went back and cut off any partial sentences at the end of each scene, purely to remove cliffhangers. (Note: This was done back in the autumn of 2009. Am only just now posting it here.) This exercise likely not exceedingly entertaining, nor does it provide any great epiphanies regarding DWP characters. Most likely it provides certain insights into my brain (and musical preferences).

Oh, yeah -- I do not own original DWP characters.

Beach Boys: God Only Knows

Andrea flopped down at the breakfast table, exhausted after a long night down at the docks covering a drug raid story. She was only going to sit there for a few minutes, reorienting herself, before heading upstairs to bed. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would get to say 'good morning' to Miranda between the woman's morning yoga session and leaving for Runway.

She must have fallen asleep right there, her chin in her hand. Her ears captured quiet whispers as fingers brushed the edge of her shoulder.

"Thank God. You're home safe."

Andy lifted her head to the smell of fresh coffee. Sure enough, Miranda was putting a steaming mug in front of her. She smiled up at the older woman, sleepy eyes mesmerized by the beauty of silvery hair and bright blue eyes.

Miranda paused, momentarily caught by the soft, loving look she was receiving.

"Where would you be without me?" the fashion maven pertly queried, while moving to fill her own mug.

Andy chuckled.

Indigo Girls: Love of Our Lives

Andy looked through the coins in her pocket and found the right combination, dropping them in the soda machine and retracting the can of diet soda it dispensed.

She wiped the top with a bit of her shirt, popped the tab with a satisfied sigh at the sound, and walked outside. The sun was setting, a slight breeze rustling the air around her as she moved down the street towards the Elias-Clarke building. It was a short walk from the Mirror, but just long enough for her to take a moment to enjoy how the soothing warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze, the smells of decaying leaves all melded to create a sense of autumn.

She smiled at the thought that this mixture instigated such a wonderful reaction as her body relaxed and her stride became more easy-going.

Billy Joel: Don't Ask Me Why

Miranda sighed and rubbed her temples - again.

"Why can't, just once, they get the layouts right on the first try?" She didn't wait for answers. Picking up the set of sketches on her desk, she tossed them back towards Nigel.

Emily entered the office with a bouquet of wild flowers, finding a spot to slide the vase between several other mixed gifts along the far end of the windowsill.

"And who are those from?"

"Vivienne Westwood." Emily reached out with the card.

Miranda shot a harsh look, but took the card. She was really unimpressed with the offerings brought forward by the designers and minor celebrities wishing to stay in her good graces.

"Everyone loves newlyweds."

Nigel's words caught Miranda off-guard, and she instinctively looked to the small, framed shot of her and Andrea, tucked between various pictures of her girls on the nearby credenza.

Barbra Streisand: Songbird

Miranda stepped in the hotel elevator, slid her sunglasses into place as she turned to face the closing doors. She forced a smile as Irv came into view while she was tapping the button for the ground floor.

As she felt the car make its descent, she felt the tension of the long Paris fashion week eking out, flowing down her shoulders, and making her purse feel exceedingly heavy.

Really, she was getting quite tired of being the one that kept Runway operating as the beacon of light in a world full of fashion horrors. And the very person whom she counted on to be her pillar of support had left her.

Andrea.

Now, she truly was alone.

She wondered, not for the first time, that if all eyes looked to her for inspiration and direction, where was she to look?

Feist: 1234

Andy tilted her head, turned up the sound on her computer, slid it off her lap, and stood up from the sofa. The gravelly voice of Louis Armstrong singing 'It's A Wonderful World' washed over her as she turned to face Miranda.

The silver-haired woman glanced up from the Book. Her eyes were tired, her body weary. It was well after 10pm on a Thursday night. She gave Andrea a questioning look, eyebrows making a gradual ascent.

Andy extended a hand to Miranda, expectantly. And waited.

After a long moment, Miranda closed the Book and stood, placing it gently in the warm indent of the wing-backed chair where she had been sitting for the past few hours.

She slipped into Andrea's arms, smiling despite herself as she allowed the young woman to attempt to lead for a moment before taking over.