I don't own The Devil Wears Prada

"Andrea clearly doesn't understand what she's talking about."

"Well, Senator," The host intervened on Andy's behalf. "A few million people are bothering to read what she has to say on a daily basis. She must know something."

"Thanks, Bill," Andy spoke up. "But, honestly it doesn't matter what Senator Graham thinks or what you think, for that matter. Facts are facts and Boys," she smirked, "the facts are on my side."

"I think I've just been upstaged on my own show," Bill joked as he turned to look back into the camera. "That's all the time we have for this week. Don't forget to pick up Andrea Sach's new book; War is not a Fashion Accessory." The audience clapped and then the lights lowered and it was all over.

"Do you want to grab a drink later?" Bill asked Andy as her microphone was being removed.

"I can't," Andy slowly stood up. "Miranda is waiting for me."

"Invite her along," Bill offered. "I'd love to see her when she's had one too many."

Andy rolled her eyes. "No, I don't think you would."

"Fair enough." Bill loosened his tie. "Another time then. You did great today."

"Thanks," Andy waved as she walked away from the stage. She stopped in the dressing room she had been given, gathered up her things, and then walked out of the studio where a limousine had been waiting for her. She had packed her schedule too tightly, and knew that it was entirely possible she'd be a little late to the dinner she was supposed to be attending with her wife.

They had hardly seen each other in the last two months. Their schedules just hadn't allowed it. Andy had been off promoting her new book and Miranda was dealing with the Paris fashion week. The dinner would be the first time Andy had seen Miranda in almost two weeks, and knew that despite her fatigue and need for rest, there was no way she could cancel on Miranda now.

It was an important dinner where Miranda would parade them around from one important business associate to the next, working the room like the very pro that she was. It would be a late night, and by the end of it, Andy wasn't sure she'd still be standing, but she would have at least showed up.

The limousine stopped outside of the hotel where the dinner was being held, and Andy forced herself to step out of it. Some paparazzi were gathered outside, but none of them seemed particularly interested in her. Andy wasn't sensationalistic enough for them. Honestly, most of them found her boring since she reported real news and her relationship with Miranda was often toted as being coldly affectionate.

Andy entered the party, already in progress. She looked around seeking out her white haired spouse amongst the crowd of people. She spotted Miranda speaking to the Turkish ambassador. Andy chuckled as she watched Miranda charm the man in front of her, though Andy was sure Miranda probably knew very little about the ambassador and most likely cared very little about expanding her knowledge now.

Andy expertly moved through the room until she was standing next to Miranda. She kindly interrupted Miranda's conversation with the diplomat and greeted her wife with a light kiss on the cheek, being careful not to transfer her lipstick onto Miranda's flawless skin.

"You're late," Miranda said as they pulled apart.

"I take it you didn't watch the show," Andy reached out to the nearest tray passing her by and pulled a glass of champagne off of it.

Miranda raised her brow. "You always think you know everything."

"Am I wrong?" Andy asked and then took a sip from her glass.

"I'll watch it later." Miranda stepped away from Andy.

With a self-satisfied smile, Andy wrapped her left arm around Miranda's waist and let her wife lead her around the room from one person to the next. She entertained questions about her new book, and about the current political climate. She even managed to get into an absurdly civil conversation about the ACLU which Miranda had immediately excused herself from the moment the topic had come up.

It had been a long night, and Andy was happy to escape it as she stepped out onto the balcony using a key she had stolen from one of the hotel's staff. She walked up to the railing and then leaned against it. She closed her eyes instead of keeping them open to admire the New York skyline that was spread out before her. It wasn't quite as wondrous for her as it had been all those short years ago when she had first moved to New York and first started to attend all these fancy parties with one of the most powerful women in the city.

Andy no longer felt like pinching herself to see if she was awake and not just living her life in a coma induced fairytale. She had become used to the twists and turns her life had taken, and was even beginning to accept that she was well on her way to becoming more than Miranda Priestly's wife.

"Are you thinking of jumping off?" A voice asked from behind her.

Andy slowly opened her eyes, but didn't bother to turn around. "Not tonight," Andy released a heavy breath. "I'm supposed to do Randall's radio show in the morning."

"Ugh, aren't people tired of you yet?" The voice sounded disgusted. "Every time I turn around, there you are." Andy felt a body fall against the rail next to hers. "Are you sure you don't want to jump?"

Andy's eyes tracked over the body standing next to her. "I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Ah, well, another day then."

Andy closed her eyes again, glad that the warmth of the day had fallen into a cool night.

A hand brushed against her arm, pulling her away from her momentary chance at rest. "You look like hell, Andrea."

Andy looked over at the hand offering her an already lit cigarette. She thankfully took it. "Emily, please tell me what you really think." She said before she brought the cigarette to her lips.

"Now, now," Emily brushed her hair out of her face, 'there's no reason for me to be rude." She reached out and then took the cigarette away from Andy's lips. "I saw you on that god awful show this evening," she brought the cigarette to her own lips. "That Graham fellow is an idiot."

Andy shrugged. "I don't think he likes me."

A hint of a smile made an appearance across Emily's features. "You are still quite slow, Andrea."

"So," Andy blew out another long breath. "How has everything in New York been? I just got back this afternoon."

Emily released her own sigh. "Miranda is driving everyone crazy, as usual. She fired one of her assistants just this morning and I swear she's looking to fire someone else before the night is over."

Andy took the cigarette away from Emily's shaking fingers. "Are you afraid it's going to be you?"

Emily hollowly laughed. "I'm always afraid it's going to be me."

"You're the new Nigel, Em. Miranda wouldn't know what to do without you."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "Did she tell you that?"

"You know better than that. Miranda doesn't talk to me about Runway." She snorted. "She hardly talks to me about anything."

They finished smoking the cigarette and then looked out at the skyline together, neither particularly impressed by their view. They stood in silence for a while until Emily impulsively blurted out "I did miss you, you know?" Her voice finally lost the haughtiness it had carried all evening.

It was like a dam had been broken. Andy pushed herself up off the rail and straight into Emily's body. Their lips crashed together and their hands began to roam across each other's bodies. Emily pulled at Andy's clothes, pushing away anything that got in her way to touching Andy's skin. Though frantic, none of their movements were clumsy. Their bodies acted as if they had done all of it before.

Andy guided Emily up against the nearest wall. Her hands pushed up Emily's stylish black dress, and then toyed with Emily's desire until pushing into her. She remained in Emily's warmth even after she had sated Emily's desire to be touched and her own desire to touch. She had missed this, had missed it more than anything.

"We have to get back inside," Emily whispered into Andy's ear.

"Miranda will think I fell asleep in a corner," Andy argued. "I won't be missed."

Emily ran her fingers through Andy's damp hair. "But I will be."

Andy nodded once, and then gently pulled out of and then away from her lover. "Go," she whispered, "I want to stay out her a little longer."

Emily finished straightening her clothes, and then wrapped her arms around Andy's waist. "I love you, Andy."

"I love you too, Em."

The arms fell away from around her, Emily stepped away, and suddenly the dam was once again in place. "You owe me a cigarette."

Andy watched as Emily walked back to the party, and then straightened out her own clothes. She took another fifteen minutes to prepare herself to go back to the party. When she finally gathered herself up enough to enter back into Miranda's domain, her wife was still mingling amongst the commoners.

"Did you fall asleep somewhere?" Miranda asked as soon as Andy stepped up next to her.

"Let's go home," Andy placed a hand against Miranda's arm. "I'm dead on my feet."

Miranda nodded, and they quickly made another tour of the room before leaving. Andy rested her head against Miranda's shoulder as they were driven to their home.

"You should take better care of yourself, Andrea." Miranda whispered.

Andy yawned. "I should," she agreed. "But I'm trying to get famous."

Miranda rolled her eyes but leaned over and then kissed Andy softly on the forehead.

When they got home, they didn't make love, both were too exhausted for anything that strenuous. But, Andy did hold onto Miranda as her wife slept. She thought about how they had gotten together, and about how she had been so certain that all she wanted in life was to be Miranda Priestly's wife. After she had left Runway she had begun to feel like a part of her soul was missing and had just naturally assumed that Miranda was that piece. She had done everything anyone had ever written down in a love story to try and gain Miranda's affections, and eventually it had all worked out.

Miranda had handed over her heart, and Andy was all too aware of the preciousness of the gift she had been given to even contemplate throwing it away. She had accomplished something that very few people had ever accomplished before, and she wasn't strong enough to tell Miranda to take her heart back. She didn't want to hurt Miranda like that, wouldn't hurt Miranda like that.

She could never tell her wife that she had made a mistake. Andy couldn't bring herself to confess that the part of her soul that had been missing was the woman she now went around telling everyone was her best friend. She couldn't tell Miranda that she had somehow fucked it all up and gotten everything wrong. And, Emily wouldn't say anything either because they both knew that there was no undoing the mistakes they had both already made.

All they could do was continue to make the same mistakes, hoping that one day it would all somehow just come to an end. One way or another. Andy knew she was living in a house that was burning down, she just didn't know how to escape. She'd stay even if she was just waiting to be burned alive.