Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.
Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)
Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.
A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but m"ost of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.
On A Couch in Paris
A MirAndy fan fiction
By Gun Brooke
Part 2
The laptop showed a small window of Andrea retaking her seat and straightening her clothes after turning on the DV-camera.
"Do full screen mode," Miranda said curtly.
"Okay." Andrea's fingers trembled visibly as she tapped the touch pad. Now Andrea's lovely face filled the entire fifteen inch screen.
"Hi, there," on screen Andrea said, taking a deep breath. "This feels strange, talking to you via the camera, and even if I know you'll never see this, I'm till apprehensive. I've made sure that the privacy setting is on its highest on my YouTube account. Once I upload the video clip there, I'll delete it off my laptop—that will be my insurance that it won't fall into the wrong hands. My password and username are very elaborate and safe too. Should be fine." Andrea shifted. "I'm not sure how this idea is going to pan out, but I really need to be able to do my job well. I have a feeling that things are going south for me and Nate, my boyfriend, so I might be fending for myself completely soon, which means a paycheck every month is a must.
Seems Nate is checking out his options. Just a hunch. He hates my job, my hours. He hates you. He hates that you call me all the time. Lots of hate, and very little room for love." Andrea wiped at what had to be tears and straightened her back.
"Anyway, that wasn't going to be the topic for this clip. I have come across a damn near impossible new task of sorts at work and I really need to discuss that with you." She leaned forward and looked imploringly into the camera. "What's this idea about bringing me along in the elevators? You hate having company in the elevator and still you do that little chin-jerk that means 'get in, you idiot'…or at least that's how it feels. I end up having to force myself not to press into a corner to really give you your space. I don't know if I should talk, let alone what to talk about. You sometimes regard me with this questioning look and it drives me crazy. Really. No exaggeration. C-r-a-z-y."
Andrea pushed her hair behind her ears. "I thought I'd try some stuff out here." She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, she gave a broad, sparkling smile.
Miranda gasped. That smile. Blinding.
"How are the girls, Miranda?" Andrea said, looking genuinely interested. "They were so concerned when Page Six wrote about that idiot husband of yours. Was he really that inconsiderate to you, making a scene at Pastis? Surely, him pushing chairs hard enough to make them fall over, was the gossip column's way of embellishing, right? The girls were so upset, and ready to shoot him at dawn."
"It was true, wasn't it?" Andrea murmured next to Miranda, pausing the clip. "He really was that kind of a moron?"
"Yes." Miranda gazed at Andrea. "I never knew you were uncomfortable riding in elevators with me."
"Oh, I was."
Was? Miranda blinked. As in past tense? She motioned for Andrea to resume playing the clip.
"I wonder if such a conversation would get me fired? Probably. I guess, one of the reasons I'm so on edge in the elevator is that your presence is so damn formidable…and there is no escape. No way out until the elevator stops. No matter how few floors we are descending or ascending, my mind always has time to play with scenarios." Was Andrea blushing or was there something wrong with the camera? She fidgeted, but looked into the lens and kept going. "A favorite one, which really bothers me the most because I'd be mortified if you ever found out, is 'what if the elevator gets stuck between two floors?'" Andrea tugged at her hair. "What would I do then? I mean after the initials calls made with the emergency phone, what would happen? What if I couldn't control myself?"
Miranda trembled. What on earth was Andrea talking about, 'control herself'? She glanced at the blushing woman next to her. "You're being very candid."
"Easy enough when you think this will never see the light of day," Andrea murmured. "Trust me, it gets…worse."
"There are days when it actually hurts physically to be in too close proximity." Andrea pressed her fingertips to her lips. "You smell so wonderful, you are the most stunning woman I have ever seen, and you look at me with such annoyance most of the time, it's painful. What I wouldn't give to just once be able to touch you without fearing that my life and I know it will be over." Andrea scooted closer to the camera, her shoulders and head filling most of the screen. She looked pale now, rather than flustered.
"I have worked for you for five months now, or there about. I have learned so much and continue to do so on a daily basis. Now, not the work per se, I mean, fetching coffee and running errands…that's the easy part. I learn from observing you, watch you carry out a job that you do better than anybody else. I…I do this, every day. I ride the elevators, trying to not become one with the wall. I do this and then at the end of our workday, you go home to your moron hubby who clearly don't appreciate you and the two little girls who obviously do, and I…I'm alone to ponder why the hell it's so damn hard to ride elevators with you."
Andrea looked into the camera, tilting her head to the left. "Maybe I'm making it harder than it has to be. Perhaps, if I really dug deep for courage, I'd dare tell you that I think you're beautiful. That you are the most brilliant woman I know of. You just seem so withdrawn sometimes, it worries me. I know. I know. Don't bite my freakin' head off. You're very private. You display your Runway persona and keep everybody guessing about the rest. If I wasn't privy to those elevator rides, where I could sort of study you, I wouldn't know you any better than the rest of the staff at Runway." Suddenly Andrea sat ramrod straight and her eyes widened. "God! Why haven't I thought of that before? Why don't you ever take Emily or any of the other ones here, even Nigel, who is kind of close to you, on the elevator? Why me? And why do you so often practically nail me to the wall with your eyes? Anybody ever tell you that your eyes are your main weapon when you terrify and intimidate?"
Miranda tapped the touchpad, pausing the video. "Don't expect me to answer this." She glared at Andrea who sat just as straight on the couch as she did on the screen. "My reasons are my own."
"Uhm. Don't forget that you were never meant to see any of this," Andrea murmured, looking pale. "I mean. I don't expect you to answer anything. I'm pretty certain that I'm fired…if not yet, then soon."
"What? Why?" Miranda narrowed her eyes deliberately. Pleased at how this made Andrea flinch, she waited for her reply.
"If you think this is bad, I'm not going to get any less outspoken."
"Oh, God…" Miranda sighed. "How much longer of this clip?"
"About half a minute. You don't have to—"
"We are going to watch them all. Don't make me repeat that."
"Right." Andrea slumped back and looked at the laptop through her bangs.
Miranda clicked to resume the video.
So, from now on, I'll make a vow to say at least one thing, not small talk, but something outside of Runway, whenever we're in the elevator. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you turn me into a total wimp. I want to know more of you. I want to talk to you, so I will." Drawing a trembling breath, Andrea bit her lower lip. "Maybe one of these days I'll be able to speak without worrying so much. That would be worth…just about any risk whatsoever." She smiled and gave a funny little wave. "'Bye."
The screen turned black and then small thumbnails of other clips appeared. Miranda felt rather shell shocked, but she knew how to not let that show. This was posted in June. That was when Andrea had ben piping up in the elevator. Miranda hadn't made the connection until now. One day out of the blue, her lovely assistant had smiled broadly and asked Miranda what she thought of Patricia's, her St. Bernard, new doggie bed. Stunned at the unexpected topic, as Miranda had forgotten all about telling Andrea to update all of her dog's equipment and toys. They had actually spoken amicably about the dog.
"We talked about Patricia." Miranda turned and cupped Andrea's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze directly and not through her bangs, or her eyelashes that was sometimes her habit.
"Yes. The very next day." Andrea licked her lips. "I found that addressing 'you' on the camera helped strengthen my courage."
"So this is how you have approached the subject of…of…"
"Of you."
"Yes. Well. All the videos? Like this?"
Andrea suddenly blushed furiously. "Uhm. Sort of. Or not. Not entirely. I mean. No. Not all. A couple I would rather delete than let you watch."
This peaked Miranda's interest even more. She could feel Andrea's warmth through her robe, and when Andrea mentioned the videos she'd prefer to delete, tiny beads of sweat pearled at her temples. Miranda was certain that if there were any videos she needed to watch, those were it.
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To be continued in part 3
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