"Andrea, wake up. We're nearly there."

Andy is expertly trained after two years of working for Miranda, and her instincts kick in immediately.

"I'm awake," she confirms, stretching her neck and cracking it loudly. Sleeping in cars has never been her favourite way to travel, but Miranda had all but insisted that she get some rest, while the older woman took her turn at driving. "Where are we?"

Andy takes note of their surroundings, but they are driving in darkness, the only light coming from the headlights on the road in front of them. No city glow, no streetlights to guide them and the noticeable absence of any other people or property.

"It's far too late to drive to New York tonight," Miranda replies reasonably. "We're stopping at a motel for the night."

A motel? Miranda Priestly, who requires excellence in all areas of her life, wants to stay at a motel overnight? Now Andy knows she has woken up in a parallel universe.

It's her last day at Runway and to say it's been the strangest day of her term working for Miranda would be understating it, somewhat. The photoshoot had gone quite smoothly for the most part, but trouble had started soon afterwards. Miranda had taken a phone call and come back bearing bad news; the company jet had been grounded due to a problem with the phalanges. Immediately, alarm bells started ringing for Andy. Wasn't that from an episode of Friends? Looking affronted, although her eyes had sparkled with something, Miranda had assured her it was a very real problem and one that could not be quickly fixed.

They had all talked and discussed different options for travelling home, and it had been decided that they would book a flight on a commercial aircraft. However, at the airport, it had come to pass that there wasn't room for everyone, something that she had been informed of after returning from the bathroom. Much to her amazement, Miranda had seemed unruffled and had simply advised her to book a rental car. What she hadn't expected is for everyone else to get on the flight and for Miranda to be accompanying her on the drive home.

Andy had taken the first shift, driving for over two hours before they pulled in at a service station for coffee and a rest. Miranda had made conversation the entire time she was driving, asking questions about her future and seeming genuinely interested in the answers.

Now, she is even more confused about the woman she is sharing the car with.

"You want to find a motel to sleep in?" she asks, unable to hide the disbelief in her tone.

"I've done us one better, Andrea. I've called and made a reservation. I'm not completely incapable, no matter what you must think of me."

Andy snorts, more than amused. It's not that she has ever once thought Miranda was incapable. No, it was more a case of knowing the woman will never deign to do something if there is someone there who can do it for her. She is the mistress of delegation and there is never any hesitation in utilising the people around her, whether in her employment or not.

Miranda shoots her a look, but her glare is half hearted and Andy can see the affection shining bright behind the narrowing of her eyes and pursing of her lips. Miranda likes her. She's not sure when it started, but the woman has really thawed towards her lately. More than once in the last week alone, she has caught Miranda trying not to smile at something that she has said.

"A motel, though. Really?" She finds herself questioning the older woman, something she does more and more these days.

"I never took you for a snob, Andrea."

"I'm not…" Andy replies, laughing, and the 'but you are' goes unspoken.

Miranda ignores her and just keeps driving. Her eyes laser-focused on the road ahead, a twitch of her lips is the only visible sign that she knows exactly what Andy didn't say.

It's only a few minutes later that they are pulling off of the road into the parking lot, a burger bar on one side of them and the motel on the other. Andy stares at it incredulously, wondering if the other woman has a brain tumour she doesn't know about. Miranda is willingly going to stay here? As far as motels go it's not the worst Andy has ever seen, but it's certainly not a five-star hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant on site.

She hops out and heads to the trunk, removing both her own and Miranda's suitcases, tilting them onto their wheels and preparing to walk inside, when Miranda stops her.

"I think I am more than capable of managing my case," she informs Andy, warm fingers wrapping around her own and disconnecting them from the handle. Andy just stares after the woman who is now marching into the reception as if she does this kind of thing every day. Running a few steps to catch up, Andy listens as the older woman talks to the man behind the desk, confirming the booking and taking the key from him.

One key. Surely they are not sharing a room?

Miranda walks off, following in the direction that the man had vaguely gestured and Andy just numbly follows.

"Here we are," Miranda informs her with a small smile that in the dull lighting of the corridor looks positively evil to Andy. "Room 7, my lucky number."

"Um, Miranda? Are we sharing a room?"

"I tried to get us two rooms when I called but they were fully booked. It can't be helped, I'm afraid," the woman replies firmly, but Andy can see a pink hue to her cheeks that hadn't been there before. Wisely not commenting on it, she follows her inside the room. To her relief, there are two beds and she breathes a little easier. For one horrifying, terrifying moment, she had wondered if this would turn out to be a single room. The thought of sharing a bed with a woman she constantly undresses in her mind is far too much for her to handle after what has already been an emotional day.

It's not like she wants to leave Runway, but it is more a case of knowing it is time for her to move on. She has already completed a second year as Miranda's assistant, a year more than she needed to get a reference from the woman. However, the thought of not seeing her every day had made her dig her claws in deep, ignoring the other opportunities that had on occasion come her way.

In the end, it was Miranda who had decided for her, in her usual high-handed way, informing Andy that it was time for her to move on. That had hurt more than she liked to admit, but she knew the woman was right. She was causing herself far too much pain working at Runway, but what else can you do when you've fallen in love with your boss?

It hits her then. This is the last day she officially still works for Miranda which means that tomorrow when they finally arrive home, she will probably never cross paths with her again. Her new job as a journalist at the Mirror will probably never put her in the woman's circle again, especially since she is starting at the bottom as a junior.

"Are you ok?"

Miranda's voice pulls her from her inner reverie and she plasters on a smile. "I'm fine, just thinking."

"It's the end of an era, Andrea, but it's not the end," Miranda replies cryptically. "Shall we go to dinner now?"

"Where?" Andy asks dumbly. "There's nothing here but a burger bar."

Miranda just looks at her as though she is stupid and Andy gasps, full drama mode activated. "Miranda Priestly, are you telling me that you're going to eat a burger?"

"I do have children, Andrea. I've even eaten pizza," Miranda tells her, laughing gleefully at the shock on Andy's face.

Andy revels in this little nugget of personal information that the woman has revealed. She adds it to several other little gems that she has discovered. Things like how Miranda is completely soft for her dog, Patricia, and often greets her before she even says hello to her children. It slots in nicely to the dossier that the observations she has made of her boss have become.

By the time they have dinner and head back to the room it's past 11pm, but Andy is nowhere near tired enough to sleep. She's wired and not just because she had a second refill of coke with her burger. No. Her head is far too full to sleep, now that images of Miranda gazing across the table at her while licking burger sauce off of her finger, is something that is playing over and over in her brain. The woman had looked at her whilst doing so, in a way that still makes Andy burn now, half an hour later.

"I'm going to shower," she informs her boss, cheeks pink and eyes darting anywhere possible but the other woman's face. She opens her case and pulls out pale blue cotton pyjamas, unwilling to wear the other; a more revealing option that she had packed. She picks up her toiletries bag and scurries away from Miranda before she does something stupid like kiss the damned woman.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," Miranda calls out from the seat she has taken on her own bed. "It's important to be thorough."

Andy slams the door behind her, and leans against it, taking a deep breath. What is Miranda playing at? Her words were innocent, but her tone was, well, suggestive at the very least.

She strips off her clothes and turns on the shower, shivering slightly as she waits for it to heat up, reflecting on the strange day that she's had so far. Nothing makes sense to her, but she can't quite put her finger on why. Everything just seems 'off'. From the problem with the plane, the arrangements for getting home and now here they are in a motel that only had one room left.

When they had walked across the parking lot, Andy had noted the very few cars outside the motel, but on the way back from the burger bar, there had been none apart from their rental. Odd, considering they were meant to be fully booked, especially when paired with the neon sign flashing outside with the words 'We Have Vacancies'.

Did Miranda want to be alone with her? If so, why? It was her last day at Runway, surely there weren't any last-minute tasks that she would be asked to complete?

Suddenly determined to find out what the hell is going on, Andy finishes washing quickly and then rinses. A quick dry off and then she is donning pyjamas, ready to go and face the dragon.

The woman in question is waiting for her, bare-faced and wrapped in a towelling robe. Andy is too lost in the vision to say a word as she walks past her with sleepwear and toiletries in hand.

"Why don't you pour us both a glass of wine?" Miranda suggests. "There is a semi-decent white in the fridge."

Andy just nods as she walks past, dropping down onto her bed. The sight of Miranda in a robe is just too much for her to handle right now and if she wasn't terrified of Miranda walking back in and catching her, she'd no doubt be trying to find a quick release by now. The sound of the shower running and an awareness of the fact that her boss is now naked really isn't helping matters.

Determined to put these thoughts out of her mind, she gets up and goes to the fridge. There are two bottles of white and several small bottles of spirits. Resisting the urge to down a few of them, just to get her through the night, she reaches for the bottle of white she assumes must be the one that Miranda likes. A quick scrutiny of the glasses reveals that they are at least clean, and she makes quick work of opening the bottle and pouring it into their glasses.

She catches up on emails and then plugs in her cell to charge. With nothing else to do she just sits and waits, a feeling of nervousness filling her stomach when the shower goes off, inwardly dreading the moment Miranda walks out of the bathroom.

When the door opens, her eyes zero in on pale, elegant legs and she looks up, nearly choking when she sees the shortest black negligee she has ever actually seen a woman wearing. With sections of sheer fabric, there is very little left to the imagination and she has to drag her eyes away, unable to look the other woman in the face after ogling her so blatantly.

"It's ok to look, Andrea. Do you like it?" her boss asks innocently, but Andy knows the sound of her voice too well. The woman knows the effect she is having on her and is enjoying it. Well, if Miranda wants to play, Andy will oblige.

"It leaves far too much to the imagination, Miranda," Andy replies casually, passing the other woman a glass of wine.

"Too much? Don't you mean it doesn't leave much to the imagination?"

"No," is all Andy replies and she turns away, grinning to herself with the knowledge that she has just left Miranda speechless. It's her last day so she's not scared of being fired, but the small chuckle that reaches her ears is a relief, all the same.

"Oops! Oh no!"

Andy spins around quickly, only to find Miranda perching on the bed, one toned leg crossed over the other. Her glass lays on its side on the covers of the bed, wine pooling on the sheets and Miranda is not doing a damned thing to clear it up. Running into the bathroom, Andy grabs one of the towels and begins to mop up the liquid but it's already soaked through to the mattress.

"Miranda, the whole bed is soaked," she informs her frustratedly.

"Is it? Dear me. It looks like we'll have to share then," is the nonchalant reply she gets and she narrows her eyes at the older woman.

Miranda stares back, her face a picture of innocence except for her eyes. There's that sparkle of mischief that has been directed at her several times already today, and Andy wonders yet again what it means. She watches, stunned, as Miranda gets up and pulls back the covers of Andy's bed, sliding her legs under the sheets and sitting up against the headboard, cell phone in hand.

"Well?"

Andy shakes her head and rolls her eyes, walking around and getting in on the other side. She flicks the switch next to the bed, swapping from the main overhead light to the bedside lamps and checks her own cell.

"It's a minute past midnight," Miranda tells her and for a moment Andy wonders if the woman is telling her to go to sleep, but there is something wistful in her tone.

"I know," is all she can reply as a lump suddenly appears in her throat.

"You no longer work for me."

"I know," she repeats again, desperately trying to contain the onslaught of tears that are threatening to make an appearance.

Miranda sighs and opens her arms. "Come here, you silly girl."

Andy only hesitates for a moment, but the other woman smiles warmly and opens her arms a little further in invitation. She slides across the bed and allows herself to be wrapped up in a hug, quite unlike anything she has experienced before. She can feel every curve of Miranda's body separated only by thin material and everything changes in a moment. Gone are her tears, overpowered by arousal so strong that she's sure she's going to have a damp patch on her pyjamas.

"It's not the end. I told you that earlier, did I not?" Miranda asks her gently.

"Yes, but I don't really know what that means."

Miranda pulls back slightly, eyes searching Andy's face before she leans in and captures full lips with her own.

Miranda Priestly is kissing her? Suddenly it all makes sense. The plane, the alternative travel arrangements and Miranda insisting there was only one room. Then, the oldest trick in the book of there only being one bed, courtesy of one not-so-accidental incident involving a glass of wine.

"You planned this!" Andy blurts out the accusation without thinking, expecting the other woman to deny it but she doesn't.

"You have been completely blind to my intentions for too long, Andrea. I had to get your attention somehow," she explains as if this answers any of the questions springing up in her ex-assistant's mind.

"You like me," Andy realises, a soft smile forming on her face as she gazes at the woman she loves.

"Well, of course I do. You never would have lasted two years as my assistant, if I didn't," the woman replies with a roll of her eyes, but Andy can see her fighting a smile.

"No. I mean, you really like me. Like… you like me, like me," she clarifies, edging closer to the other woman again.

"Really, Andrea, you speak like my children."

"Well, sometimes they are the only ones that make sense," Andy counters with a grin.

"They're 12," Miranda deadpans. "But I suppose you are right. I seem to have developed a new level of tolerance for you."

"Wow, way to make a girl feel special," Andy teases, still smiling.

"Andrea, you have captivated me since the moment you walked into my office, with all of your bad dress sense and fiery attitude. I have found myself growing increasingly fond of you with each passing day until one day, I woke up and realised it was love," Miranda informs her quite primly, staring at the wall across the room.

"There, does that answer your question?" Her tone is imperious but Andy can see the uncertainty on her face. The woman has made herself vulnerable and she doesn't want her to start regretting her openness.

"Yes, that answers my question," she says softly. "In case you were wondering…"

"Yes, Andrea?"

"I love you, too."

With that, Miranda almost pounces, kissing her fiercely. Andy deepens it immediately, the faint tang of wine still present as their tongues meet; Miranda's hand slipping beneath her pyjama top and stroking the soft skin of her ribs.

Andy rolls them so that she is on top, grinning at the startled look that Miranda gives her.

"What? You didn't think I would be some kind of pillow princess, did you?"

Miranda looks up at her, eyes burning with lust. "I have imagined this moment many times, darling, and believe me when I say that I am right where I want to be."

Andy dips down to kiss her then, revelling in the feel of the woman underneath her.

"Well, I had better show you just how much you can enjoy being where you are. First off, you're going to beg me to make you come, and then, by the time I am done with you, you will be begging me to stop."

"Actions, not words, Andrea. Words are cheap."

Andy doesn't answer, but three hours later Miranda concedes defeat and pleads with the woman to give her a rest. Andy is too exhausted to be smug but falls asleep wrapped around the woman she loves; content, sated and not at all worried about the future.

xXx

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