A/N: Apologies for not posting last night. My pupper had to go over the rainbow bridge so I really didn't feel like anything at all :(

I have also managed to drag them to Christmas (I know it seems insane but roll with it). You'll find it in Ch5 - which I will post later tonight. Thank you all for the love. I'll reply as soon as I can.

-0-

Miranda delivered Andréa's things to her room, leaving her and Archie to the baby's bedtime routine while she busied herself in her office. The excitement of the evening had resulted in the whole thing being undone and she was now a little behind on The Book but also the emails she'd promised herself she'd reply to once she was home.

She got lost in the look of the fabric on the screen, knowing that this was what her readers would see from now on. Adjusting the brightness of her screen to full, she considered the difference that the brightness settings of the device made. She used her laptop to send off an email to IT with some questions and went back to the iPad. She worked and worked and worked until a soft throat clearing behind her disturbed her focus.

She froze, realising that she had become so focussed that she had completely forgotten about Andréa.

"Andréa," she said, looking up in horror. "I'm -"

"Shh," Andréa smiled, pushing away from the doorpost where she was leaning and joining Miranda in the office. "Don't worry."

"But -"

Miranda was genuinely confused as she stared up at Andréa, who stopped just within arm's reach and smiled.

"I know you," Andréa whispered. "Probably as well as you know yourself. I certainly know you better than anyone else. Once I knew you were working, I unpacked some things and checked on the twins. Cassidy was reading so I sat with her for a while."

Miranda hadn't cried since that last time she'd spent some poignant time with Andréa in Paris, but she felt the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes now.

"You are," she blinked and one escaped down her cheek. "Andréa."

"I am," Andréa chuckled, making Miranda smile. "Your Andréa."

She sighed, closing her eyes and letting that sink in. A rustle of fabric caught her attention and a soft hand on her cheek made her open them again.

"May I join you?"

The confusion must have shown on her face and Andréa took pity on her.

"Like this," she whispered.

Her heart stopped in her throat as Andréa pulled her pant-legs up a little and placed her knee beside Miranda's thigh, taking advantage of the wide seat.

"Okay?" she asked as she put her weight onto it and let her other knee settle beside the other thigh, straddling Miranda's lap.

Miranda couldn't speak. She nodded mutely as Andréa pulled her hair over one shoulder and looked down at her, both hands settling on her shoulders softly and then, Miranda couldn't help as her eyes closed, all of her weight settled in her lap.

"Am I too heavy?"

They seemed such innocent words, but Miranda was transported back to a time where her temper had addled her judgement.

"You are perfect," Miranda hissed, her hands reaching for Andréa's waist. "I misspoke, all those years ago. I misspoke badly. And I apologise for that."

Andréa beamed and they leaned in together. Miranda felt like she was home for the first time in her entire life. Andréa's hands were never still and as soon as Miranda felt comfortable with them squeezing her shoulders, they moved to her cheeks, manoeuvring her face to help Andréa slide her tongue between her lips and elicit another moan from her. It turned out that Andréa was very good at kissing. Her tongue traced patterns on Miranda's that made her breath hitch in her throat and her hands clench in Andréa's shirt.

"Oh, you taste so good," Andréa whispered as she pulled back for a breath. "You are so beautiful."

She had no words to reply, so she let herself relax a little and recalled that she had Andréa's whole body to explore at her leisure.

She used her position to pull Andréa impossibly closer and took great delight in the way she arched a little as their bellies pressed together, followed by their breasts.

"Oh," Andréa breathed. "Miranda."

If Miranda died tomorrow she would be comforted that she heard her name with such supplication fall from Andréa's lips. Her hands moved around Andréa's waist and slid beneath her shirt. The burning skin under her fingertips was so soft that she moaned around Andréa's tongue tracing the backs of her teeth.

The sensations that she chased were endless. Miranda would quite happily have stayed there for all of time tracing the tendons on Andréa's neck and making her breathe out her name.

"We need to move," Andréa whispered. "I need to -"

A wail went up above them and it was like cold water had been splashed over Miranda's head.

"Oh," she blinked, letting go. "I'm so -"

"Don't you dare apologise," Andréa hissed. "Don't."

She nodded but didn't speak, her hands going back to Andréa's waste, gentler this time.

"That was," she shook her head. "More than I can cope with right now."

"I concur," Miranda smiled.

"I want so much from you and for you," Andréa said, her lips caressing Miranda's hairline. "But for now, it is perhaps best for me to go and see my son and leave you to your work?"

"I do not like that plan, Andréa," she said tremulously. "But I agree that it might be best."

"Well, anytime that Miranda Priestly agrees with me, I win either way."

Miranda chuckled, cupping Andréa's cheek and kissing her gently.

"Sleep well, my love."

"And you," Andréa smiled. "Do get some sleep. There will be time for this tomorrow."

"Maybe I should add you back on the payroll," Miranda quipped.

"Cheeky," Andréa shot back, kissing her and then standing. Miranda missed her weight on her immediately. "Oh you are," she bent back down and Miranda saw just a peek of a soft rise on her chest, causing her heart to beat wildly again. "I'm going," Andréa eased. "Sweet dreams."

"They will be," she muttered, quite without meaning to.

Andréa's laugh warmed her heart so much that she didn't really even mind the slight embarrassment as she left.

Any plans she had of doing more work went right out of the door with Andréa. She sat back in her chair like she had never done before and just enjoyed the tingling sensations in parts of her that she had thought broken. She considered her former husbands and realised that perhaps her love always should have gone to a woman. Richard had swept her off her feet when she was young and inexperienced. He was seven years older than her and not shy in showing her the wonders of pleasure. Their sex-life had been revolutionary to Miranda who had barely even known what to do with herself. If she thought kindly about that time, she might very well credit her sexual awakening to her metamorphosis into the Miranda Priestly who remained today.

The fact that Richard was extending his lust to at least four other women was a decidedly dark period in her life. And so after the bitter custody battles, the barbed rejoinders and a good deal of time, Stephen arrived on scene. As PageSix has said, he was a safe bet. She had bristled at the time, but she knew it to be true now. She had chosen him because he was unimaginative and she'd had all the excitement she needed prior to his proposing to her. What she hadn't understood, back then, was that the lack of excitement in his personality would translate to the same in all other areas in her life as well. It also seemed as though he never had time for her either, despite his complaints of the opposite. Despite best efforts, it was difficult to get into anything he tried and it bred frustration; firstly in the bedroom which then spilt out into their lives as well. The effort he failed to put into her in any fashion had translated to her choosing not to put effort back into him.

They had imploded so spectacularly that it had sent ripples through the entire Runway floor. People ducked and covered, they blocked Stephen's numbers on all the phones. The only way Stephen could get hold of her was to communicate through their lawyers which had helped them move expediently through the process with very little bloodshed. What her staff could not realise, however, that it was not Stephen's exit, but rather Andréa's, that had her in such a mood. She knew now that, though she had blamed him for her ill thoughts, it had always been Andréa. Since the moment she dropped the Harry Potter manuscript on her desk, smirking triumphantly and then informed her that she'd had two copies bound and delivered to the girls? That had been it. Miranda was lost to her beguiling smile and her enormous heart.

Shaking herself, she stood, shutting down her desk for the night and promising herself that she would pick it up in the morning. Whether she did, or not, would remain to be seen. For now, she needed to rest.

As she locked up downstairs, setting the coffee-maker and checking the alarms and doors, she mounted the stairs with a spring in her step. Just as she put her hand on the doorframe, a cry from along the landing made her pause. She paused, wondering whether she should offer to help or whether that would be considered as interfering. Not knowing was the worst, so she decided to do what Miranda Priestly had always done, and assume one way or the other. The one thing she did not want to do was interfere or, even worse, imply that she thought Andréa wasn't doing a good enough job but she would not leave him crying.

She knocked gently and when she heard nothing except Archie's wails, she cracked open the door and called Andréa's name. There was nobody in the room and she frowned, turning to see the bathroom door shut and understood.

"Andréa?" she called through the door.

The shower was running and Miranda smiled. How she had wished Richard had sometimes taken up the slack so she could just enjoy a shower in peace. Moving to the pack-and-play that was set up, she made a mental note to see if she still had the girls' cribs in the attic. For now, though, he would be fine. She soothed him gently and smiled at the tiny blanket that he was throwing angrily around the place.

"Oh, you are so grumpy," she said, her voice unlike anything that anybody except her girls had ever heard. "Come here, little love."

Soothing him was not as easy as she thought it might be. He cried and waved his fists as she gently untangled him from his blanket and settled him against her shoulder.

"There we go," she muttered. "Easy."

She did not know his hungry cries but she knew that Andréa would have fed him when she left to come upstairs. Perhaps he had nodded off while he waited for her. It did not matter to her in the slightest. She tucked him into her neck and let him press against her skin as she rubbed his back.

She rocked and danced and hummed her way around the room. As she moved, he calmed and contented himself with making all the motions that told her he might be hungry. She knew Andréa would not be long, so she kept dancing, keeping him busy while they waited.

"Oh!"

"Hello," she said, doing a complicated move with her feet. She had already done the waltz so the foxtrot seemed a logical next step. "He was crying and you were in the shower. I hope that -"

"Of course it is," Andréa smiled. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"You are most welcome," Miranda said easily. "I admit that babies are something of a weakness for me."

"I'll remember! Do you mind keeping him just a while longer?"

"Of course not," she said honestly. "There are two more movements left in the dance."

Andréa snorted and ducked back into the bathroom, leaving Miranda with her son.

She continued their dance and before long, Andréa returned, smiling at his quiet huffing against Miranda's neck.

"You," Andréa said gently to Miranda, running her hand over Archie's back. "Are everything."

"No, Andréa. You are."

"We'll agree to disagree."

Archie was removed from her arms and Andréa shuffled against the head of the bed and brushed away her hair.

"Are you staying?" she asked, without looking up.

"I shouldn't," Miranda mused.

Andréa hummed and let down her shirt, revealing such a beautiful sight that Miranda lost her breath. She stood rooted to the floor watching as Archie latched on so strongly, but also taking in every detail of Andréa's bare skin.

"You should not look at me like that, love. Not while I'm doing this."

Miranda shook herself and opened her mouth to apologise, but found Andréa grinning at her.

"Don't apologise. We've been through it. Thank you for the compliment."

"You are welcome," Miranda shrugged. "You are beautiful."

"You need to go," Andréa laughed. "You're dreaming."

"I am not," she said imperiously. "When I say something, Andréa, I mean it."

"I know."

"I shall leave anyway," Miranda decided. "Please let me know if you need anything?"

"We'll be fine until morning," Andréa smiled. "But thank you. Sleep well."

"And you."

She left, closing the door behind her and escaping to her room. Though she did not usually bathe at night, she felt the need for a shower and turned the water on to get warm while she disrobed.

Standing in front of the mirror was something she did often. In her profession, she needed to look the part as much as she needed to dictate what that part should be and was often more critical of herself than she was of the models that graced her pages. Turning, she took in the slight rounding of her belly and the small curve of her hips and nodded thankfully at the small waist she'd managed to maintain. Her breasts were not as perky as they had once been, but she decided long ago that anything altered by her children would get a free pass. Thus the moratorium on plastic surgery for those parts and the silver stretch marks around her belly button.

Moving up to her face, she blinked at herself, leaning forward to look into her eyes. She had not looked so light in many many years and she smirked at herself as she drew her thong down her legs. She bit her lip as she found just how turned on she had been and did her best to think about something other than Andréa perhaps joining her under the water in the future. If there was one thing she did not want to do it was fantasise about the woman who held her heart but was only three doors down. It felt like cheating, somehow.

The first time she wanted to break apart was under Andréa's ministration, not her own.

Nodding to herself, she got in, hissing at the temperature until her skin adjusted. She knew having showers this hot was not always advisable, but she didn't care. She luxuriated for a while before getting out and going about her nighttime routine. By the time she sunk into her bed, she was truly exhausted and ready for the morning of her new existence.

She had insisted that she must change as the world had, but she had not anticipated quite so much change and just before her eyes closed, they rolled affectionately, thinking of the woman down the hall and hoping that it would not be long before she closed her eyes with her lover beside her.