Miranda placed the phone gently back into its cradle, removed her glasses and rubbed her red rimmed eyes. She got up and began to pace again, her hands clutching another glass of scotch. She had tried Andy's phone again shortly after Stephen had hung up. There was still no answer, hadn't been since she got back to the hotel over 4 hours ago. Miranda rubbed her temple as she sat on the couch. She knew she should go to bed, but she couldn't. She knew she should stop drinking, stop crying. Normally, she would have Emily or Andy drawing up new plans for the arrangements tomorrow now that Stephen wasn't...well...but she couldn't. For the first time in her life, Miranda Priestly felt utterly lost and out of control.

Andy took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the suite. She had long ago lost track of time as she wandered through the streets. She had stopped at a bar but the incessant noise had latched onto her senses and hammered her brain. She craved for peace, so she had left, leaving her phone down the toilet. She had walked for miles, barely even noticing the throb in her feet, but she still heard the unabating noise in her head. It was all Miranda.

'The new Emily...Andrea...I have a list of people who would follow me...I see a lot of myself in you...Emily...Isn't that what you've done...I see a lot of myself in you...that's all...'

Andy was glad of the shadows cast by the soft illumination from the lamps as she found the couch and slid onto it, her head in her hands. She almost jumped a mile when she heard a slight shuffle from the desk and saw Miranda sat there. Andy jumped to her feet.

"Miranda, God I...I...I didn't know you...can I get you anything?" As the words tumbled from her lips, Andy thought wryly that old habits die hard. After all, she had effectively quit her job by jumping out of the car.

Miranda, sitting on the chair, slowly folded her hands in her lap and Andy's heart plummeted as she noticed the dishevelled hair and the red rimmed eyes.

"We need to go through the seating arrangements for tomorrow's dinner."

Andy, her mind suddenly alert, rushed to the desk and scrambled through some papers, not finding it in the least odd that Miranda had so far failed to mention the earlier episode. Nothing Miranda did was surprising anymore.

"Sure, they're here somewhere."

Miranda held her hand up ready. Andy could hear her mentally sighing.

"By all means take your time. You know how it thrills me when you move at a glacial pace."

Miranda slid her glasses back on as she studied the plan that Andy handed to her. Andy, anticipating a major Miranda-heaval of everything, was ready with the notepad.

"We will have Snoop Dogg moved to my table."

Andy mentally visualised the plan.

"But Miranda, your table is full."

Andy was surprised when the usual curt sentence she was expecting at the obviousness of this remark didn't materialise. Instead, she removed her glasses and placed them on the side table.

"Stephen won't be attending. His place needs to be filled."

Andy ran through the day's schedule.

"Oh, ok, so don't need to fetch Stephen from the airport tomorrow?"

Miranda seemed to shrink into herself and fresh tears appeared unbidden into her eyes.

"Well if you call him and he changes his mind about the divorce then by all means fetch him. You're very fetching, so go fetch."

Andy's heart began skipping wildly. Venom she could deal with. Sarcasm by now flew over her head. But tears? She gingerly leaned on the arm of the couch.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry."

"It's the girls I feel sorry for." Miranda's voice, quiet as ever, was breaking. Andy's heart ached. "Yet again, another man in their life gone. And once the press get hold of it, there won't be an escape. The Ice Queen Strikes Again, another Mr Priestly gone, and each time they lose that bit more innocence, a bit more of themselves, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Andy's hand reached out for Miranda, but she caught herself.

"Miranda...is there anything I can do?"

Miranda, whose eyes had lifted from the floor to follow Andy's hand, suddenly snapped out of her reverie.

"Just your job, Andrea." It came out harshly, in complete contrast to the tear sliding down her cheek. Taking a deep breath, Andy walked to the drinks cabinet and poured two substantial glasses of scotch. She held one out to Miranda who had busied herself with her compact.

"I didn't ask for this." She said dismissively even as she took the glass.

Andy smiled, noticing how elegantly Miranda could even gulp down alcohol. She went to take Miranda's glass, thought better of it and fetched the whole bottle back to the sofa. She filled Miranda's glass then lay down on the sofa, her feet dangling over the arm. She took a deep breath and threw all caution to the wind. She figured that after the earlier car incident her job would be someone else's by the time they got back to New York anyway.

"I thought you could use a drink. It's not a sign of weakness." Andy could see Miranda's eyes roll even though she was staring at the ceiling.

"Am I to listen to your incessant chatter Andrea, from that unflattering position?"

Andy smiled, closing her eyes. From this position, with just the right amount of alcohol in her system, she could make out that she was having a conversation with somebody normal.

"Ah, but at least from here you can admire my acquired good taste in shoes." She thought she heard a snort from Miranda, who was busy refilling her glass again. Surprisingly she got to her feet and refilled Andy's too. The glass was teetering precariously in her hand as it dangled over the edge of the sofa.

"Any spillages come out of your salary, Andrea."

Andy was surprised when Miranda didn't return to the desk, instead choosing to fold herself into an armchair. They stayed in silence for a while, the only noise the low humming of the bar fridge and the liquid sloshing as they sipped until Andy heard a hastily muffled sob. She squeezed her eyes together and clamped her lips shut. If she opened her mouth, her life could be a living hell for the foreseeable future. But if she didn't...she cared for Miranda more than she wanted to admit. After all, she doubted if she would have returned to the hotel if it was anyone else. She flipped onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. Miranda was looking up towards the ceiling with her hand over her mouth.

"Miranda-" Andy began, but one shake of Miranda's head stopped her dead.

"Don't." There was so much venom loaded into that one word that Andy's heart stopped. "You run away, Andrea. You abandoned your job, steadfastly ignored your phone and then come waltzing back in here trying to speak to me and pouring me drinks and laying there like some heffalump when you could be doing something constructive like packing your bags and leaving." With each word Miranda's voice had gone quieter and quieter, but her pronunciation crystal clear. Andy still found it amazing that such a quiet voice actually seemed to echo around the room. Andy blinked back her tears.

"Miranda, I'm sorry...about what happened, about Stephen-"

"This has nothing to do with Stephen."

Andy flinched and had the sense to sit straighter on the sofa.

"It's you."

Andy blinked back her surprise.

"You waltz into my office in your god-awful clothing giving a big speech about how good you are, what a fantastic worker you would be, with all your juvenile credentials and despite my reservations I gave you a job. You seemed different to all the other girls who pass through my office and who idolize everything about fashion but never seem to grasp the ethic of work. I thought you had more about you, but in a way, Andrea, you...um...you disappoint me more than any of those silly girls. That's all."

Andy had failed to stop the tears that were rapidly appearing, but the feelings of anger were rising to the lump in her throat.

"Miranda I...god, no, damn it, that's not all! What do you expect from me? I am trying my best – more than my best – achieving the downright impossible for you, and when I fail it's like I dropped the Hiroshima bomb or something. Do you have any idea what you actually ask?"

Miranda gazed disinterestedly past Andy, the effect only somewhat lessened by the path of tears.

"I ask for my staff to fulfil their jobs competently. Most cannot seem to grasp this fully most of the time. You, Andrea, seem to understand the need to see past what people want and get them what they need. Most of the time. That is all I ask."

Andy was crying freely now as she got to her feet and began pacing the room.

"No, Miranda, that's not 'all you ask'! People need their coffee fetching, or their phones answered, or their dry cleaning fetched. You don't need the twins homework completed for them, or unpublished books, or airplanes in the middle of thunderstorms, Miranda; those are things you just want, to make other people's lives just that much more unbearable. Do you enjoy it or something?"

Miranda's lips were pursed, her glass still in midair. She got to her feet and took a few steps towards Andy, each one more menacing than the last.

"I do it because that is my job, Andrea. Without me, without my drive Runway would be substandard and that is unacceptable. Everything I do is for the good of the magazine, for it to be the best that it can be. I have made sacrifices for this; I will not allow it to fall apart because people are not prepared to give 100%."

Andy spun around to face Miranda. "People adore you, Miranda! There are people in that building who would throw themselves in front of crazed gunmen for you, and you barely even acknowledge that, you just take it for granted! I mean, god, is thank you really that hard for you to master?" Andy somehow sensed that she had pushed Miranda's limits to the very edge now, and she retreated slightly. Miranda pinned her with a fiery stare.

"I take it for granted that people will do their jobs, Andrea, just like any other employer. What are you expecting, a gold star? A kiss on the forehead for doing well that day? Join the real world, Andrea; no one cares. And in my world, this world that you're floundering around in; everyone leaves eventually. No one can give what I ask for. But I won't stop demanding it. If it's too much for you, Andrea, don't hang around like a coward, waiting, hoping for things to get better. This-" she waved her hand around. "This is it." Miranda didn't wait for a reply; she calmly left the room, and with a soft click, Andy was alone.

Miranda made her way slowly to her bathroom, her legs feeling the effects of the scotch she had consumed. Her brain reeled as she studied herself in the mirror; she found she couldn't look herself in the eye. She wondered at the tears that had flown so easily in front of Andy; wondered what it was about the girl that made her want to talk; wondered why she had to make her wilt. Perhaps all the papers, all the people that worked for her were right; perhaps she was an ice queen. Unfeeling. So why, then, could she not stop thinking about Andrea, about that look of absolute despair on her face when she'd started to cry? She threw the wash cloth at the mirror, the streaks of water blurring her features. Andrea. As if on some subconscious level she had heard, Miranda heard Andy's bedroom door click softly shut.

Andy braced herself against the door of her room, not sure if her trembling legs could support her. She couldn't stop seeing the tears flowing down Miranda's cheeks, or the look of disinterest on her face as Andy had began to cry. She thought about her outburst and let out a very Emily-ish squeak. As she slid to the floor she resigned herself to the fact that she had almost definitely lost her job. She would never work in New York again. She wondered fleetingly when the job had began to matter so much to her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as images of Miranda assaulted her. Miranda had seemed different earlier, at first, and Andy wanted to see more of it – see the real her. She realised now that Miranda Priestly, boss lady, was the 'real' her, and she didn't know whether she could hang around any longer, continuing to hope for a smile, or any form of acknowledgement. Don't hang around like a coward. She glanced at her cases, tucked neatly under the bed. It would be so easy to leave, she thought. She had experienced the job, wasn't any closer to achieving her dream of writing, and still didn't set much store by fashion. She had lost friends, a boyfriend, and a social life. So why, then, when she got to her feet, did she make her way back to Miranda?

When she saw that the room was empty, Andy slumped onto the sofa and into her earlier laying position. She shut her eyes against the onslaught of emotions, but still all she could see was Miranda.

Miranda took a steadying breath and walked into the main room. She saw Andy's Blahnik clad feet poking over the edge of the sofa and barely contained a look of surprise that the girl had returned. She poured two substantial drinks from the half emptied scotch bottle and held one out for Andy.

"You came back."

Andy's eyes fluttered open to find Miranda standing over her. She clambered to an upright position.

"Miranda..." she took the glass as Miranda sat down next to her, elegantly curling her feet underneath her.

"You are only the second person to see me cry."

Andy studied Miranda's face as she tried to formulate a response. The older woman was looking at the floor; then studying her feet; looking anywhere but at Andy, who wondered if the other person had also thought her beautiful, even when she cried. Before Andy could reply, Miranda spoke again and this time pierced her with a glare. "And you won't tell anyone else about it."

It wasn't a request, and even though Miranda knew that Andy wouldn't have dreamed of telling anyone, she had to say it, had to reinforce her power. Looking at Andy's blotchy face staring back at her, she almost hated herself for it.

"I wouldn't want to, Miranda. Ever."

Miranda was the first to look away. Andy, sensing that she had been given a branch, began to speak, vaguely wondering whether Miranda's hatred for details extended to out of hours.

"Plenty of people have seen me cry, I guess." When Miranda didn't protest, or tell Andy to bore someone else with details of her sad little life, Andy continued. "I suppose Nate more than anyone. He's...was...my boyfriend."

Miranda scanned her brain and vaguely recalled some incessant mumblings about a boyfriend. She absurdly wished that she had paid more attention to Andy. She found she liked listening to, and watching her speak. She had realised earlier in the week that she enjoyed introducing Andrea to people and watching her socialise; there was something about her that just lit things, lit people up. Her eyes glittered, and to Miranda's bewilderment she had not only noticed, but also found it quite charming.

Andy laughed, somewhat bitterly. "In fact, the last time I cried we were arguing. About you. About this."

Miranda's eyebrow twitched.

"What, do you find that hard to believe? Don't you think that your actions have consequences for other people, Miranda?" she deliberately kept her voice free of any blame or bitterness and spoke quietly. "You phone at all hours of the day and night, expecting everything done for you, sorted for you right there and then, regardless of people's own personal lives. I'm not blaming you, that's just the way you are. I don't think you do think about the consequences for other people, not because you're heartless or cold, but because you just don't factor in happiness. It seems as though it doesn't occur to you, because aside from the girls, it's irrelevant to you. It's easy for you to reshuffle everything in the blink of an eye, because you're not the one who has to do all the organising, and it's never your life that's thrown into chaos."

Andy lifted her glass to her mouth and took a hefty swallow, not daring to look at Miranda. To her surprise, she felt Miranda cosy into the sofa.

"Tell me about Nate." Miranda said as she studied Andy's profile. If Miranda did give gold stars, she decided that Andrea definitely deserved one for exercising excellent control over her face to hide her shock. Andy busied herself filling their glasses and shifted more comfortably onto the couch, her pose almost matching Miranda's. She stifled a giggle, thinking that all they were missing were sleeping bags and a cheesy horror movie.

"We were good. We knew what we wanted. He's training to be a chef, I want – wanted - to be a journalist. He was so supportive. And he made the best cheese toasties. Then I got this job, and he changed. I changed. We just don't seem to match anymore. I thought we could go on like normal, but now I look at it, I'm not the person he knows anymore. I'm not even someone I know anymore."

"And is that a bad thing?"

Andy sighed.

"I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

Miranda suppressed an eye roll. Normally this statement would have annoyed her to the point of terminating the conversation, but for reasons she couldn't explain she found herself suppressing her impatience and willing Andy to continue. Whilst she did find the scenario rather surreal and so out of character for her, she was intrigued. She had gone to great lengths for many years to avoid small talk and 'cosy' chats, but now for some reason, Andy made her feel like she was missing out on something. She refilled their glasses as Andy continued to speak.

"I've moved on with my life in a way that neither of us expected. Whereas before we fit together, it's like now he can't slot in. And I can't expect him to; you can't do that to someone you love. It's got to be equal, or at least a happy unequalness, and it wasn't between us anymore. I don't think either of us would settle for anything different."

Miranda contemplated this as she swirled her drink around her tongue. She wanted to know more because everything Andy had so far talked about, Miranda had never experienced. She admired Andy's openness and honesty, even with her after all this time working amongst the yes people.

"Tell me more." She said softly, and was once again impressed at how Andy could efficiently disguise a look of surprise.

"We always spent birthdays together, no matter what. This year, we were having a party for his, then doing something special, just the two of us, you know."

Miranda thought fleetingly that she didn't.

"It was the night of the charity dinner and Emily was sick." Andy faltered as she caught Miranda's eye. She didn't want to spoil things between them now by moaning about her work.

"And then evil boss lady made you work, too." Miranda finished for her, with a glint in her eye. Andy smiled shyly.

"Yeah, something like that. Lily – my friend – was phoning, but obviously I couldn't leave. Nate was at home when I got back, ready for bed. He wasn't angry. Well, he probably was, but he just looked...hurt." Andy's voice softened as she remembered that night.

"I won't apologise for it, Andrea. As I said earlier, you have a choice. A million girls, Andrea, would kill for this chance; everyone wants to be us. You can walk away at any point."

Andy looked up quickly. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch Miranda.

"I don't expect you to. It's my job, and that's the description; whatever, whenever. After Nate went to bed, I sat up thinking for a while. When Emily told me you expected me to work, I was so gutted. I even tried to protest." Miranda remembered some vague mumblings. Andy shrugged. "But I had to do it. I thought I'd hate every minute, thought I'd be aching to get home. Of course I was disappointed and sorry but it was more for Nate than anything else. Truth is I enjoyed working that night, being there with you. For you. I don't regret missing his party. And that's why I know our relationship can't work anymore."

Even though Miranda had quietly let out the breath she was holding until it became apparent that the conversation wasn't angling towards Andy's resignation, a frown still creased her features.

"Because he won't compromise?"

Andy shook her head as she drank.

"No. He will – he did- compromise. But he can't change completely and that's what he'd have to do, become a person who didn't mind last minute changes, or complete cancellations, or interruptions to special moments. He wouldn't be able to depend on me for anything. We'd end up hating each other. Like you said, I have a choice Miranda, and I chose, subconsciously at first, but that choice was made a long time ago now. I'm not leaving, Miranda."

Miranda once again held her breath as she asked Andy the next question.

"Can you live with the unpredictability, the uncertainness?"

"To be completely honest, I don't know. A year ago, I would have said no way. But here I am doing it. And I think I love it. I suppose that's how I know that I can't be with Nate anymore. I mean, if I really loved him I would find a job that fitted in around us, not the other way around."

Miranda let out her breath.

"You said the last time you saw him you cried, and it was because of me. Why?"

Andy frowned, recalling the conversation, which had been interrupted by the one person they had been arguing about.

"He said...he said he didn't recognise me anymore, and if I wasn't so wrapped up in your world I wouldn't recognise myself either. He said...he said I had sold myself out, gone against everything I had believed in, and if it was something I really wanted he could maybe understand, but it wasn't. I tried talking to him, but then my phone started to ring. I had to answer, right Miranda; I mean...I wanted to answer. How could he expect me to choose? But I suppose I can understand why, I just...I just don't want to see myself as that person."

"As me?"

Andy swiped at her tears and reached for Miranda's hand. She felt the need to reassure the woman that Andy didn't blame her. Miranda's instinctive reaction was to pull away, and she began her trademark glare at Andy, but something stopped her. She allowed the hand to rest on top of hers, although she hid her pleasure at how comforting it felt.

"Not as you, Miranda. You have your ethics, your beliefs and you stick to them, no matter what. You love Runway, your job, your status and everyone knows it and respects that. Me? I've turned into one of those yes people who surround you, those people I used to mock, but I'm so much worse because they truly believe in what they're doing. I thought I could just do this job for a year and then I'd be set to work anywhere, but now I've gotten so far into your world that I lost sight of everything I believed in without even realising it, and the thing is...the thing is, I don't know if I want to get out."

Miranda regarded her thoughtfully. She wondered if Nate had also thought her beautiful even when she cried.

"You've got great potential, Andrea. When you first started, I had you down for two days. Now, suffice it to say I've been proved wrong." Andy snorted.

"Wait, pause, rewind. I'm sure I have a voice recorder in here somewhere!" she fumbled around in the cushions, smiling at the glare Miranda directed at her, the edge somewhat taken off it by the amount of alcohol she had consumed. They sat in comfortable silence for a while; both lost in their own thoughts, both wondering what on earth had come over Miranda to allow her to waste time like this. Andy sighed and stretched out her legs from underneath her, her knee accidentally brushing Miranda's.

"I wanted to write, Miranda. I wanted to write stories that people should know about." She laughed, remembering. "I wanted to save the world."

Miranda too stretched out her legs, far more elegantly than Andy had managed, and their knees ended up resting against each other. She would normally throw a remark about Andy's naiveté at her, and probably enjoy seeing the girl wilt. She mentally winced at how casually cruelty came to her. Not tonight.

"Then write, Andrea. Don't be one of those people who blend into the background. Don't become a clacker."

Andy couldn't disguise her shock at how Miranda knew this description of most of the Elias-Clarke staff. Miranda smirked.

"I know everything, Andrea. You are becoming excellent at your job, one of the best, and I could throw an endless amount of money at you to persuade you to stay. I could ruin any chance you have of ever finding another job in this state so you have no choice but to stay with me, but if I do that and you end up like any other member of my staff then...then you will truly become my biggest disappointment."

Andy frowned as she stared at Miranda, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Miranda, are you firing me?"

Miranda waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't be ridiculous Andrea; of course I'm not firing you. I am merely stating that you only remain good at your job while you still hold on to some belief that it is not going to become your life. Once you realise that you have wasted career opportunities you would excel at to be an assistant, albeit a good one, you will no longer be as enthusiastic, and your work will therefore suffer. That is not acceptable."

Silence engulfed them once more, as they both contemplated the conversation. Miranda wouldn't allow herself to fully digest the consequences of what she had just said. Any other person with Andrea's work ethic, she would have kept hold of them until everything they had revolved around the magazine and nothing else. She couldn't understand why the thought of Andrea fading away at Runway was unacceptable to her, when she had encouraged it from so many others.

Andy, for her part was utterly puzzled. Earlier on in their conversation she could have sworn that Miranda breathed a sigh of relief when she said she didn't want to leave her job. Now the woman was practically throwing her out! Though she knew that Miranda was talking sense, something about leaving Runway was unsettling to her. She thought about Nate's words.

'The person whose calls you always take? That's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together.'

Miranda started at the words Andy had muttered, breaking the silence.

"What did you say?"

Andy, startled that she had spoken the words out loud, gathered her thoughts.

"The last time I saw Nate, when I said you rang and I cried? Those were his last words to me, before he walked away. The person whose calls you always take? That's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together. But you know what? He's sort of right."

She stole a glance at Miranda, who was toying with her rings, apparently not knowing what to say. Andy plunged ahead, having realised over the course of the night that it was, in fact, this that she wanted. Being in situations like this with Miranda.

"It's not the job I'd miss, Miranda. It's you. I know how you like your coffee; I know your routine from 8am through to the time you go home. I know what foods you like and the smells you cannot stand, but I don't even know your favourite colour, or the songs that make you cry, or whatever, and you know what? I would love to. I would love to know more about you, Miranda, and that is why I don't want to leave this job. I would actually miss you." Andy let out a laugh at this last sentence. Miranda finished her drink and placed the cup carefully onto the side table. She wanted to get up and finish the conversation, but her legs had gone numb from being in one position for so long. Andy, sensing her uncomfortableness, placed a hand on her arm and left it there until she felt the Miranda's muscles relax. She noticed Miranda playing with her rings again.

"Have you ever been in love, Miranda?" Miranda's head shot around so she could glare at Andy, who met her gaze with nothing but curiosity in her eyes.

"Of course. I've been married a couple of times, Andrea, in case you had forgotten." She answered finally as she once again got comfortable on the sofa. It came out a little icier and stiffer than she intended. Andy breathed again; she was glad that Miranda hadn't simply terminated the conversation.

"I didn't ask about marriage. I asked about being in love."

Miranda, already sensing that this was coming, had refilled her glass and was taking a long sip, her lips moistening as her tongue snaked out to capture a stray drop. Andy was mesmerised.

"I must have been at some point. Although my first marriage was convenient, I still wanted my career. Stephen was there to pick up the pieces. Be a constant in the girls' lives. I loved the way he made me feel; calm; safe. But never completely comfortable. I still wanted my career; it is my life, Andrea. I can't give it up, or what would I be? I wasn't prepared to compromise... so what if I was late? Or didn't show up at all? Stephen would still be there. I suppose there's only so much of that one can take. He ended up in the papers more than I did; Mr Priestly alone again. If I loved him, I suppose I would have changed, or at least made time for him occasionally. Sad as it sounds, I never really gave him a thought. He was good with the girls and that, in the end, was good enough for me."

Miranda felt tears stinging the back of her eyes, and willed them not to fall again.

Andy shifted so that she could reach out her arm to touch Miranda's back. She visibly stiffened but relaxed as Andy started to rub gently.

"And the divorce?" she felt Miranda sigh.

"I'm sad, for the girls. For Stephen. But we didn't have a relationship; he became like another assistant. If he hadn't plucked up the guts I'd still be in the marriage. It suited me, most of the time. A selfish attitude, much like business. So you see, Andrea, I am a bitch. The dragon lady; the ice queen. And everyone leaves, eventually. Even you. You might miss me for a while, Andrea, but eventually you will leave."

Andy gently squeezed her hand on Miranda's back.

"I don't want to leave you, Miranda. And it seems to me like you won't let yourself fall for anyone completely, as if it might jeopardise all you've worked for."

Miranda wondered whether Andy was right, whether even now she was the one trying to get rid of Andy because she could feel herself falling further into something that was outside of her comfort zone.

"You shouldn't keep work as your life, Miranda. You're the best at what you do, no doubt, but there's so much more on a personal level. Don't you ever miss it? Ever wonder what if?"

Miranda let out a laugh but Andy could hear the tears in her voice.

"How can I miss something I've never had? Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my image." Andy pulled herself closer to Miranda.

"You don't have to change your life, Miranda, just...let go occasionally. Yes, being with someone should have some level of convenience, but there's so much more for you to experience. How many first kisses have you had?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, but to add to the tears gathering at the corners of her mouth, they were now twitching at the enthusiasm in Andy's voice.

"Really Andrea, I don't see how that's relevant to anything."

Andy's eyes sparkled, and Miranda found herself being drawn in further.

"It's the feeling of it. The butterflies before; the nausea of anticipation; the moment your heart starts palpitating when you realise it's really happening; the moment you stop breathing when you feel their face close to yours; the gasp for air when you finally feel skin. Warm, wet skin. The overwhelming joy that you experience when you realise that together you're really great kissers. The firm embedded knowledge that you can, without any doubt, keep doing it forever. Every kiss can be a first kiss, if you keep feeling like that. That's the way relationships should be."

"I'm not exactly the kissing type, am I?"

Andy let out an exasperated sigh and before she even had a chance to talk herself out of it, she had Miranda's face cupped between her hands. Miranda mildly resisted, her voice as she said Andy's name carried a warning, but Andy's thumb continued to stroke her cheek.

"What's your heart doing Miranda?"

"Andrea..." Miranda's voice faltered and her hand moved to still Andy's on her cheek. Andy met Miranda's eyes, expecting to find a steely glare in the ice blue, but her heart stopped when she found herself mirrored in them, both of them full of uncertainty and desire. Her fingers laced around Miranda's and she steered their hands to cover Miranda's heart.

"Your heart, Miranda?" Andy whispered, her face inching closer to the other woman's. Andy could feel even through Miranda's hand; Miranda thought it useless to deny the pounding and the missing beats.

"Palpitating," she whispered

Andy inched closer to Miranda, so close that she could feel her breath on her face, and stopped feeling it the moment she lifted her hand up to Miranda's neck.

"The moment you stop..." Andy murmured as she gently pulled Miranda to her.

They both gasped when their lips first touched; their hands mingled in each other's hair as they kissed softly, gently, feeling each other. Their tongues finally met making Andy moan against Miranda, whose hand clenched in Andy's hair as she pulled away. Her eyes darted as she searched Andy's face, and Andy flicked her thumb gently over Miranda's cheek.

"Miranda..."

And suddenly Miranda erupted. She pulled Andy towards her and pulled them back on the sofa, Andy on top of her. She devoured Andy's lips, her hands darting all over Andy's body, pulling up her top which she quickly deposited on the floor. Andy gave a cry when Miranda managed to snap open her bra and yank down the straps, and she arched into her as Miranda dragged her nails over warm smooth skin then gently caressed the white tracks left behind. Andy pushed her breasts closer to Miranda's mouth and slid a leg up between Miranda's as Miranda continued to feel every inch of her skin. Miranda gasped and dug her fingers into Andy's ass and pulling her tighter to her.

"You're so beautiful," Miranda gasped as she ground her cunt against Andrea's thigh, feeling the wetness coating her underwear. "Don't ever change, Andrea."

Their eyes met, flashing pure desire at each other. Andy lowered her mouth to meet Miranda's, their kiss surprisingly tender compared to moments before, and Andy longed to feel more of Miranda but her hands were restricted, her forearms resting on the arm of the couch were holding her weight. She held herself as close to Miranda as possible, until the suggestion of the wetness between Miranda's legs and the feel of her silk nightdress against Andy's bare skin was almost too much to bear.

"Miranda, I want to..." Their eyes met again and Andy was silenced by the look on Miranda's face. It was hurt, and resignation, and uncertainty.

"God, Miranda,' she whispered, her eyes never leaving Miranda's. 'I don't want this to end. I want to see more of you, all of you."

The throbbing between Miranda's legs was at odds with the voice in her head screaming 'sympathy fuck' at her.

"Andrea, you don't have to do this."

Exasperated, Andy managed to hold all of her weight on one arm and drag Miranda's hand down between her legs. Miranda half gasped, half moaned as her hand met the heat radiating from Andy and the wetness that almost instantly coated it. Andy's breathing shallowed at the hint of a touch from Miranda.

"I don't have to, Miranda. Haven't you been listening to anything I've said? I want to. I want you. All of you. You're absolutely breathtaking. I'm just afraid of hurting you."

She held Miranda's gaze for what seemed like forever, then lowered her mouth to place the ghost of a kiss on her lips, hoping she had conveyed everything she felt. She felt Miranda relax underneath her, then her eyes went wide and she barely contained a shriek when Miranda suddenly turned over and toppled them onto the floor.

"I won't break, Andrea."

They became a mass of limbs and loose clothing as they reached for more of each other, hot skin melting into hot skin, gasps and moans becoming one, mumbled words of adoration lost amongst the sometimes frenzied, sometimes gentle kissing that went on between them for hours.