A/N
Yet another little oneshot that just got on my brain, so I had to write it. Not quite as intriguing as the title may indicate though. Sorry for misleading information. I've been having kitty overload the past weeks, so I simply had to write something with cats. Of course, it turned out to be more awwww-moment about the ladies, as usual. Hope you'll like it!
Uh-uh, she has that look plastered all over her face again. That usually means she has gotten a silly idea in her silly little head, Miranda thought as she looked up from The Book and looked into her beautiful young wife's eyes.
"Yes?" she said.
"Miranda, can't we get a cat?"
Well, that's a new one, I have to admit. We've been through doing the Christmas tree decorations ourselves, that tremendously bad idea involving rollerblading, of all things – I swear I still have bruises after that one – and having sex outside in the rain… well, that one wasn't so bad…and I was in some ways expecting her to bring up a baby one of these days, but…
She pushed her glasses down the bridge of her nose, glaring at Andy in her best Dragon Lady manner, and simply stated:
"No".
"Aww, come on. Why not?"
"We have Patricia. A dog and a cat together… not the best idea".
"Patricia has never chased a cat in her life. She likes them. Also, we could get an older cat from a shelter or something; one that is used to dogs and kids".
"Cats shed".
"So does Patricia, and I don't hear any complaints about her shedding. Besides, you're not the one cleaning the house anyway".
"Cats knock stuff over".
"Sssstuff, Miranda?", Andy teased. Miranda arched an eyebrow, but looked slightly amused even as she sighed.
"Cats tear down the furniture, then. And they claw on things".
"Like Patricia never ruined anything? As if she doesn't get away with it, you're a softie when it comes to her and you know it. When she chewed on my Chanel boots, you yelled at me!", Andy chuckled.
"Don't be ridiculous Andrea, I never yell. I merely told you, in a perfectly acceptable speaking volume, to put your clothing into the closet, and as you did not, you simply had to deal with the consequences".
"Nevertheless. If the cat is used to a scratching post that won't be an issue".
"I would never take it upon me to clean out a litter box".
"But I would".
They stared at each other for several seconds, a silent but forceful battle of wills being fought.
"I'm allergic to cats", Miranda deadpanned.
"No, you're not". Andy grinned.
"Indeed I am".
"Liar".
"And how would you know?"
"Well, A) if that were true, it would have been your first excuse, your 'that's all'-free card. And B), I vividly remember a photo shoot not very long ago, with the "feline-feminine" theme, during which a quite happy Miranda Priestly-Sachs barely looked at the shoot but cuddled with a fluffy angora cat named Kizzy for three hours straight. I remember, I was beginning to feel jealous".
Miranda groaned.
"Alright, then. No, I'm not allergic. It's just… oh, okay. Okay, then".
Andy's face lit up and Miranda cursed inwardly as she realized that she always seemed to get along with Andy's ideas. Miranda raised one hand to stop Andy from pouring out random, incomprehensible words of delight.
"Two conditions. It will not be a kitten, and it will not be allowed on any furniture or in any window. Is that clear?"
"Sure", Andy beamed. She walked up to the older woman and placed a kiss on her cheek. "You'd think you would have learned by now to stop fighting me, I always win".
"You always win because you never play fair", Miranda huffed.
"Darling, you are still the undefeated master of foul play", Andy giggled and kissed Miranda again. "I'm just trying to keep you on your toes. When can we go?"
Miranda sighed, knowing that she wouldn't have any peace and quiet until Andy had gotten what she wanted. She scribbled down a few more notes without even looking at the pen, and then got up from her chair.
"No time like the present, I suppose", she said.
"Great!"
"We are only looking for a grown cat", Miranda reminded her.
"Yes, boss".
"And don't call me boss".
"No, ma'am".
"What am I going to do with you?", Miranda chuckled and pulled Andy in for a proper kiss.
"Oooh, keep doing what you just did", Andy sighed dreamily. Miranda shook her head, smiling.
"You are the silliest thing".
"Lucky you".
"Mm. Lucky me".
"No, Andrea, we will not name the cat Snugglebutt!"
Miranda brushed past her younger wife who held the cage with a rather calm black and white kitten inside, rolling her eyes and sighing in a most annoyed manner. "Really, do you want the poor thing traumatized? Thank God you weren't around when I gave birth to the twins, or what would you have proposed for them? Trick and Treat?"
"Now that's an idea…" Andy muttered.
"Honestly Andrea, what part of 'no' do you not understand? Perhaps you have a problem with the English language? Do I need to say it in a different language? Non. Nein. Njet".
Andy's head snapped up.
"You speak Russian?"
"Da".
Miranda gave her a very uninterested look that Andy didn't buy for a second, before she had to grin. "Not really. But I can say yes, no and coffee, scalding hot".
"The most basic things", Andy nodded.
"Certainly", Miranda replied, sounding grimly serious as she unlocked the car and slid in behind the wheel. As she started the car, the kitten gave a quiet meow. Andy spoke soothingly to it, although it didn't seem too upset.
"There, there, Snugglebutt, it's alright".
"We. Will. Not. Name. The cat. Snugglebutt", Miranda hissed.
"Mommy is a terrible driver, so hold on tight now, Snugglie buttie", Andy added, grinning widely.
"That was, if possible, even worse. I suggest we call her Paris".
"As in Hilton? Not a chance".
"No, as in the city, of course".
"Then we could just as well call her Central Park. She needs a name".
"Very well then. Coco. As in Chanel".
"Naturally".
Miranda shot Andy a sharp glance before relenting, as she realized the girl actually sounded a bit appeased.
"Coco. Yeah, that might work. Alright, Coco, what do you say?"
A content purr was heard from the cage. Andy gave Miranda her most brilliant smile and Miranda nearly forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Oh, yes, that's how she does it. And I fall for it, every single time.
"Coco it is", Andy declared.
Thank God, Miranda thought and shuddered. Snugglebutt?
It was six in the morning the next day, and Andy reluctantly got out of bed. As she turned to look at her clothes for today, she immediately discovered tiny holes in her True Religion jeans. Tiny holes clearly made by claws. She turned to look for the perpetrator, and found the kitten happily snuggled up next to Miranda in bed. The older woman held one arm protectively around the tiny furball as she cracked one eye open.
"She clawed on my jeans", Andy hissed, pointing to the kitten.
"It was merely her instincts kicking in. You should have put your clothes in the closet", Miranda mumbled, stroke the soft fur and closed her eye again as Coco curled her front paw around the tip of Miranda's index finger, not much unlike a baby curling its hand around it's mother's finger. Andy shook her head, momentarily speechless, and then put her jeans on anyway. It didn't matter at The Mirror.
"Shall I make you some breakfast?" Andy asked.
"Mm, thank you dear, but it won't be necessary. We'll stay in bed for a little while longer".
"Aren't you working today?"
"No. I called in saying I'm on maternity leave today. Well, caternity leave, rather. See you later, love", she grinned and all but shooed Andy out of the bedroom. Before the brunette closed the door behind her, she could hear Miranda say;
"Come here, Snugglebutt".
She is impossible, Andy thought, giggling to herself. Famous for being unpredictable, you bet. And that's why I love her.
the end.