A/N: I do not own the Devil Wears Prada or any of its characters. Please R/R, I am so grateful for feedback!

Rewarding Boldness

Chapter 1

Miranda had taken a certain fondness to her second assistant Andrea. In the weeks before their trip to Paris, Andrea had been working eighteen-hour days to ensure everything was finalized for Miranda. Her boyfriend Nate told her he was moving out, but she was too busy to chase after him. Most days she was even too busy to think about eating. When she finally did get home, she was so exhausted she went right to bed. Andrea soon realized that was how the the other clackers managed to stay so thin. She did notice that her size six clothes were a bit loose on her, too, but that was probably a good thing. Maybe Miranda wouldn't think of her as "the fat girl" anymore.

It was the first Friday of the month, and that meant Andrea had to accompany Miranda to the monthly run-through at James Holt. Andrea was busy wrapping up last month still, but had an enormous amount of work to do to prepare for Paris and their upcoming spread. Andrea noticed the dark circles under her eyes were particularly noticeable today, and she even arrived at Runway early this morning to see if the makeup department could help her out.

Miranda had an appointment earlier in the day, and Andrea was to meet her at James Holt promptly at 11:00, which meant no later than 10:45. Andrea, who was comfortable enough with James and his assistant Trisha, entered his loft and waited for Miranda upstairs, chatting about the latest celeb gossip with Trish over some steaming peppermint tea.

The elevator doors opened and they all turned to watch Miranda march over to the zebra couch, an extra ounce of determination in her step this morning. Andrea and Trish stood as Miranda approached—which was really ridiculous, if you thought about it, she wasn't technically royalty.

"Andrea? Why were you not downstairs? I asked you to meet me here, not to arrive before me and…and socialize with the help."

"Miranda, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Andrea said, sheepishly handing her mug over to Trish. "James' assistant was actually giving me a few pointers on Paris." Andrea quickly added, knowing Trish interned at Hermes for two years before eventually ending up with James.

"Yes, Miranda, I apologize if it was out of line, but I wanted to make sure she was prepared for the responsibilities she will have."

"Hmm, well, I can prepare my own staff very well, thank you." Miranda eyed Andrea curiously before taking her seat on the couch. She always hated that couch—while the zebra print was stylish, it was awfully uncomfortable. Miranda's eyes drifted to Andrea again. She looked different today, though Miranda couldn't quite place it. Once she realized that Andrea was waiting for her permission to be seated, she quickly patted the couch next to herself and tried to focus on the designs James was showing her on his tablet.

Andrea was glad that her body was angled away from Miranda—she could not see her eyes fluttering shut this way. James and Trish understood her workload, and she knew James would let her go take a nap on the couch in his office if he thought there was a chance Miranda would allow it, but that was entirely out of the question.

Luckily, this was a meeting at which Andrea was not expected to take notes. Miranda was seeing a design of her dress for the Runway banquet in Paris, and she would communicate everything directly to James himself.

James and Trish were both in his office pulling together some samples for Miranda to take back to Runway. As Miranda turned to speak to Andrea, she noticed the girl's eyes. Was she asleep? Miranda reached out to put her hand on the girl's shoulder, surprising herself that her initial reaction was concern, not displeasure.

"Andrea," Miranda softly called as she moved her hand from Andrea's shoulder to draw slow circles on her back. "Andrea, are you okay?" she asked, still not quite sure why she cared.

Andrea's eyes opened and she gasped, jumping off the couch and away from Miranda's hand. She clumsily reached into her bag to retrieve her notebook and pen and looked up at Miranda, waiting for instructions.

"Inform Emily that we will not return until 2pm, and that I expect the new jade Dolce & Gabanna spread to be ready. And, Andrea, you will ride back with me."

"Yes, Miranda," Andrea said, quickly pulling out her phone and walking towards the corner of the room to text Emily in private.

"Em, M wants new jade d&g spread ready by 2. we're still at holt, back at 2pm."

She received an immediate response: "ok. when will you be back?"

"no clue. she told me to ride with her."

"uh-oh. good luck."

"yeah, thanks. gtg"

Miranda approached Andrea who was now standing directly in front of the elevator. "I trust everything is situated back at the office?"

"Yes, Miranda. I have updated Emily with the details."

Miranda nodded and pressed the button for the elevator. It opened immediately, and Miranda motioned for Andrea to ride with her. She hated the awkward stares and conversations of an elevator, but riding an elevator with Andrea was different. Andrea somehow knew what she was thinking, knew why she liked to be by herself, and offered that to her as best she could.

Roy was waiting for them downstairs. He held the door open for Miranda and Andrea quickly walked around to the other side to climb in. Once they began driving, Andrea noticed they turned left instead of right, and were now heading in the direction of Miranda's townhouse.

"Miranda, where are we going?"

"Don't worry," Miranda said. Andrea swore she saw a smile flicker across Miranda's lips. "You need to rest. Please," Miranda said, squeezing closer to the door, "lie down. Take a nap."

Andrea's eyes widened. Did Miranda just say "please" and suggest that she sleep in the towncar, all in one sentence? "Uhh, no, Miranda, thank you, but I can't. I'm fine," she added, bringing her hand up to her mouth to cover a yawn.

"You are not 'fine' and you are of no use to me if you don't receive proper rest. Feet up," Miranda said, patting the empty space in the backseat between them.

Andrea carefully removed her heels and turned so that her back was to the door, lifting her feet up to the seat, careful not to let her feet touch Miranda's thigh. Andrea was very glad she was wearing opaque knitted tights with her skirt today, because otherwise Miranda would have quite a view from where she was seated.

Miranda smiled as she watched Andrea get comfortable and close her eyes. She quickly typed a message to Julia, her personal chef who was likely still at her house: "Please prepare something healthy & light, w protein, for a 1:30pm snack. pack extra in a separate container. thx."

She trusted Julia to come up with something sufficient for Andrea, something she could send home with her as well, given that, by the looks of things, she hasn't had much time to eat.

Miranda leaned forward and whispered to Roy, "We need to be at the townhouse at 1:30. Drive around until then—nothing too fast or jerky." Roy nodded, and Miranda pressed the button to raise the privacy glass.

Taking off her sunglasses, she reached up to rub the bridge of her nose and sighed. They had all been working hard for the past few weeks. She uncrossed her legs, kicked her own heels off, and leaned back, closing her eyes, her hands folded in her lap. Perhaps she could get some sleep, too.

Miranda was startled from her sleep when she heard Andrea whimpering. She thought she heard her mumble "I'm sorry" and something that sounded like "no, don't" but Andrea still had a hint of a smile across her face, so Miranda wasn't too concerned.

Andrea twisted slightly, curling up towards the back of the seat and stretching her legs out in the process. Miranda looked down at Andrea's feet, pressing into her leg, and realized that Andrea was still asleep.

She gently lifted Andrea's legs across her own lap, and turned her body so that her back was directly to the corner of the backseat and she had room to stretch her own legs. She placed her hands back in her lap, across Andrea's ankles, and quickly fell back asleep.

At promptly 1:29pm, the towncar came to a stop outside Miranda's home. Roy waited a few moments, literally waiting until the clock changed to 1:30, then stepped out and walked around to open Miranda's door.

As he opened the curb-side passenger door, Roy quickly realized there was weight leaning against the door, so he quickly pushed it back shut. The slight movement of the door, however, startled Miranda. She sat up and gently lifted Andrea's legs off her own. The bit of rest felt wonderful, Miranda thought, though it appeared Andrea needed more than an hour's nap.

"Andrea," Miranda called, placing her hand on Andrea's knee, "wake up, Andrea."

Andrea's eyes blinked a few times before she sat up and smoothed out her skirt and her hair. Miranda was putting her own shoes on, and Andrea was still waking up, unsure of what time it was or where she was.

Sensing this, Miranda spoke, "Put your shoes on. We are stopping here at my home for a quick lunch before returning."

Andrea nodded and followed Miranda out of the car and up the stairs to her townhouse.

They walked directly to the kitchen in silence, where Miranda was pleased to see Julie left two plates and glasses out, and a large hummus plate in the refrigerator. Miranda pulled the tray out and smiled when she saw the extra container of hummus on the top shelf of the fridge.

"Do you like hummus, Andrea?" Miranda asked, setting the plate on the table.

"Yes, of course. But Miranda, you really don't have to fe—"

"Stop that. I don't really have to do anything, Andrea. I'm choosing to do this. Learn to understand the difference." She paused, "Tea or water?"

"Water is fine."

"But you were drinking tea earlier—with Trish?"

"Yes. I like tea, too, but it's a hassle to make. I like looseleaf, not bags. Water is fine."

"Nonsense," Miranda said, opening her cabinet and pulling out an airtight container of tea leaves and two individual strainer balls. "I'm afraid I only have an African black tea, will that suffice?"

"Yes, thank you." Andrea replied.

"Please, fix yourself a plate while I prepare tea. Feel free to eat in the den—it's much more comfortable," Miranda called over her shoulder.

Andrea spooned some hummus onto her plate and selected a few pita wedges and stalks of celery, then made her way into the den. She quickly looked around the room and selected the oldest chair to sit in. It was a worn recliner with a cashmere throw draped across the back. It did not fit the decor of Miranda's home at all, but looked like the most comfortable chair she'd ever seen.

She wanted to wait for Miranda before she started eating, so she set her plate on the side table next to her chair, and tucked her feet underneath her. This chair was so comfortable, it seemed to be made especially for her body.

Miranda entered the den with a small tray carrying two teacups, milk, sugar, and her own plate of hummus. She smiled when she saw Andrea sitting in the recliner. "Please, do not wait for me to eat. Now, how do you take your tea?"

"Splash of milk, please."

Miranda nodded, poured some milk into her cup, and walked over to hand it to her. "You know," she said, returning to her seat on the sofa, "you chose the best chair in the house."

"I'm so sorry!" Andrea quickly said, jumping up so she could offer the seat to Miranda.

"No, no, sit down. You are a guest and I refuse to treat you otherwise. I can sit in that chair anytime I want. You know," Miranda continued, "I bought that chair when I was pregnant. A friend told me that every pregnant woman needed a la-z-boy recliner. I told him he was crazy and went through three or four chairs—stylish but terribly uncomfortable—before caving and purchasing this. It's been reupholstered three times, and is in desperate need of a fourth." Miranda smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy it as much as I do."

Andrea smiled as she ate her hummus. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course, you don't need my permission," Miranda said.

"Why are you doing this—being nice to me?"

"Andrea, is it so out of character for me to show some appreciation and kindness?" Andrea did not answer, but only stared at her suspiciously. "Do you think I am actually playing you, Andrea? That I have anything but good intentions? My god, I would hope that you know me better—"

"Miranda, please. No, I know you have good intentions. Please, calm down. I've just never seen you act this way towards me, or any employee for that matter, and I guess I was wondering if you were okay." Andrea said, shrugging.

"Today you looked so—so drained. Tired. Yet you were as competent as ever. I know you're so exhausted because of the things I ask of you, and believe it or not, I was concerned."

"Oh," Andrea replied, not knowing what else to say. "Thank you?"

"No need to thank me."

Andrea and Miranda finished their lunch in silence, each deep in thought.

Miranda tried to understand why she was acting so protective and concerned. Andrea was her assistant, yet she was treating her like she would a daughter. Andrea was young enough to be her daughter—granddaughter if you really thought about it. Other than making her feel old, she didn't particularly like to think of Andrea in that way. She was gorgeous and had a strong, likable personality. She paid attention to everything and remembered the right details. Miranda could probably go a few days without speaking to Andrea, and business would run smoothly as ever. But, she would never want to go days without speaking to the young woman.

She's old enough to be my grandmother, Andrea thought to herself as she finished her tea. My beautiful, enigmatic, sexy grandmother… Andrea quickly tried thinking of something else, but found it terribly difficult to be in Miranda's presence—in her home—and think of anyone else. Andrea was surprised at how comfortable she had become in Miranda's home.

Andrea finished her tea. Placing the empty teacup on her plate, she stood from the most comfortable la-z-boy recliner and addressed Miranda, who appeared to be in her own world. "We should get back to the office. It's almost two."

Miranda turned to look at Andrea, and the young woman braced herself for whatever insults would pour out of her luscious lips. "What was that?" Miranda questioned. Her mind had been elsewhere.

"Uh, Miranda, I said we should get back to Runway, since it's almost two o'clock."

"Oh, my. Yes. I seemed to have lost track of time." Miranda said, thinking that she was really daydreaming about her assistant. Miranda stood and took Andrea's plate from her. "I'll just be two minutes—make yourself comfortable."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"No, just give me two minutes," Miranda said. I need to get my bearings, she thought to herself.

Andrea sat back down in the recliner. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to catalog the moment. The scent of Miranda's home was woody with hints of amber and patchouli. Soft light filtered through the curtains, and she could feel the warmth of the sun on her right cheek. She sighed again and pulled her knees up to her chest, imagining Miranda curled up in the chair, curled up around Andrea.

Miranda stood at the doorway of the den, watching Andrea in the chair, sitting exactly like she does most nights, waiting for her husband who so rarely comes home. A smile crept across Miranda's lips as Andrea made a whimpering noise and shifted in the chair. Miranda wanted so badly to walk over and put her arms around her, but she quickly scolded herself for thinking such things about a woman so much younger than herself.

"Andrea, are you ready?" Miranda said, pretending she just walked into the den, staring down at her blackberry so as to give Andrea a few seconds to open her eyes and sit up.

"Yes, Miranda." she replied, eyes bright and shining. Miranda grabbed a few bags and they walked to the towncar, still parked outside. Once inside, Andrea turned to Miranda, wanting to thank her again, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Miranda felt Andrea's eyes on her and turned to face her, questioningly.

"Is there something you wanted to say, Andrea?" Miranda asked, removing her sunglasses.

"No—just, thank you." Andrea replied sheepishly.

Miranda picked up the smallest of the bags—a Bloomingdale's Little Brown Bag—and handed it to Andrea. "I refuse to allow anyone to say I starve my employees."

Andrea looked in the bag and saw a container of hummus, plus a ziploc bag of celery, carrots, and cucumbers. "Miranda, you don't have to—"

"Nonsense. Did you like it?"

"Yes, but—"

"Do you have anything to eat in your apartment?"

"No, but—"

"Well, then, you will take it, and you will eat it, and you will not whine." Miranda quickly said, growing increasingly more impatient. "Accepting others' generosity is an art, Andrea. Perhaps one more valuable than generosity itself. Learn it well."

Andrea wasn't sure what to respond, so she took the bag, nodding and smiling.

That evening, as she was waiting for the book at 9:30pm, she was very grateful for the snack Miranda packed.

For the rest of the week, neither woman brought up their lunch at Miranda's, or Andrea's general lack of sleep. Andrea tried to get as much sleep as possible so she would not put Miranda in a position like that again, and she even allowed herself to close her eyes at her desk as she waited for the Book.

It was 7pm Friday evening, and Rafael already informed Andrea that the Book would not be ready until at least 12am. Andrea told Rafael she would return at midnight, but that he was to text her the minute anything changed. If the Book was going to be significantly later than that, she would need to message Miranda.

Andrea had Roy pickup Miranda's dry cleaning, and drop her off at her own apartment. He had nothing else scheduled that evening, so he promised Andrea he would be back at 11:30 to take her back to Runway, and if something came up he would call for a cab.

Andrea plugged her cell phone into the charger, set her alarm for 11:15pm, and turned the volume up as she curled up on the couch with her comfy fleece throw. She was asleep the minute she lay her head on the pillow, but her sleep was not entirely restful. Her mind raced as she answered phone calls, confirmed appointments, ran errands, raced across town for an item, and rode back and forth with Miranda in the towncar. Suddenly, she was at Miranda's home—except it wasn't her home, it was more of a portrait gallery with vines on the walls. Miranda was leading her to an antique chaise. She sat down on the edge as Andrea curled up, and she draped a black velvet throw over her as she stroked her cheek, softly humming her to sleep.

Suddenly, she awoke to the sound of her cell phone's alarm ringing loudly next to her head. Turning it off, she sat up for a moment, recalling her dream vividly, as if Miranda were still sitting on the couch next to her. Seeing that Roy would be here in less than ten minutes, she quickly used the bathroom and brushed her teeth, applying a clear lipgloss before heading downstairs.

During the entire ride back to Runway, she thought about her dream—it unnerved her to be thinking about Miranda like that, when she had no control over her thoughts. What did it mean that Miranda was tucking her in? That there were portraits and vines covering the walls, that she was on a rose-colored antique sofa? Before Andrea could begin to answer any of these questions, she was back at the office, riding the elevators up to Runway's floor.

As Rafael promised, the Book was ready by 12:15. Andrea collected it and headed down to the waiting car, Miranda's dry cleaning already in the car.

"Late night?" Roy asked, trying to make small talk. Roy often wanted to talk to Andrea, and she thought she could sense his wanting to be friends with her. But, she could not base a friendship on mutual complaining, so she usually tried to avoid his questioning.

"Yes. Miranda's please. And I would like to walk home. Thank you."

"Sure thing, Andy."

TB