Title: Stay
Rating: M
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Disclaimers: I don't own the Devil Wears Prada, nor am I making money from this.
Chapter One
Andrea Sachs sat silently in the backseat of the town car, her arms held tightly at her sides. Riding with Miranda still made her as nervous as when she started. As Roy pulled up to Elias Clarke building, Andrea grabbed her bag and opened the door. "I'll get coffee," she said quietly, exiting the car and running across the street before Miranda had a chance to respond. Even if Miranda didn't want the coffee, Andrea still needed a few minutes to herself to process what was going on.
By the time she returned with Miranda's afternoon Starbucks order, she had been gone an entire twelve minutes, though it felt like an eternity. Oh shit, Miranda's going to kill me. Andrea frantically pushed the button on the elevator, willing it to travel faster.
She sprinted from the elevator to the outer office, pausing at her desk only to set down her bag and toss her coat on her chair. Calmly walking into Miranda's office, Andrea set the coffee on Miranda's desk.
"Hey Em, where's Miranda?"
"Bloody hell if I know. Serena's been looking for her for hours and Patrick must have called seventeen times already," Emily spat. "Wait, didn't she come back from James Holt's with you?"
"Yeah," Andrea said, pausing. "She never came back here?"
Emily dramatically looked around the room, poking her head under her desk. "I don't see her anywhere."
"Then where…"
"Maybe she's out looking for a new second assistant," Emily hissed, abruptly turning to answer an incoming call.
Andrea rolled her eyes and walked over to her desk, hanging up her jacket and slipping her bag beneath her desk. "I'm going to the bathroom," she said, pointing down the hall. It was a little strange that Miranda hadn't returned, but then again, she ran across the street so quickly she didn't even know whether Miranda even left the town car.
Sighing, Andrea pushed open the door to the ladies' room. She was relieved to have a few extra minutes to herself, though she knew Miranda would return eventually and she'd have to face her. Hopefully, she won't fire me.
Andrea washed and dried her hands, taking her time as she ran her fingers through her hair. Someone coughed, and Andrea froze. She was not alone.
Stepping away from the mirror, she heaved a sigh of relief that she hadn't been talking to herself aloud. Stepping towards the stalls, she looked for the source of the cough. Could it be the last stall—the handicapped one? Isn't that door always shut?
Just as she was about to ask if everything was alright, she heard another whimper that froze her in her tracks. Miranda.
Earlier that day, they were at James Holt's studio, where Miranda was being fitted for a custom gown for the upcoming CFDA holiday party. Miranda made her disapproval of the gown very clear with her unmatched pursed-lip-look, but then James dared ask what it was she didn't like. Was it the shape? Did she want straps? Should the bow have been smaller? On the back instead of the front?
As all eyes were turned on Miranda, she pressed the back of her hand to her lips and ran towards the elevator, retching. Andrea, James, and his assistants all exchanged glances. No one knew quite what to do. Were they supposed to follow her? Eventually, Nadine retrieved a glass of ice water and walked over there, but when they heard the sound of the glass shattering against the concrete floor, Andrea knew it was time to leave.
Addressing James loud enough so Miranda would hear, Andrea thanked him for his time and explained that they needed to be on their way. "I'm sure Miranda will be in touch with you," Andrea said, biting her lip. She pressed the button to call the elevator, then held the door as Miranda stepped in, never once making eye contact. Miranda gestured for her to join, and they rode down in silence.
When Andrea climbed into the backseat from the other side of the car, she caught Miranda's eye for a fraction of a second before she turned to look out the window. It didn't matter how long—it was long enough to see her pale lips, the look of pure humiliation in her eye.
Quickly returning to the present, Andrea gently knocked on the door. "Is everything alright in there?" she asked. It was an honest question, and she would have asked even if she didn't know who was there.
"I'm fine," a hoarse voice whispered.
Before Andrea could respond, she heard the editor expelling the liquid contents of her stomach into the toilet. What am I supposed to do when Miranda's sick? Call her husband to pick her up? As Andrea tried to figure out how to handle the situation, she heard the toilet flush. She needed to speak up.
"Miranda, you're not fine," Andrea said firmly, as she tried to nudge the door open. "Roy will take you home to rest."
"I—ca-can't," Miranda coughed, falling against the wall with a thud as Andrea wedged the door open.
Gasping, Andrea rushed over and wrapped her arm around her, easing her onto the floor. She would deal with the fact that she had just touched—no, rather, attempted to soothe Miranda later, when she could assure she was alright. "What's going on? Do you need me to call an ambulance?" she asked, softening her tone when she felt how weak Miranda was. Had she always been this frail?
"No, I'll be okay," she said, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Andrea cringed at the dry, scratchy sound of her voice, so different from the melodic whisper she was used to hearing. "I just need to sit for a minute."
Without thinking, Andrea reached up and brushed an unruly lock of hair off her face, her finger softly brushing against her temple. Again, she would deal with the consequences later. She cared for the editor—much more than she was willing to admit.
"Let's get you up before someone else walks in," Andrea said as she helped her to her feet. She knew the logic of the offer would appeal to Miranda. "Can I walk you down to the car?" she asked, taking her bag and coat off the hook on the back of the door.
Miranda shook her head as she let Andrea drape her coat over her shoulders. "I'll be fine," she said, sliding her sunglasses on. "Caroline had a stomach bug last week. I'm sure that's all it is."
"Okay," Andrea said. She wasn't entirely convinced, but she had already pushed the boundaries enough today. She hated the thought, but she knew the woman certainly was capable of taking care of herself. Once Miranda left, Andrea quickly texted Roy to meet Miranda in the lobby and possibly help her into the townhouse.
As she slowly made her way back to her desk, Emily practically pounced on her. "Where have you been! I have to pee!"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Andrea said, sinking into her chair. What a Monday.
"Don't let Miranda see you slouch like that!" Emily chided her.
"She won't. She went home for the rest of the day."
"Excuse me?"
"I ran into her. She said something about Caroline and a stomach bug and left," Andrea said, hoping Emily would not persist. It wasn't exactly a lie.
"That little brat is always interfering," Emily hissed, resting her hand on her hip as she let her own posture loosen.
"Caroline?"
"Yes."
"Em, how can you blame her? She sees her mother for what, ten hours a week? Give her a break. Plus, I think Miranda was insinuating that she had caught the stomach bug Caroline had last week."
"Oh, so Miranda was sick?" Emily asked, suddenly perking up.
"Yes. I felt her forehead and she was a little feverish, so I made her some chicken soup and tucked her into bed," Andrea spat, rolling her eyes. She was going to ignore the fact that Emily seemed glad their boss was ill. "It's the only reason I can think that she felt the need to tell me Caroline was sick last week."
"Good point. I'll take care of her schedule," Emily announced, "right after I get back from the loo."
Looking at the clock, Andrea saw it was already 4:00 P.M. She grabbed her bag and coat, scribbling a note to Emily before heading out the door herself. She had a feeling that this was the calm before the storm—what storm, she didn't know.
On Wednesday morning, Andrea arrived early. Miranda sent Andrea on pointless errands all day Tuesday, so she had quite a bit of catching up to do. As she walked into the office, she was surprised to see Miranda at her desk, thumbing through the pages of the Book. The warm glow of her desk lamp softened her features on this dreary morning. At least she's feeling better.
"Andrea," Miranda called quietly.
She quickly hung her coat and approached Miranda's desk with her notepad in hand.
"We leave for Paris one week from Friday," Miranda said as she continued to flip the pages. "The girls will be with their father, but I would like to provide your contact info to the school in case of an emergency. It's just, if something happens and James is busy…" Her voice trailed off.
"Of course," Andrea said. "It's logical. I would be the only person who could get in touch with you. If there's anything else—"
"I will let you know," Miranda said, nodding. She closed the Book and handed it across the desk to Andrea. "Oh, and I spoke with Valentino last night. He said he could do a fitting this afternoon."
"I'll schedule it with Alicia," Andrea said, quickly rushing the Book off to the Art Department.
"Do you think Miranda looks pale?" Nigel asked later that afternoon.
"What? No," Andrea said automatically. "Why?"
"Just wondering. I don't think she's been feeling well. Is she getting enough sleep?"
"Why does everyone assume I know these things?!" Andrea said. "I have no fucking clue what goes on once she leaves this building."
"Whoa, calm down there, Six. No need to get defensive," Nigel said as he nudged Andrea in the ribs. "I've just noticed that she's a bit slower lately—walking slower, thinking slower. Maybe it's early-onset Alzheimer's."
"Or dementia," Emily added.
"Or," Andrea said, "she finally decided to calm the fuck down. Now, get back to work before she hears you."
"Which one of you is coming to Valentino with me?" Miranda called out from her desk. Andrea and Emily exchanged glances as Nigel darted down the hall to his office. Emily frantically pointed to the Paris schedule she was working on.
"I am coming with you," Andrea said.
"Have Roy ready to go in five minutes. That's all."
Andrea quickly texted Roy, then sent a note to Alicia, Valentino's senior assistant, informing her that they would be nearly two hours early for Miranda's fitting. Andrea slipped her own coat on before grabbing Miranda's things and meeting her as she strode towards the elevator.
When the door opened, Miranda stepped in and Andrea's finger hovered over the call button, waiting until the doors were closed to call another. "Andrea," she whispered, looking up and meeting her assistant's eyes. Miranda jerked her head towards the space next to her.
They rode in silence, both in the elevator and in the town car. Andrea desperately wanted to ask Miranda how she had been feeling after Monday's drama, but she couldn't decide whether Miranda was waiting for her to ask or hoping she never brought it up ever again. So, she said nothing.
tbc