Title: Leather Pants Do Not a Badass Make

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Mirandy

Word Count: 5,131

Summary: Andy didn't quit in Paris, and after a night of unintended insanity and unfortunate twists of fate, Andy goes to work mildly hung-over and expecting the worst. Miranda seems to be avoiding her, but when she does turn up again, it isn't anything Andy could have begun to prepare for.

Beta: Yeah I swore I'd work on that but this is just a oneshot so any and all mistakes belong solely to yours truly.

Disclaimer: Own? Me? Nahhh…

A/N: This was not anywhere on my radar of things I planned to write, but someone anonymously sent me a request for "shameless office sex" and a combination of a four-day weekend and an incredible new tumblr friend inspired me to finally open a word document again. Hope you like "shameless office sex" as much as my anonymous requester does!

Ever yours,

~Menzosarres

Even if Emily was more angry at Lagerfeld than at her, even if Nigel had everything perfectly organized for the run-through, even if her belt continued to disguise the tattered hole where her dress had torn on some businessman's briefcase on the subway this morning, Andy was not going to have a good day at work. The tear was the least of her problems.

She was hung over, but unfortunately not enough for the alcohol to have wiped the memories of last night from her overtaxed mind.

"Lily, I appreciate the gesture, really, but I'm not in the mood to go out."

"Of course you are, idiot, you just don't know it yet. I left you alone to figure out this whole 'being single' business again, but you've had more than enough time to get over Nate, and it's my job to make sure you're alive again."

Andy groaned, flopping back on her bed as Lily rifled through her closet. She knew she'd been blowing her friends off more than was fair in the last few weeks, especially since they'd been surprisingly sympathetic after she and Nate finally called the long overdue end official, but there was no way for Lily or Doug to know that it wasn't the breakup that was keeping her so antisocial. The events in Paris had been a rude awakening, a disillusionment of sorts, and Andy couldn't figure out how to reconcile the loathing she felt for Miranda's actions with her own inability to quit the damn job and stop feeling like she owed Miranda better than that.

Something landed on her face and she squealed, batting it away before identifying it as a pair of leather pants Nigel had tossed at her one of her earliest days in the Closet and which were so incredibly skin-tight that she'd never had the courage to wear them.

"No! Lily, are you crazy?"

Lily smirked. "Wear the pants."

"Lily…" she pleaded.

Lily just shook her head and arched an eyebrow, her pointed stare perfectly calculated to make Andy feel guilty about the past month of ignoring her. Glowering, she snatched up the pants and grabbed her own choice of a white tee from the top drawer, ignoring Lily's teasing question – "You don't own anything mesh, do you?" – as she headed into the bathroom to change.

Staring in the mirror over the sink, Andy was almost disappointed that her face didn't look as dead as she felt. Sure, there was some bruising under her eyes, but they looked alive, alive and maybe not as reluctant to check out the new club tonight as she thought she should be. Could be fun, she mused, take my mind of the job for a few hours. Miranda was in Phoenix at an event that Runway's budget wouldn't take an assistant to and wasn't expected back until tomorrow evening, so work shouldn't be able to ruin the night, for once.

Hell, Lily was right; Andy needed to get out.

"Miranda's stuck in traffic but she'll be here in twenty."

Emily's voice jerked Andy out of her memory as it needled the headache lingering just behind her temples.

"You'd better go fetch another coffee; that one must be cold."

Andy tried to only groan internally, letting her forehead slump onto the surface of her desk even as she used her feet to shove the new rolling chair and her lower body backward, pushing away from the desk until her head slid off the edge and onto her knees before unfolding herself dramatically into a hunchbacked standing position and heading jerkily for the elevator. Emily was rolling her eyes.

Some half-recognizable designer with a painfully red Mohawk was already standing behind the elevator doors, and the sight of the wild hair catapulted her back to last night.

She should have taken a hint from Lily's own overabundance of denim and skin that this "great new club!" she'd insisted on dragging Andy too would be something edgier than their usual fare. In her years dating Nate, always a bit more conservative in his choice of recreational activities, Andy had nearly forgotten Lily's wild streak.

The bouncer had given Andy's designer leather slacks two very appreciative once-overs before ushering them inside ahead of the line. At first, the interior was too dim, all black lights on unfinished brick walls and pounding bass reverberating among the exposed pipes glinting in the ceiling. Soon, Andy's eyes adjusted and she took in the wall-to-wall press of bodies, mostly men, and mostly wearing less clothing than her. Bare chests bore flashes of silver in everything from nipples to navel and what skin wasn't on display tended to be coated in leather or straining against denim. At the sight of a pair of assless chaps, Andy was about ready to flee.

Lily wasn't having it. Laughing at the expression on Andy's face, she linked arms and tugged her down around the outskirts of the melee, finally securing them a space by the crowded bar.

While Andy settled reluctantly into a chilled beer, Lily dove gleefully into the masses, conveniently forgetting that this night was supposed to be about getting Andy out of her shell in favor of dancing with one of the dark silhouettes dressed in leather and sin. When three songs had passed and Lily seemed to have disappeared altogether, Andy switched to something stronger.

"Can I get you another?"

It took Andy a moment to realize the silky, feminine voice was talking to her. Catching a glimpse of an arched eyebrow, she turned to see a woman with an adorably contagious smirk on her lips. She seemed to be near Andy's age; smooth mocha skin, dark hair piled haphazardly atop her head and glinting in the crimson light shining from behind the bar, pale, expressive eyes giving Andy the sort of appreciative glance she more often expected from men.

"Ah…" Andy stammered, having forgotten what was asked in her surprise at who the voice had belonged to.

"Hi, I'm Auden," she said, half-yelling to be heard over the music. With the magical way of a frequent visitor, she managed to get the bartender's attention with a quick two-finger wave. Before Andy could protest, she had another drink sitting in front of her.

"Auden, um… hi," she managed. "Andy, I'm Andy, and, um… I'm not… I'm not here to…"

Auden laughed off Andy's apparent discomfort. "That's fine, you never know in a place like this." She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Just in case you come back sometime, the straight girls tend to go for denim over leather."

Andy nearly choked on her beer as she felt a warm hand slide flirtatiously up her thigh. She was surprised at the sudden flash of heat she felt, the way the casually sensual touch suddenly drew attention to the seam of her pants nestled against her sex.

Apparently seeing something in Andy's expression, she moved to stand directly in front of her, some other figure instantly filling her niche by the bar. Auden's smirk had returned. "Hmm. Maybe I wouldn't be pushing it if I ask if you wanted to dance?"

Andy swallowed thickly. She took in the woman before her again, noticing the dark boots tracing halfway up bare calves which turned into bare thighs topped with high-waisted leather shorts. A dark jacket was unbuttoned at the top and bottom but closed just enough in the middle that Andy couldn't tell whether she had anything on underneath or not. To her own surprise, she wanted to say yes.

The Starbucks had been so crowded and understaffed that she actually had to wait in line for Miranda's brew, but Andy finally got her order. Halfway across the lobby her phone buzzed, Emily texting her that Miranda had decided not to waste the time and was going straight to Ralph Lauren. She didn't need either of them to meet her.

Andy stared blankly at her phone for a moment until she realized she was in the danger zone of the lobby, right in the path of indeterminate numbers of clackers at the center of the marble entryway. Moving once again towards the elevator bank, Andy chugged Miranda's coffee with a vengeance. The heat couldn't bother her nearly as much as the stress she was feeling and the caffeine could only help.

She didn't say yes. She was too afraid of what it would mean if she said yes, both in terms of the night she was having, and in terms of her twisted emotional mess with her boss.

Outside, the cool air cleared Andy's head and she was glad she hadn't done anything stupid. It wasn't Auden she wanted and, as much as she hid from the idea of who she might actually want, she knew it wasn't Auden.

More aware of her surroundings than when Lily had bustled her inside, she was pleasantly surprised to see a coffee shop just around the corner, the slightly seedy side-street merging once more into the respectable side of the booming metropolis. Wishing she had never agreed to the pants, she still wanted something other than alcohol in her stomach before she hopped back on the subway, especially now that Lily wasn't with her. A very misspelled text from her friend had let her know she was going back alone.

By some miracle of being the city that never sleeps, it was still open, one hapless staffer serving her up a lukewarm cappuccino and a piece of some buttery pastry she was sure would get her murdered for calories at Runway.

On her way out, she bumped into an impossibility.

Miranda? Her thoughts stuttered to a halt, but her words caught up. "Miranda?"

Her boss hadn't even looked up when they'd first brushed elbows, but at Andy's squawk of her name, she turned back.

"Andrea, what on earth—"

Miranda's voice died in her throat when she caught sight of Andy's attire. Her eyes seemed to scuttle every which way across the tight white tee before freezing on the leather at her hips.

"That's… Helmut Lang, the… the Australian redesign… you…"

Andy had never seen her boss at such a loss for words.

"I thought you were in Phoenix?" she finally asked, surprised at how calm she sounded.

"I was I… twins… I came back… early."

Andy wasn't sure what was happening, but she didn't think Miranda even realized she had answered her question. She hadn't stopped talking to Andy's hips. Andy wondered if she were in trouble for this, if she shouldn't have these pants, if Nigel wasn't supposed to give them to her, or if she simply shouldn't be seen in public in them. Andy could agree with the last one. They had gotten her into all sorts of trouble tonight.

And the trouble wasn't over.

The door opened again, knocking into Andy. She stumbled forward and nearly head-butted Miranda but managed to steady herself on the editor's shoulder. Gulping at the fire she saw in Miranda's eyes, she quickly let go, jerking back a pace and reminding herself exactly why no one touched the Dragon Lady.

"Andy?"

She could have sworn time slowed down for the instant it took her to face that voice again. There she was, the gorgeous little charmer from the club in all her barely-decent glory, smirking questioningly at her as two leather-clad males – one with his hand quite low on the other's back – followed her into the coffee shop.

Auden chuckled lightly. "Well, I was hoping I'd see you again, but I wasn't expecting it to be tonight."

One of the guys arched an eyebrow. "Ooh, so this is your minx in leather. Designer, too. I'm Robbie."

Andy made a strangled noise, glancing frantically between the posse from the club and her goddamn boss with absolutely no clue how to deal with this unprecedented situation. She shook Robbie's hand on autopilot and nodded at the introduction to his boyfriend, Carl. Before she could make sense of it, Miranda was being Miranda and introducing herself with all the poise she had been lacking when she first saw Andy and the quite flamboyant Robbie was attempting to tone down his moment of extreme fanboyishness at meeting a woman who he apparently idolized and Miranda was taking it all in stride and before Andy could protest or make a break for it or possibly faint dead away they were all five of them sitting at a circular table while the clearly peeved guy behind the counter served up another dose of late-night caffeine.

Andy wondered when she'd fallen down a rabbit hole.

Back at her desk, Andy realized just how open her day had suddenly become. She was supposed to be at Ralph Lauren with Miranda for at least two hours and now here she was, stuck at Elias Clarke, clearly being punished for the unfortunate conclusion to last night's events.

As surreal as it was, Andy couldn't deny that she was sitting at a table in a coffee shop just after midnight with Miranda Priestly and three very leather-clad, very gay people she hardly knew.

And Auden was such a flirt.

Andy had ended up between Miranda and Auden, but Robbie seemed to have a miraculous monopoly on Miranda's attention. As he chattered on about a fall collection Andy hadn't even heard of, Auden was sitting just that small bit too close to be casual. "When you dashed out on me I thought you were going somewhere important," she prompted, voice low. "Yet here you are, not a block away and still looking quite delicious, if I might say so."

Andy's eyes flicked over towards Miranda out of force of habit, and Auden caught the gesture. She leaned in closer, her hand finding purchase once again on Andy's thigh. Instead of saying anything to Andy, however, she cleared her throat lightly and managed to get Miranda's attention. "So, how do you two know each other?" Auden's voice was light, but there was an edge underneath that made her question seem almost taunting.

Miranda seemed to be considering her answer when she caught sight of Auden's hand under the table. Her stare turned ice cold.

Andy struggled to regain some sort of control, quickly brushing aside Auden's fingers and answering, "Miranda's my boss; I work for her."

To Andy's astonishment, Auden threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, god, really? From the death glares I've been getting I thought I was encroaching on someone's territory."

Andy stared at her blankly.

Auden chuckled again at the expression, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind Andy's ear. "I thought she must have been why you turned me down in the club."

Andy felt as though the floor had been ripped out from under her feet. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and though the two guys were saying something, all she heard was the rush of her own blood behind her ears. She cast a terror-stricken glance at Miranda, seeing something akin to her own shock on her boss's face. "N-no, oh, god, I… I have to—"

Without even finishing her sentence, she had pushed back her chair and fled, dashing out the coffee shop doors at nothing close to a civilized pace and not allowing her head to catch up to her pounding heart until she was safely back in her apartment with glass of bourbon she usually only pulled out when her dad was visiting.

Hence, the hangover.

The book was very late, Emily was very gone, the office was very empty and Andy was very done. Miranda had kept her stressed and on edge all day, constantly location-jumping without ever returning to the office and thoroughly screwing over any semblance of the week's schedule. Trying to think on the bright side, she was glad she wasn't one of the many people whose entire life's works could be ruined by the bad mood she was certain her actions last night had put Miranda in. No, the worst that could happen to her was a lost job and a blacklisted name in the fashion industry, a place she vowed she wouldn't spend another minute in… as soon as Miranda was finished with her.

Of course, after that disaster of an evening, there was no way Miranda wasn't finished with her. Not only had her quick retreat probably revealed some of the truth in Auden's words, but she had left Miranda alone at a table of people she would never have chosen to associate with.

As though summoned by her thoughts, Miranda strode through the doors without warning, stalking past an open-mouthed Andy.

"My office, now."

Jerking up from her seat and staggering behind her boss entirely on autopilot, she tried to get a grip on the abject terror seething about in the pit of her stomach.

"The book… I'm sorry, it's late," she quickly explained.

"It isn't coming," Miranda said, setting down her coat and bag on her own desk.

She turned to face her assistant, the look in her eyes one Andy couldn't begin to identify.

"Not coming?" she mumbled.

Miranda began to walk forward, passing her desk and making a beeline for Andy. "No. I won't be needing the book tonight."

"You won't?" Andy asked, her voice betraying her with a squeak at the end when Miranda didn't stop approaching within the socially acceptable boundaries of personal space.

"No."

And then she was kissing her, tangling her fingers artlessly in Andy's hair as her tongue laid claim to her mouth. Too stunned to do anything but accept the sudden heat, Andy could feel every stroke of Miranda's tongue all the way down to her clit.

The editor tore away with a low sound, almost a growl, echoing from her throat, leaving Andy gasping and stunned and so incredibly turned on she was amazed she was still standing.

Before she could even collect her breath, let alone her thoughts, Miranda was skating her teeth down her neck and sucking at the soft, sensitive skin above her collarbone.

"Miranda!" she squeaked out. "W-what…"

Miranda kissed her again, silencing her, pushing her back against the half-closed door and trapping both of the younger woman's wrists against the glass. Pulling back from her lips, Miranda hissed out, "Do you have any idea what kind of torture last night was?"

Before Andy could even make sense of the question, Miranda had captured her lips again. The older woman was making these little noises, a series of broken hums, and it had Andy's head reeling as much as the kiss itself. When she pulled back again, Andy couldn't hold in a whimper of loss.

"Seeing that woman flirting with you, knowing she'd been dancing with you all night in some sordid club," Miranda released her hands, freeing her own to tug frantically at the sweater draped around Andy's shoulders. "Touching you," she hissed, voice dropping dangerously low as she raked the backs of her nails up Andy's now-bare arms. "How far did she go, Andrea?"

All Andy could do was whimper as Miranda turned her around with surprising force, jerking the zipper down her spine and pushing it forward off her shoulders. "She, she didn't—"

"Did she touch you here?" Miranda rasped, pressing a series of kisses to her shoulder blades and along the top few nobs of her spine. "Did you let her under that… that tee-shirt?"

Even as Miranda pressed the full length of her body against Andy's naked spine, she still managed to say "tee-shirt" as though it were a dirty word.

Andy was finding it damn near impossible to get a word in edgewise, so caught up in Miranda's sudden passion that she couldn't manage to find the words to explain that she hadn't even danced with Auden, let alone gotten to any skin-on-skin contact.

Miranda tugged the dress the rest of the way down to Andy's waist. When she lost a bit of momentum fumbling with the clasp of Andy's bra, Andy managed to turn back around to face her, grasping hold of the editor's hands. "Miranda, Miranda. Stop!"

She froze, staring down at their joined hands with something akin to wonder. Slowly, she raised her eyes to Andy's, still breathing heavily. "Andrea?" she murmured, and all the demand had gone out of her voice. She sounded almost… frightened.

"Miranda, I didn't do anything with Auden. She bought me a drink, flirted with me, then I left. That's all."

Miranda visibly flinched at her own signature words dropping from her assistant's lips, even though they were spoken softly and with no malice.

"That's all?" Miranda asked.

Andy nodded. "I promise."

And just like that, the fierce Miranda from a moment before was back. "And to think I spent this entire day trying to decide whether to fire or fuck you."

Andy jerked back a pace.

Miranda chuckled, a sound so dark and sensual that Andy swore she could feel the vibrations from it between her thighs.

"Or, perhaps it would be better to say 'trying to decide whether to fire or fuck you' first." Her smile at Andy's sunned expression was predatory. "Hm, darling. Don't tell me you didn't know where this whole mess has been going?"

Andy shook her head dumbly.

Miranda just kept smiling that damn smile, and while it was a smile known to cause designers to pee in their slacks, at that moment it was having an entirely different effect on Andy, though she had a feeling she was ending up just as wet.

"No matter."

"No matter?!" Andy spluttered, trying to find a sense of indignation, some sort of anger, any sort of appropriate reaction to the revelation that her boss had known they were going to end up sleeping together and had just been waiting around to decide if it was worth firing her first. Trying to find any sort of appropriate reaction other than being painfully aroused and practically unable to think and still mostly undressed.

When Miranda kissed her again, she gave up.

She lost the bra before she realized what was happening and Miranda was steering them across the room.

"On the chair," Miranda whispered, trembling. As Andy obeyed, Miranda started to shrug out of her blouse, unclasping her bra before she'd even undone all the buttons. Andy watched Miranda's eyes, her face, the rise and fall of her breasts, the unreal proof that they were feeling the same thing. When Miranda inadvertently brushed a finger over her own nipple and it stiffened, Andy moaned, giving up any pretense of protest as she finally kicked the rest of the way out of her dress and slid a hand along her own thigh.

Miranda's knowing smile made her belly twitch.

She stalked forward, dropping her blouse and bra to the floor as she approached in only a sinfully tight black skirt and her deadly Prada heels. Andy stared, thinking that it should be illegal for anyone to look as good as Miranda did in that instant. Sitting in the low, artsy chair had Miranda practically looming over her, leaning down for another of those terrifyingly heated kisses.

Andy's hands found the editor's waist, feeling muscles contract beneath the soft, silken skin of her back and sides. Miranda hummed as Andy's hands slid up along the curve of her spine and she raised one leg, slipping it between Andy's own and pressing her knee against her panties, the last speck of clothing she had on.

Andy jolted, her legs automatically spreading, making room, her hips jerking forward, lifting to press against Miranda's thigh.

They were both shaking, the heat from Miranda's body seeming impossible considering how warm Andy already felt. When Andy slid her palms down to Miranda's ass, the editor broke the kiss, looking up with a gasp that put her breasts in just the perfect place for Andy to claim one small, hard nipple with her lips. It hardened further against her tongue, drawing a pained sound from the woman above her. That sound, that heady rush of power she felt when Miranda's eyes stared down at her, wild with desire, made Andy begin to understand just what it was that made making love to a woman better than anything she could have imagined.

She kept at it, squeezing Miranda's ass and tugging her closer as she licked and sucked at that one perfect nipple, stopping only when Miranda tore it from her lips to offer her the other. She was still pressed up against Miranda's thigh, the heat she could feel through the two layers of fabric driving her mad, making her twitch and strain with every sound Miranda made.

She managed to convince her hands to let go of that ass that had mesmerized her so many times as if walked out of this very office, but only for long enough to tug down Miranda's skirt. Unable to keep her balance, Miranda stepped back, quickly kicking off her heels and finishing the job of getting naked. Before Andy could decide which part of that flawless skin she most wanted to touch, Miranda was dropping to her knees in front of her, a vision so stunning and unexpected that Andy was afraid her brain was going to short-circuit.

Then Miranda's hands were spreading her knees farther apart, tugging her panties down to her ankles and sliding those soft, mesmerizing hands up her trembling inner thighs. This was the first time Andy had had sex in a position where she could see herself, and watching Miranda's fingers spread her open, seeing her clit standing up between those short, perfectly manicured nails, dark and heavy with blood and desire… Andy had to close her eyes or she would lose it that instant.

"Mmmm," Miranda hummed. "You're so ready."

Andy whimpered.

"How do you want it?" Miranda asked, voice rasping with pure sex. "I've seen you staring at me, Andrea. I know you've thought about this." One finger slid up and down along the length of her slit, never touching the place she needed it the most. "But what did you think about most, hmm? Did you want my fingers…"

Andy gasped as a single digit slid inside without warning, curling up to press against a spot she didn't even realize she had.

"Or would you rather have my mouth?"

Andy cried out, hips thrusting forward helplessly as those deadly lips unerring sought out her clit, wrapping it in searing hot flesh and humming out a sound of approval that shot straight up her spine and exploded behind her eyes. "Oh God," Andy hissed, "Miranda, I'm going to… I'm about to… Please."

Miranda pulled back, chuckling almost evilly, though one glance at those icy blue eyes made Andy realize the other woman was just about as bad off as she was. "Yes, I think it's my mouth you've been wanting the most."

And then that mouth was back, fingers holding her open so that deadly tongue could delve deeper inside, slipping up to glide over Andy's clit until she was sucking it again. Her clit couldn't possibly get any harder, but Andy could feel it start to throb inside, a pressure and heat that seared its way up through her stomach, and she knew she wasn't going to last. She was mumbling incoherently, scattered noises that might have been please or Miranda or maybe just yes but she didn't care, couldn't care about anything other than that silver head bowed between her thighs.

Just as she was about to lose it, Miranda pulled back, ignoring Andy's sob of loss as she rose to capture Andy's lips again.

Then her fingers were back, thrusting inside smoothly despite Andy's bucking hips, palm grinding down almost painfully against her impossibly swollen clit. Pleasure blasted up Andy's spine and she broke the kiss, trying to cry out but unable to make a sound and then she was coming, Miranda's palm grinding against her unyielding clit as Andy drenched her fingers, their motion not slowing until Andy was whimpering and pulling back helplessly, thinking in the back of her fully-fucked mind that she may never need to come again.

"Jesus, Miranda," she managed to gasp out, fingers clutching impotently at the editor's shoulders.

Miranda brought her fingers up to her mouth, slipping them inside and instantly banishing any thought from Andy's head other than Get Miranda off. Right now.

Not feeling coordinated enough to trade positions and get Miranda into the chair, Andy unceremoniously pushed them down onto the floor, kissing her boss with as much fire as she could summon in her already well-sexed body. Tasting herself on Miranda's lips was something she never could have imagined being so hot, but damn the woman if every fucking thing she ever did wasn't so impossibly sensual that it had had Andy questioning her sexuality even when she hated Miranda the most.

And she sure as hell didn't hate Miranda now.

Her hands found Miranda's breasts as she kissed her, thumbs gently rolling those nipples she was beginning to think she had an obsession with. She'd never imagined her boss would be so vocal, making all these little wordless noises that were entirely too cute and entirely too sexy and the only thing Andy could imagine better than them would be finding out how they changed when she was coming.

Andy quickly scooted down Miranda's body, not even trying to look sexy, barely sparing a few quick kisses for the occasional choice patch of soft, pale skin before she found herself between Miranda's thighs. Mentally crossing fingers that she would like this as much as she had liked Miranda's breasts, she dove in.

She liked it more.

Teasing Miranda's clit with her tongue until she felt hands knotting in her hair had Miranda's noises becoming even less controlled. She heard her name once as she slid the tip of her tongue just over the hood and, taking that as a good sign, she did it again. And again. When Miranda's hands pushed her down more insistently, she finally sucked her in, letting those warm, wet nerves slip between her lips and, remembering what it had done to her, letting out a hum.

Miranda went dead silent, deathly still. "Andrea," she whispered, a note of awe on her voice. "You're making me come."

I love you, Andrea thought. I love you and I don't care what I have to do but I'm going to make sure you know that before you get rid of me.

She closed her eyes and gentled the motion of her lips, sucking softly until she felt the older woman burst inside her mouth.

And the silence that had swallowed up those little noises gave way to tears of pure release.