DISCLAIMER

1. I DO NOT OWN THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA. This is just for fun.

2. This is my first TDWP story. It probably shows.

"Well... this is awkward."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Ridiculous is more like it."

Andy shifted nervously in her chair. She knew from her former boss' tone that this would not go well.

Miranda glared at her with the classic Dragon Expression.

No, definitely not go well.

Andrea straightened her back. She would not back down. Not from her. "You know I didn't plan for this."

"Really, Andrea?" asked Miranda rhetorically. "Are you saying you didn't plan on being the one to interview me for your rag?"

Rag? So... Miranda wanted to play hardball, did she? Fine. The journalist narrowed her eyes, trying to give the Runway editor her very own evil stare. Judging by the stoney expression on Miranda's face, it was not working. "I told you... everyone else if off sick. I tried to avoid this - God knows I tried - but I'm afraid I have to. It's my job. You of all people should understand that."

"The only reason I agreed to be featured in your Sunday supplement was because it was your paper," Miranda explained, more than a hint of annoyance in her tone. "And even then, it was under the proviso you wouldn't be the one interviewing me. Not with our... history. It would create a conflict of interest." She almost smirked. "Wouldn't you say, Andrea?"

Miranda was being snarky. To her. Andy hated that. It was one of the reasons she left back in Paris. And eventhough alot had changed since then - to put it mildly - Andy still loathed when Miranda acted like the Dragon with her, of all people. "I'm well aware of how complicated this is. But as I said, everyone else with any experience that you would deem worthwhile is off sick. So you're stuck with me. So can we please just get this over with?"

"Fine," Miranda replied with a roll of the eyes. "But you know the rules. Everyone is aware of my past poverty. Personal life stays personal. And the twins are completely off limits."

Now Andy rolled her eyes. Only Miranda would classify anything less than a millionaire lifestyle as "poverty". Resolving herself, the journalist decided to stop putting off the inevitable and set her phone to Record. "As you know, the Mirror is doing a week-long feature on fashion, and... "

"No one on that paper would know fashion if it bit them on the behind," interrupted the Runway editor. "But I'm used to dealing with such people. Even my significant other doesn't know the first thing about fashion."

Andy's eyes widened. Significant... ?! Oh, Miranda was definitely playing hardball. Andy detested any reference to Miranda's "significant other". It was so on now. "So why don't you enlighten us, Ms. Priestly?"

That got to her. Miranda's eyes flashed with shock. She hated when people she knew well called her that. It was so... cold. Impersonal. And as much of an Ice Queen Miranda could be, she always insisted on first-name terms with people she knew. Even those she hated, like Irv. So for Andy to call her that would make her blood boil. Good. She deserved it for the way she was acting. "I've married again," she said defensively. "As everyone knows. I'm Mrs... "

"You haven't answered my question," Andy interrupted, knowing that would further enrage the Dragon. Only Andy would ever attempt to do so - but she had stopped being afraid of the editor ever since Paris. And it had served her very well.

Miranda took a deep breath, then smiled thinly. "No, I haven't." She flicked her silver hair away from her brow before continuing. "I get distracted by pushy interviewers who like to play games."

"I can play with the best of them," said Andy, tilting her head. "But it's not me that's playing the game here."

"Are you sure, Andrea?" purred Miranda. "Because I certainly wouldn't play any games when it came to business. I'm just here for an interview. It's not my fault your boss doesn't understand simple instructions, like who can and can't interview me."

"Just keep going, Miranda," smirked Andy. "This is tabloid gold."

Miranda humphed. "Yes, I can picture the headline now. 'Fashion Editor Gets into Catfight with Reporter'. I'm sure that would do wonders for you. You'd dine on that for years." She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "Not that you'd win. I could take you in a heart... "

"Oh, that's IT!" Andy leapt up from her chair, her phone tumbling to the ground. "This is ridiculous!" She flung herself onto Miranda's lap and grabbed both sides of her face, forcing their lips together in a crushing kiss. Miranda quickly adapted, wrapping her arms around the young reporter and pulling her closer. After several seconds, Andy broke the kiss and buried her head in Miranda's shoulder. "Ridiculous," came her muffled whine.

Miranda chuckled. "Told you I'd win."

Andy looked up at her former boss' beautiful face, the editor's eyes shining with delight, smugness and victory. "I can't believe you'd actually... actually... " She shook her head. "Were you really that pissed off that I had to interview you? You'd start some fucking tit-for-tat game?"

"Language, Andrea," Miranda scolded patronisingly. "And yes, my dear, I was rather peeved. I gave explicit instructions to your employer about the conditions of this escapade. It would not be a good idea for anyone if you the one who conducted the interview."

"Believe me, it wasn't on my 'To Do' list," moaned Andy. "When Doug told me, I was gobsmacked. I couldn't believe I had to interview my own wife!" She looked at Miranda incredulously. "But the depths you'd go to... you're an evil woman, Miranda."

"That's Miranda Priestly-Sachs," grinned the fashionita. "And don't you forget it." For a moment, they stayed there, holding eachother. Miranda began lightly stroking her spouse's thigh. "But I must say... you gave as good as you got. I was actually seeing red with that 'Ms. Priestly' nonsense."

"That's what you get for calling me your 'significant other'," said Andy hautily. "I think to think I'm much more than that."

Miranda's smile widened, but this time full of love. "So very much more, darling."

After another heated kiss, Andy craned her neck and sighed at her discarded phone. "I think we'll have to restart the interview. After all the stressing I did about it lastnight, we need to get this done."

Miranda frowned. "Lastnight? Your boss told you yesterday?"

"Yeah," Andy admitted, feeling silly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to actually gather the guts to tell you. Pissing off the Dragon is one thing... pissing off my wife is entirely different."

Miranda shook her head slowly. "Oh, my dear, dear Andrea... I love you so much." At Andy's confused expression, she spoke again. "You say he told you yesterday?"

"That's right," said Andy.

"Andrea... what's today's date?"

Andy blinked. "April the sec... " She suddenly stopped. She went numb, and all the colour drained from her face. She looked back at her spouse, who was smiling as she stroked the back of Andy's neck. Andy narrowed her eyes, her body fuming. "I'm going to kill Doug."

THE END