I wish I had more time to write or make something with a little more oompf to it, but I have to run- er, limp quickly -out the door in about two seconds.  I just wanted to take a moment to say...

I can't sleep. Maybe after snoozing for 12-14 hours each night for the last few days, my body has finally decided that it's gotten enough rest. Aaanyway, it's almost 2am and no one seems to be around, so I'm doing this iPod meme thing to fight back boredom for a little while. I know I'm a little late to the party, but for those of you who may be even more behind the times than I am, here are the rules...

Step 1: Put your iPod or whatever on random.
Step 2: Post the first few lines from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.
Step 4: Star (*) songs when someone guesses correctly.
Step 5: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING! The people who get them right first will be put next to the song they 'won'.


(I'm apparently too mentally-challenged to figure out the whole 'LJ cut' thing at the moment, so y'all will just have to deal.)


1. I wanna dance the tango with chance
I wanna ride on the wire
'Cause nothing gets done with dust in your gun
And nobody respects a liar

2. I don't mind where you come from
As long as you come to me
But I don't like illusions
I can't see them clearly

3. I'm holding on your rope
Got me ten feet off the ground
And I'm hearing what you say
But I just can't make a sound

4. Many times I tried to tell you
Many times I cried alone
Always I'm surprised how well
You cut my feelings to the bone

5. When the thorn bush turns white
That's when I'll come home
I am going out to see what I can sow
And I don't know where I'll go
And I don't know what I'll see
But I'll try not to bring it back home with me

6. I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-dime
Played it 'til my fingers bled
Was the summer of 69

7. I'm not comin' back
I'm not gonna react
I'm not doin' shit for you.
I'm not sittin' around while you are tearin' it down around us.

8. Half past twelve
And I'm watching the late show in my flat all alone
How I hate to spend the evening on my own

9. I sit and wait
Does an angel contemplate my fate?
And do they know the places where we go
When we're gray and old?

10. I need your arms around me
I need to feel your touch
I need your understanding
I need your love so much

11. Oh baby don't you know I suffer?
Oh baby can you hear me moan?
You caught me under false pretenses
How long before you let me go?

12. He's a stranger to some
And a vision to none
He can never get enough,
Get enough of the one

13. I feel insane every single time
I'm asked to compromise
'Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways
And that's the way it stays

14. You packed your last two bags
The taxi's round the bend
You used to laugh out loud
But you can't remember when

15. Now that that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
'Cause I can't wait much longer

16. When the earth was still flat
And the clouds made of fire
And mountains stretched up to the sky
Sometimes higher

17. Where are we?
What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall
Crop circles in the carpet
Sinking...
Feeling...

18. Hey mom, why didn't you tell me?
Why didn't you teach me a thing or two?
You just let me go out into the world
You never thought to share what you knew

19. How do I say goodbye
To what we had
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad

20. I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
Cause no one else cared

Title: iTunes Challenge
Author: mercurial_muse
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: insert the standard legal blah-blahs here...
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Notes: I really hate deadlines and time limits, as they make me all panicked and stressed.  (I'm a reeaaally slow writer.)  That's exactly why I made myself do this thing.  I didn't use a beta, so the mistakes are all mine.


Goodnight and Go, Imogen Heap

Follow you home, you've got your headphones on and you're dancing
Got lucky, beautiful shot you taking everything off watch the curtains wide open
Then you fall in the same routine, flicking through the TV relaxed and reclining
And you think you're alone...

If it wasn't so damn cold Miranda would get out of the town car and walk the rest of the way but, regardless of the fact that she was wearing boots, $1500 three-inch Manolos were not ideal for tromping through the dirty gray slush that countless cab and bus tires had flung all over the sidewalk.  Closer to home, in the park, the snow that had fallen yesterday was still beautiful.  It was relatively untouched and covered the ground in a layer of white so pristine and pure that it seemed to glow.  Here on the lower east side, all that remained of that ethereal blanket had been shoved up against the buildings, a thin ribbon of brightness that separated the heavily-trodden sidewalks from the grimy storefronts and crumbling stoops.  Sighing heavily at the rather depressing scene, the editor leaned forward a little to look out the windshield, her eyes narrowing at the long line of gridlocked traffic before rising to focus on her destination.

Many of the building's windows were lit, some with a steady warm glow that seeped through drawn curtains or blinds, while others sparkled with multi-hued bursts of light that were cast up by flashing television screens.  Her car began to ease forward and, as it did so, the building drew closer, the details a little sharper.  She could see things like the outline of plants nestled along the inside of windowsills, boxy shapes of posters and pictures hanging on walls, the occasional silhouette passing in front of the glass.  Her gaze was momentarily drawn to each window and she studied every one like it offered a clue that, taken in all together, might tell a complete story.  She had 'read' her way several floors up the building when one window in particular offered a view that left all the others forgotten.

A figure walked- no, all but bounced -from one edge of the window to the other, arms flailing and torso twisting as the person tugged off a pair of gloves and unwound a long scarf.  A hat was plucked off, allowing thick ribbons of hair to tumble down around the shoulders of a heavy winter coat.  That came off next, revealing a slim but curvy body beneath.  The finer details at this distance were few, but Miranda's imagination easily filled in the gaps.  She was certain that she was watching a woman now... her woman.  Andrea.  As the girl continued to peel off layers of clothing, her body swayed and her head seemed to be nodding along to a rhythm.  Miranda's mind conjured up a song to match and she allowed herself to get lost in the moment until a single thought penetrated that blissful haze and had her reaching for the door handle.  'Fuck the boots...'
 
 

Love Me Dead, Ludo

You suck so passionately
You're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature
finger-bangin' my heart
You call me up drunk
Does the fun ever start?
You're hideous... and sexy!

If her phone wasn't being held in a unrelenting, anger-induced death grip right now, Andy was certain she would have already thrown the damn thing under the wheels of the nearest city bus.  As it was, it took an enormous bit of strength just to part her white-knuckled fingers enough to be able to jab at the 'call voicemail' button so that she could delete the message that had set her temper off in the first place.  It wasn't her fault that it was freezing outside and that she'd left her apartment so quickly that she'd forgotten her gloves.  She couldn't be held entirely accountable for the fact that her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't hit the delete button fast enough, didn't erase the words before they began to spill from the phone's tiny speaker.

"Andrea..."

Even slurred and almost completely drowned out by some vaguely familiar opera aria blaring in the background, that single word spoken by that particular woman grated on the young journalist's nerves.  That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. If she would be completely honest with herself, though, she would admit that 'grating' might be the wrong word choice when that voice made every last nerve ending feel like they'd been sparked to a heady flame that would only grow hotter with each additional word Miranda Priestly said.  It didn't even matter what the editor was saying, really.  She could have called- after all these months of painful silence -to bitch Andy out, to finally tell her what she thought of that horrible day in Paris.  Actually, Andy's life would be so much easier right now if that's what Miranda had called to say, but no such luck.

"I am surrounded by idiots."  There was another long pause, its silence broken by the sound of a glass tapping against the receiver, followed by the slosh of liquid and the settling of ice cubes.  "As it seems I pay them to make mistakes on a daily basis, I can hardly set myself apart by doing the same."  Another pause, an indrawn breath and a not-so-dainty sip... more of a slurp.  "I do not make mistakes, Andrea."

Knowing what was coming next, Andy drew her arm back and then hurled it forward with all her might.  When there was no satisfying crunch of plastic against pavement an instant later, she looked down at her hand and snarled at the phone still held tightly in its grasp.

"Well I do."  There was a chuckle that ended in a very undignified snort.  "But I rarely admit to them... 'cept maybe during my occasional chats with Jack Daniels here.  And good ol' Jack seems to think that I should fess up to the fact that I never had the guts to tell you I lo..."

"Fuck!" Andy shouted, drawing strange looks from a few passers by, and even sending one tourist family scuttling across the busy street to avoid her.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she muttered under her breath, each word coming in time with her feet pounding against the steps that led down to the subway.  When she reached the platform, she looked down at her now-silent phone and let out a long and shuddering sigh.  Reaching out once again with a shaking finger, she hit 'save' and was finally able to loosen her grip and drop the cell into her coat pocket. 

"I love you too."



Hands Held High, Linkin Park

Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping
Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping

Risk something, take back what's yours
Say something that you know they might attack you for

Cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for

Although Andy could clearly recall the incident that had caused the story to take root within her, she couldn't remember actually writing it.  The words had come from her heart more than from her mind, borne of raw emotion that would have been too tempered and smoothed by logical thought.  The message would have lost its edge, and probably its impact.... but it didn't.  And even now, seeing what her story had done for others and what she had become as a result, she still couldn't decide whether she regretted it or not.

Her speech, much like her article had done, ignited those around her.  And as she stepped away from a microphone still echoing with her final words, she thrust her fist skyward and closed her eyes as she was engulfed in the roar of the crowd.  Their shouts and applause, little more than a cacophony of sound at first, soon melded into one unified chant.  These people, usually persecuted at worst and ignored at best, would not go unheard today.  The cause had always been there, to believe in and to fight for.  She had just- quite accidentally -been the one to rally them to fight for it together.  She had no problem with the call for equal rights finally getting its much-deserved spotlight, but was less than thrilled with the responsibility that came along with that same light being cast specifically on her.  Andy wondered once again if she had it in her to be the strong person others needed her to be.  How could she possibly do this alone?

Then, in a single glance, all of her questions were answered.

As she turned to step off the elevated podium, she caught a glimpse of white hair and her heart stuttered, felt like it might even come to a complete halt.  Andy had not seen Miranda since she'd inadvertently outed herself and become the face of a cause in one fell swoop.  She'd refused to give the press a yet another reason to go after the infamous 'ice queen' and, no matter how proud of their relationship she was, wouldn't allow it to strain under the weight of public scrutiny.  Andy realized it made her a bit of a hypocrite to hide the best part of her life away like that, but that was something she resigned herself to dealing with.  But now, maybe she wouldn't have to, not when her love stood at the base of the stairs- in view of hundreds, maybe even thousands -with her hand outstretched and her eyes full of pride and love.  Reaching out to take Miranda's hand in hers, Andy realized she had everything, and could now do anything.



15 Step, Radiohead

How come I end up where I started
How come I end up where I went wrong
Won't take my eyes off the ball again
You reel me out and you cut the string.

'It had to be in this building, didn't it?' 

Andy had fought against the realization at first, but eventually accepted the fact that her relatively short time at Runway had undone nearly a lifetime's worth of dreams of writing for a big newspaper.  Having now worked in both branches of the publishing world, she was certain that writing for a magazine was what she really wanted to do.  When she was satisfied that she had enough experience and a few noteworthy features to pad her resume with, she'd drawn up a hopeful 'just in case' letter of resignation to the Mirror and started seeking interviews with several magazines.  One such interview was today, in the damn Elias-Clarke building.  Boy, she was feeling lucky already... not.

She stepped into the elevator and immediately moved to stand against the rear wall, where she let her head rest back against the cool marble surface as she closed her eyes.  When a quiet 'ding' was followed by the sound of the doors closing, she opened her eyes again to find that she wasn't alone.

"You will not get the job, Andrea," Miranda said softly.  Despite the chill in the woman's tone, the sound of her voice seemed to spark a fever within the young writer.

Andy straightened and turned to face the editor.  "I'm not interviewing for Runway, so that's not your decision to make."

Miranda reached up to take off her sunglasses, probably so that Andy could get a good look when she rolled her eyes.  "How soon you've forgotten the way things work around here."

Not knowing how to respond to that, and thinking that silence was probably the better tactic anyway, Andy kept her mouth shut and returned to her spot leaning against the wall.

"It's a pity."

Andy sighed deeply and then glared at the little digital display that showed the floors passing by far too slowly.  At least Miranda would be getting off before her.  "What is?" she asked, finally caving in to curiosity.

"That you're not interviewing for a job with Runway."

Andy was shocked, and what she initially thought was the sensation of her stomach attempting to jump into her chest was instead only the elevator coming to a halt at one of the selected floors.  She actually jumped when a fingernail painted in Vintage Vamp red reached out and tapped against the pricey leather portfolio she'd recently bought to carry her resume and stories in.  "After all," Miranda began with the hint of a smile tugging at her lips, "I'd be an idiot not to hire you."  And with that said, she strode out of the elevator, leaving Andy in a haze of perfume and confusion as the doors slid closed.



Spotlight, Mutemath

You know the one thing you’re fighting to hold
Will be the one thing you’ve got to let go
And when you feel the wall cannot be burned
You’re gonna die to try what can’t be done
Gonna stay stay out but you don’t care
Now is there nothing like that inside of you anywhere

Oh just take the fall
You’re one of us
The spotlight is on

It was a little disconcerting for Andy to look at the face in the little compact mirror and not recognize the woman looking back at her.  It really wasn't all that long ago that she hadn't known the difference between Dior and Dolce & Gabanna... much less known how to spell 'Gabanna' correctly.  She was familiar with all the big designers now, and had even spoken with over half of them.  She had come to understand a world that was once so foreign that she sometimes mused that the elevator doors opened to another dimension rather than just a magazine office.  It was almost startling how normal that world seemed to her now.  That the dress and shoes she'd donned probably amounted to more worth than her monthly income several times over was weird enough.  That she wore those things like she belonged in them was even more astounding.  It was so easy to believe that everything she saw in that reflection was right, but there was still a small part of her that worried that it was so very wrong.

The town car glided to a stop and Andy made one last check of her makeup before flipping the compact closed and turning her gaze out the tinted window.  Gathered on and around the red carpet were scores of people wearing designers she knew; people who did jobs like hers, supported an industry she'd grown to respect.  She understood the passions that drove them, the message they strove to deliver.  She knew that, like all fine art, fashion had its price and she now found it worth paying.  It was true that she was only a lowly assistant, but everyone at this ball knew who she was... something her so-called friends could no longer claim.  Maybe Nate and Lily were right.  Maybe she'd lost herself, become someone else.  Even if that was true, lost didn't mean forgotten.  She still remembered who she used to be, and she could go back... right? 

Did she even want to go back?

She forced those questions from her mind as Roy opened the door and she was dazzled with the bright flashes of the photographer's cameras and washed over by the excited hum of the reporters and everyday people who'd gathered on the periphery in the hopes of spotting a celebrity or two.  This was no place for Andy, only Andrea Sachs... the spotlight was on.

Angst
She could no longer remember what Andrea's laughter sounded like.

AU
Just a touch of Miranda's spurs sent the horse racing.

Crackfic
"Is the transporter not programmed to beam clothing as well?"

Crossover
"Alice, a vampire...?"
"And yet more warm-blooded than you."

Death
Her grief was like a black hole, devouring the light.

Film Related
Human after all, and for once that didn't scare her.

First Time
Relinquishing control, in this instance, she found to her liking.

Fluff
Miranda would never admit to sleeping in that Northwestern t-shirt.

Humor
Damn stuck zipper!  "Next time, functional over fashionable," she growled.

Hurt/Comfort
Miranda pressed her lips to Andy's forehead, checking for fever.

Smut
She breathed in Miranda's scent, swore she could taste it.

UST
"You never let me believe I deserved to love you."

Before I'd even started my Halloween fic, I knew that I wanted to write one for Christmas as well.  In fact, more than a few times, the muses for my Christmas story got to be so loud in my head that they'd block the flow of Halloween ideas until I temporarily silenced them by putting some notes down on the page.  When the Halloween fic was finished those Christmas muses never let up but, sadly, my energy and enthusiasm did.  As a store manager, I expected many busy weeks leading up to the holidays, but I didn't expect my personal life to get chaotic too.  I won't get into the long story here, as it's both personal and relatively boring, but I will go out on a limb and say that next year will be better... it's got to be.

I have over half of my 'A Christmas Carol, Prada Style' story written, and the other half is thoroughly outlined.  I have not given up on this story but, with Christmas already past and New Years quickly on the way, I think I'm going to shelve it until next December.  I know that some people were looking forward to the story, Kitnkabootle in particular, and I'm sorry to keep you all waiting.  Hopefully the story ends up being worth the wait.  Well, it's not like I plan on making you wait until next December for any writing at all, just Christmas-related writing. 

I have a couple of stories kicking around in my head now, one of which has already spawned muses who demand to be heard.  I jotted down two full handwritten pages of notes and laid out a basic story outline while doing laundry earlier this afternoon, so I'm off to a good start.  I won't give away too much about the story yet, but I will give a small hint and say that love letters between Miranda and Andy are featured throughout the story.  I can't wait to really start digging into this one!

From what I've read in other people's journals and judging by the brief glimpses of personality that can be gleaned from comments and authors notes, it seems like many of the people in the DWP community are pretty cool.  I've been privileged to chat with a couple of folks already, and those ladies certainly support my theory.  I'm always up for chatting with new people, so if you're curious, talkative, or even just bored, look me up on YM!  (I'm listed as the_mercurial_muse)  Just let me know who you are and mention where I might know you from, and I'd be happy to friend you.

The Devil You Know - Part 8 (final part)
By: mercurial_muse
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Archive: Oh, I'd be flattered, but please ask first.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Lauren Weisberger and 20th-century Fox, not me. Please don't sue me. Seriously... I'm too poor for it to be worth your while.
Summary: Miranda Priestly has become the most successful woman in the fashion industry, but at what cost?

Previous Parts:
Part 1 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/2535.html
Part 2 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/2585.html
Part 3 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3006.html
Part 4 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3110.html
Part 5 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3421.html
Part 6 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/4046.html
Part 7 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/4123.html

Author’s Note: It feels so good to complete this story, my first ever fanfic. I can definitely say that this will not be my last! Writing this story and sharing it with all of you has been way more fun than it has been nerve-wracking, but I did have a few frustrating moments and have kitnkabootle and grdnofevrythng to thank for getting me through them. I also owe a lot of thanks to everyone who has read and commented on this story. Without your encouragement, there is no way I would have finished this story, and I certainly wouldn't be eager to write more. Thank you so much for your support, everyone!</lj></lj>
----------------------------------------------------------

Tears streamed down Andy's face as she hurried down the narrow street, too occupied with navigating around the mobs of trick-or-treaters that packed the sidewalk to look behind her to see if there was even a reason to run anymore. That question was answered for her a moment later when hoots of laughter and catcalls erupted from a group of young men sitting on a stoop just ahead of her. She knew that she had probably drawn their attention in the first place, but it was her pursuer who held it. Dammit... In attempt to ditch the devil at her heels, she picked up her pace and all but skidded around a corner when she reached the next side street.

There was a painfully bright flash of light behind her eyes, and the only sound she heard was the whoosh of air that burst from her lungs and the 'oof' that escaped her lips when the ground seemed to rise up to meet her. When she came to her senses a moment later, she found herself sprawled on the dirty pavement with her legs tangled in a mess someone else's limbs and both of her palms planted on a sloppily-lettered sign that read, 'Repent, sinners! The end is near!'

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear away the colorful blobs that swam across her field of view, she scrambled up onto her hands and knees, only to be sent sprawling again when the grubby man she'd accidentally tackled scrambled to his feet and let out a terrified shriek. As his quickly retreating footfalls echoed all around her, Andy pondered what was making her dizzier, the collision or the stench of alcohol that the drunken zealot had left in his wake.

Andy's vision was clouded by swirls of color once more, billowing red and black, and then there was the comforting weight of a hand on her shoulder as another reached to lift her halo from where it had slid down over one eye. As she got to her feet, the hand on her shoulder slid down to rest against the small of her back, offering support as she stood on rubbery legs. Words of thanks for the good samaritan died on her lips when she looked up to find herself eye to eye with the devil instead.

Andy turned to run but only managed to stagger a few short steps before Miranda reached her side and snaked an arm around her waist. "Andrea..." she began softly. "You need to sit down."

The younger woman shook her head slowly, finding that even that subtle motion brought the dizziness back with a vengeance. "N-no... I don't need..." She took in a shaky breath. "There's no place to..." Andy's words faded into silence as a black town car turned the corner and eased up to the curb just in front of them. "Oh..." she said softly.

Roy slid out from behind the wheel and hurried around to the other side of the car to open the rear door, his own concerned expression matching Miranda's as he watched her help the poor girl into the backseat. Miranda reluctantly tore her eyes away from Andrea to look up at her driver. "Take a walk, Roy," she ordered, but with none of the expected venom.

He nodded and patted the jacket pocket where he kept his cell phone. "Call me when you're ready to go." After taking one last solicitous look at Andy, he eased the car door closed and then ambled off to smoke a cigarette under the streetlamp on the opposite corner.

When the editor turned her attention back to Andrea, she found the girl sitting as far from her as possible, with her back jammed up against the door and her head bowed so low that her chin nearly rested on her chest. Miranda reached out to slide gentle fingers beneath Andrea's chin, to lift her face into the light, but when the younger woman flinched slightly, she jerked her hand back as if it had been burned.

Miranda almost asked her if she was okay, but she already knew the answer and wasn't sure she wanted to hear it spoken out loud. Here she was with a captive audience, and she didn't know what to say, had no idea how to begin to undo the hurt she'd caused.

"What did I do wrong?" Andrea suddenly asked at a near-whisper.

She could have yelled, cursed or rattled off insults, and none of that would have pained Miranda as much as the idea that Andrea thought she was in any way responsible for the damage done to their relationship.

"Oh Andrea..." Miranda swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat, fought to choke back the threat of tears so that she could continue on. "All the wrongdoing is mine, every bit of it."

She smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt, worried one of the wisps of fabric between her fingers, her eyes locked on her hands as if she was doing something incredibly interesting. She couldn't look at Andrea, couldn't risk the girl meeting her gaze and forcing her to see the pain that flooded those deep brown eyes.

"A long time ago, my first divorce left me with a life filled with pain and uncertainty, and I was convinced that falling in love again would only bring more of the same." Twice more, that is exactly what had happened. "When my first husband gave up on me, I watched my personal life turn into a complete failure, and feared that my professional life would soon do the same. That fear persisted until I came to realize that, even with financial ups and downs, ever-changing trends to stay ahead of and a fickle and demanding readership, running a magazine was far easier than being a good wife. So when it came time to cut my losses, the choice wasn't a difficult one."

Telling herself it was only fair that she face the suffering her decisions had brought to Andrea, Miranda let the scrap of fabric she'd been tugging at fall back into her lap and she looked up to see that the girl was staring at her. There was hurt in her eyes, and that had been expected, but there was something else there too, something Miranda couldn't name. She thought it might be pity.

"I made a promise to myself." Miranda tapped a finger to one of the horns on her head. "A deal with the devil, you might say," she added with a smirk. "I promised myself that I would never again put love before success and, until I met you, I was never tempted to break it." Miranda reached out towards Andrea again, gripped one of the younger woman's hands in hers and was instantly aware that it was trembling. "But I would break every promise I've ever made, for you, Andrea."

Miranda inhaled deeply and, with Andrea's hand in hers, she felt like it was the first time she'd breathed in weeks. She dared to feel alive again. She dared to hope. "I don't know if I will ever be worthy of the love you feel for me, but I want to try to be. If you'll just give me another chance..."

Andy drew in a sharp breath and her finger's tightened around Miranda's. Eyes that were wide with shock studied Miranda's face, looking for that calculating glare, her predatory grin, any sign of the shrewd businesswoman who could effortlessly scheme and manipulate herself into or out of just about any situation. There was not so much as a hint of that callous woman, though. What she saw in Miranda's face was sincerity, cautious hope and, most surprising of all, unabashed vulnerability.

Miranda knew the very instant that Andrea chose to forgive her. As she looked on, the pain that had stolen the light from Andrea's eyes faded away and love swept in to banish the darkness. But as quickly as that brightness came, it faltered. Andrea's gaze, which had been focused solely on Miranda wavered, wandered. The younger woman's eyes shifted to stare blankly past Miranda, and the smile that had began to play at the corners of her mouth disappeared. That uncomfortable stillness was shattered when Andrea suddenly pulled her hand from Miranda's and moved to exit the car.

Miranda lunged forward and reached out to grab a hold of Andrea's hand, but she wasn't fast enough. Their fingertips just barely brushed and, only a second later, there was a cool burst of air against the older woman's outstretched hand as the car door was slammed shut. Even as part of her mind screamed at her to get out of the vehicle and go after her, Miranda knew it would be a wasted effort. Andrea had made her choice.

The pain from that realization was almost physical, and Miranda slumped back against the seat, breathless and hurting as if she'd been sucker-punched in the gut. She forced a deep breath into her tightening chest and then curled in on herself as it came out in a soul-tearing sob. With her elbows braced on her knees, she held her face in her hands and cried.

It was in a rather detached way that she heard the car door open, felt the subtle shift of the vehicle as it took on the weight of another passenger. She did her best to quiet her cries, waited for the engine to roar to life and cover the sounds of her torment. When the silence persisted, she imagined Roy watching her in the rearview mirror. "Go," she snapped, her voice muffled behind shaking hands.

"No." The voice was soft, soothing... and definitely not Roy's.

Miranda jerked her head up in surprise, found Andrea staring at her with eyes full of concern.

"Oh God. You thought... Miranda." Andy reached up to cup Miranda's face, ran her thumb across a tear-streaked cheek. "I saw Lily and Doug come around the corner, and I didn't want a repeat of what happened back at my apartment... although Lily did make a few good points," she added with a smirk. Andrea smiled to take the sting out of her words and then reached up to brush her fingers through Miranda's hair. Her fingertips found the slim plastic band hidden beneath the editor's silvery locks and carefully removed the horns from Miranda's head. "I sent them on their way, told them there was somewhere else I needed to be tonight."

"And where is that?" Miranda asked. She thought- hoped -she knew the answer, but needed to hear Andrea say it out loud.

Leaning forwards, Andrea wrapped her arm around Miranda's shoulders and pulled her closer. Miranda threw her arms around the girl and held on tight in a desperate embrace, buried her face in the crook of her neck and reveled in the warmth of Andrea's skin against her cheek.

"Right here, Miranda," Andrea whispered in her ear. "Right here."


(the end)

The Devil You Know - Part 7
By: mercurial_muse
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Archive: Oh, I'd be flattered, but please ask first.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Lauren Weisberger and 20th-century Fox, not me. Please don't sue me. Seriously... I'm too poor for it to be worth your while.
Summary: Miranda Priestly has become the most successful woman in the fashion industry, but at what cost?

Previous Parts:
Part 1 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/2535.html
Part 2 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/2585.html
Part 3 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3006.html
Part 4 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3110.html
Part 5 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/3421.html
Part 6 Located: http://mercurial-muse.livejournal.com/4046.html

Author’s Note: First of all, I'd like to thank kitnkabootle and grdnofevrythng for the late night chats and words of encouragement that saw me through a nasty little bout of writer's block. Thanks also go out to all you readers who have waited so patiently for this next part. Finally, I want to thank all of my fellow writers. Your stories have been the source of countless smiles and endless inspiration. I'm so grateful to have found this community and hope it keeps going strong for a long, long time. Keep those stories coming, everyone!</lj>
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Miranda shoved the car door open before Roy had even brought the vehicle to a complete stop in front of Andrea's apartment building. Dead leaves crunched beneath the fire-red soles of her boots, making something akin to a sizzling sound as her weight shifted and she climbed out of the back of the town car with a fluid grace that was almost otherworldly. A gust of unseasonably warm wind caused her cape to sweep out behind her with an audible snap. The effect of her makeup was only enhanced by the intensity that hardened her features, and the moonlight glinted off her silvery hair, bringing the dark red devil horns into sharp contrast.

She paid no attention to the small group of trick-or-treaters who quickened their steps to hurry past her as she stepped up onto the sidewalk, nor did she notice their father who, unlike his young charges, slowed down to take a better look at the dark and ethereal being who'd crossed his path. His eyebrows arched up towards his receding hairline as his gaze latched on to the leather-clad legs that were revealed when Miranda's cape billowed again. He was looking so closely- ogling rather disgustingly, in fact -that he failed to see the lamp post in his way until he crashed into it with a loud and resonant clang.

Miranda was oblivious even to that, too absorbed in her own self-loathing and frantic thoughts to focus on anything but her goal. After striding up the concrete stairs, she jabbed her finger into the buzzer for Andrea's apartment, the plastic shield covering the tenant directory giving a squeal of protest as it was raked over by a fingernail painted in mortician's red. She released the buzzer, waited impatiently for all of two seconds, and then pressed it again. There was no response. Frustrated and refusing to back down, she rang the buzzer repeatedly and, when that still didn't yield any results, she simply leaned on it.

It seemed wrong to give up after only a minute or two of trying to find Andrea there, but no amount of buzzing- no matter how obnoxious -would make her suddenly appear if she wasn't home. Sighing dejectedly, and with her heart sinking in her chest, Miranda trudged back down the steps and towards the car. She heard the muted sound of the building's inner vestibule door creak open as she reached the curb and, using the reflection in the car door's window to peer behind her, she took in a sight that froze her on the spot. Her muscles tensed and the breath seized in her lungs. The only part of her that seemed to move at all was her heart, which set to racing the instant she saw Andrea.

Miranda spun on her heels to face the trio exiting the building and the intensity that had been burning in her eyes softened while a quiet gasp escaped her lips. Andrea stood perfectly framed in the outer door's glass pane. She wore a white, ankle-length sheath dress that didn't hug her body as much as it flowed over its alluring curves. Its neckline plunged low, revealing the flawlessness of Andrea's pale skin and the gentle swell of her breasts. Long sleeves began to flare out just below the elbow so that the fabric pooled around her wrists and fluttered gently in each breath of wind. It looked like she might take flight at any moment and the wings secured to her back, their straps expertly hidden by a long and wispy wrap, only added to that illusion. She wore silver Manolo Blahnik sandals on her feet and a matching halo over her head. Her hair spilled down in elegant ringlets, framing a face that had been subtly made up to bring an extra glow to her naturally beautiful features. Andrea was absolutely striking, and if Miranda's heart hadn't been aching, it would have been swelling with pride and desire.

Miranda's view of the girl was obscured by a flash of vivid purple and blue and, a moment later, a good-looking guy dressed as the Mad Hatter stepped out and held open the outer door. Andrea moved to exit the building, coming to an abrupt halt when her wings got jammed in the door frame. After letting out a surprised cry, she grinned sheepishly while her gentleman friend and another woman who appeared behind her burst into laughter. Even Miranda found the corners of her mouth tugging up into the hint of a smile.

The happy sounds of chuckles and good-natured teasing echoed down the street as the friends worked to remove the finely feathered angel wings from where they'd become snared in the door frame. There was a feminine whoop of triumph when one wing was freed and, as it settled into place, it revealed the woman who was standing behind Andy. Miranda couldn't see much of her, but the high white boots that stood out against beautiful chocolate-brown skin and the round mod sunglasses that were perched atop a head piled high with teased-out curls suggested that she was dressed rather convincingly as a go-go dancer from decades past. The editor had seen this woman before and, although no name came to mind, she was certain she was a long-time friend of Andrea's. And judging by the icy glare the woman was shooting her over Andrea's shoulder, she was a close enough friend to have heard more than a few stories about what Miranda had done.

With her jaw clenched and face coloring in barely contained anger, the woman ducked under the wing and stood so that she blocked Miranda's view of Andrea. She seemed to collect herself quickly and, rather than bringing attention to Miranda's presence, she turned her back and set to work freeing the other wing. When the man dressed as the Mad Hatter spotted Miranda, he looked mad indeed, with his eyes growing impossibly wide in shock and his mouth working silently at words that wouldn't come. Obviously, he wasn't quite as skilled at reigning in his reactions as his companion had been, and it wasn't long before Andy noticed and stood up on her tip-toes to peer over her friends to see what all the fuss was about.

When her gaze met Miranda's, happiness lit in Andy's eyes, but was quickly clouded over by hurt. She stood flat-footed again, lowering her height so that her eyes were blocked behind the go-go dancer's shoulder. Unable to see Andrea's face, Miranda focused on the shiny halo that was suspended over her head and, when it dipped forward and began to shake almost imperceptibly, she knew the girl had hung her head and started to cry. With her own heart breaking, Miranda strode forward, intending to go to Andrea. She didn't know what she would say when she got her, but she would not just stand by and watch her hurt any longer. It seemed she wouldn't be getting to Andrea without going through her friends first, though. When the Mad Hatter protectively took the girl into his arms and the go-go dancer spun around to stomp down the stairs towards her, Miranda wasn't sure whether she should be more frustrated or impressed.

The woman came to a stop on the bottom step, putting herself in the perfect position to sneer down at Miranda as she spoke. "You need to leave," she snapped, planting her hands on her hips for emphasis. Miranda couldn't help but to notice that those hands were balled into tight fists. Pretending not to be fazed by the woman's open hostility, the editor moved to step around her, only to find that she shifted over to block her path.

Miranda's breath hissed out from between clenched teeth in a frustrated sign. "I just want..."

The other woman lifted a finger in front of Miranda's face and actually had the audacity to waggle it as if she was scolding a child. "Huh uh... no. You already took everything you wanted from her and then, when you decided you'd had enough, you shoved her away like she was nothing. Where do you get off treating her like that, huh?"

Miranda found that she couldn't hold the woman's gaze, refused to let her see the shame that flooded into her eyes. But when she averted her eyes, Andrea's outspoken friend roughly cupped Miranda's chin in her hand and tilted her face up. Miranda slapped the woman's hand away, but forced herself to meet her steely glare with one of her own.

Lily's gaze never wavered as she continued on. "Andy gave you all the time she could spare, more affection than you ever showed her, and she even gave you the benefit of the doubt when you broke her heart. The the very least you could have given her in return was five fucking minutes to state her case. You acted like this was solely your relationship to end, like Andy's feelings didn't matter, and you were so busy shoving her away that you seemed to miss the fact that, even after everything, she still found you worth fighting for. She loved you... although only God knows why."

Inwardly flinching at the painful truth of those statements, Miranda stood there in silence and took in everything the other woman had to say. Shame welled up inside her far stronger than before and, although her pride called for her to seek some solitude in which to lick her wounds, she stood her ground. The same could not be said for Andrea and, with a muffled cry, she pulled herself from the circle of the Mad Hatter's arms, bolted down the stairs and took off down the street at a run.

Miranda moved to follow Andrea and her friend hopped down off the step to block her path once again. The older woman resisted the urge to shove her out of the way, fearful that it might start a physical altercation, one that she wouldn't win and didn't have time to deal with in the first place.

"Now you listen to me," she began, her voice soft, but trembling with emotion. "I deserved every bit of that tirade and more, but those were Andrea's words to say, not yours." She straightened shoulders that had been slumping in defeat and tilted her chin up defiantly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find her and, as you so eloquently put it, pray that she gives me five fucking minutes to state my case." And with that said, Miranda Priestly shoved her way past the other woman and took off down the street as fast as her three-inch heels would take her.


To be continued...