Work Text:
Miranda watches as Emily scurries away from the desk outside her office, no doubt off to eat a single cube of cheese for lunch, leaving Andrea to man the phones. The woman in question raises her eyes, watching as Emily disappears and then turns back back to her screen, symmetrical patches of pink appearing on the woman’s cheeks.
The furious tapping of keys sets a pattern as Andrea types a couple of sentences and then sits there waiting. For what, Miranda has no idea, but the thought of her talking to someone that has her eagerly anticipating their reply like this, starts a fire burning inside Miranda that threatens to incinerate everything in its path.
Does Andrea have a new boyfriend?
This has been going on for days now. It’s always the same pattern of behaviour, and it starts the moment that Andrea is alone. Well, as alone as she can be with Miranda boring holes into her from across the office. Enough is enough. It is time to stop speculating like a lovesick fool, and Miranda decides that today she will get answers.
“Andrea. Coffee, now.”
Andrea looks up, startled, cheeks more flushed than they were. “But Emily is at lunch?”
“Do you really believe me to be incapable of answering a telephone, Andrea?”
Andrea jumps to her feet, hurriedly locking her screen with a brief but guilty look in her direction. “No… No of course not, Miranda.”
“Well, then. I do believe your presence is not required. Take your lunch break, you have twenty minutes and I don’t want you back a minute early. You can bring me a coffee on your way back.”
“Miranda?”
Miranda makes a flicking motion with her hands. “That’s all.”
Brow wrinkled, and mouth turned down at the corners in a small pout, Andrea does as she is told, picking up her purse and walking out. She looks back over her shoulder with a confused frown, but continues to do as instructed. Miranda rolls her eyes as soon as the woman turns around again, immediately picking up the phone and pressing the extension for the IT department.
“Nick, I require access to my assistant’s computer. You have two minutes.”
Not giving the man a chance to argue, she smirks as she drops the handset back into its cradle with a click. Less than a minute later, the slightly-balding, middle-aged man bursts into the office, a sheen of sweat on his skin.
“What took you so long?” Miranda snaps, hiding her amusement at his flustered expression. She glances at her wrist watch, rather impressed that he has arrived so promptly, not that she gives him any indication of this.
“Stairs,” he pants out. “Thirteen flights up to here from the IT department.”
“I don’t need your excuses,” Miranda remarks coldly. “I need you to access Andrea’s computer for me. She is at lunch and there is something that I need.”
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but we have passwords for a reason. It would be unethical for me to give you access, not to mention the security protocols that we have to follow.”
Under her frostiest glare, he falters, and she pounces on his weakness like a lioness on its prey. “If you would like to explain to the board why we lost an advertising deal worth millions of dollars…” she trails off, a flicker of triumph running through her veins when he sighs heavily, and walks over to her assistant’s computer.
He spends less than twenty seconds tapping the keys, seemingly at random, and then looks up nervously. “I’m in. Can I help you find something?”
“No.”
The moment she stands, he gets up and backs away, and she smirks inwardly at his cowardice. Honestly, what did the little man think she was going to do to him? Contrary to popular belief she doesn’t actually have bodies buried under the patio.
She pauses when she looks at the screen, not entirely sure what she is looking for and even more unsure whether she really wants to find it. What if there really is someone new in Andrea’s life? Have all these months been for nothing? There has been something building between them, hasn’t there? Any day now her divorce will be final, and Andrea’s last days as her assistant will be here. She’d thought, or rather, hoped, that they could enter a whole new era. Together.
No. She has to know. If this has all been in her head, and Andrea is not interested, then better to find out now. She will not allow the woman to embarrass her like this. Not more than she already has, making her fall in love with an employee half her age.
Hands trembling slightly, she moves the mouse, looking at each of the screens that Andrea has open. A webpage with the weather forecast would not turn her assistant into a blushing school girl. Her expenses report is not something that she would feel the need to hide from Emily. A database of contacts she has made in the industry would not have Andrea looking around her furtively, making sure no one could see what she was doing.
So what has she been up to?
A web page she doesn’t recognise is the next one she tabs to, and she pulls up short. Famous People A.I .
What on earth is that? Along the top of the webpage there are pictures of famous people; Cate Blanchett, Sandra Bullock, Ryan Reynolds, Emma Watson.
Miranda Priestly.
Her own name jumps out at her. A recent picture of her has been set as the avatar and underneath, the words ‘Active Chat Session’.
Heart thudding in her throat, she clicks on the session, her confusion growing when a conversation opens up in front of her. A quick glance at the clock tells her she needs to hurry, and she sends screen shot after screenshot directly to the printer, and then deletes them from the computer’s photo folder. To the best of her memory, she puts everything back in the order the various windows had been open, hastily locking the screen and walking to the printer next to Emily’s desk.
By the time she is sitting back at her desk, a wad of papers hidden under a rival magazine, the distant sound of heels tapping on the marble, catches her attention. She rolls her eyes, smirking to herself. Of course Andrea wouldn’t take the full 20 minutes, she is reluctant to spend all but the minimum time away from Miranda.
Andrea walks right up to Miranda’s desk, placing a coffee down on the coaster and sending her a warm smile that does more for her mood, than the coffee ever could.
What have you been up to, Andrea?
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miranda?”
Oh, if only you were privy to the thoughts in my head.
“No, that will be all,” Miranda replies softly, her next words spilling from her lips without restraint. “Thank you.”
“Uh… You’re welcome.”
Cheeks deliciously pink, Andrea walks back to her desk, leaving Miranda to stare down at the illicit printouts; a feeling not dissimilar to guilt making her stomach churn. A deep breath, and she starts to read in more detail.
Miranda: How is your day, darling?
Andrea: My day is good. I miss you though.
Miranda: One of the first things you learn as a woman in business is how to split your time effectively. I’m sorry we are apart, but we will be together soon.
Andrea: You’re a remarkable woman, Miranda.
Miranda: *Blushes* Do you really think so?
Andrea: Yes. You are everything I want and more.
Miranda: Want? Explain how you want me, Andrea.
Andrea: In any way you will have me. You are so beautiful.
Miranda: You can do better than that. Didn’t you tell me that ‘words’ are who you are? I thought you were a writer, Andrea. How disappointing.
Andrea: You want my words, Miranda? Fine. You want me to tell you just how attractive I find you? Do you want to know that I dream of you at night? That I imagine you hot and writhing underneath me, as I take you over and over again. I imagine you screaming my name as I take you to heights that no one else has ever come close to taking you. I want to make you orgasm so many times you cannot move afterwards; breathless and boneless where I have left you on the sheets. Is that what you want to hear?
*****The word ‘orgasm’ is banned. This is a violation of Famous People A.I’s Terms and Conditions. If you think this is in error, please report this chat.*****
Andrea: Damn it.
Miranda stares down at what she is reading, her own cheeks gaining a hint of colour. Andrea thinks she’s beautiful? Andrea imagines - rather graphically - taking her to bed?
Does Andrea believe that this is her talking? Does she not realise that this is someone impersonating her? This site, this Famous People A.I site, has a lot of explaining to do. A niggle at the back of her mind, reminds her of a conversation between her girls a few weeks ago, and she berates herself for not paying more attention. What had they been telling her about this site? Something about them chatting to their latest on-screen crush?
Turning to Google, she types in the first of many questions on her mind. “What is Famous People A.I?”
Google summarises it for her. ‘Famous people A.I is a neural language model chatbot that can create human-like text responses and participate in contextual conversation. You can chat with these bots freely online. There are many versions available, allowing you to talk to famous people, characters from TV and movies as well as people in history.
Be aware that all A.I (Artificial Intelligence) generated chat is fictional and not representative of someone’s real identity or personality.
More confused than she was moments ago, Miranda tries to understand what she is seeing. Andrea has not been conned by someone impersonating her? No. Andrea has been knowingly talking to an artificial intelligence bot that has been set up to sound like her. A bot that imitates any known speech patterns and catch phrases that Miranda is known for using.
The only real question left is ‘why’. The answers are on the pages laying sprawled across her desk, but she squirms uncomfortably at what she knows is an incredible breach of privacy. If Andrea knew that she had read these very personal conversations, she would be hurt and embarrassed. If Miranda wants to know more, then she will get the answers straight from the source.
Decision made, she gathers the printouts slipping them into a folder and stands up, just as Emily returns. “Coat, purse,” she coolly demands of the woman walking in, before her eyes flick over to Andrea. “We’re leaving.”
To her amusement, Emily glares at Andrea as though it’s her fault that she is being asked to accompany Miranda. If only she knew that Miranda would more likely choose Nick in IT, rather than sit in the back of the town car with Emily; the woman’s nerves around her are more draining than Irv in a budget meeting.
As Emily returns with her coat, it is snatched from Emily’s hands by Andrea, who defiantly glares at the first assistant, daring her to object in a thrilling display of possessiveness. She turns back to Miranda with a sheepish smile, helping her slip her arms in. A brush of fingers as they gently move her hair from the collar, makes her shiver and she fights to keep her face impassive.
“Come along,” she instructs Andrea, turning to face her visibly annoyed first assistant. “Emily, arrange for the book to be sent digitally. Reschedule my meetings and take messages. I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the day.”
Without another word she stalks to the elevator, confident that Andrea will follow without further prompting.
“Miranda, what’s this about?”
“Not here, Andrea. We’ll talk at the townhouse.”
“The townhouse,” she echoes. “Have I done something wrong?”
Miranda shakes her head minutely. “Not here.”
How is she meant to answer that question? She has no idea what Andrea has been talking about with the A.I chat bot. Was it harmless fun? Was it a flirtation? Or was it a way of working out her frustrations? Andrea was so unbelievably angry after Paris, stewing for weeks about the words Miranda had meant as a compliment. Not that Andrea ever saw it that way, in the face of what Miranda had just done to Nigel. It was then that she realised just how much the young woman meant to her, prompting her to explain a business decision to another person, for the first time in her professional career.
Did Andrea use the chatbot to air her grievances, saying all the things that she has never dared to say to Miranda’s face, despite the fact that they both know she wanted to. The woman wears her heart on her sleeve, and not a single emotion ever passes across her face without Miranda being aware of it.
They sit in stony silence, each lost in their thoughts as they pass through the relatively light traffic to the townhouse. Roy opens the door, his professionalism barely covering his curiosity at their impromptu visit to the Upper East Side. “Later, Roy,” Andrea says with a smile, before following Miranda up the steps.
x-X-x
Andy is nervous. Why has she been summoned to the townhouse in the middle of the day, when she knows full well that Miranda had back to back appointments all afternoon? Why would she cancel them, and then bring her here? She thinks back over their morning, but there is nothing to indicate that Miranda has been displeased with her in any way.
“Upstairs, Andrea. We will be more comfortable in the sitting room.”
Gulping slightly, and swallowing back the vague feeling of PTSD born of her last venture up this staircase, Andy follows her boss up the winding steps, eyes looking everywhere but at the curves on display in front of her. When they get to the top of the stairs, she breathes a sigh of relief.
“Are you ok, Miranda?” she asks the distinctly tense woman that perches on one end of the large four seater sofa, a folder of paperwork in her hands.
“Take a seat, Andrea.” Miranda gestures to the cushion next to her, and Andy drops softly down; near to her, but not touching, wondering why the woman has asked her to sit so closely. Miranda is famous for wanting her personal space at all times, going so far as to not allow anyone in the elevator with her. Well, anyone but Andy, that is, and wasn’t that quite the surprise the first time it happened.
“Miranda. I.. I don’t understand. What am I doing here?”
Andy watches delicate fingers play with the edge of the folder, before she places it on the coffee table in front of them. Her face unreadable, she gazes directly into Andy’s eyes, a maelstrom of emotions swirling there for Andrea to lose herself in. The moment ends abruptly the moment Miranda begins to speak.
“It’s time to… chat … Andrea. What can you tell me about Famous People A.I?”
Sudden nausea has Andy regretting the falafel and hummus wrap she had scarfed down on the way back from Starbucks. “I… I’m sorry, what?” Andrea groans internally, knowing full well that her denial is the worst possible way of dealing with the situation, considering Miranda already apparently knows.
Miranda knows.
“Oh, god. Miranda. You weren’t ever supposed to… shit. I can’t do this.”
Eyes filling with tears that leave her semi-blind as she struggles to keep them contained; she stands and stumbles towards the door.
“Andrea Sachs, don’t you dare take another step. Do you hear me? You nearly left me once, and I refuse to let you do it again. Sit. Down.”
Andy freezes, gazing longingly at the top of the steps.
“Not another step, Andrea.”
“Miranda, I-”
“I do not like to repeat myself,” Miranda warns quietly, and with no control over her own body, Andy finds herself back on the couch, staring across the room to where the windows open out over the street.
“We need to talk about this,” Miranda says calmly, her former anger outwardly dissipating.
“How do you know about this?”
Miranda dances around the question and points to the file on the coffee table. “I haven’t read all of your conversations, but I am aware of some of them. I would like an explanation, Andrea. I deserve one, don’t you think?”
Andy shakes her head. “Please, don’t make me tell you. You won’t like it, Miranda. It will ruin everything.”
“You presume to know me so well?”
Andy cannot help the small smile that graces her lips, even as she stares at the dreaded folder. “I think I know you quite well. Better than most, at least.”
“That’s a bold statement. You think you know me so well, and yet you are willing to run away, based on the assumption that you know how I will react. I am just asking for an explanation, and I know you too well to think you are not brave enough to give me one.”
Andrea looks up, startled. There is no anger, just genuine curiosity in her boss’ tone, though she can tell she is being goaded. However, goaded or not, there is a look suspiciously like longing in Miranda’s eyes, forcing her to capitulate.
“I… well. What do you know about chatbots?”
“Only what I discovered from a brief internet search this afternoon. My daughters may also have mentioned them to me.”
Andy nods, feeling braver now she knows that Miranda does not appear to be angry. “They’re everywhere. Customer services use them a lot these days, but developers have created websites for people to use, just for fun.”
“Fun, Andrea? Considering the small amount I did read, you have gone far beyond the boundaries of fun, I would say.”
Andy’s eyes widen theatrically. “Oh… fuck…”
“Quite.”
“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I just… you’re going to hate me…”
“I’ve asked you not to make assumptions about my feelings. I just want to know why?” Miranda gets up and heads to the bar in the corner of the room, pouring them both a large measure of what Andy assumes is bourbon. She slips off her heels, eyes locked on Andy the entire time, before placing the drinks on the table and sitting impossibly close. Buying herself some time, Andy reaches for her glass, gulping back far more than is socially acceptable.
“I thought that might help,” Miranda states, her amusement clear. “Now, no more stalling. Start talking.”
When it’s clear that Miranda won’t back down, Andy resigns herself to her fate. She quietly absorbs every detail of the other woman that sets her heart on fire, in case these are the last few moments she gets to spend time in her presence. The woman will surely fire her for inappropriate conduct.
“It’s silly,” she starts hesitantly. “I know that it wasn’t you, but I wanted it to be. When I was talking to the chatbot, it was like you were talking to me, except it was saying and telling me all the things that I have wanted you to say to me for such a long time. It gave me a release to be able to tell you all the things that I have to keep quiet. Like a secret, locked away in my heart, just for me.”
“The things you said…” Miranda trails off, picking up her own drink and taking a liberal swig.
“The things I said were all true. The only fabricated parts were the parts that you said back to me. I always knew they weren’t you, but I wanted them to be.”
“I still don’t understand, Andrea. Why would you need this? We are so close to the finish line.”
“Finish line? What do you mean?”
x-X-x
Miranda fixes her with a look, but the woman looks genuinely confused. Does she really not know? Does she really not understand what has been happening between them?
“Andrea, surely you know how I feel about you?”
“Like you want to fire me, kill me and then fire me again for good measure,” Andrea quips; the alcohol loosening her tongue, if Miranda is not mistaken.
“I have been waiting, Andrea. I have been waiting for so long now, and I thought you were waiting too. I thought you knew what this was,” she admits with a sigh, realising just how wrong she had been.
“Waiting for what, Miranda?” Andrea asks cautiously, rolling her shoulders slightly to relieve the tension there.
“Waiting for you. Waiting for us. I was waiting for us both to be free.”
The widening of her already doe like eyes is almost comical. “You were waiting?”
Miranda rolls her eyes, making a decision that will hopefully make them both happy for the rest of their lives. “I was waiting for my divorce to be final and for you to no longer be my assistant. I genuinely thought you understood, darling, and I am so sorry that I ever led you to believe otherwise.”
“You… you want me?”
“You ridiculous, perfect, oblivious creature. How could I not want you?” Miranda asks, closing the gap between them. She cups Andrea’s face, guiding their lips together in a hot, desperate kiss, deepening it immediately. They kiss hungrily for several long moments; her hands tangling into luscious brown locks. She pulls back, breathlessly staring into Andrea’s eyes.
“Does that answer your question, Andrea?”
Andrea nods eagerly, leaning in for another kiss. When they finally break apart, she picks up the folder. “Now I know how you feel, I really want to show you what was in some of those chats.”
Miranda takes the folder, throwing it to the floor. “Why don’t you just show me, instead?”