Graffiti | R | The L Word/The Devil Wears Prada
Title: Graffiti
Prompt: She marred me permanently - like graffiti on my soul.
Fandom: Bette/Andy, The L Word/The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: dragonwine
Rating: R
Word Count: 1200
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Wow. This was extremely tough…there's a reason why I haven't written The L Word fanfic before, and that's because trying to write Bette's voice is extremely intimidating (even if she is a younger version of Miranda who swears a lot more). I hope that I managed to do this prompt justice. Please let me know what you think!
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Andy stared at the huge photograph in front of her, tilting her head to the side as if it would allow for a greater vantage point to assess its artistic qualities. Lily had specifically mentioned this one to her when she invited her to the gallery that night and so, rather than briefly pause at each piece of art in the collection, she decided to start here and prepare herself for the inevitably long-winded conversation about Lily's brilliance and talent.
Unfortunately, she wasn't seeing a damn thing.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Andy liked art, she really did.
But how was she supposed to focus with the day she'd had?
She'd gotten a job; that alone should have left a lingering feeling of elation.
She'd also seen Miranda and, like an idiot, smiled and waved as if she hadn't betrayed her, as if they were friends.
She rolled her eyes and took a larger swig of champagne.
"You know," said Lily, sidling up beside her, "you could at least pretend that you want to be here."
"Oh! Lil…I do. I really do. It's just been a weird day."
"You got a job, girl; you should be celebrating!" Lily clinked her glass against Andy's.
"I know…but I saw Miranda…and it's just…I don't know. I wonder all the time if I did the right thing."
"Listen, Andy. The day you walked away from Miranda Priestly was the first day of the rest of your life. It was the best thing you could have ever done." Lily forced a supportive smile, though Andy could tell that Lily was keeping quite a few things to herself. "Now c'mon, girl…enjoy yourself."
Andy gave a wane smile and looked back at the photograph when Lily walked away.
"Do my ears deceive me?"
Andy blinked, raised her eyebrows, and looked at the woman standing at her left. "I'm sorry?"
The woman gave a small laugh. "I couldn't help but overhearing that you are an acquaintance of Miranda Priestly."
"I wouldn't say acquaintance, really. I work for her. Worked, I mean."
"And you left her employ?"
Andy raised an eyebrow. "Sounds more like you were eavesdropping than overhearing."
"I'm sorry. It's something about her name. It adds an electrical charge of sorts to the air. You can't help but tune in when she's being discussed."
Andy frowned slightly. "You know, I know exactly what you mean. No one else has ever really gotten that about her before. They're either too close or too far away to really know what she's like."
"And aren't we lucky to be stuck in orbit?" The woman smiled knowingly and, after swapping her nearly full glass of champagne to her left hand, extended her right. "Bette Porter."
"Andy Sachs," she replied, shaking it. The woman's palm was warm and soft. "So you know Miranda?"
"In a manner of speaking," Bette replied, walking slowing towards the back of the gallery.
Andy followed.
"I knew her several years ago. We weren't close by any means, but my gallery work allowed us to cross paths on many occasions."
Andy furrowed her brow. "I wouldn't have pegged Miranda as the art gallery type. Well, no, I suppose I could."
"She works in fashion. Anyone who can view clothes with that sort of aesthetic scrutiny would naturally be interested in art."
"You have a point."
Andy followed Bette into the side reception area, where a small table had been laid out with an assortment of finger foods. Her stomach growled as she eyed a crab cake but she stayed close to Bette as she bypassed the table, far too curious about these fragments of Miranda's past to forego it for food.
"The first time I had met her, she bought a Barbara Kruger original right from under my nose. I was furious. I learned right away that she was a woman accustomed to getting what she wanted. She refused to sell. I fell in love immediately."
Andy's eyes widened but Bette pressed on.
"My partner and I were estranged at the time. I was lonely, she was intrigued…" Bette allowed the sentence to drift off and sipped from her glass, her pregnant pause forcing Andy's brain to race.
Miranda swung both ways? Andy shifted in her seat. "When did…?"
"Three or four years ago at least."
Right before Stephen. Andy found herself inexplicably relieved to know that she hadn't cheated on her husband.
"So what happened?"
"What happens every time you have a one night stand…bruised fucking egos, sexual tension, and rugburn."
Andy drained her glass and motioned to a nearby waiter for another.
"That woman…" Bette sighed. "She marred my soul."
"What did she do?"
Bette raised an eyebrow. "You have met her, haven't you?"
Andy forced a chuckle. "I see your point."
Bette circled her finger around the rim of her glass. "You know, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I think it's because it's obvious that she damaged you too."
Without looking at Bette, she nervously tapped her leg and stared at her refilled champagne. "It wasn't that she damaged me on her own…I guess I was a willing participant in it to an extent."
"You gave her all the power. You know, I think that's the problem with Miranda fucking Priestly. She takes until there's nothing left. She marks her territory…she stains you like graffiti."
"It's not like I could do much about it. I was her assistant. What kind of power was I supposed to have?"
"There's a difference between subservience and respectful servitude. You have to demand respect to receive any."
Andy felt her temper rising. What the hell did this woman know? She only fucked Miranda, whereas Andy did everything else for her. "Yea, well, there's nothing to do now but apply a fresh coat of paint over the graffiti and start over."
Bette stood, emptied the remainder of champagne into her lush mouth, and looked down at Andy. "Doesn't change the fact that the damage is still underneath."
Andy watched the hypnotic sway of Bette's hips as she walked away. She followed the woman's movements until Bette handed a business card to Lily, shook her hand amiably, and disappeared.
She had no idea what to make of the strange interaction. Who was this woman to invite Andy into her sexual misadventures? Why did Andy give a damn?
The answer was obvious: no matter the offense, she and Bette were only two amongst many spurned admirers in Miranda's wake.
Bette had clearly never gotten over the way Miranda treated her. Andy speculated for a moment about what could have happened after their one night stand: did Miranda pretend she didn't exist? Did she degrade her? Did she treat her like a stranger in their future interactions? She could easily conjure the level of wrath and tactless guile that Miranda exhibited when she had outgrown her use for something.
Andy wondered how long she'd have lasted if she hadn't been the one to walk away.
It didn't matter. It was done. She was tagged beneath the surface and the only thing she could do was move forward and hope that bitterness wouldn't infect her like it had Bette.
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