She Had it Coming All Along | PG13 | Chicago/The Devil Wears Prada
Title: She Had it Coming All Along
Prompt: She had it coming.
Fandom: Velma/Miranda, Chicago/The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 599
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I had way more fun writing this than I probably should've. *clears throat* Rewatching Chicago was necessary for, uh, research purposes and I clearly must have forgotten how huge my crush on Velma Kelly is. Hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing :)
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Just who did this broad think she was?
So maybe she did kill her husband with a wrought iron fire poker. So maybe she was the talk of the Windy City. So maybe she was collecting the women of Cook County Jail like pals in her pocket.
It's not liked it mattered to Velma Kelly.
Except that it did.
She was no longer the jewel of the prison. Mama couldn't give a rat's ass about her, Billy Flynn was up to his neck in the Priestly case, and even the girl who pressed her undergarments was enamored with her.
Miranda Priestly. Ha. What was so great about her, anyway?
Velma sat in the rec area, watching as Miranda made the rounds of the room. She watched as Miranda slipped crisply folded dollars into the pockets of her chums. She watched as the damn woman glided about the room as if she owned it, like some sort of queen.
Velma had been dethroned.
Velma wanted to put her lights out. She sneered, inhaled the rich tobacco of her cigarette, and looked back at her magazine. She leant back in her chair and propped her legs on the table, opening the pages with a resolute snap.
It wasn't until a shadow fell across her magazine that Velma looked up. "You mind?"
"I do, actually," said Miranda Priestly, the first words she had spoken to the jazz singer. Miranda sidled along where Velma sat, lifted the hem of Velma's gray frock, and pulled her pack of cigs free from her garter.
Velma's jaw dropped as she watched Miranda tapp the pack against her palm. Miranda pulled a cigarette from the pack and placed it between her puckered, rouged lips. She tucked them back into her garter and replaced the hem of the dress.
And then, before Velma could gather the sense to deny Miranda further, the older woman held her chin between her hands and leaned in closer, pressing the point of her cigarette to Velma's. When the fire caught, Miranda exhaled a plume of smoke from her nostrils and walked away.
Velma blinked several times before she shoved her chair back and sprang to her feet. "Hey! Just who do you think you are?" she asked, stalking after Miranda. "Just 'cause you run some hoity-toity magazine and stuck it to your hubby doesn't make you any better than me, y'know! You're stuck here in the clink just like me."
Miranda said nothing and only swiveled on the balls of her feet, her eyebrow rising as she cast a glance over Velma's form.
"Nothin' to say then?" Velma asked, propping a hand on her hip.
The corner of Miranda's mouth twitched as if she were attempting to suppress a smile. Plucking the cig from her mouth, Miranda blew a perfect ring of smoke into Velma's face.
"Now you listen here," Velma growled, slapping the cigarette from Miranda's hand. She stomped on it, grinding it satisfactorily beneath the heel of her shoe. "You and me - we're equals, got it? You can't treat me any way you choose. I demand a little respect."
Miranda's chuckle was low and throaty. She casually removed Velma's cigarette from between her fingers and pressed it to her own lips, her darker shade of lipstick staining the red ring that Velma left on the white stem. "You've got nerve. I like that." Miranda stepped closer, her eyes staring at Velma's mouth. "I like that very much." Miranda kissed her gently. Her eyes expressed something wicked and delicious.
She walked away.
Velma stared at her as she walked. "Damn."
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