Let’s Get Married, Chapter 3

Previously: Part 2 [U]

Rated: U.

* * * * *

Part 3: Getting to know you

Living with Spencer proved to be odd. They were somewhat friendly, but not friends. They shared the same apartment, but lived mostly separate lives.

The night that Spencer moved in, they had agreed that if they were to pass as a married couple — any sort of couple — they would have to learn about each other. In her usual practical (anal, infuriating) manner, Spencer had suggested that they meet up once a day to study. And, for the first few days, it was the only contact they had with each other.

Spencer had shown up to their first meeting with a leather-bound notebook and, Ashley suspected, a newly purchased pen. She had even sorted the notebook into sections with pre-prepared questions. It had felt more like an interrogation than a conversation.

Ashley had answered everything as patiently as she could force herself to, but they weren’t getting anywhere. Facts were, after all, just facts. It was possible to know someone intimately without knowing either their favourite colour (Spencer liked kelly green) or the name of their date to the junior prom (Jimmy Dolan, a fact Ashley dredged from the recesses of her mind only by mentally working backwards from the after-party, where she’d hooked up with the female bartender, a fact she didn’t share with her wife).

At the weekend, they had their first mini-breakthrough. Ashley offered to help Spencer move her things and, while they were packing up, Ashley found a framed ticket and playbill for Sweet Charity.

“Christina Applegate was in a Broadway musical?” she asked idly.

“Mmm-hmm. Tony-nominated. She was pretty damn incredible.” Spencer smiled in remembrance and put down the clothes she had been folding. She sat on the edge of the bed. “We’d been here about two years and I had never been to a Broadway show. I kept asking my parents over and over. I begged. I pleaded. I left newspapers open to the theatre reviews in prominent positions around the house. I would look up ticket prices on dad’s computer and ‘forget’ to shut the browser down.” She laughed to herself. “I was pretty damn obvious about it all.”

“So, they gave in?”

“Well, I didn’t think so. My dad would just go ‘We’ll see, honey’ and then ignore me. My mother didn’t even acknowledge what I was doing at all. But then, on my seventeenth birthday, I came home from school and sitting on my bed there was the most beautiful, the most grown-up dress I had ever seen.”

Spencer pulled her leg up underneath her and looked down at her bed as if the dress might be there. “I put the dress on and it was so perfect. It was a deep red velvet and it made me feel like I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. You know, when he takes her to the opera?” Ashley nodded. “Well, when I came out of the bedroom, my dad was standing there in a tux and my mom was in a full-length grey silk dress. It was like a fairy tale. There was a limo waiting for us and we had a pre-theatre dinner at the Tavern on the Green and, when we got to the theatre, we had box seats.”

“Totally like Pretty Woman,” Ashley agreed, enjoying seeing Spencer’s obvious happiness.

“It was just the most magical night you could ever imagine.”

Ashley traced her fingers across the glass of the frame in contemplation. “This is what we should do.”

“What?” Spencer sounded distracted, still reliving the memory in her mind.

“This is what normal people do. They don’t trade facts. They share stories, memories, hopes, dreams. I mean, I know what you studied at school, but not what you wanted for your life when you picked those subjects. I know nothing about why your past relationships didn’t work out or what you’re looking for in one. Do you want kids, Spencer?”

“With you?” Her tone implied that she thought Ashley’s potential for motherhood was up there with Joan Crawford.

Ashley flinched a little. Their whole act would be a lot easier if Spencer could learn to be a little less dismissive of her. “Well, yes but no. With your real wife one day.” She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m even your type. Do you have a type?”

The blonde sighed. “I guess I see what you mean.” She stood and started folding clothes again. “So, you think we need to drop the study sessions?”

“No, I’m not saying that exactly. I just think we’ve been going about it the wrong way.” She placed the framed theatre ticket into a nearby box. “What are you working this week?”

“My shifts, you mean?”


“Um, tomorrow through Wednesday, I’m on swing, four till midnight. I’ve got Thursday and Friday off.”

“Well, how about we have lunch each day you’re working and, instead of twenty questions, we each bring something, like a memento or whatever, that means something to us and explain why?”

“That’s not actually a bad idea.”

“Thank you.” Ashley moved to the bookshelf and started to remove the contents. “And, you know, you’d sound a lot more like my wife if you weren’t quite so surprised by that.” Spencer didn’t reply, but even with her back turned Ashley could feel her giving an eye roll.

They went back to packing in silence, making only occasional small talk about where to put things. When they were back at Ashley’s apartment and the last of the boxes had been put into Spencer’s new room, they parted ways. Ashley felt that it was probably best to leave Spencer alone. She’d been so quiet, even more so than usual.

So as not to disturb her, Ashley retreated to her study. It was a grand word for what had been the box room. It had no windows and the only furniture was a battered old leather couch which had been her father’s favourite. The only other item in the room was an iPod dock which sat on the floor. Ashley went there when she needed to think.

She lay down on the couch and linked her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling. She genuinely could not see how they were ever going to persuade anyone that they were a couple when they found it almost impossible to be in the same room together without bugging the hell out of each other. She shut her eyes and listened to the faint sounds of Spencer unpacking, trying to ignore the nagging sense of hopelessness.

She wasn’t sure how long she had napped, but when she awoke, Spencer was standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee and a carton of milk in her hands, a few packets of sugar between her teeth.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Just sugar, thanks,” she said, sitting up and taking the cup Spencer offered her. She ripped the ends off two of the sugar packets, which bore the logo of a well-known coffee chain, and poured them into her drink.

They still didn’t know how the other took their coffee. Their arrangement was never going to work.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not what?”

“My type.” Spencer sat on the other end of the couch.

“Oh.” That was somehow disappointing. “And that’s what, exactly?”

“You know, the funny thing is that I honestly would have said that I didn’t have a type, but I’ve been thinking about it while I’ve been unpacking and there’s a definite theme.” She pulled her legs underneath her. “Older, taller, mostly redheads and almost all in some kind of position of authority.”

“Well, I am older than you.”

“Like, what, a year? I mean more like five years, ten.”

“Ah.” She stared at the wall. “Is that what she’s like?”

“Who?” It was disingenuous. They both knew what Ashley meant.

“Miss Staying Alive.”



“She’s a line producer at the station. We’re not,” Spencer shrugged, “you know.”

“Dating? Sleeping together?”


“But close enough that she gave you a hickey.”

“Oh God, you saw that?” Spencer covered her face with her hand.

“Hard to miss.”

“We make out occasionally. That’s about it. But we’re not officially anything. It’s complicated. She’s just gotten divorced. She’s got a son.” She smiled at Ashley. “And I have a wife.”

“Definitely complicated.” Ashley drank her coffee. It wasn’t her usual brand, but it was exactly the right strength. “This coffee’s fantastic, by the way," she said, essentially only to stop herself from asking Spencer if she’d told Petra that she was married.

"It’s Hawaiian Kona. I get it on the internet from Honolulu.”


“Special-occasion expensive.”

Ashley was touched that Spencer had broken out the special coffee as an olive branch. “Well, I’m sure I can afford to order it in for us.”

“But then it wouldn’t be a special treat anymore.”

Ashley chuckled. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, then Spencer asked, “So, what about you?”

“About me what?”

“Your type.”

“Ahhhh. I don’t know that I really have a type.” She shrugged. “I could lie, I suppose, but the truth is that the most three most important things to me are attractive, available and uncomplicated.”

“And definitely a she?”

Ashley grunted. “Definitely no men. I haven’t played that particular hand since high school. You?”


“No men ever? Really?”

“Well, I had a couple of pseudo-boyfriends when I was really young, like thirteen, fourteen, but I already knew then that I was gay. And I was at an all-girls’ school at the time, so I wasn’t exactly having to fight the boys off.”

“Are we talking late night girl-on-girl shenanigans in the dorms?”

“Day school. Catholic day school in Paris.” Spencer gave her a withering glance for her x-rated suggestion and accompanying leer. “I just meant that there wasn’t a lot of peer pressure to date boys.”

“Uh-huh.” Ashley’s tone implied that she didn’t believe that Spencer’s school days were all that innocent.

“So, why did you marry me?” Spencer asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“Well, I think we both know —“

“No, not the real reason. The made-up one.” Spencer smiled, turning so that she was reclining against the arm of the couch, facing her.

“Oh, that.” Ashley paused. “Um, well, you’re definitely beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, it’s true.” It was. Spencer was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever met.

“And that’s it?”

“We hardly know each other,” Ashley countered. “I need some time to think about it. Why did you marry me in our fantasy world?”

“Because you’re all passion and feeling, where I’m thoughtful and deliberate. So, you kinda complement me like that. You’re surprisingly kind and attentive, like you really pay attention to the little details. You’re smart and you’re funny in a self-deprecating way.” Spencer tilted her head, worrying her lower lip with her teeth as she thought. “You present yourself to the world as this brash, arrogant person, but your songs show you as you really are.” She chuckled. “And, besides, you asked me.”

“When did we agree that I was the one who asked you?” Ashley was quite taken aback by Spencer’s impromptu pop analysis, so she tried to deflect through her normal abrasiveness.

“That’s what we said at the wedding.”

“Oh. Right.” She frowned. “Hold on, you know my songs?” It had been a long time, four years or more, since she’d written or performed her own material. Mostly, she wrote commercial instrumental music. It wasn’t particularly fulfilling, but she had a knack for it; one of her corporates had even won a minor award.

“Your sister is my best friend, you know. We came to see you in Los Angeles before you moved here.”

“You did?”

“You don’t remember?”

Ashley ducked her head in shame. “No.”

“You were pretty drunk when we were introduced. That was the first time we met.”

Ashley felt even worse. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer grinned. “Not all great love stories begin with eyes meeting across a crowded room.”

They sat for a few moments, each sipping their drink, enjoying the first comfortable silence they’d ever shared.

“I think I would have asked you out in the first place because of the challenge,” Ashley eventually murmured. “We’d known each other through Kyla for a while and I couldn’t believe that you had no interest in me.”

“I was an affront to your monstrous ego?”


“Good sense of humour. Another of the many things you adore about me.”

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

“Yet, you just did.”

Ashley gave her a withering glance. “I mean more like I suspected that, under your buttoned-down front, there was a wild girl desperate to get out.”

Spencer threw her head back and laughed. “There really isn’t. Under this calm and collected exterior is a calm and collected interior.”

“Really? You never throw caution to the wind and just say ‘fuck it’?”

Spencer thought about it. “Only once.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

* * *

Eaves and Sorensen had not given any firm timeframe for when she should expect to hear from the INS again, but Ashley was surprised that almost a month had gone by without so much as a letter or a phone call. She had expected some kind of official confirmation of their original visit, if nothing else. It was both frustrating and worrisome.

Things with Spencer had improved considerably since her brainwave about telling stories rather than checking facts. She felt like she knew her wife a lot better now. And they had started to hang out together.

Their study sessions were held over shared meals which had, on a few occasions, turned into whole evenings spent watching movies. Ashley had stuck with 1950s musicals — Howard Keel, Gordon MacRae, Doris Day — while Spencer had picked the Thin Man films, starring William Powell and Myrna Loy. Ashley had never even heard of them before, but was secretly hoping that they’d share more movie evenings so she could see all of them.

One evening when she had been composing at the piano, fooling around with some ideas for a client, Spencer had appeared from her room with a book and had sat down on the couch, listening and reading. And that had become a sort of ritual as well, sitting in silence together. They certainly bickered a lot less when they didn’t talk.

Before her wife had moved in with her, Ashley had liked her life. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. She hadn’t really understood why other people — mostly her sister, but some of her friends as well — placed such a premium on love and relationships. Love was a commodity, purely the price that some women demanded in return for sex and friendship. And Ashley could get both of those things without having to promise anything in return. As her grandfather would have put it, she was offered so much milk for free, there had never been any need to buy a cow.

As an only child, for most of her life anyway, she’d never really shared with anyone. And there had been no college dorms, no roommates, no live-in girlfriends. But living with Spencer, even in their contrived non-relationship, had made her appreciate the value of pure companionship. Having adjusted to Spencer’s presence, she realised that she liked having someone around. She missed her when she wasn’t there. She even enjoyed their continued verbal sparring. And she got concerned when Spencer was occasionally late home from work — hours late, as she was that evening.

Although Spencer never mentioned Petra, Ashley assumed she was the reason for her wife’s absences. Rightly or wrongly, it felt like Spencer was cheating on their arrangement, if nothing else. She’d given up her social life entirely since they’d moved in together, and she judged that Spencer owed her at least as much, if only to maintain the pretence of their marriage. At times, she wanted to say something, but despite sharing so much with each other they weren’t close enough for that level of conversation.

“Honey, I’m home!” Spencer called from the doorway.

Ashley walked through from the kitchen area, holding a spoon dripping with tomato sauce. “And I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day!” She watched Spencer dump her stuff on the sofa. “I was just starting to wonder if you’d stood me up.”

“Didn’t get a chance to tell you I was running late. Guess who I met today?”

“Joan Rivers?”

Spencer frowned. “Joan Rivers? That’s a bit random.”

“She’s the only celebrity I know who does the shopping channels.”

“Oh. No. Not Joan Rivers, although that would have been awesome.” She sniffed the air. “What are we eating? Smells incredible.”

“Chicken arrabiata. It’s the only thing I know how to cook from scratch.”

“Cool.” She followed Ashley back into the kitchen. “So, Sorensen is nice.”

Ashley dropped the knife she’d just picked up and spun around. “Sorensen came to see you?”

“He was sitting in the green room when I finished my shift. We went for coffee.”

“You went for coffee?”

“In that little diner car place around the corner from the studio. He likes pie.” Spencer grinned. “Really likes pie. He ate two pieces, probably would have gone for a third if I wasn’t there.”

“Are you going to tell me what he said, or just what he ate?”

“Well, he wanted to talk about me and you, unsurprisingly.” She moved next to Ashley and started to plate up their meal. “He was a lot less intrusive than I expected.”

“And Eaves wasn’t with him?”

“Nope. All alone.” Spencer picked up a pasta tube and popped it into her mouth. “He was really apologetic about bothering me, actually. In fact, we probably spent half an hour discussing food and how sorry he was.” They carried their plates over to the table and sat down. “He didn’t ask that much. He just wanted some basic background — how long I’d known you, how long we’d dated before we got married, what married life was like, what sort of freaky shit you like to do in bed.”

“He didn’t!”

“Okay, not the sex thing,” Spencer chuckled. “It was a surprisingly pleasant chat, actually. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re just a couple of nice girls and that your mother and Eaves are barking up the wrong tree. It felt like he was going through the motions.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he loves his partner or his job. So, you don’t think he was just trying to make you comfortable so that he could catch you out?”

Spencer shrugged. “I honestly don’t think so. I mean, I suppose he might have been taping the conversation, but he didn’t mention that he was, and I’m pretty sure he’d have to tell me that. He didn’t take many notes, either. I don’t think he scribbled down more than a couple of pages.”

“Anything I need to know in case of later cross-examination?”

“Well, I thought it was best to go with the truth as far as possible, so I told him that our first meeting was at that dive bar in LA and that you were too drunk to even remember me. After that, your sister kept trying to set us up together.” That much was definitely true. Kyla had been most insistent for several months before both Ashley and Spencer had separately told her that they really weren’t interested.

“So, I made the big first move? And it was hardly a dive bar, by the way.”


“It wasn’t!”

“Anyway, moving on, I said that I always felt like there was something between us.”

Ashley smiled. “Implying that I didn’t?”

“I thought you’d already decided I couldn’t possibly not be interested in you?”


“So, yeah, I went with that — you asked me out because you really didn’t believe that I wasn’t interested in you.”

She liked that Spencer had gone with that. It was as if their imaginary shared history were real. “And you said yes because?”

“Because I didn’t believe you were only interested in the challenge and not me for myself.”

“Nicely played.”

“Thanks. I was quite pleased with that one. Oh, and we dated in secret for the longest time.”

“Ashamed of me?” Ashley teased.

“I said it was lots of different things. We didn’t want Kyla to think she’d been right. I didn’t really want to admit to myself that I really was in love with you. You didn’t really want to face that you had a girlfriend at all.”

“And the proposal?”

“I was fed up of the hiding and wanted everyone to know that we were together. You refused. So, I called it all off.”

“And again I made the big gesture?”

Spencer giggled. “You’re secretly very romantic.”

“Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.”

“How romantic was I? Top of the Empire State Building? Jumbo screen at Madison Square Garden? Tavern on the Green and show tickets?”

“Well, we spent a couple of months apart, but we couldn’t really stay away from each other, so we kinda started up again, but not really dating. I sort of implied that it was just the occasional booty call."

“Spencer Carlin!” Ashley gasped. “You’re a wicked woman, corrupting my morals like that.”

Ignoring her comment, Spencer continued, “But I still wanted it to be more, so I stopped coming by your apartment late at night. Then I stopped taking your calls. And then you showed up one day at my new apartment, demanding to speak to me.”

“Did you let me in?” She was starting to really like their story.

“I have more pride than that! I told you to go away.”

“But I didn’t?”

“No, you stood underneath my window and shouted, ‘Marry me, Spencer.’ You just kept shouting and shouting until I let you back in.”

Ashley grinned. “Actually, that sounds like something I would totally do.”

“Yeah, well, I said yes and the rest is history.”

“I like that story.” She chuckled. “How hot was the make-up sex?”

“Funnily enough, we didn’t cover that. Mostly, we talked about being married. I told him about our wedding and about how much I love watching you work on your music. His wife’s a high school music teacher, by the way, and apparently a big fan of your dad’s. We talked about movie night. He was equally as surprised as me to find out that you like Doris Day musicals.”

“You told him that?”

Spencer laughed, a sound of which Ashley was growing increasingly fond. “Why do I get the feeling that you’d rather I told him all the freaky stuff you like to get up to in bed?”

“Like you’d even know.”

Spencer put her cutlery down and gazed evenly at her. “Oh, really? Do tell, dearest wife.”

“Not a chance, Carlin. Tell me more about Sorensen.”

Spencer tried staring her down, but failed. “Um, what else? I said that we always make a point of having a proper meal together every day, no matter what my shifts are like, and he told me that it’s a real issue for him and his wife to manage that with their kids because they’re teenagers.”

“Yeah, but the only reason we bother is because we have a vested interest in eating together every day.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose.” Spencer looked offended.

Ashley shook her head in resignation. She had made it sound like she only hung out with Spencer because she had no other choice. She really needed to learn when to keep her smart mouth shut. She tried a different tack. “It sounds like you handled it beautifully. Not that I’m surprised. You’re good with people.”

“Thanks.” Spencer pushed her plate away. She didn’t seem mollified by Ashley’s compliment.

“Do you feel like watching a movie?”

Spencer was staring down at the table. “Not really. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh, right. I should have thought.” She cleared away their plates and placed them in the dishwasher, mentally kicking herself.

“I think I’m just going to go to bed,” Spencer announced. “What time shall we meet up tomorrow?”

“When are you free?”

“I won’t be back until after nine.”

“Then I’ll get some gelato in and maybe we can watch a movie then?” She hated how pitiful and needy that sounded to her own ears.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She slumped against the kitchen counter. Being married was harder than it looked.

* * * * *

Next up: Chapter 4 [A]


  1. spikkels
    Posted 19 April 2012 at 7.51pm | Permalink

    This is getting really exiting now…. I love the part where they don’t like each other, but actually start to like each other but won’t admit it!!! And then it usually ends up in hot Spashely patla-patla!!! Thanks for awesome update!

  2. Anne
    Posted 19 April 2012 at 10.01pm | Permalink

    Seems like Christine is just waiting for someone to mess up. Most likely it will be Spencer meeting with Petra. Can’t wait what Ashley would do. It’s funny because they’re both (more so Ashley) are liking each other already. Looking forward for the next. Thank you very much.

  3. jsparky04
    Posted 19 April 2012 at 10.46pm | Permalink

    Loving this story Dev. I love their interacting and there is so much chemistry there. Can’t wait for the next. Get on it :P

  4. cbrammer
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 6.01am | Permalink

    Spencer is looking for the fairy tale. Just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Just like the story she made up of Ashley standing outside her window yelling ‘Marry me.’ She is jaded for some reason and doesn’t believe that fair tales come true. Only in the movies. So she convinces herself she is attracted to older unattainable women.

    Dev, I’m really happy that bruise turned out to be a hickey. Oh, the trickery! I like what you did there.

    I also like how your stories are never predictable. I can’t seem to figure out how these two are going to cross over from bickering arrangement to made-for-each-other. Since this story is all in Ashley’s perspective, it’s difficult to get a read on Spencer. But I think we got a little bit of an inkling that Spencer thinks about Ashley. At least enough so that she decided there was more to Ashley than the brash and arrogant woman she portrays to the world.

    Can’t wait to see where you take this story next!

  5. 2bz2breading
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 6.13am | Permalink

    Cool update.

  6. Clom
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 10.00am | Permalink

    More more more, how do you like it, how do you like it?

    (Moe Moe Moe, why don’t you like me nobody likes me… sorry, couldn’t help myself)

  7. Lyn
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 10.42am | Permalink

    I really like this fic so far. I’m curious to see where it goes! Great job:)!

  8. lol
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 12.04pm | Permalink

    Completely in love with the storyline. My favourite kind where its a love-hate relationship and progresses to lovey dovey later on. Can’t wait for the next update!!!
    Thanks :)

  9. yeahbutno
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 4.07pm | Permalink

    not even going to try and explain where my head went to with the bruise/hickey thing in the previous chapter!

    It did NOT include some old slapper called Petra and for some weird reason, welcome to my head, Petra looks like Dot Cotton in there!!!

    She needs to get with some Pillow Talk with Ash *crowbars in Doris reference *

    Merci, Devolicious.

    PS the wee one liked it too, I left out swearing and sex stuff by substituting in banana!

  10. Dovega
    Posted 20 April 2012 at 6.52pm | Permalink

    Great story, great chapter.

    I loved the story Spencer invented for Sorensen, sounds like something out of a fic I would also loved to read.

    Spencer is so misterious to me here, you are doing a good job of putting us readers in Ashley’s shoes.

    I keep trying to picture Petra as Julianne Moore but for some reason the image in my mind ends up being a young Barbara Hershey. It’s the hickey, I think Hershey looks like she would be voracious during a heavy make out.

  11. Clom
    Posted 21 April 2012 at 12.20am | Permalink


  12. SONiluv
    Posted 22 April 2012 at 12.22am | Permalink

    I love their fake story because it’s like Spencer has played it out in her mind multiple times before of how she wanted the real thing to happen. The “getting to know you” part is the best :) I’m excited for more

  13. Posted 22 April 2012 at 9.22am | Permalink

    I like this story. The relationship starts with denial but it ends up Spashley (at least that’s what I hope…you wouldn’t deny us a happy ending, would you?). I can’t wait to see them finally realising they’re meant to be together, but as a sadistic I’d also like to see more love-hate drama between them haha

  14. yeahbutno
    Posted 22 April 2012 at 6.36pm | Permalink

    Clommie, that child has probably heard way worse, well, until I discovered the walkie talkie thingie was 2 way and me not watching footie in front of her! I am getting charged a £1 per bad word now, so my Scottishness has kjcked in! Nearly a saint!

    I think Spencer put a heck of a lot of detail into that back story, wishful thinking?

  15. dev0347
    Posted 23 April 2012 at 12.26pm | Permalink


    1. It’s not smut. She no doubt sees her mums being way more explicit than anything I’ve written so far.
    2. She’s too wee to understand anything beyond their tone and voices, as well you know.


    3. That went from a treble to just the league pretty fecking quickly, didn’t it? I’m pretty sure your daughter heard ME swearing, all the way from here.

    @Everyone else

    4. Aw, thanks for all the lovely comments.

  16. tuesboomer
    Posted 23 April 2012 at 5.46pm | Permalink

    I was waiting for you to call clom on that one.

    It’s not smut yet.
    And she won’t know it when it is…*yet*.

  17. yeahbutno
    Posted 23 April 2012 at 11.06pm | Permalink

    Dev, that Hearts last minute penalty cost me £30 before the swede stopped counting as she was too busy holding me down before I *unleashed* a Cantona style kung-fu kick at the telly. The air was BLUE!

    We have called a truce on the wee one only wearing a ‘tic gear, also bought a nice wee babygrow for our soon to be niece/nephew. May *sneak* some Ure gear on underneath though *laughs*

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