Prompt #1: Our mothers want to set us up but all I remember is that you put bubble gum in my hair when I was 7, so I automatically hate you.

The wedding was, as he had expected, boring. John Smith was standing at the side with a glass of champagne in his hand and watched the dancing couples pass by. He had really dreaded coming here but his mother, who was happily chatting with a friend on the other end of the hall, had forced him and it didn't matter that he was a grown man – when Mum expects something of you, you just do it.

Suddenly he caught sight of a woman that seemed vaguely familiar. She hurried over the dance floor when she tripped over her own high heels and accidentally crashed into one of the dancing couples. John chuckled as he watched her utter a quick apology over the champagne she had spilled on the woman's dress. To his own surprise the woman approached him now.

"Just to give you the heads up. My mother knows your mother and they're trying to set us up," the woman blurted out as she straightened herself up after the little incident on the dance floor.

Now that she was standing in front of him, John was sure he had seen her before. Those blue eyes and the cute nose seemed familiar somehow.

"And so you've come to spill the rest of your champagne on me?" John giggled.

"Oh God, you've seen that," she muttered, "High heels and champagne. Not the best of combinations for me."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked her.

The woman glared at him as if she couldn't believe he actually had to ask.

"You stuck bubble gum in my hair when I was seven," she said accusingly.

"Ohhhh," John uttered as it finally dawned on him, "Missy! We haven't seen each other since. . ."

"Since you stuck gum in my hair!" Missy reached out to punch his arm but only managed to nearly topple over again, "You were older and stronger and I didn't stand a chance. I still hate you for that."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes! They had to cut my hair. I looked like a little boy on my first day of school."

As much as he tried not to, John couldn't help but break out into laughter. He remembered the day now. Missy and her mother had visited their house and all John really wanted to do was play with his trains. The last thing he wanted was babysit a little girl that kept complaining about how boring trains were and that insisted they played something more fun. After agreeing to play catch and hide and seek and other childish games that Missy still seemed to find boring, he had had enough of it and decided to put an end to her nagging by putting gum in her hair. He admitted, it wasn't the nicest thing to do but it had worked. Missy and her mother had been gone 20 minutes later and he was free to play with his new toy train. He couldn't believe Missy was still mad about that so many years later.

"Oh, you think that's amusing, don't you?"

"Just a little," he admitted. What he found really amusing was that Missy had turned up at a wedding all those years later, now a stunningly beautiful woman and still holding a grudge and all he could think about was kiss her.

"Wanna dance?" he asked her casually. The frown on her face said it all. "Come on, it'll make our mothers happy."

"Pffft, I don't care that it would make my mother happy. I'm not dancing with you, you. . . gum fiend."

"Gum fiend?" John laughed, "Is that all you can come up with?"

"I'll think of something better. Later. First I'm gonna find the waiter with the champagne."

OOO

John was had been trying to find Missy again the following hour but she was nowhere to be seen until he finally spotted her sitting alone at a table. Her hair was a sweet mess and she had kicked her shoes off under the table.

"Still not having fun?" he asked as he let himself fall on the chair next to her.

"Oh. The gum fiend again," she uttered and didn't seem pleased to see him again.

"Still haven't found a better insult, I see."

"T'is not a very inspirational environment," she said, apparently having trouble getting the words out.

John waved for the waiter and told him to bring two cups of coffee, which arrived a few moments later.

"Here, drink this," he told her.

"If I drink this I won't be able to sleep tonight," she replied, staring at him. She was swaying slightly in her seat.

John shrugged. "I could think of a lot of things you could do at night where sleeping would just get in the way."

Missy tilted her head and stared at him for a long moment with her beautiful, blue eyes. "Are you trying to hit on me? Because, if you are, I should definitely tell you to fuck off."

"But you won't do that?" he inquired.

She took a sip from the coffee and contorted her face in disgust. "I really loved my hair, you know?"

"I can see why. It's beautiful," John said earnestly and reached out to fasten one of the loose streaks behind her ear.

"You are hitting on me," Missy said grumpily. John could tell she wasn't really still angry with him, but trying very hard to maintain the impression.

"Okay, here is a suggestion for you: I'll drive you home to make sure you get there safely, I will leave and call you tomorrow with an apology for the gum incident and ask you out properly."

"Technically it's tomorrow already," Missy shrugged.

"After you've slept," John told her, "Come on, let's get you home."

He stood up from his chair and collected her shoes and purse from the ground before extending his other hand to her. Missy took it reluctantly and John was sure that she would've have hadn't she needed something to steady herself with. He walked her out of the building and stopped before the parking space that was laid out with coarse gravel.

"Better put your shoes back on," he told her.

Missy turned around and shot him a dark look that said: Drunk. High heels. Gravel. Think again.

"Well, I'm not gonna carry you," John complained but when Missy didn't even move, he groaned, "Alright, wait here."

He walked the few metres to where he had parked his car, turned the engine on and drove back to where Missy was waiting patiently at the end of the stairs. He got out of the car again to open the door for her and prayed she would remember all the nice things he was doing for her in the morning.

Missy had fallen asleep in the passenger seat shortly after she had told him her address and he drove her home in silence. He considered what to do with her once they got there when they finally stopped in front of a large apartment complex. John looked up and hoped she didn't live on the top floor.

"Hey sleepyhead," he nudged her gently, "You're home."

Missy grunted and just turned her face away from him.

"Your comfy bed is waiting for you."

"No, too far," she muttered and closed her eyes again.

"What apartment do you live in?" John asked, still hoping for the best when he heard her say 'top floor'.

"Argh, alright," he groaned and got out of the car.

He paced to the other side of it, opened the door and lifted Missy up in his arms. She was heavier than he had expected – or this sort of thing just looked easier in movies.

"You should've just drunk the coffee," he said as he carried her into the hall and to the lift, which luckily opened immediately.

As soon as they were inside, John sat Missy down but she still clung to him, her head resting on his chest. He pressed the button labeled 30 that lead to the top floor and he braced himself for a long ride up. Missy was so tired by now that she couldn't stand on her own two feet and John needed to hold her. Not that he minded the contact in the least.

"Where's your key?" he asked quietly.

"Purse," Missy uttered in reply and John had trouble understanding it with her lips pressed against his shirt.

He opened the little bag that hung loosely over her shoulder and realized he had forgotten her shoes in the car. Ah well, he intended to see her again anyway. After a moment he found her key chain and the doors of the lift opened.

He couldn't tell how he managed to both hold Missy up and open the door, but he did it eventually and gently shuffled her inside. Now that his hands were both free John lifted her up again and carried her to the bedroom, thanking God the door was already wide open. He laid her down on the bed and covered her body with the duvet.

"Thank you," she whispered right before she fell back asleep.

John smiled and quickly bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm gonna call you tomorrow. And I'm sorry about the gum."

OOO

John had to ring the bell five times before Missy finally answered the door. Her hair was even messier than last night, one half was still kind of in an updo, the other was just dangling everywhere and once again he could understand why she had been so mad they had had to cut it. Her dress from last night was gone and instead she wore what looked like a man's shirt tailored for women and her makeup was smudged all over her face.

"You look like a raccoon," John giggled and pointed at her eyes.

"Maybe, but a cute raccoon," Missy replied grumpily, "What are you doing here, gum fiend?"

"You forgot your shoes in the car. I thought I'd return them to you. And I also brought breakfast," he held up two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag that contained a few croissants.

She let out a groan and opened the door wider. "Fine. Come in and please tell me you brought aspirin, too, because I'm out."

John set the coffee and bag on the kitchen table and reached into the pocket of his trousers, producing the meds a few seconds later.

Missy shrugged. "Maybe you're not so useless after all."

She let herself fall on one of the chairs and pointed to an empty one for him to sit down on.

"No butter and jam for the croissants?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm out," Missy replied.

"Out of aspirin. Our of butter. What are you not out of?" he asked with a smile as he sat down.

"Nothing. I forgot to go grocery shopping," she explained.

"You. . . how do you forget to go shopping? What were you going to eat today?"

"Nothing. Probably. Or takeout," she replied with a shrug.

"Out of the question. Here we have breakfast," John said and offered her a fresh croissant from the bag, "And tonight I'm going to cook for you."

Missy took a bite from the croissant, "You never give up, do you?"

"I'm sorry about the gum in your hair," he apologized again, "Will you please forgive me and accept my invitation to dinner?"

"Fine," Missy finally said, "If you want to please your mother so desperately, fine."

John was taken aback by her answer and leaned back in his chair. "Wait, you think I'm just doing this because our mothers would like it?"

Missy nodded.

"I had my eyes on you yesterday before you had even spotted me," he said angrily, "I saw you and though: wow, look at that cute, tipsy and sightly clumsy woman over there. Wouldn't it be great to talk to her and dance with her and take her out for dinner some time because she just seems marvellous?!"

Missy broke out into laughter. "You're mad. You know that, right?"

John shrugged. "Maybe. And I'm still hoping you'll accept my invitation."

"I already accepted, you idiot. But you need to pick my up. My car isn't working," she demanded.

"Maybe I should have a look at it. I'm not too bad with cars," John suggested.

"Nah, no need to. I just forgot to stop at a petrol station."

John smiled at Missy and knew from this moment on that he was going to marry her because for her own protection he wouldn't allow her to live alone for another day.

OOO

John picked her up at 6, like he had promised and also brought a canister filled with petrol.

"Here, that should get you to the next station, but please, don't forget it again," he explained as he filled her tank.

"I'll write myself a note," Missy commented as she stepped into his car, "So, what are we having for dinner? I'm starving!"

"Whatever you like. I have plenty of ingredients at home. I thought we could cook together," John smiled at her as he had settled in his car seat.

Missy broke into laughter. "You don't want to see me at the stove, trust me."

"Fine, I'll cook. You watch from a safe distance."

The car ride to his house in Greenwich took half an hour and Missy gasped they entered the neighbourbood.

"Gosh, look at those posh houses. Imagine the posers that live here!"

John cleared his throat. "I live here."

Missy turned around to face him. "You live here? Gosh, you must be rich."

"I'm not doing too badly," he gave a slight shrug, "And I needed a place to accommodate my train collection."

"God, no, you're not still playing with those boring trains?"

"I was joking," he said with a slight smile and pulled into a driveway. John stepped out of the car first to open the door for Missy.

"So, what do you do for a living?" she asked as he lead her inside the house.

"I'm a neurosurgeon. And you?"

Missy glanced around the house. "I'm a ghostwriter. And I've written a few children's books under my own name."

John lead her around the living room and kitchen before Missy hopped onto the kitchen table and looked at him expectantly.

"What's for dinner?" she asked, her feet dangling in the air.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Spaghetti?"

"Your wish is my command," John bowed slightly, laughing and started to fill a pot with water. He felt her eyes on him as he prepared the meal.

"This house needs a woman's touch though," Missy remarked after a while, "It's too sterile."

"Well, the touch of you already brightens up the room."

"I only just got here," she laughed.

"You can stay if you want."

Missy cocked her head. "Don't say things like that. It sounds like you want me to move in."

"Maybe that's exactly what I want," John countered.

"You've known me for less than a day."

He shrugged. "I need 10 seconds to know if I like a woman."

Missy jumped on her feet and walked up to him. She seemed slightly angry and John wasn't exactly sure why. He had done nothing except pay her compliments and they had been sincere.

"You don't know me," she said accusingly, "I can be a real pain in the ass. I am clumsy, I am forgetful. You wouldn't last a month with me and then you'd get mad because I forgot to pick up your suit from the cleaners or locked myself out the third day in a row or accidentally set the dog on fire."

"You set a dog on fire?"

"No, that was an exaggeration. But it's not too far fetched. In the end I always scare them away with something."

John shook his head. "That's not gonna happen, Missy. I was married once and when I met her I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. When she died I thought such a thing would never happen to me again," he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, "And then you showed up yesterday and I though: there is my second chance. Missy, I would ask you to marry me on the spot because that's how sure I am it would last."

Missy chuckled. "You're completely mad. We haven't even kissed."

"I kissed you on the forehead yesterday."

"Well, I don't remember that so I guess I was drunk and asleep and that doesn't count."

"Fair enough. Wanna try again?" he asked.

"Try what?"

John didn't reply. Instead, he pulled her closer by her hand and bent down to press a kiss to her lips. He had aimed for a short peck, but Missy wouldn't let go of him. The hand he wasn't holding wandered up his neck and grabbed his hair, keeping him in place. He gasped for air when she finally let go of him.

"Phew, well, I'll leave you that: you do know how to kiss a girl," she said, slightly out of breath, but grabbed his shirt anyway and pulled him closer again.

He pushed her back against the counter, pinning her down with the weight of his own body. He let his hands wander over her back, covering her neck with kisses while his body began to react to the touch.

"I'm sorry, I'm not the type for sex on the first date," John whispered, forcing himself to stop kissing her.

"Technically," Missy said short-winded as she pushed his head down her cleavage, "If you count the attempt of our mothers trying to set us up yesterday, this is the third."

John looked up. "What was the second?"

"Breakfast?"

"Oh, right," he pressed a short kiss to her lips, "I haven't shown you the bedroom."

Their clothes were already gone halfway to the bedroom and Missy dragged John onto the bed, their lips never parting for more than a few seconds. John had only had a one night stand or two ever since the death of his wife but a woman he had picked up because he had been lonely was nothing compared to this. John had picked Missy because she was marvellous and beautiful and touching her naked body felt like exploring a whole new universe. He covered her body with kisses and felt her moan and shiver beneath him as his own anticipation grew. Missy gasped as his tongue slipped into her fold and she reached out to touch his hair, pushing his head down. She was wet for him already and he wanted nothing more to be inside her. It was been so long, too long since he had loved a woman.

John sat up suddenly and reached for his nightstand, pulling a package of condoms from the drawer. Missy followed his example and sat up next to him, leaning in to nibble and kiss his ear, when suddenly he ceased to respond.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know. There seems to be something wrong with the condoms," he said and held one up against the light. "Looks like someone has not so subtly taken a needle to them."

Missy took the broken condoms from his hand and threw them away. "It's alright. I'm on the pill."

She pulled him down again and parted her legs, indicating she was ready for him. Against his better judgement he thrust inside her, a low moan escaping his lips. Missy wrapped her legs around his waist, groaning as he moved faster. John felt her tighten around him and knew he wouldn't last long. The tension was driving him insane already and he couldn't will himself to stop. Missy arched her back up, pressing her pelvis against his and John heard her whimper as she came. John meant to pull out, he really did, but when he felt his own orgasm sneaking up on him he couldn't will himself. He came inside her, breathing heavily and let himself fall onto the pillow next to her.

"Kissing isn't the only thing you're good at," Missy smiled, still panting and pressed a peck to his cheek.

John winkled his nose as he suddenly noticed a strange smell. "Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"Like. . . oh shit!" John jumped out of bed and only grabbed his underwear, putting it on as he hopped towards the kitchen. He reached it the second the smoke detectors went off. They had forgotten about the boiling water on the stove that had vaporized a long time ago, leaving the pot smoldering.

"Dammit!" he cursed as he removed the blackened pot with an oven mitten.

Missy entered the kitchen, dressed in her panties and his shirt.

"Oh no," she uttered, "Don't take this the wrong way, but. . . those things happen to me all the time. Just blame it on me. I'm used to it."

She walked over to the windows and opened them. The smoke lifted slowly.

"Do you have cereal?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"We can eat that in the bedroom until the air is breathable again," Missy suggested.

OOO

A few weeks later John was surprised to hear his cell phone ring at work and Missy asked to see him on his lunch break. They already had a date for the evening, but maybe she was missing him too much to wait a few hours longer. It wasn't the first time they had done it in his office.

Missy stormed into his office with wild hair and completely out of breath.

John giggled. "What happened to you?"

"I took the bike," she simply said and started pacing the room.

"You? The bike? Why?"

"Because I forgot to stop by the petrol station yesterday and I needed to see you," she said urgently and avoided his gaze.

"What's wrong, honey? Do you want to sit down?"

"No," Missy shook her head, "I'd rather pace. I can use all the exercise I can get, seeing how fat I'll be getting soon."

John got up from his chair and approached Missy, resting his arms on her shoulders. "Honey, stop speaking in riddles. What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant."

It took him a moment to realize what she had said. And another to let it sink in.

"But. . ."

"No but. I'm pregnant," she said desperately.

"But I bought new condoms after that time. And they were fine," he defended himself.

"Well, one time was enough apparently."

"But you said you were on the pill."

Missy reached out to punch his shoulder. "You know me!" she started yelling at him, "You know I forget things, you should've known I forget to take it."

"Calm down, Missy," he said quietly, "Why don't you sit down and take a deep breath."

John shuffled her to a chair and she sat down reluctantly. Both remained silent for a while, until Missy spoke again, her voice sounding small and insecure: "What are you thinking?"

"I, uhm," he spluttered, "I'm thinking you should move in with me."

"What?"

"I've been waiting for the right moment to bring it up. We basically spent all of our free time together anyway."

Missy stared at him for a moment.

"Okay," she finally said.

John approached her and kissed her forehead. "Take a cab home and pack your bags. But no heavy lifting, okay?"

"Alright," Missy sighed and was about to leave his office when she suddenly turned back around. "Does your mum have a key to your house by any chance?"

"Yes, why?"

"Something tells me she won't be too surprised she's having a grandkid."

John frowned. "You're not saying?"

Missy shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past them, the old meddlers."

OOO

Four years later. . .

John was waiting at the altar, impatiently tapping his foot. Missy was late, but what had he expected? She had probably had the driver stop at McDonalds or convinced him the fuel was enough to take them to the church, which of course wasn't.

"Where are they?" he heard his mother hiss from the front pew. She was holding his son, gently rocking him to keep him calm.

"I have no idea," John whispered back.

"Could it be. . . that she's forgotten that the wedding is today?"

"Mum, I don't think even Missy would forget her wedding day."

Finally, after he had waited for more than half an hour and the guests had already become worried, the church door burst open and the string quartet started playing as Missy slowly limped down the aisle, preceded by their daughter Mairi. When John looked more closely he realized Missy was only wearing one shoe.

"What happened?" John asked her in a low voice when she had reached the altar.

"I'll explain later."

The pastor performed the ceremony without interruption or further delay. He handed them their rings and John went first, taking Missy's hand, when she suddenly seemed to notice something.

"Wait, those aren't our rings," she whispered.

"Just go with it. I'll explain later."

"But my mother was in charge of the rings."

"Exactly," John groaned between his teeth and he could see Missy mouth a silent oops.

After a moment, John cleared his throat.

"Missy, when you stumbled into my life four years ago I knew exactly that we would end up on front of an altar sooner or later. I knew I wouldn't stop chasing you until you said yes. Lucky for me, it was sooner rather than later. You are a wonderful woman and a wonderful mother and I am lucky to call you my wife from now on."

He slipped the borrowed ring on her finger that was much too big for her. He pretended to kiss her on the cheek as he whispered. "Please don't lose it."

Missy chuckled as the pastor handed her the other ring.

"John, I will probably never forget the day you stuck bubble gum in my hair, but I can honestly say now that I forgive you for that. And for knocking me up. Twice. Okay, the second was actually wanted. . ."

John heard the pastor utter a low gasp, along with several of the wedding guests.

"What I meant to say is that I love you and not only because you remind me to stop by the petrol station and still put a canister of gas in my trunk so I always get home safely. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

John reached for her face and kissed her as the crowd cheered and the pastor, though still slightly miffed, pronounced them husband and wife. Missy kicked off her remaining shoe before they walked down the isle to the outside.

"So, care to explain why those aren't our rings?" she asked.

"Because your mother forgot to bring ours. And why were you late?"

Missy looked at him apologetically. "I kind of forgot our daughter at home. . ."

John broke into laughter. "I pray to God she takes me after."

"Yeah, me too," Missy agreed, "I also think we need to find another pastor for the baptism of the wee one."

"I think so, too," John agreed, leading Missy out of the church. He made a mental note to thank their mothers later in his speech, because he was fairly certain that without them their meeting, their children and the wedding would never have happened.