Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Georgia, Georgia, The whole day through,” Poots startled at the low baritone suddenly ringing through the locker room showers. He swiped the water out of his eyes and glanced around quickly, trying to find the source of the singing. “Just an old sweet song, Keeps Georgia on my mind.” The only ones left in the showers were Jack, Tater, and Guy. And it definitely wasn’t Guy, who was so quiet and gruff, Poots hadn’t been certain he even spoke English the first two months he was on the team, (Guy, as it turns out, is from Cleveland.) and Tater tended to sound like a wounded buffalo when he tried to sing. So…Jack apparently liked to sing oldies in the shower?

Which was strange, he guessed. Because it was just a practice, so there was no reason for Jack to be especially happy, and even after the most exhilarating wins, Jack never sang. But there he was, eyes closed and hair full of suds, crooning away like he didn’t even realize he wasn’t at home. Poots shook himself and looked back to the wall in front of him, rinsing off quickly. He was just tugging his joggers back on when Jack came wandering back to the stalls, a towel around his waist, and still humming to himself. Definitely weird.

And it didn’t stop either.

Jack would just...sing...sometimes. Usually the same Georgia song over and over again - as he unwrapped his pregame PB&J, lacing up for family skate, while he cooked dinner for a few of the guys. The day they got back from their Valentine's’ Day roadie, Jack strolled into practice humming “La Vie en Rose,” a fresh hickey on the underside of his jaw. The guys all chirped him relentlessly.

“The hell did you do to deserve that, Zimmermann?” Marty demanded. “You weren’t even here for Valentine’s!”

“Yeah, how come you don’t have to grovel?” Lund asked, half-laughing as he wobbled around on his skates.

“Seriously! ‘Fess up, I’m getting my mother to take the kids for a whole weekend to make it up to Gabby.” Jack just shrugged, a little embarrassed smile on his face.

“I...may have filled their living room with roses.”

“Zimmboni!” Tater hollered, embracing an alarmed-looking Jack. “So romantic! Is like movie.” He pretended to wipe away a tear, and Jack struggled out of the hug, laughing along with the rest of the guys, even as the tips of his ears burned.

“Damn,” Poots chimed in. “If I’d know romance was that easy, I’d have gotten myself a girlfriend ages ago!” He really should’ve expected the volley of “no game” and “what ages ago, you’re like twelve” chirps he got after that. It was nice to be included though.

Well, he was included in team stuff at least. Bar-hopping with Krakowski and Holmstrom, brunches with Jack and Tater, Falcs movie Monday - it was all awesome. But being both new to the organization and much younger than most of the other people that worked there, he knew approximately 0% of the office drama. Which had led him into disaster a few times at events. Most notably: the time he hit on a woman at a banquet only to find out a) she was married and most of the team had gone to her wedding the previous spring, b) she wasn’t wearing a ring because pregnancy was making her knuckles swell, and c) her wife thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. He was still kind of living that one down. So, he wasn’t quite sure how to react when, a few days after the roses incident, he and Jack passed George on their way out, and after her usual, “see you tomorrow, boys,” she added, “and the flowers are really brightening up my office, Jack.” Because, all at once, the dots connected.

The song.

The constant secretive skyping.

The fuckin flowers.

Jack’s mysterious girlfriend was George. Which may or may not be a complete secret. Because he’s definitely never heard anyone allude to knowing. But bringing up the flowers was pretty damn obvious, so maybe he’d just missed something? Maybe the guys just didn’t talk about George out of respect for her being their boss? Or, more likely, Poots had just stumbled across the biggest secret he’d ever not been trusted with. And he was going to take it to the grave.

Chapter Text

“Hey George?” Laura called into the office.

“Yeah?”

She ducked her head around the doorway to where George was sat behind her desk, typing away, and said, “Um, Jack Zimmermann is here to see you?”

“Oh yes, show him in.”

“You knew he was coming? He’s not on the schedule.” George glanced up briefly.

“I was expecting him.”

“Oh, um. Did I miss something?”

“No no, Jack and I were out for a run anyway so I just set this up myself.” Laura blinked. Georgia Martin was a very busy woman, and as such, every aspect of her life was run through Laura and her immaculate spreadsheets. In the five years she had been George’s personal assistant, she had been responsible for maintaining the balance of meetings, doctor’s appointments, gym visits, dates, and during one particularly tight week, bathroom breaks. The idea of a player scheduling a meeting - during the offseason no less - around Laura...it was unprecedented.

“Well, um, I guess I’ll...show him in?”

“That’d be great, thank you.” George went back to clicking away at her computer, and

Laura returned to her desk and waved Jack in to see George. He shut the door behind him, and she felt a slight unease at the thought that this was apparently to big for her to overhear.

The next half hour was spent scouring her favorite hockey blogs for trade rumors and stressing herself out. Spreadsheet transgressions aside, Jack was one of her favorites of all the Falcs. He was quietly funny, left lots of pies in the nook, and wasn’t bad to look at. And she’d gotten to know him better than most of the other guys too, new as he was. It seemed like he and George got together at least once a week for some reason - running, lunches, chats in George’s office. And now that she thought about it, Laura wasn’t sure she knew what any of those meetings were for in the first place.

In the end, her searches didn’t turn up any whispers, and after Jack left, the next couple of weeks passed without any major upheaval in the fabric of the NHL, so she let it go.

Until just before the start of the season, when Jack Zimmermann appeared on the spreadsheet - added in by George herself. She would never admit it, but Laura’s first reaction was to scream (very quietly under her breath, but still a scream). It took a bit of effort to suppress the flare of anger she felt when Jack showed up that afternoon. Never, in the entire (albeit short) history of the Falconers organization, had a hockey player managed to worm himself past Laura. It was her whole job to keep that from happening. Pro athletes tended to be needy man-children, and George was their boss, not their mother. She had no interest in being their mother, and had explicitly told Laura this during the hiring process.

Hockey was the business they were in, and it wouldn’t do to have her getting attached to anyone when she would ultimately have to work on making the decisions about who to trade or drop down to the AHL. Even Alexi Mashkov, notoriously one of the most gregarious players in the league, hadn’t managed to garner more than a passing affection from Georgia. How Jack Zimmermann, famously awkward and grumpy, became her little pet jock Laura couldn’t fathom.

Yet here he was, making her life unnecessarily complicated, disrupting the order of the organization, and - okay maybe she was overreacting just a smidge, but the point stood. There was something strange going on between Jack and Georgia. Laura left her desk to go for a walk and find herself a cappuccino (and possibly a mini pie from the nook, because they looked delicious. She checked her mailbox at the main office, picking up a few file folders. To get the door open with the pile of folders and coffee, she had to hold the pie in her mouth, and when she stepped into the office, she almost lost it on the floor with the urge to let her jaw drop.

In the doorway to George’s office, she was hugging Jack, and not the kind of rough bear hugs the guys dispense so freely. No, George had her arms around Jack, rubbing circles into his back, and Laura could make out that George is talking, but her voice was too soft, spoken directly against Jack’s ear. His hair was sticking up in little odd wings. She wasn’t used to seeing him so disheveled except for after a game, and the sight of them, the way Jack folded right into George, the intimacy of the scene - the little light in her brain pinged. Oh. Jack and Georgia are...involved...sexually. Romantically? And Jesus that’s an HR nightmare. She didn’t know what to do with that information. As far as she could tell, there was no official company policy about dating within the organization, but she knew for certain that Georgia was breaking the first rule she’d given Laura about being a woman working in men’s professional sports: Never sleep with the players. She thought, fleetingly, that she should speak up, tell George that she knows what’s going on, maybe remind her of the rule. It made sense of course - it’s not like they get a lot of down time to date during the season, and George doesn’t get down time period, and being sexually frustrated and surrounded by hot dudes is incredibly tempting at times.

Laura stopped herself though. George made the rule, clearly she knew the risks she took here, and the soft expression on her face as she patted Jack on the arm and sent him on his way was nothing like a fling. And hey, if they were happy together, who was she to get involved? Unless that boy fucked with her spreadsheet again.

Chapter Text

Tater needs to meet Zimmboni’s mystery pie-baking girlfriend, like, yesterday. It seems strange to think of her as one of his favorite people but be unable to put a face - or even a name - to who she is. She sounds so lovely though, from the bits and pieces he’s heard from Zimmboni. And the pies, Christ. He wants to befriend this girl so hard.

But Jack is always so evasive whenever he tries to invite himself over when she’s visiting. He’d be hurt if it weren’t for the fact that it works any other time he strongarms his way into Jack’s social life. It’s clear he misses his girlfriend, and if the marks that occasionally crop up on Jack’s chest and back are any indication, Tater’s company wouldn’t be very welcome on their weekends together. But he gets it. They don’t get a lot of time together, clearly, and Tater doesn’t want to be a cockblock, so he allows Jack to dodge his suggestions of lunches and drinks and trips to the park.

He lays off of Jack for months, waiting and waiting for her to turn up in the WAGs box at a game, or to drop by the locker rooms after a game, but she never does. There’s the usual rotating crew of Jack’s college friends, and they’re all wonderful - Tater is especially fond of the one with the moustache who goes exclusively by “Shitty” - but he desperately wants to know who it is who seems capable of putting a smile on Jack’s face even after a loss. Once, he caught the faintest sound of a voice over a phone call, but Jack had quickly excused himself to somewhere more private to finish up.

It takes until the announcement of the Falconers’ February Family skate for him to get the chance to really put the pressure on Jack.

“Zimmboni,” Tater whispers, leaning over Snowy in their Monday all-staff meeting. “Your girl join us for family skate, yes? Is mandatory event. We finally meet baker responsible for all these tasty pies.” Jack blanches and stammers,

“Oh I - I don’t know, Tater.”

“What good is college if you never know things, Zimmboni? You not learn how to read calendar? I read two calendars*.”

“No, I - sorry, but euh...Bitty might have plans.”

“Bitty!” The social media intern turns and shushes them and Tater looks thoroughly chastised but doesn’t drop it. Bitty. That’s got to be the cutest name ever; Tater needs to know this Bitty immediately. “Is cute name. I bet is for cute girl.” Tater winks and elbows Jack in the ribs.

“I really don’t know. Bitty probably has plans. College is busy.” Tater wants to argue that surely the Falcs are worth clearing a Sunday afternoon for, but the marketing manager wraps up her spiel and the support staff is dismissed, leaving the players to scoot up to the front chairs and join the coaches for strategy, and Tater doesn’t dare talk over them.

Jack ducks out of the meeting the second it ends, and by the time Tater gets down to the gym for conditioning, Jack’s already got headphones in and the rowing machine going. He takes the hint and heads over to spot Thirdy on the bench press and chirp him about how,

“You so old and frail now, Thirdy. Need young guy watch out for you, make sure you don’t fall and break hip.”

“Your mom would be pretty bummed about that, eh?” Marty chirps, sticking up for his fellow “old guy”. The gym dissolves into laughter and “Ohhhh”s and a flurry of chirps.

Tater gives Jack space. For a day. And then he starts to get antsy again. So when he runs into Jack leaning up against a wall talking to George, he takes the opportunity to get some backup. George is always encouraging Jack to join in on team bonding activities, and Family Skate is an important one.

“Zimmboni, Georgia, what coincidence! I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” Tater slings a long arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Hi Tater, what can I do for you?” George asks, an amused smile creeping over her face. Tater thumps Jack on the chest.

“This guy. I’m need you convince him to bring mysterious girlfriend to Family Skate. Is very important, but he refuse.” Georgia Martin has a near perfect poker face, but Tater knows her well enough personally to recognize the careful neutrality in her expression. Jack, on the other hand, has gone stock still, the anxiety palpable in the air around him. “What I say? Jack, you alright?”

“You know I can’t actually make Jack go, or bring anyone with him, right Tater? I’m not his mother.” Jack clears his throat and steps out of Tater’s grasp, cellphone already halfway out of his pocket.

“That, uh, reminds me. I promised Maman I would call her. I should go. Do that. Now.” He turns on his heel and makes for the parking lot. Tater watches him go, and when he turns back to ask George what just happened, he finds himself faced with her back retreating down the hallway to her office.

The conversation nags at Tater, even after he texts Jack to apologize and is reassured that it’s fine, he wasn’t trying to make Jack anxious or anything, and he’s really okay. Jack was always withdrawn, especially about his personal life, but George’s reaction points towards intentional secrecy. There’s something about Jack’s girlfriend that Jack doesn’t want the guys to know, and George is in on it and wants it to stay secret too.

Which...Tater honestly can’t think of anything about this girlfriend that George would want kept hush from the team without also urging Jack to break up with her...unless…

But it’s ridiculous, there’s no way.

The next afternoon on the way in to practice together, Tater reaches over and puts a giant hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Zimmboni,” he reassures, “You not have to hide Georgia. She is wonderful woman - woman like that, she not deserve to be secret. You should bring her to family skate.” Jack chokes on his coffee. As soon as he gets out of the car, he makes a beeline for George’s office, and Tater smiles to himself all day long.

Chapter Text

Nadine is actually going to die today. Georgia is alone. Her break is in five minutes. She is going to hyperventilate in the kitchen until then. One of the servers, Heather, breezes in through the doors and flashes a shark-like smile at her as she passes, telling one of the cooks, not at all quietly, “No boy toy today, RIP Nadine.”

“You’re fired,” Nadine says, habit at this point.

“Hey, you need a wingman?” Ramon shouts from the grill where he’s masterfully shuffling chicken breasts and tossing a pile of pepper slices.

“You’re fired too!” Her face is burning, but she can’t help but smile a little when he just laughs and promises,

“I’ll make your lady’s lunch extra tasty anyway. Even if you are mean to me.”

“You’re the man,” Heather tells him, bumping him with her hip as she scoots around him to grab her next table’s order and pop a slice of pepper in her mouth. “And you,” she stares Nadine down, “are smart, and funny, and a beautiful, vivacious woman.”

“Aw, th -”

“-Who has two minutes to get her shit together if she wants to get the pretty lady. Don’t fuck it up.” And with that sage wisdom imparted, Heather is gone.

“Oh my god. Oh my god I’m gonna blow it.”

“You’re not gonna blow it,” Ramon reassures her.

“No, I totally am. I’m too awkward to live, and she’s like the most competent person I’ve ever met and she’s gonna know I’m a disaster.” Ramon puts down his spatula - something she has literally never seen him do while there’s food on the grill - and stares her down.

“Listen. You’re awesome. Heather and I wouldn’t put up with our boss’s personal drama if she wasn’t seriously the best. And that might not mean anything to this lady. She might not even like ladies. But, you are a grown-ass woman and at a certain point, you have to decide fuck it.”

“Fuck it?”

“Fuck it! Fuck everything!” Nadine blinks at him.

“Fuck it.”

“Yeah, nothing’s real anyway, so fuck it. Go ask her out.”

“You think I should?”

“Yes, I think you should. And you should trust me, ‘cause I’m only eight credits and a long-ass paper away from being a doctor.” Nadine shakes herself and straightens her shoulders.

“Okay. I’m gonna do it.” She nods, feeling confidence swell, bolstered further when Ramon tells her,

“Go get her, mama.”

“Yeah.” She pushes out of the kitchen, and in that moment, she is completely amped. She’s gonna go talk to the pretty lady, and she’s gonna be so smooth, and - The kitchen door swings shut behind her, the white noise of chattering customers droning in and washing away most of the pep talk. But now she’s standing in the middle of the restaurant like an idiot, and Georgia has looked up from her table and can see her just standing there.

So it is ultimately out of awkwardness that she ends up making it to Georgia’s table and sitting down, smiling and giving a little wave with her squeaked out,

“Hi.”

“Hey, it’s been a while.” Nadine remembers when Georgia had first moved to Providence. She’d still been just a waitress and had begged the hostess to sit Georgia in her section every time she came back. Eventually Georgia had taken to requesting Nadine and the two of them would chat when Nadine pretended she didn’t know what George wanted or that everything tasted good or that she wasn’t ready for the bill yet. They’d become good enough friends that she was almost a little sad to be promoted when Ty left since it meant she wouldn’t get to serve George’s table anymore.

They’d made pockets of time though. Every now and then, Nadine’s lunch would line up with George’s regular time, and she would sit in the empty seat opposite her and eat her home packed lunch. One memorable, swoon-worthy afternoon, Nadine had sat down with just a yogurt cup and George had insisted on splitting her turkey club.

And then the boyfriend showed up. She knew who he was, of course, his face was on the billboards all over Providence. Nadine had hoped against hope that he was just one of her players, maybe a meeting that they decided to take out of the office, but George had always come alone. Said it was the one hour that she was able to silence her phone and tell all the men at the office that they can fucking wait.

She wasn’t sure though, so she stopped by the table on her way back to the front to say hello, and George caught her arm before she could breeze away, and said, “This is Jack.” And then she’d turned to Jack. “Jack, this is Nadine. She’s kind of the best.” Jack smiled and shook her hand and said it was nice to meet her, like the nice Canadian boy he is, and she must’ve said the same because he didn’t react like she’d done anything unusual - just looked back to George to continue their conversation as Nadine ducked back into the kitchen instead of checking on the hostess. And he just. Kept. Being. There.

But now Jack is gone, and Georgia might be single again, and Nadine just has to say something. She means to go for something that could lead right into the date. Does George have any fun plans this weekend? Instead what falls out is,

“No boyfriend this time?” Georgia’s forehead gets an adorable crease in it, her head cocking to the side.

“What boyfriend?” Nadine’s heart stutters.

“Oh um. Just...you know. Giant biceps, sad eyes?” George blinks rapidly.

“Oh! You mean...Jack?” Shit,her palms are sweating.

“Yeah.”

“Ah, I see.” George’s mouth does a strange dance on her face. “Um, Nadine.”

“Yes?” A little giggle escapes George, and she feels panic start to seep in. Oh god what did she do?

“Jack’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?” George full out laughs, chin tucking into her chest and shoulders shaking as she tries to reign it in.

“God no! He’s one of my players.”

“But you - You never bring the guys to lunch.”

“Because most of them are dumb man-children. But I like Jack - as a friend - and he likes good food, so I brought him.”

“So he’s definitely not your boyfriend?”

“No, definitely not. He is a beautiful man, but I am very, very gay.” And then Nadine’s brain further exits the building thank you, thank you very much and lets her say,

“I’m gay, date me!” She is going to actually die. Like. Fatally. George lets out a whooshing breath, and Nadine can feel the wind up to polite rejection.

“Thank god.” What. “Jack would’ve actually chirped me to death if I had to tell him I’d chickened out again.”

“Wait, what?” George reaches across the table and takes Nadine’s hand, which promptly becomes the only thing holding her mortal soul on the earthly plane.

“I have been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out for months now. Jack’s such a shit about it too, always going -” She arranges her features in an impossibly flat stare, and in a deep impression of Jack’s accent says, “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.” Nadine laughs, partly from the, frankly, dead-on Jack face, and partly because she’s completely hysterical. “Like so what Gretzky’s your uncle, leave me alone about my life!” It takes a moment for Nadine to swallow down the last of her giggles, and when she finally looks back at George, she’s watching with such a soft smile on her face.

“That’s pretty much what my staff said. I’m glad I took the shot.”

“Me too.” George squeezes her fingers and then nudges the basket of sweet potato fries into the middle of the table for them to share.

Chapter Text

Did Hockey Just Get Its First Power Couple?

It’s probably of little surprise to frequent readers of this site that Jack Zimmermann’s personal life is something of an urban legend amongst sports journalists. Ever since his infamous incredibly public overdose, and subsequent stint as a virtual hermit in the NCAA, he’s been crushing it in the NHL. We here at Deadspin are all more than a little curious as to what or who is responsible for turning the hockey prince into a whole new man.

Well folks, wait no longer and look no further - we’ve got the scoop. Zimmermann has been spotted out and about Providence with none other than Falconers Assistant General Manager Georgia Martin. A former olympic hockey player in her own right, Martin is now given significant credit for building the Falcs into the cup-contenders they are today - especially when it comes to bringing Zimmermann on board. It’s known in smaller hockey circles that Martin was the one tasked with getting him on the roster, a feat which many believed to be nigh impossible with better-established and decorated teams (Schooners, Bruins, Aces anybody??) were all sniffing around the end of his season.

It’s well-documented on social media that Martin paid several visits to the Samwell campus. In an interview shortly after the signing, Martin told ESPN, “Jack’s a really smart guy, a good strategic thinker. He’s got a lot of passion and a good heart, and we definitely wanted him on our team.” High praise coming from a woman who’s not especially known for her PR work. Martin usually lets her picks’ stats speak for themselves. Could this defensiveness be a sign that it wasn’t just sportsmanship that brought Zimmermann to the Falconers?

Check out these photos of Zimmermann and Martin’s “dates” and tell us down in the comments what you make of it all.

Img 1: [Zimmermann and Martin in 2015 on a bridge in Samwell, MA, talking & laughing]

Img 2: [Zimmermann and Martin at a benefit, Martin is holding Zimmermann’s arm and he looks very focused on what she’s saying]

Img 3,4,5: [Zimmermann and Martin at the same cafe on different days, all of them look very friendly]

Comments (244)

Pigeonboy_71: lolllll jzimms is such a hockey robot of COURSE he would date his AGM. But doubt that’s why he went for the falcs. Guy that obsessed wouldn’t think about the girl, i bet it was because when St. Martin and Robinson retire Mashkov is the only starpower left on the roster and Zimmermann could beat him out for the C with his eyes closed.

Jackzimmermannsbutt: Oh hell yeah, I ship those two sooo hard. Look at that canoodling! And tbh, if anyone deserves to touch the butt (...besides KVP...) it’s Georgia fucking Martin.

Pimms2009: ^^ this thoooo. Like srsly, I haven’t been able to see Zimms with anyone but Parse literally until I read this article but like YES.

[Expand 241 comments]

Chapter Text

A few weeks (and several very successful dates later) George requests five minutes at the end of the Monday staff meeting. There is no agenda item listed. So when she takes the podium after the HR manager’s reminder about appropriate usage of official organization email accounts, everyone is confused. Mostly because Laura is confused, and Laura knows everything, so the players are a little worried. Multiple agenda items reserved for their discipline usually means a lot of suicides at practice.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to make this pretty quick, but I just felt the need to bring something to everyone’s attention given recent...office rumors...I’ve become privy to.” Tater and Poots both turn and look at Jack, then at each other across him.

“What you think you know rookie?” Tater tries to ask with his eyebrows. Poots tries to make his eyebrows say,

“I dunno what do you think you know?” What he actually manages to convey is more along the lines of “ag;ojfmfaeoiwefalg” so Tater just looks at him in confusion before turning back to Georgia.

“This isn’t a secret,” she tells them sternly. “And therefore it shouldn’t have to be stated explicitly, but I’m a lesbian.” Tater and Poots blink. Both sets of eyebrows say,

“Oh.”

“And I would also like to remind certain nimrods that didn’t read their employee handbook that while dating within the organization is perfectly fine, dating within your department is extremely frowned upon by HR.” She’s glaring daggers right through Tater, and Jack sees Poots and a few other assorted players and staff visibly shrink back in their seats. “That is all.”

As they shuffle down the hall towards the locker rooms, Poots leans in to Tater and whispers, “I feel like such a fuck, I totally thought George was dating Jack.” Tater, still off-balance from the eviscerating stare of his AGM, patted the rookie’s shoulder mutely.

Two months later:

Img: [George and Nadine in running clothes, embracing in the middle of a wooded path. Nadine is a little sweatier than George, cheeks flushed and holding a dog leash in one hand. Both are smiling into the kiss currently being interrupted by Nadine’s dog wrapping their legs together as he runs in excited circle around their legs. There’s snow on the ground and a warm yellow light bouncing off the drifts and peeking through bare branches.]

2084 likes

AGMartin: Happy three months to my wonderful girlfriend @Nadineeedwards! Your username is a typo [more…]

that’s more clever and you than you intended and I love that. You make so many things better without meaning to, just because that’s how you are and I feel so lucky.

Photo cred: @JZimmermann1

JZimmermann1: :-)

NHLFalcsOfficial: our second favorite kind of #goals <3

sebstmarty: ^^The interns are funnier this year. Cute pic.

wristyfitzy: #tooadorableforwords #toosingleforwords

a91mashkov: aw poor poots (((( we get you pretty girlfriend too

Jack Zimmermann’s Butt @jackzimmermannsbutt: alright, I shipped it too, but let it go Harold.

Deadspin @Deadspin: check out the latest relationship drama for Jack Zimmermann in our new article: Deadsp.in/CJ839sl

Theo Andrews @pigeonboy_71: Told y’all @JZimmermann1 wasn’t in it for the girl. #calledit

Jack Zimmermann’s Butt @jackzimmermannsbutt: In reply to: @pigeonboy_71: Ok u get this one. Maybe now ~some~ awful journo will stop suggesting G went for ass > stats with Zimms #cameforthestats #stayedfortheass

Mel @pimms2009: @jackzimmermannsbutt “#cameforthestats #stayedfortheass” just go ahead and @ us all y don’t u

Mel @pimms2009: @jackzimmermannsbutt just when we thought we couldn’t love George more she goes and gets an ADORABLE gf #imsogay #myheart #sosoft