Little Women Fic: Tempo and Rhythm (Pt 3/3), Jo/Laurie, R
This has long been overdue and I only regret I had to wait until the new year to put it up. In any case, I do hope readers still enjoy. And much love goes to Potix, my original inspiration for the series. I hope you enjoy, darling! ♥
Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 3/3
Fandom: Little Women
Series: Tempo and Rhythm
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sex in the 2nd Part; R-Rated Version at Fanfiction.net
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...
Note: This is a Little Women fic that contains on-screen sex in the second chapter. Readers are warned for explicitness and rough (though thoroughly consensual) play. It also can be read as a follow-up to the universe of the Night to Remember and 20 Different Ways series, which depict a marriage and partnership between Jo and Laurie. Those fics do not need to be read to understand this one, however.
***
Last Chapter:
And when he finally finished inside his Jo, he pressed his face to hers even as he pulled back and came against the warmth of her body and the wood of his piano, both of them welcoming and supporting him in the shaky moment afterward, as though determined to bring him back home.
***
He found himself being kissed in the aftermath, slowly, softly and tenderly. It took his drowsy mind a little by surprise, since he'd long become accustomed to rolling over afterward and falling asleep soon after, a custom that Jo usually laughed at right before she joined him in the land of dreams. But right now, even after he'd just finished having one of the most satisfying nights of his life, his inner Lazy Laurence was left wondering why on earth he didn't have Jo on one side and a pillow on the other, both ready to cushion him as he slumbered away contentedly.
But then he lifted his heavy eye-lids and saw his piano in the background and Jo straddling him playfully in front of it and thought: Oh. That would explain it. I suppose I can't get away with playing the husband card after letting her do all that work.
Still, for form's sake, Laurie smiled, lifting his hands up to stroke the bruises forming on Jo's hipbones and asked, very tenderly, "And just how did we get here?"
Her answer was prompt and a little mischievous. "I hardly know how to describe it precisely. I suppose it'd be best to describe it as wrestling your swooning body down. Incidentally-- and I mean this without offense, merely to show my concern for your ends-- but incidentally, have you been getting a mite bit fleshy as of late?"
"I was hoping you hadn't noticed," Laurie said, pretending to be bashful and pulling her laughing self down to him until she lay all over a frame that was nearly as slender as it had been the year they had finally married. And then, once he had her nose pressed sweetly against his, he went on, trying to look heart-broken and embattled. "Oh, Josephinny, such is my secret shame!"
She laughed once more, even as she scrambled off him to make her way to his side, wriggling until she could rest her head on his out-stretched arm and grin at him with her wicked eyes. "Oh, but of course, my dear. And isn't that a very brave thing for you to say."
"I always do my best for you," Laurie replied, this time striving for bashful. And then, quirking a smile at her, he looked deep into her gaze again-- into those beautiful eyes he would never cease to marvel at, the ones he would always want to gaze at the world with by her side-- and whispered in a manner that fully bespoke his love:
"I hope the piano doesn't stain."
"Why would the piano...?" Jo began wonderingly, before stopping short and looking at him, a scandalized blush flooding her cheeks as comprehension hit her with the force of a runaway train wreaking havoc through a city. "Teddy! You can't possibly mean--!'
He smiled complacently, casting his eyes at the large, elegant instrument just beyond them. "Oh, don't worry so, darling. It's fine, polished wood after all. Our present actions on it likely just added a little bit more luster."
Jo made a noise that sounded like a chicken being firmly strangled by a trombone, and Laurie had to fear for his shins for a moment before she dropped down to bury her face in the crook of his arm again, her shoulders wildly shaking. And when she finally looked up, her face was still scarlet but bemused again, even as she shook it at him gravely.
"You, sir," she portentously said, "will one day be the death of me." And then, after flickering her own worried gaze at the piano, she muttered: "Are you quite sure we haven't damaged the thing?"
"Absolutely," Laurie promised, shaking his head gravely back. "It's a sturdy piece of work and if I didn't break its twin by pounding on it all hours of the night after you rejected me the first time years back in Conchord, I doubt my noble partner will be injured from a bit of pounding in another sense entirely."
For all his reassurances, Laurie knew he would still need to check it tomorrow to see if something actually had bent or cracked, and he could only hope that if such was the case, repairing it would not end up being too time-consuming or costly. Still, he didn't want to worry Jo, and so he simply smiled again and asked, only half-playfully: "So does this mean this magical night of ours will only be once happening?"
Jo smiled back and though a slight flush remained on her cheeks, she seemed a little more game than before as she smiled back at him. "That depends on-- as you put it earlier-- whether or not we incurred any property damages. I enjoyed it too but if we really want to be mad without expenses, we could always go at it in the bedroom. Next time, you could always just throw me up against the wall and make a big to-do. Doesn't that sound the least bit interesting?"
It very much did. Laurie took a minute to picture the scenario and stare down at her breasts, which had gone rosy again, before Jo sighed, lightly slapped him upside the head to make him focus on her eyes again, and went on practically.
"Not to mention, it'll make crawling into bed in the aftermath a mite easier. After all, this is incredibly romantic and what-not but we've got rehearsals for our operetta tomorrow and we need to get some sleep. How else are you going to chew out tease all our singers tomorrow about not dedicating enough to all those sleepless hours you spent composing?"
"That's fair enough," Laurie agreed, turning slightly so he could stroke the corona of her hair as she rested on his chest, one of her hands against his ribs as his heart beat vibrantly against the curve of her cheek. "When I finally get the feeling back in my legs, we'll clamber up to our bed again and start dreaming of rehearsing." And after she stopped laughing at him and his dark eyes met her gray ones again, he ventured forth with the question that had been burning in him ever since she had come up with her brilliant idea-- although he'd held it in reserve while they'd happily gone on with the actual consummating.
After all, with Jo, there was a time and a place for everything. And Laurie had long adapted himself to her strange rhythms, had long learned with a musician's gusto on when and where to start singing.
"Jo, for curiosity's sake, I have to ask. Why were you pretending to be afraid of being less creative than me?"
She went stiff under his searching hand as soon as she heard that, as though she'd looked into the face of a gorgon or her old Aunt March and turned to stone immediately. And if she had been with anybody else, with anybody who hadn't spent so much time understanding and deciphering the secret language of her neck and her mouth and the hands and her eyes, Laurie might have let her go out of pity. But he had not spent the last twelve years taking careful study of the former Jo March for nothing and so, he was not in the least deterred by the answer she gave with her eyes locked on his chest, as though her eyes developed a sudden allergy to looking at him fully.
"I," Jo said in that crisp way she used only when she was very upset or he had caught her at something, "have no idea whatsoever what you mean."
"I admit I have to doubt that," Laurie replied swiftly, even as he curved his fingers around his wife's cheek and tried to pet her back to complacency. And when he garnered nothing but resistance for all his efforts, he sighed but went on, gratified that though she was being stubborn about this, she wasn't pulling away, which would have spelled disaster seriously.
"Come on, Jo," he said consolingly, trying to melt her worries slowly but surely. "I know you like to worry but you've never worried about your talent relative to mine before so if you wanted us to do what we just did, you must have had other reasons entirely." And then, after a few more brushes of his hand through her hair made her sigh and relax into his curved form a little more, he went on. "I enjoyed this, I truly did-- and I will repeat this with you as often and anywhere that as you please. Only..."
And here he stopped himself to take her hand in his, their fingers interlacing and curving before Laurie brought hers up to kiss intently, his gaze steady on hers, his eyes never wavering even as hers dropped uncertainly.
"Only I do want you to be honest with me. Jo, why did you really suggest doing this? And why are you trying to hide the reason from me?"
She looked at him wonderingly for a second, whatever dilemma she was going through avid in her eyes though her hand stayed tight on his. But after his eyes failed to waver from hers and his smile remained steady, she gave a faint, doubtful sigh and said, "Are you sure you want to know? It's... well... it's downright silly, Teddy. Your intelligence may dip to new lows after hearing of it, and of hearing of what a foolish woman you'll be spending the rest of your life with! You might want to leave this Pandora's box be."
He had to shake his head at that, though his hand kept stroking her palm with ease. "I'm very used to you being foolish, Jo, and I doubt you could much surprise me. You being silly and me being superior is half the basis of our marriage, after all." Then, after he intercepted and grinned at Jo's reflexive swipe at him, he went on more seriously. "And of course I'd be happy to know. If you could put up with me after hearing about the idiocies I got up to in my misbegotten youth, I can't see how this could harm us much."
Which was only God's own truth, of course, and the reason why they were so suited so well. The world loved to unbalance them from time to time, but it could never do it to the two of them together. One of them would remain on their feet as the other went down, ready to help their best-friend, lover and partner.
She'd done it so often for him before that it was only fair that he now did the same for her. And Jo's face wavered queerly and tenderly at that, as though the bridge between them that they'd long built out of friendship, and companionship, and shared fantasies let her know as much without words.
Perhaps it did. Perhaps it accounted for her present kiss, the one she had to lean over awkwardly to give, her mouth was soft, gentle, low and loving even as she had to contort her neck into strange angles to reach him, as she kissed him as though he'd flayed a dragon or two for her already. And after it was over and he let her go with a pleased murmur, she pressed her head against his shoulder and went, her voice a worried murmur.
"It's just that... well, don't you sometimes feel as though we're getting a little too old to keep making merry as we've done, these last few years? Sometimes I feel like we're still... still young and wild and in our adolescence, rather than nearly thirty. And I know we've been doing well for ourselves but... but sometimes I compare us to Meg and John or Amy and Fred and I think we're... we're falling behind and being immature and... Oh, Teddy, am I making sense at all or am I simply raving?"
Laurie did not think it was prudent to admit to that last part, although her words were a little less than coherent to him presently. Whatever he had been expecting from Jo, this was not the complaint he'd been prepared to receive. But life with Jo had long taught him to be flexible and with that nimbleness that characterized him at his best, he recovered soon, pausing only to wrap his arms securely around Jo before he began speaking. And though his next words were careful, they were still very sincere.
"I have to admit I haven't really had those thoughts about us falling behind my self, dear Jo. I thought we were both very happy. So what brought them on in you, dear girl? Say anything you need to-- I promise I won't take it personally!"
If Jo had looked embarrassed before, she looked on the verge of mortification now-- or at least, she did in whatever part of her face he could still see after she buried it in his shoulder again. "Please don't!" she said, her voice muffled against his body. "This has nothing to do with you personally, Teddy-- not when you've been about the best husband I've yet seen! Any other man would have likely chucked me into the Hudson by now for being so impossible. But you've always been brilliant when soothing this beast."
Then she went on, her voice still rough with humiliation but as honest as it ever was when she confessed something. "It's simply... we're both twenty-eight, Teddy, and we've been married for four years. And these years have been-- oh, I won't lie-- they've been brilliant, and every bit as adventurous and wonderful as I'd always hoped my grown-up years would be. But we're nearly thirty and we're so busy with work and soon we'll probably be having a-- a baby and--"
And if he had been surprised before, that was nothing compared to the shock and amazement he faced presently. Bolting upright and accidentally jolting Jo out of her supine state, he gazed at her with dark, startled eyes that had gone nearly as wide as dinner-plates.
"Jo!" he cried, and his voice cracked in a way it hadn't since puberty. "Oh, God, Jo, are you... are you... are you saying...?"
But instead of confessing that she had a precious secret inside of her as he half-expected her to, Jo only stared at him for a minute before she burst out laughing helplessly. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly the reaction he would have expected from a pregnant woman, especially on the heels of not-especially-genteel sex... but expecting the ordinary from Jo was an exercise in futility. So Laurie continued looking fervently at her in hopes of a denial or confirmation until her wild laughter finally died fully.
"No, Teddy!" his wife eventually cried when she could start speaking without being interrupted by as much giggling than his ego could take. "Not yet! And not in the least! But... but maybe..."
And just like that, Jo turned shy and soft again, in that way she could do only when she knew and loved someone dearly. She turned shy and although it might have been strange and odd and unlikely and unexpected to anyone who knew the gay, bright, bold Mrs. Theodore Laurence as a wife or playwright or novelist or even actress--
Laurie thought he understood it anyhow. Understood it, and knew it, and loved it.
"But in a year or two, maybe," Jo murmured and raised those great gray eyes of her up at him with a breathtaking amount of hope. "If... if you'd like to consider it?"
He was silent for a long time after that, merely thinking, thinking and looking, reflecting on the thought of children: a little boy with his fingers or a little girl with Jo's way of laughing or whatever other strange blend of love and strangeness that would result in a family. And when he could finally speak again, when his breath had returned back to him, his words were accompanied by his arms sliding around her again, his cheek pressed to her cheek.
"God yes," he said, and watched the smile break out over her beloved face instantly. "The only thing I ever wanted more than that is you, Jo. Don't you ever think differently!"
It was the right thing to say; he meant it whole-heartedly. And if she had looked happy in his arms before before, she looked radiant suddenly. With her cheeks flushed, her lips curved and her gaze gone so bright, she suddenly looked every inch the luminous shadow next door he had dreamed of so ardently back when he had been a lonely boy with barely any family.
She had been his fairy tale before; she remained the fulfillment of one presently. And though she might never know how much she meant and how much she had done, he would have done anything to repay her for the life she'd given him presently.
"I'm... I'm glad," she managed, when she could, the warmth of her voice twining with tenderness and surprise, as though she hadn't expected his kindness in the least. "I mean, I knew-- more or less-- that you would want to eventually but this is... I'm glad I have... well... confirmation now and..."
And she might have gone on stuttering if he hadn't gently shushed her with a kiss, one that pressed her nose to his and soothed her with his loving lips and stole her stammered words until she was sighing against him softly. And when he pulled back and smoothed her dark hair back from her brow, he could only chuckle at her warmth and unexpected bashfulness-- and at the worry he knew was still pinning her presently.
"But as happy as you are, you think after we've a bundle of joy or two on our doorstep from the stork, we shan't ever try the varnish on my piano again so eagerly."
A blush broke out on Jo immediately, one that was more ferocious even than the one that had colored her face as she had spread herself open for him and stroked herself intently. "Well... well, no!" she protested, somehow managing to sound both indignant and embarrassed. "I mean-- surely we couldn't. It would... would set a bad example for the children and... and it's improper enough for us to do this without them and if they were added in..."
Only he'd known Jo for nearly a decade and a half now and he knew when he heard an urge to be persuaded into thinking otherwise in her voice. And between the plaintive note in her throat and the half-vixenish, half-shy gaze she was shooting at him from beneath her long lashes...
Well, Laurie had not spent fifteen years studying his lovely bride in order to miss clues that were quite that obvious. And he full well knew that while there were some things on which Jo was absolutely immovable... on a few other matters, she was very amenable to thinking differently indeed. She might believe they had to resign each other to being a stodgy couple raising children... but that didn't mean she was looking forward to it completely.
"I think you exaggerate a tad," he pointed out with great care. "After all, seeing as how we're not depraved maniacs-- or at least, we're not around others-- I'm sure we could keep ourselves discreet. Children have to sleep at some point and when they do..."
He lifted the hand not curling around her at the piano and made a grand gesture.
"I'm sure that will still be waiting."
Her mouth opened and closed silently for several moments after that, until she looked rather like a very lovely guppy. And when she finally felt it beneath her dignity to keep on going as he tried not to snicker, Jo burst out at last.
"But-- no-- Teddy, we can't!"
He flashed a wicked grin and brought both of his arms around her again, holding her secure to him. "Truly? Can't we?"
"I mean," Jo began, and somehow managed to look as shy but eager as she had during their wedding night, when he had pressed his lips to her for the first time and driven her to ecstasy. "I mean, technically, I suppose we could but--" And then she shoved at him a little, as she caught him grinning cheekily. "But we shouldn't. Parents shouldn't do things like that. We've already been... mad enough and it wouldn't be right because..."
"You only want to stop at one child?" Laurie asked, genuinely confused now. "Because we've been successful in preventing you from being in the family way so far and I don't know why we won't keep being so even after you give birth. I'm always very careful in withdrawing, Jo. Surely you're not afraid I'll lose control so easily?"
Jo smiled a little wanly. "Of that? No. But..." And here, her mouth jerked slightly, as though she were arguing with herself even as she argued with him. "It's just... it wouldn't be decent, Teddy. I mean, I'm sure my parents didn't and they were the most splendid parents possible!"
"I'd agree with that last part," Laurie said immediately. "Your parents are absolutely the sort of people we ought to emulate with our own little darlings. But still..."
And though he knew he was practically leading himself to a kick in the shin, he had to go on, feeling rather puckish.
"Didn't your parents have four children in about as many years?"
Jo shot him a look of horror that suggested she had no idea where she was going but she was taking care to feel distress preemptively.
"Doesn't that suggest rather more passion existed between them than you'd care to admit?"
Her look of horror only increased exponentially.
"And," Laurie went on, likely feeling rather more enjoyment than he should given her stricken face, "how can you be sure they necessarily conceived you in your standard bed anyhow? If anything, you probably came to being in front of the March family library. Which probably means for the good of our children, we'll simply have to keep going in unorthodox places. It might give them a head start on genius, dear."
And then Jo rounded her look of horror with an element of sheer bafflement, until it was Laurie's turn to laugh until she interrupted sardonically.
"'Well, I hope you enjoyed this evening," Jo muttered as he sputtered out into faint snorts and chuckles. "After those images you slipped into my head, we will never do this again, with or without having babies."
"Don't worry, my dear," Laurie somehow managed to say, in between the last of his snorts. "You'll get them soon enough. I have complete faith in my ability-- with or without a piano-- to change your mind eventually."
Jo gave him a look of disbelief so concentrated, he had to kiss her again until his teasing lips on the line of her jaw made her sigh and smile reluctantly. And when it was over, she gave her own rueful chuckle against his lips and admitted, "I just... don't want us to get bored or boring later on in life. But I don't want us to end up raising a crop of deviants either."
"Are you sure?" Laurie playfully asked. "They might turn out interesting than the normal dull darlings in your very average family."
He earned a swat upside the head for that but it was worth it to make he laugh, even if she looked a little like she might want to hit him again, and even more painfully. But after he rolled over and had her reddened face underneath him, his voice turned serious even as he leaned down to kiss her nose lightly.
"And don't worry so, Jo. There's an enormous difference between having a passionate set of loving parents, and having a mother and father mad enough to warp you fully. After all, my father eloped with my mother just to be with her, and you can bet their life after me wasn't a placid one. And didn't I turn out well, considering my odd early years?"
Jo raised her eyebrow at that, as though she felt this was a question that had many possible answers and she wasn't sure which of them she wanted to give. But after he pulled a tragic pout at her, she finally laughed and gave in, even as she began wiggling out from under his frame in a way that made him want to keep on holding.
"You turned out wonderfully," Jo finally admitted, once she'd gotten free and was by his side again, still smiling. "And our children will as well, I hope, even if we keep being so uncanny."
And then she laughed and gazed at him with that well of heart-breaking tenderness that he never fully cease to be amazed at, that would never truly stop making blessed beyond anything. It was the very same laugh she'd given him the first time they'd met, and the same laugh he hoped would be with him all the way to his twilight years.
"I love you, you lunatic," Jo said, still gazing at him in that way that made him feel as though he'd grown seven extra feet. "I love you completely. Even if you're so mad, you make me seem like the pinnacle of normalcy."
"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," he replied honestly, which really only proved her point and made her grin again brightly.
"So now what will we be doing?" she asked, once that grin of hers faded and was replaced by a yawn slowly. "Now that you've come to the rescue and once more saved me from my own idiocy?"
"Make that your eccentricity," he corrected, and kissed her on her nose again, making her giggle softly. Then he rolled over, got up and held his arm out to her, to help her rise to her feet. "And I was thinking we could tackle the stairs, bed, covers, sleep and operetta rehearsals, with just enough time left over to later worry about children and happy endings."
"That's a good plan," Jo said, smiling again as she let him pull her up, until her head was again by his shoulder and they were swaying together, as though they were ready to start dancing. "And when did you get so brilliant anyway? Teddy, you might just be giving me yet more reason to feel mortified by comparison eventually."
"Which works perfectly well," he replied, hoisting her in his arms as though she were once again a new bride, as she made faces and shook her hair at him as she was taken by surprise. "Seeing as how you feeling so this time around led to such a wonderful evening!"
She raised a warm, sleepy eyebrow at him, her arms coming up to loop around his neck even as she kicked up playfully. "So you're saying that this is all part of your master plan for future nights by your instrument? My, you must be brilliant then. Let's only hope that our future progeny inherit as much when they come into the world screaming."
"Oh, they will," he promising, hoisting her up and taking her away and already grinning madly. "Between your mind and mine, we could do anything. And the children would no doubt be giants who could swipe the floor with anyone who tried to best them in anything. Absolutely, utterly, astonishingly and with amazing curiosity--"
And by the time he had her bouncing in their bed once more, she was already laughing.
***
Author's Note: This is probably the last mini-series on Jo and Laurie that I'll ever write. Queer to put that down but... c'est la vie. Please review if you've enjoyed this! It always cheers me.
Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 3/3
Fandom: Little Women
Series: Tempo and Rhythm
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sex in the 2nd Part; R-Rated Version at Fanfiction.net
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...
Note: This is a Little Women fic that contains on-screen sex in the second chapter. Readers are warned for explicitness and rough (though thoroughly consensual) play. It also can be read as a follow-up to the universe of the Night to Remember and 20 Different Ways series, which depict a marriage and partnership between Jo and Laurie. Those fics do not need to be read to understand this one, however.
***
Last Chapter:
And when he finally finished inside his Jo, he pressed his face to hers even as he pulled back and came against the warmth of her body and the wood of his piano, both of them welcoming and supporting him in the shaky moment afterward, as though determined to bring him back home.
***
He found himself being kissed in the aftermath, slowly, softly and tenderly. It took his drowsy mind a little by surprise, since he'd long become accustomed to rolling over afterward and falling asleep soon after, a custom that Jo usually laughed at right before she joined him in the land of dreams. But right now, even after he'd just finished having one of the most satisfying nights of his life, his inner Lazy Laurence was left wondering why on earth he didn't have Jo on one side and a pillow on the other, both ready to cushion him as he slumbered away contentedly.
But then he lifted his heavy eye-lids and saw his piano in the background and Jo straddling him playfully in front of it and thought: Oh. That would explain it. I suppose I can't get away with playing the husband card after letting her do all that work.
Still, for form's sake, Laurie smiled, lifting his hands up to stroke the bruises forming on Jo's hipbones and asked, very tenderly, "And just how did we get here?"
Her answer was prompt and a little mischievous. "I hardly know how to describe it precisely. I suppose it'd be best to describe it as wrestling your swooning body down. Incidentally-- and I mean this without offense, merely to show my concern for your ends-- but incidentally, have you been getting a mite bit fleshy as of late?"
"I was hoping you hadn't noticed," Laurie said, pretending to be bashful and pulling her laughing self down to him until she lay all over a frame that was nearly as slender as it had been the year they had finally married. And then, once he had her nose pressed sweetly against his, he went on, trying to look heart-broken and embattled. "Oh, Josephinny, such is my secret shame!"
She laughed once more, even as she scrambled off him to make her way to his side, wriggling until she could rest her head on his out-stretched arm and grin at him with her wicked eyes. "Oh, but of course, my dear. And isn't that a very brave thing for you to say."
"I always do my best for you," Laurie replied, this time striving for bashful. And then, quirking a smile at her, he looked deep into her gaze again-- into those beautiful eyes he would never cease to marvel at, the ones he would always want to gaze at the world with by her side-- and whispered in a manner that fully bespoke his love:
"I hope the piano doesn't stain."
"Why would the piano...?" Jo began wonderingly, before stopping short and looking at him, a scandalized blush flooding her cheeks as comprehension hit her with the force of a runaway train wreaking havoc through a city. "Teddy! You can't possibly mean--!'
He smiled complacently, casting his eyes at the large, elegant instrument just beyond them. "Oh, don't worry so, darling. It's fine, polished wood after all. Our present actions on it likely just added a little bit more luster."
Jo made a noise that sounded like a chicken being firmly strangled by a trombone, and Laurie had to fear for his shins for a moment before she dropped down to bury her face in the crook of his arm again, her shoulders wildly shaking. And when she finally looked up, her face was still scarlet but bemused again, even as she shook it at him gravely.
"You, sir," she portentously said, "will one day be the death of me." And then, after flickering her own worried gaze at the piano, she muttered: "Are you quite sure we haven't damaged the thing?"
"Absolutely," Laurie promised, shaking his head gravely back. "It's a sturdy piece of work and if I didn't break its twin by pounding on it all hours of the night after you rejected me the first time years back in Conchord, I doubt my noble partner will be injured from a bit of pounding in another sense entirely."
For all his reassurances, Laurie knew he would still need to check it tomorrow to see if something actually had bent or cracked, and he could only hope that if such was the case, repairing it would not end up being too time-consuming or costly. Still, he didn't want to worry Jo, and so he simply smiled again and asked, only half-playfully: "So does this mean this magical night of ours will only be once happening?"
Jo smiled back and though a slight flush remained on her cheeks, she seemed a little more game than before as she smiled back at him. "That depends on-- as you put it earlier-- whether or not we incurred any property damages. I enjoyed it too but if we really want to be mad without expenses, we could always go at it in the bedroom. Next time, you could always just throw me up against the wall and make a big to-do. Doesn't that sound the least bit interesting?"
It very much did. Laurie took a minute to picture the scenario and stare down at her breasts, which had gone rosy again, before Jo sighed, lightly slapped him upside the head to make him focus on her eyes again, and went on practically.
"Not to mention, it'll make crawling into bed in the aftermath a mite easier. After all, this is incredibly romantic and what-not but we've got rehearsals for our operetta tomorrow and we need to get some sleep. How else are you going to chew out tease all our singers tomorrow about not dedicating enough to all those sleepless hours you spent composing?"
"That's fair enough," Laurie agreed, turning slightly so he could stroke the corona of her hair as she rested on his chest, one of her hands against his ribs as his heart beat vibrantly against the curve of her cheek. "When I finally get the feeling back in my legs, we'll clamber up to our bed again and start dreaming of rehearsing." And after she stopped laughing at him and his dark eyes met her gray ones again, he ventured forth with the question that had been burning in him ever since she had come up with her brilliant idea-- although he'd held it in reserve while they'd happily gone on with the actual consummating.
After all, with Jo, there was a time and a place for everything. And Laurie had long adapted himself to her strange rhythms, had long learned with a musician's gusto on when and where to start singing.
"Jo, for curiosity's sake, I have to ask. Why were you pretending to be afraid of being less creative than me?"
She went stiff under his searching hand as soon as she heard that, as though she'd looked into the face of a gorgon or her old Aunt March and turned to stone immediately. And if she had been with anybody else, with anybody who hadn't spent so much time understanding and deciphering the secret language of her neck and her mouth and the hands and her eyes, Laurie might have let her go out of pity. But he had not spent the last twelve years taking careful study of the former Jo March for nothing and so, he was not in the least deterred by the answer she gave with her eyes locked on his chest, as though her eyes developed a sudden allergy to looking at him fully.
"I," Jo said in that crisp way she used only when she was very upset or he had caught her at something, "have no idea whatsoever what you mean."
"I admit I have to doubt that," Laurie replied swiftly, even as he curved his fingers around his wife's cheek and tried to pet her back to complacency. And when he garnered nothing but resistance for all his efforts, he sighed but went on, gratified that though she was being stubborn about this, she wasn't pulling away, which would have spelled disaster seriously.
"Come on, Jo," he said consolingly, trying to melt her worries slowly but surely. "I know you like to worry but you've never worried about your talent relative to mine before so if you wanted us to do what we just did, you must have had other reasons entirely." And then, after a few more brushes of his hand through her hair made her sigh and relax into his curved form a little more, he went on. "I enjoyed this, I truly did-- and I will repeat this with you as often and anywhere that as you please. Only..."
And here he stopped himself to take her hand in his, their fingers interlacing and curving before Laurie brought hers up to kiss intently, his gaze steady on hers, his eyes never wavering even as hers dropped uncertainly.
"Only I do want you to be honest with me. Jo, why did you really suggest doing this? And why are you trying to hide the reason from me?"
She looked at him wonderingly for a second, whatever dilemma she was going through avid in her eyes though her hand stayed tight on his. But after his eyes failed to waver from hers and his smile remained steady, she gave a faint, doubtful sigh and said, "Are you sure you want to know? It's... well... it's downright silly, Teddy. Your intelligence may dip to new lows after hearing of it, and of hearing of what a foolish woman you'll be spending the rest of your life with! You might want to leave this Pandora's box be."
He had to shake his head at that, though his hand kept stroking her palm with ease. "I'm very used to you being foolish, Jo, and I doubt you could much surprise me. You being silly and me being superior is half the basis of our marriage, after all." Then, after he intercepted and grinned at Jo's reflexive swipe at him, he went on more seriously. "And of course I'd be happy to know. If you could put up with me after hearing about the idiocies I got up to in my misbegotten youth, I can't see how this could harm us much."
Which was only God's own truth, of course, and the reason why they were so suited so well. The world loved to unbalance them from time to time, but it could never do it to the two of them together. One of them would remain on their feet as the other went down, ready to help their best-friend, lover and partner.
She'd done it so often for him before that it was only fair that he now did the same for her. And Jo's face wavered queerly and tenderly at that, as though the bridge between them that they'd long built out of friendship, and companionship, and shared fantasies let her know as much without words.
Perhaps it did. Perhaps it accounted for her present kiss, the one she had to lean over awkwardly to give, her mouth was soft, gentle, low and loving even as she had to contort her neck into strange angles to reach him, as she kissed him as though he'd flayed a dragon or two for her already. And after it was over and he let her go with a pleased murmur, she pressed her head against his shoulder and went, her voice a worried murmur.
"It's just that... well, don't you sometimes feel as though we're getting a little too old to keep making merry as we've done, these last few years? Sometimes I feel like we're still... still young and wild and in our adolescence, rather than nearly thirty. And I know we've been doing well for ourselves but... but sometimes I compare us to Meg and John or Amy and Fred and I think we're... we're falling behind and being immature and... Oh, Teddy, am I making sense at all or am I simply raving?"
Laurie did not think it was prudent to admit to that last part, although her words were a little less than coherent to him presently. Whatever he had been expecting from Jo, this was not the complaint he'd been prepared to receive. But life with Jo had long taught him to be flexible and with that nimbleness that characterized him at his best, he recovered soon, pausing only to wrap his arms securely around Jo before he began speaking. And though his next words were careful, they were still very sincere.
"I have to admit I haven't really had those thoughts about us falling behind my self, dear Jo. I thought we were both very happy. So what brought them on in you, dear girl? Say anything you need to-- I promise I won't take it personally!"
If Jo had looked embarrassed before, she looked on the verge of mortification now-- or at least, she did in whatever part of her face he could still see after she buried it in his shoulder again. "Please don't!" she said, her voice muffled against his body. "This has nothing to do with you personally, Teddy-- not when you've been about the best husband I've yet seen! Any other man would have likely chucked me into the Hudson by now for being so impossible. But you've always been brilliant when soothing this beast."
Then she went on, her voice still rough with humiliation but as honest as it ever was when she confessed something. "It's simply... we're both twenty-eight, Teddy, and we've been married for four years. And these years have been-- oh, I won't lie-- they've been brilliant, and every bit as adventurous and wonderful as I'd always hoped my grown-up years would be. But we're nearly thirty and we're so busy with work and soon we'll probably be having a-- a baby and--"
And if he had been surprised before, that was nothing compared to the shock and amazement he faced presently. Bolting upright and accidentally jolting Jo out of her supine state, he gazed at her with dark, startled eyes that had gone nearly as wide as dinner-plates.
"Jo!" he cried, and his voice cracked in a way it hadn't since puberty. "Oh, God, Jo, are you... are you... are you saying...?"
But instead of confessing that she had a precious secret inside of her as he half-expected her to, Jo only stared at him for a minute before she burst out laughing helplessly. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly the reaction he would have expected from a pregnant woman, especially on the heels of not-especially-genteel sex... but expecting the ordinary from Jo was an exercise in futility. So Laurie continued looking fervently at her in hopes of a denial or confirmation until her wild laughter finally died fully.
"No, Teddy!" his wife eventually cried when she could start speaking without being interrupted by as much giggling than his ego could take. "Not yet! And not in the least! But... but maybe..."
And just like that, Jo turned shy and soft again, in that way she could do only when she knew and loved someone dearly. She turned shy and although it might have been strange and odd and unlikely and unexpected to anyone who knew the gay, bright, bold Mrs. Theodore Laurence as a wife or playwright or novelist or even actress--
Laurie thought he understood it anyhow. Understood it, and knew it, and loved it.
"But in a year or two, maybe," Jo murmured and raised those great gray eyes of her up at him with a breathtaking amount of hope. "If... if you'd like to consider it?"
He was silent for a long time after that, merely thinking, thinking and looking, reflecting on the thought of children: a little boy with his fingers or a little girl with Jo's way of laughing or whatever other strange blend of love and strangeness that would result in a family. And when he could finally speak again, when his breath had returned back to him, his words were accompanied by his arms sliding around her again, his cheek pressed to her cheek.
"God yes," he said, and watched the smile break out over her beloved face instantly. "The only thing I ever wanted more than that is you, Jo. Don't you ever think differently!"
It was the right thing to say; he meant it whole-heartedly. And if she had looked happy in his arms before before, she looked radiant suddenly. With her cheeks flushed, her lips curved and her gaze gone so bright, she suddenly looked every inch the luminous shadow next door he had dreamed of so ardently back when he had been a lonely boy with barely any family.
She had been his fairy tale before; she remained the fulfillment of one presently. And though she might never know how much she meant and how much she had done, he would have done anything to repay her for the life she'd given him presently.
"I'm... I'm glad," she managed, when she could, the warmth of her voice twining with tenderness and surprise, as though she hadn't expected his kindness in the least. "I mean, I knew-- more or less-- that you would want to eventually but this is... I'm glad I have... well... confirmation now and..."
And she might have gone on stuttering if he hadn't gently shushed her with a kiss, one that pressed her nose to his and soothed her with his loving lips and stole her stammered words until she was sighing against him softly. And when he pulled back and smoothed her dark hair back from her brow, he could only chuckle at her warmth and unexpected bashfulness-- and at the worry he knew was still pinning her presently.
"But as happy as you are, you think after we've a bundle of joy or two on our doorstep from the stork, we shan't ever try the varnish on my piano again so eagerly."
A blush broke out on Jo immediately, one that was more ferocious even than the one that had colored her face as she had spread herself open for him and stroked herself intently. "Well... well, no!" she protested, somehow managing to sound both indignant and embarrassed. "I mean-- surely we couldn't. It would... would set a bad example for the children and... and it's improper enough for us to do this without them and if they were added in..."
Only he'd known Jo for nearly a decade and a half now and he knew when he heard an urge to be persuaded into thinking otherwise in her voice. And between the plaintive note in her throat and the half-vixenish, half-shy gaze she was shooting at him from beneath her long lashes...
Well, Laurie had not spent fifteen years studying his lovely bride in order to miss clues that were quite that obvious. And he full well knew that while there were some things on which Jo was absolutely immovable... on a few other matters, she was very amenable to thinking differently indeed. She might believe they had to resign each other to being a stodgy couple raising children... but that didn't mean she was looking forward to it completely.
"I think you exaggerate a tad," he pointed out with great care. "After all, seeing as how we're not depraved maniacs-- or at least, we're not around others-- I'm sure we could keep ourselves discreet. Children have to sleep at some point and when they do..."
He lifted the hand not curling around her at the piano and made a grand gesture.
"I'm sure that will still be waiting."
Her mouth opened and closed silently for several moments after that, until she looked rather like a very lovely guppy. And when she finally felt it beneath her dignity to keep on going as he tried not to snicker, Jo burst out at last.
"But-- no-- Teddy, we can't!"
He flashed a wicked grin and brought both of his arms around her again, holding her secure to him. "Truly? Can't we?"
"I mean," Jo began, and somehow managed to look as shy but eager as she had during their wedding night, when he had pressed his lips to her for the first time and driven her to ecstasy. "I mean, technically, I suppose we could but--" And then she shoved at him a little, as she caught him grinning cheekily. "But we shouldn't. Parents shouldn't do things like that. We've already been... mad enough and it wouldn't be right because..."
"You only want to stop at one child?" Laurie asked, genuinely confused now. "Because we've been successful in preventing you from being in the family way so far and I don't know why we won't keep being so even after you give birth. I'm always very careful in withdrawing, Jo. Surely you're not afraid I'll lose control so easily?"
Jo smiled a little wanly. "Of that? No. But..." And here, her mouth jerked slightly, as though she were arguing with herself even as she argued with him. "It's just... it wouldn't be decent, Teddy. I mean, I'm sure my parents didn't and they were the most splendid parents possible!"
"I'd agree with that last part," Laurie said immediately. "Your parents are absolutely the sort of people we ought to emulate with our own little darlings. But still..."
And though he knew he was practically leading himself to a kick in the shin, he had to go on, feeling rather puckish.
"Didn't your parents have four children in about as many years?"
Jo shot him a look of horror that suggested she had no idea where she was going but she was taking care to feel distress preemptively.
"Doesn't that suggest rather more passion existed between them than you'd care to admit?"
Her look of horror only increased exponentially.
"And," Laurie went on, likely feeling rather more enjoyment than he should given her stricken face, "how can you be sure they necessarily conceived you in your standard bed anyhow? If anything, you probably came to being in front of the March family library. Which probably means for the good of our children, we'll simply have to keep going in unorthodox places. It might give them a head start on genius, dear."
And then Jo rounded her look of horror with an element of sheer bafflement, until it was Laurie's turn to laugh until she interrupted sardonically.
"'Well, I hope you enjoyed this evening," Jo muttered as he sputtered out into faint snorts and chuckles. "After those images you slipped into my head, we will never do this again, with or without having babies."
"Don't worry, my dear," Laurie somehow managed to say, in between the last of his snorts. "You'll get them soon enough. I have complete faith in my ability-- with or without a piano-- to change your mind eventually."
Jo gave him a look of disbelief so concentrated, he had to kiss her again until his teasing lips on the line of her jaw made her sigh and smile reluctantly. And when it was over, she gave her own rueful chuckle against his lips and admitted, "I just... don't want us to get bored or boring later on in life. But I don't want us to end up raising a crop of deviants either."
"Are you sure?" Laurie playfully asked. "They might turn out interesting than the normal dull darlings in your very average family."
He earned a swat upside the head for that but it was worth it to make he laugh, even if she looked a little like she might want to hit him again, and even more painfully. But after he rolled over and had her reddened face underneath him, his voice turned serious even as he leaned down to kiss her nose lightly.
"And don't worry so, Jo. There's an enormous difference between having a passionate set of loving parents, and having a mother and father mad enough to warp you fully. After all, my father eloped with my mother just to be with her, and you can bet their life after me wasn't a placid one. And didn't I turn out well, considering my odd early years?"
Jo raised her eyebrow at that, as though she felt this was a question that had many possible answers and she wasn't sure which of them she wanted to give. But after he pulled a tragic pout at her, she finally laughed and gave in, even as she began wiggling out from under his frame in a way that made him want to keep on holding.
"You turned out wonderfully," Jo finally admitted, once she'd gotten free and was by his side again, still smiling. "And our children will as well, I hope, even if we keep being so uncanny."
And then she laughed and gazed at him with that well of heart-breaking tenderness that he never fully cease to be amazed at, that would never truly stop making blessed beyond anything. It was the very same laugh she'd given him the first time they'd met, and the same laugh he hoped would be with him all the way to his twilight years.
"I love you, you lunatic," Jo said, still gazing at him in that way that made him feel as though he'd grown seven extra feet. "I love you completely. Even if you're so mad, you make me seem like the pinnacle of normalcy."
"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," he replied honestly, which really only proved her point and made her grin again brightly.
"So now what will we be doing?" she asked, once that grin of hers faded and was replaced by a yawn slowly. "Now that you've come to the rescue and once more saved me from my own idiocy?"
"Make that your eccentricity," he corrected, and kissed her on her nose again, making her giggle softly. Then he rolled over, got up and held his arm out to her, to help her rise to her feet. "And I was thinking we could tackle the stairs, bed, covers, sleep and operetta rehearsals, with just enough time left over to later worry about children and happy endings."
"That's a good plan," Jo said, smiling again as she let him pull her up, until her head was again by his shoulder and they were swaying together, as though they were ready to start dancing. "And when did you get so brilliant anyway? Teddy, you might just be giving me yet more reason to feel mortified by comparison eventually."
"Which works perfectly well," he replied, hoisting her in his arms as though she were once again a new bride, as she made faces and shook her hair at him as she was taken by surprise. "Seeing as how you feeling so this time around led to such a wonderful evening!"
She raised a warm, sleepy eyebrow at him, her arms coming up to loop around his neck even as she kicked up playfully. "So you're saying that this is all part of your master plan for future nights by your instrument? My, you must be brilliant then. Let's only hope that our future progeny inherit as much when they come into the world screaming."
"Oh, they will," he promising, hoisting her up and taking her away and already grinning madly. "Between your mind and mine, we could do anything. And the children would no doubt be giants who could swipe the floor with anyone who tried to best them in anything. Absolutely, utterly, astonishingly and with amazing curiosity--"
And by the time he had her bouncing in their bed once more, she was already laughing.
***
Author's Note: This is probably the last mini-series on Jo and Laurie that I'll ever write. Queer to put that down but... c'est la vie. Please review if you've enjoyed this! It always cheers me.