Work Text:
Jo let herself fall onto the steps, groaning in frustration. The staircase to her attic was steep and uneven, and while it afforded her a reassuring amount of privacy, it could be an awful strain on her body on days like these. After skating for hours and hours with Teddy until the sun had grown too dim to see by, Jo yearned to return to her writing. The trouble was, writing required her portfolio, which she had unwisely left at her writing desk from which she was separated by two flights of rickety stairs. Jo sighed, allowing herself a brief moment of weakness, then pursed her lips, clenched her jaw, and shakily stood, dragging herself up the stairs by the banister. She limped awkwardly, struggling to keep her weight off her sore knee without aggravating the other. Upon reaching the turn of the stairs, her skirt caught against a loose nail, and she just hardly managed to catch herself, gasping at the rush of pain up her leg.
“Jo?”
She looked up sharply to see Laurie, standing at the base of the stairs.
“I was about to bid you goodnight - Are you quite alright, Jo?” His brow was furrowed in concern tinged with pity, and Jo muttered a curse to herself, straightening up.
“Of course I am,” she fibbed unconvincingly. “Good night to you as well, Laurie.”
But the strain in her voice was obvious, and Laurie started up the staircase hesitantly. “Jo, if you need help…”
“That’s ridiculous, I can walk up the stairs on my own.”
“Alright, then.” Laurie made no move to leave, though, instead meeting her at the turn of the stairs and offering his arm. “And what if I needed help up the stairs?”
Jo snorted, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards. “I might ask you what you mean to do in my attic.”
“Well, Mr. Brooke informs me that it’s good manners to walk a young lady to the door after an excursion together.”
Jo thought for a moment, chewing her lip, then gave a slight nod. “Then I suppose I’d have no choice but to help you up.”
She took his arm, letting him bear some of her weight, and Laurie couldn't help but notice the tremor in her hands. He draped her arm over his shoulder and reached around her waist, gathering up her skirt in his other hand. Together, they made their way up the stairs, slowly, ever so slowly.
Laurie watched the concentration on her face; the crease in her brow, the hard set of her jaw, the way her forehead wrinkled, the sharp inhale that escaped her every time she took a painful step. Somewhere along the way, he was violently struck by the unfairness of it all. How was it that Jo March, his Jo, had been so beaten and battered that he was the one leading her? She was meant to soar, not to crawl. It worried him, just a little, to see her so… helpless.
“Thank you, Teddy.” Jo stepped away from him, opening the door and leaning heavily against it.
“Of course, anytime.” Laurie remained at the top of the stairs, watching her limp into the attic and collapse into her desk chair with a sigh of exhaustion. He turned to leave, but stopped. “Jo- You know, if you were ever to need anything, anything at all, I would get it for you.”
Jo rubbed her temples, turning to meet his eyes. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind some water and whatever’s left over from dinner. If that’s alright.”
His face softened at the tiredness in her voice. “Of course. I’ll just be a moment.” Laurie was careful to close the door before rushing down the stairs with an ease he was sure would be nothing more than a slap in the face to Jo. He wrapped a pair of biscuits and an apple in a kerchief from the kitchen and filled a glass of water, then ran back up the stairs to the attic.
He found Jo situated on the ground awkwardly, as if she had not intended to be there. Her portfolio lay just out of arm’s reach, and the papers strewn about the attic had evidently slipped out of it. She rested the weight of her upper body on her forearms, as if she had fallen and struggled to catch herself. Upon further inspection, Laurie decided that was precisely what had happened. He set her food on the table by the sofa and crouched next to her, gingerly laying a hand upon her shuddering shoulder.
“Jo-”
“Stop it, Teddy, I can’t- Please, just go.” Jo’s voice broke over his name, and Laurie felt his eyes well up with sympathy.
“I’m not going to leave you here.”
“I’m not asking.” There was a hardness under the desperation in her voice, and for what might have been the first time, Laurie was alarmed at what she might say next. “I can’t walk, Laurie, I can hardly stand up! How can I possibly expect you to remain by my side as you grow ever greater and I grow weak?”
“Because, Jo. I love you.”
She scoffed. “You love our adventures. You love the pirates and the heroes and heroines and the wild chases through the forest and-”
“No, Jo, you. Your adventures, yes, and also your laugh, and your smile, and your voice, and the way your hands fidget with your dress when you yearn to write, and your curls, and your indignation, your fears, your dreams, your weaknesses, and every other thing that makes you Miss Jo March!” Laurie paused, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. “I love you, Jo,” he finished softly.
Jo was silent for one long, agonizing heartbeat, gazing into his eyes, and Laurie was absolutely and unequivocally certain that he was about to burst aflame.
---
Laurie had never been kissed before.
He had imagined it, as all boys do when they become young men, but the things he had imagined were of all the graceful crudeness he had managed to glean from Mr. Brooke’s romance novels. He had not imagined this.
He had not imagined Jo’s nimble fingers would seize his hair with such fervor. He had known, of course, that such things could happen, especially upon sharing a marital bed, but he had not imagined the sparks that raced across his skin.
Nor had he imagined that her lips would be so harsh and unyielding; the women in the bodice-rippers he had come to familiarize himself with always seemed to be soft and pliant under a man’s touch, though he supposed he should have known Jo would be anything but.
And he had most certainly not imagined the fire in Jo’s eyes when she finally pulled away to face him, cheeks flushed and warm, her hand still caressing his jaw.
“My dearest Teddy - I love you as well.”
He had imagined more words, given Jo’s penchant for verbal sparring, but he was more than content with another kiss.