Author's note: I was reading some of my old Little Women fic today, and I wrote this as an experiment to see if I still had any Jo/Laurie in me, after so many years of keeping myself to other fandoms. I found the sentence "How do we meet?" on a website full of story prompts, and decided to just write and see what would come out of it.
It was the most comfortable kind of cold winter day. Poor old John Brooke was sick with a nasty head cold, and though Laurie was not one to wish illness upon anybody, he couldn't help but be glad of a day off to spend in Jo's company.
The two of them were sitting as close to the fireplace as they could get, Jo writing, and Laurie watching her pen travel over the paper. In truth, Laurie found the heat a little overwhelming, and considered telling Jo that it was no wonder that she'd singed so many of her dresses toasting herself like this. His mouth was open, a joke on the tip of his tongue, but something about the way that Jo's grey eyes glowed in the firelight caused the words to dry up. He leaned his chin against her shoulder, so that he could get a better view of the words on her page.
"You're getting a beard," Jo informed him, her tone scolding, as if growing up and gaining facial hair was a new and creative form of misbehavior on his part. She moved away, with a strange gesture, as though she was brushing the remnants of his touch off of her cheek and neck.
"Well, what do you expect me to do about it, then?" Laurie challenged.
Jo sighed. She crossed something off her page. "I suppose you already are shaving it, unless I'm mistaken."
"As a matter of fact, yes." Laurie was tempted to add that he was excellent at it, but he didn't want to sound arrogant. He'd only nicked himself twice since grandfather had decided it would be prudent to start providing him with razors, and so he flattered himself that he was a very mature and capable person.
"It's a shame I can't grow one. I'd let it get long and thick, till nobody ever guessed that I had been christened Josephine and not Joseph."
Laurie was silent for a moment, considering this. It was good fun making Jo up as a boy for their plays, and they'd used everything from broom bristles, to horsehair, to greasepaint to aid them in that endeavor, but he thought he'd rather miss her face if it was permanently covered by a thick beard. He was too fond of her expressive lips and the decided point of her chin and... well, everything really. What it ultimately boiled down to, was that Laurie was far too fond of every aspect of Jo March for his own good.
A certain rosiness had risen in Jo's cheeks. She looked quickly away from him. That's when Laurie realized that he'd been staring.
"I'm thinking of how our characters should meet in this play of mine," Jo said. Her voice had gone brisk and low, as it did when she meant business.
"Samuel and Rodrigo again?" Laurie guessed. "Have you ever thought of making us friends, at least, instead of dueling adversaries?"
"We could be, but there must be a duel, you see. We're the only actors in our little troop capable of it. Meg hasn't the first idea how to hold a sword, and Amy's hopeless."
"Well, what do you say we duel, make up, and then go off on some adventures?"
Jo paused, considering, and then shook her head. "Too much sentiment between Rodrigo and Diana. It's up to you and I to add some excitement to this piece. I've got it! We'll meet in the snake's lair."
Laurie shook his head, but he knew better than to argue with Jo about her writing. He'd put his effort into bringing some sentiment into their real lives, and enjoy Jo's plays and stories as they were.