A Song Called Everything
By rese
Summary: Just some more problems with Laurie/Amy and more wanting of Jo/Laurie.
Disclaimer: Powderfinger own the song and lyrics "A Song Called Everything" I just thought it was very much related to Jo/Laurie. Louisa May Alcott owns the Little Women characters.
A/N: I've never really done a songfic thingy before and I know when I read them they usually piss me off to no end but I hope this is less "reading invasive". I promise to start writing for those challenges soon, school's just started again so…
…
How many
more times will you say that you love me
How many more times will
you wake up beside me
You think that you told me what I'd like to
hear
But I think you should tell me how you really feel
…
She rolled over to face him in the dark. "I love you."
She thought she saw him blink. "I love you too, Amy."
Amy blinked. "Do you really?" she wanted to ask him, her pride and nerves restraining her from ever knowing the answer she so desperately needed, early in the morning while he slept and late in the afternoon when he was out visiting her.
Was it folly to be jealous of her sister?
"Nmmf, Jo…" he mumbled in his sleep.
No, she thought not.
…
"Jo!" she spun about and seeing the tall figure strike up the path she dropped her basket in a most unmotherly way and ran to him.
"Teddy, my boy! It's so good to see you!" and she threw her arms about him, increasing the pleasure of her greeting for him, the action deemed safe by the ties to his Amy and her Fritz. Laurie grinned widely and hugged her back, closing his eyes as if the moment could burn into his mind by the action.
"Ho! And I thought you weren't as cast off as I." He saw her downward glance and smiled brightly to cover the lull. "You're not just saying pleasant things for my benefit, are you?" Laurie caught the tugs of a smile on her thin mouth and he tipped her chin up to look into those grey eyes she never knew haunted him.
"I always feel that someone who's turned out as well as you can always do with a little… shall we say endearments?" Jo's mischievous streak lit up with his flashing grin.
"Why, Jo! Are you telling me sweet nothings?" She laughed at that and battered away the hand that seemed suddenly troublesome.
"Only what you want to hear." And if Jo knew how true that statement was, she never would have opened her mouth. But as it was she turned, pausing only to fetch the basket of washing and entered the house, missing the sudden dark look in her brother-in-law's black eyes.
"You have no idea."
