AN: Shameless fluff, canon compliant. Quick little snippet that came to me when listening to the wonderful song referenced below. Born of my undying love for all things Bhaer, and my hardcore Jo/Bhaer shipping.
Jo: I won't be sweet, won't be demure
Bhaer: This I prefer, this I adore
Jo: I'll speak my mind, you can be sure
Bhaer: I'll be enchanted to the core
-Small Umbrella in the Rain
Friedrich Bhaer was haunted by a lingering feeling of unease.
It was the day before his wedding—ach, his wedding! Could he truly haf such happiness?—and he was so ready to do it, to haf it done at once and forever…and yet he could not help but feel that his Jo had not such confidence. Her mouth, the dear mouth which said such wild things, was in a straight line, and she had no…no….laughter about her.
Could it be that she had the second thoughts? No…no, surely not. His Jo was a strong one—a stubborn one, so stubborn. She, as the Americans said, knew what she wanted.
And yet…
"Professorin," he said quietly, after another awkward remark and hovering silence. "Professorin, what troubles you?"
She looked up at him and her smile was sad. He liked it not, this sadness in her. It didn't suit her.
"Oh, Fritz," she said, shrugging a brown shoulder. "It's not anything. It's just…well, you know me."
"I do," he said, wondering if he'd ever be able to say this with complete confidence. He had rather the hope that he wouldn't.
"I was wondering…if you'll…like me…once we marry."
What? He stared at her. Like her? This was the joke, yes?
"Thou has no need to worry about that, Professorin," he assured her, smiling a little at the absurdity of it. Like her!
She looked at him, the big searching grey eyes, and he felt he was being…tested. Yes, that was it, tested. When she spoke, it was almost defiantly; her chin came out in the old stubborn way, and she said:
"I won't be a Meg, Fritz. I won't be a model of decency or decorum."
He chuckled.
"Neither will I, mein Professorin."
"I'll be blunt. You know I will. I'll be stupid and careless and say what I think."
He leant closer to her.
"And I, my Jo," he said softly, "will be—enchanted all the while."
She laughed, the wild, heedless laugh he had grown to so much love, and he smiled at the rightness of it all.
His Jo was laughing again. Surely the troubles were at an end.
"You say that now," she said, but she was grinning at him. "Just wait."
"I do so with interest," he told her.
"And my cooking—you can't expect much of the meals, Fritz."
"I haf a surplus, Professorin, as you can see; I will not starve."
"My temper…"
"Ah, the old fault," he said, kissing that long, wondrous hair quickly. "We will work together. You will not be alone."
For a moment, she had the wetness in her eyes and her smile was truly grateful; blinking, she said:
"I won't get any better looking as I get older, Fritz."
"That is fortunate."
Her eyebrows shot into her hair.
"Oh?"
"Yes. A man must keep his sanity, Jo."
Again, there was the laughter, and he felt pleasure at his foolish little remark for yielding such loveliness…
"It won't be perfect, you know."
"Then it will suit me all the better, yes?"
Here his Jo did not reply, only took his face in her hands and kissed him, as only she could…
"And me as well," she said, sounding a little out of breath when she pulled away. Her cheeks were pink as sunset, and he could not but marvel…
Prut. Always the foolishness came upon him when he was with her.
"I haf to go," he said at last, tearing himself reluctantly away. "But I will be seeing you tomorrow, Professorin."
She looked at him with ach, such stubborn, certain eyes…there was no hint of second thoughts in her.
"Tomorrow, then."
He left, aware of the foolishness of his expression, but not caring…for he was going to marry his Jo tomorrow and the matter, as they said, was quite settled.