Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Reunions in the Eye of the Beholder

November

It was a brisk, almost wintery evening in Paris, Laurie had to admit as he made his way down the footpath and unconsciously ducked left to avoid crashing into the distracted, loved-up couple in his way. 

He adjusted his scarf as he took in the lit up, decorated city, walking by as the outdoor heaters were fired up, and the last vestiges of daylight were dissipating into a dark, velvety, shimmering night sky. The tourist crowds had visibly thinned, allowing him to truly enjoy his walk, even if Laurie was currently out for a reason, and not simply on a relaxed stroll.

“Why did I let her do this again?” He muttered to himself as he searched for the restaurant his friend, Sophie, had given him explicit directions to. “Camille. Camille, oh where are you Camille?” He let out a noise of satisfaction when he spotted the unassuming place tucked away in the corner, with the barest hint of signage on the outside.

Laurie had hardly entered the restaurant, shuddering at the sudden warmth, before he greeted with a prompt “Monsieur?”

He grinned at the maitre’d with an awkward smile, pausing in his struggle with removing his scarf (an instinctive response to the sudden heat).  “Bonjour! Reservation under Dupont?” 

The maitre’d nodded knowingly with a warm smile, gesturing as he lead him to his table. “The other member of your party is already here.” Rather astutely, Laurie thought, he’d switched to English as he conversed with him. French was still a relative work-in-progress for him.

He chanced a glance at the table the maitre’d had gestured towards. Who the woman was, he couldn’t make out, for her face was hidden behind a menu and while her blonde hair seemed vaguely familiar, he could hardly place someone by their hair alone.  And yet,  a strange familiarity nudged at him the longer he looked in her direction. 

“Monsieur.” He was directed to the empty seat when they got there. 

His companion for the evening looked up from the menu as their arrival cast a shadow over her, leaving Laurie with no doubt as to who she was. 

Caught by surprise, her mouthed widened in a silent ‘O’ as she took him in. 

“Laurie,” she whispered faintly. 

“Amy,” he stumbled in response, just as stupefied. 

Amy Curtis March. Laurie had to admit, he hadn’t given much thought to the youngest March sibling in many years.  While he’d vaguely known she was still in Paris, he’d last laid eyes on the youngest March almost half a decade ago (and oh, how much she’d grown). 

To the best of his knowledge, his visits to Concord in recent years had never coincided with hers. Not that they’d necessarily kept in touch otherwise. But then again, that had happened long before Amy had left Concord behind for newer pastures. It had been, if Laurie had to guess, the natural consequence of him moving away for college with Jo, while Amy had, in turn, focused her energies on her final years of high school.

“You should sit down,” Amy eventually spoke up, breaking the (now) awkward silence that had continued to linger between them. 

“Oh,” he shook his head as he realized the maitre’d had vanished in the meanwhile, “Yeah. Probably should.”

“Laurie,” Amy greeted him again with a small, genuine smile on her face, presumably having had time to recompose herself. “It’s been a while.” 

“I didn’t know who I was meeting today,” he burst out abruptly before almost immediately, internally chastising himself, ’Way to start off, idiot.’

“Neither,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “That is the general idea of a blind date.”

“Sophie said we’d get along,” he shrugged helplessly. 

“Anette said we’d have things in common,” Amy agreed with a chuckle. 

“That we’re both American?” Laurie guessed dryly. 

“That we’re both familiar with Boston actually. Not that it was a selling point,” she shook her head fondly at the mention of her friend. “I didn’t know you were in Paris? I thought I’d heard something about London.” 

“You’d heard right. It’s all very new. Just moved a few weeks ago,” he informed her. “I was in London before that. Thought I’d get out of the esteemed James Laurence’s shadow for a bit though.” 

“You’re working with your grandfather?” Her face brightened up at the notion. “I genuinely wouldn’t have guessed."

“Been a while now, actually.” He blushed lightly in response as he ducked his head down, absently fiddling with the glass of water in front of him. 

“That’s great,” Amy responded with an earnest smile. “It sounds like you found your calling. You always said it was an elusive mistress you would one day conquer.”

“I suppose I finally did, huh,” he murmured, trying to recall the conversations from so long ago that he’d forgotten they had even occurred. He shook his head. “And what are you up to? Has the artist Amy March taken the Parisian art world by storm yet” 

“Working on it. While simultaneously working with the Louvre to pay the bills.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she spoke, “I’ve apparently got a great eye for art.”

“Who’d have guessed?” he deadpanned before dissolving into a cheerful chuckle. “That’s great, truly. Y’know, some of Grandpa’s favorite pieces of art remain the ones you helped him choose back when we were in high school?” 

“No!” Amy exclaimed in surprise. “Really?” 

“I will bet you real money that the next time you two meet, he’ll attempt to solicit an opinion,” Laurie offered confidently. 

“I mean, Mr. Laurence does have an exquisite collection, I must admit.” 

“And he’s been itching to expand upon it I think,” he thought back upon his grandfather’s recent purchases. “Definitely been picking up some curious pieces.” 

“Oh. Well, I mean, he’s always welcome to call me if he wants,” she offered graciously in response. “I’m sure my parents would have told him as much. Do you happen to know what he picked up?” 

Thankfully, Laurie thought, a server interrupted their opinion to take their orders for the evening and diverted the conversation before he could disappoint her with his ignorance. 

And yet, he felt ruffled as he quickly glanced at the menu he’d disregarded thus far. 

“If memory serves me well, you’ll enjoy the smoked salmon,” Amy advised him gently, smothering a chuckle when as she took in his flustered expression. 

“On your head be it,” he warned her lightly, before heeding her suggestion, and adding on a simple order of wine alongside it. 

“So. Amy March,” he exhaled loudly, after the server had let them be. “Just how long as it been since we last met?”

She scrunched her nose as she tried to do the math. “…A little over five years now? I think the last time was ‘the summer that shan’t be mentioned’.” 

“And we’ll continue not mentioning it,” Laurie responded readily before barreling on. “Who’d have thought our reunion would be you, me, and a blind date.” 

“Talk about the epitome of fantastical fiction,” she shook her head with a grin, before a curious glint overpowered it. “Why on earth were you set up on a blind date anyway? I’d have thought by now…I mean you’re you.” 

“Why’re you resorting to one?” He shot back, amused and simultaneously transported back to their high school years together, when so much had been so very different. “The Amy March I knew was rarely, if ever, without prospects. I hardly doubt that’s changed much.”

“You’d be surprised,” she sounded rueful. “Honestly though, I’ve had a busy couple years. And my flatmate’s a blissfully optimistic romantic living through her relationship’s never-ending honeymoon phase. So it was pretty much forced upon me.” 

“I’m new to the city and know exactly two people here…who are dating each other. And well, Sophie thought it was a great way to shove me off the deep end.”

“And you’ve trouble denying assertive, confident women,” Amy nodded her head knowingly. 

“Something like that,” His face reddened again at the accusation, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“Well, we can take comfort in knowing that our friends have failed miserably for once, and we can hold it over them,” she responded brightly, as their meals arrived. “So, where does our newest Parisian resident live?”

“Saint-Germain-des-Prés,” he offered. Amy snorted in response. 

“What?” He probed curiously. “Something wrong with the neighborhood

“Not at all. It suits you,” she assured him with a chuckle, before turning contemplative. “Well, it would have definitely suited the you I knew five years ago anyway.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed all that much,” he huffed lightly.

Their conversation carried well into dinner, and they even decided to indulge in a spot of dessert. It really was, in Laurie’s opinion, shaping up to be a proper, if unexpected reunion. Five years. To him, it felt like it had barely been five minutes, and yet, a whole lifetime in equal measure. 

“I simply cannot believe we haven’t run into each other during the holidays in so long,” Laurie mused as they were making their way through dessert.

“I don’t always make it back home for the holidays,” Amy confessed easily, a natural ease and familiar camaraderie having entered their conversation much earlier on. “Sometimes it’s a work thing. Sometimes, I’m just fiscally responsible. But I’m positive at least one of the Christmases I missed, Jo said you’d been in town.” 

“I’ve maybe stopped by Concord for the holidays twice in the last five years or so. I get it,” he assured her. “Life gets in the way sometimes.” 

“I am going back this Christmas though,” she volunteered the information with a happy smile. “Mostly.” 

“We are too!  Grandpa decided on Concord and not in London this year. ”

“Guess this reunion will have a follow up after all.”

“Guess we will,” Laurie side-eyed an annoyed server as he was speaking. “And I believe that, accordingly, reunion number one will come to an end sooner rather than later.”

He wasn’t ready for it to be over, he realized as he was speaking. This hadn’t been the awkward blind date he’d anticipated and had hoped to end quickly. Not even close. What it had instead been was a perfectly pleasant evening, steeped in familiar echoes of his childhood but not stifled by it.

“Oh?” 

“I spy with my little eye a server’s glare,” amusement colored his tone as he spoke. “And I do believe that if we don’t leave voluntarily, we’ll never be happily welcomed here again.” 

“At least it wasn’t our names on the reservation,” Amy snickered in response before chancing a look at the time and exclaiming in surprise, “It’s really been over three hours!” 

“Really?” He was equally surprised.

“Talk about a successful non-date,” she snorted. 

“Non-“

Rather unintentionally, he was certain, she barreled over his almost question and barely there frown. “If nothing else, you at least gained one thing from today.”

“Oh?” His interest was piqued, distracting Laurie from his original question. 

“You now know exactly three people in Paris,” She offered with a flourish and a bright grin.

“I guess I do,” he agreed, before randomly pondering. “Or maybe I always knew three people in Paris. It’s just that now I’m aware of the fact. The tree in the forest no longer falls silently because I’m aware and there to hear it.” 

Amy stared at him. 

Laurie started back. 

Her eyebrows went up. 

His furrowed in response. 

“I didn’t really follow any of that so I’m going to blame it on the wine,” she announced finally. “Whether it’s impaired my brain function or yours is an argument I’m not going to have, however.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded agreeably as he flagged down the server. “Dinner’s on me.”

“Or we could simply go dutch,” she protested as he retrieved his wallet. 

“Or I could use it as a reason to wheedle another meal out of you in the near future,” he countered easily, slipping some truth into his riposte. 

“Deal, but you will actually let me pay the next time,” Amy threatened, sparkle in her eyes as she made her demands. 

“Cross my heart,” he promised easily, glad at that the very least, he’d secured a follow-up to dinner. 

Why he was suddenly curious about a woman he hadn’t particularly thought of much in almost five years, Laurie wasn’t entirely sure. But he knew that he was, and that he wanted to spend more time with her, maybe figure it out. But at least, he supposed, he was honest with himself. Small steps in the right direction, he told himself, were better than no steps at all. 

——

As it so happened, Laurie’s subconscious fear that Amy would vanish from his life before he’d figured out just why she intrigued him were completely unfounded. Oh, he’d still not solved that little mystery and if the weeks after had been any indication, it had only compounded in intrigue. But it had taken a backseat to the very real, and surprisingly tentative friendship that had sprouted between the two of them.

They’d met in towards the end of November. As they’d parted that evening, they’d exchanged numbers and Amy had assured him that she’d whip the tourist tendencies away, making a true Parisian local out of him yet. In the ensuing weeks, they’d met up at least a few times a week, almost definitely every weekend, and carried on a text conversation on a near-daily basis.

In those few short weeks, Laurie had also come to realize that the Amy he knew once and had grown up with wasn’t necessarily the Amy he’d met in Paris. At the very least, the rapport between them was noticeably different. Oh, it was still warm and solid. The foundation, whatever that had once been, still existed. But beyond that, it felt undeniably new and utterly, terrifyingly undefined. He wasn’t necessarily sure why, what that meant, or where they’d end up, but goddamn if he didn’t want to find out.

“So, when are you flying back?” He asked her one afternoon, fully aware that the December holiday weeks was rapidly approaching. 

“Mmm?”

It was the Saturday before Christmas, and they were spending the day ticking off another eatery from Amy’s ‘Underrated but Unmissable’ list when he brought it up. 

“Seriously,” he pressed as he tapped his fork against his empty plate. “It’s Christmas next Saturday. Surely you’ve booked tickets by now.”

Amy swallowed her food, reaching for a glass of water as she responded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I have.” 

“And?” 

“Evening of the 23^rd. Return’s the morning of the 2^nd.” 

Laurie’s eyebrows went up at the coincidence. “Talk about fortuitous planning. That’s my schedule too! Well, my return’s the afternoon of the second, but y’know. We can fly together! At least one way.” 

The prospect of traveling together certainly appealed to him, he wasn’t going to lie.

Amy snorted in response. “You’re so certain we’ll be on the same flight?”

“British Airways?” He guessed with a lazy smirk. “Seven in the evening?” 

Amy wrinkled her nose as she nodded reluctantly. “Just…how?” 

“That’s the only non-stop service from here that evening,” he pointed out. “I took an educated guess.” 

“There remains a fatal flaw in your plan nevertheless,” she pointed out, eyebrow arched in response. “Premium Economy’s generally barely in my budget. Do you even know what seats look like beyond Business and First Class?” 

“An upgrade’s an easy fix,” he waved off nonchalantly. 

“Laurie…” She looked reluctant.

“Really,” he insisted. “I’ve like a shit ton of miles expiring in like, March or something. Consequence of that stupidly indulgent gap year. You’ll be doing me a favor really.” 

Laurie wasn’t actually lying in this instance. 

He could see that she looked conflicted, so he tacked on another argument, proposing, “It was your birthday what, a week before we met? Call it a delayed birthday present. An upgraded roundtrip.”

“We aren’t flying back on the same flight,” she pointed out.

“An easy fix,” he shrugged it off again. 

“An easy fix,” she repeated, shaking her head incredulously. 

“You really wouldn’t believe how many miles I’ve expiring soon. It would be wasteful not to use it up really,” he cajoled her. 

“Only because they’re expiring,” she relented finally. “And they better be expiring when you say they are. I want proof.” 

“As you wish,” he grinned victoriously, already making plans in his head. “Now, did we still want to take a stroll around Le Marais?” 

Amy nodded, speaking as they both stood up. “There’s this seasonal hot chocolate stall there that’s a gem. I haven’t been by yet this year.”

“Implying it’s an annual tradition?” Sue him, he was curious. 

“He knows me by name and offers me a discount every time we meet,” she grinned proudly, eyes sparkling in mirth. Not that it distracted Laurie. “Sometimes, he even tries to give me complimentary drinks.” 

Laurie was skeptical. And concerned. A reasonable reaction where strangers were concerned, he insisted to himself. “Are you sure that’s just not his way of hitting on you?” 

She snorted in response. “A seventy-year old man’s a bit out of my preferred range, I think. Now come on. Stop dawdling.”  

She pulled at him, intertwining their hands in the process, leaving him to scramble and catch up with her excited stride. 

Laurie shook his head, utterly perplexed by so very much of the feelings she elicited in him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was going to figure it out. 

There was simply something about Amy March…

——

For all intents and purposes, Jo March was Laurie’s best friend. Despite all of Will’s arguments otherwise. His closest friend growing up, Jo March, Laurie had been certain at one point in his life, was his perfect foil. That notion had been all but shattered after three years of university together, when a conflated sense of inevitability and curiosity  (admittedly on her part, he had been carrying a torch the size of Everest) had lead to a 35-day relationship that both of them now looked back upon with revulsion. That summer had, in part, gained the infamous moniker of ‘the summer that shan’t be mentioned’ because of their disastrous little experiment. 

Their friendship had, however, not only endured through their attempt at a relationship but survived it - something they were both extremely grateful for. And while Laurie had broken away from Massachusetts to explore the world, that friendship had not been a casualty in the process. It had instead settled, with aplomb, as a platonic relationship in his life that he would never have to fathom going without. 

His best friend, Laurie was also well aware, had no healthy concept of a circadian rhythm.  And so, when she called him that Sunday morning, at a time when he knew she ought to be asleep, Laurie wasn’t entirely surprised. 

“Writer’s block?” 

“Well, hello to you too, Teddy.” 

“You’re up so late it may as well be the crack of dawn,” Laurie pointed out. “I’m pretty sure it will be, soon.” 

“Alright fine. I was inspired. Now I’m stuck and restless. I didn’t want to wake Fritz, which going to bed will do.  You’re the only one I know who’s awake at this time.”

“Because I live in a completely different timezone.”

“That’s certainly a factor,” Jo snarked.

“Sure. Glad I could be helpful.” 

“Ugh. Teddy. I need a distraction,” she whined. “Talk to me. Tell me all the inane details about your life and your confidential company secrets. What capitalist dickhead moves did you indulge in this week?” 

Laurie barely gave it a moment’s consideration before he impulsively brought it up. “I’ve actually got an interesting one for you. I caught up with your sister the other day.”

“Meg or Beth?” Jo frowned. “Wait. It can’t be Beth. She’s on some fancy hike where she’s unreachable except by sat phone-”

“It was neither of them,” Laurie responded lightly, cutting her off with a hint. “I’m not the only one you know who’s awake at this time.”

“Neither of them? The only other…Not…You ran into Amy?” Jo eventually reached her conclusion. “Huh.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“How’d it go?” Jo strained to keep her voice nonchalant as she spoke.

Laurie frowned in response, immediately suspicious. “It completely slipped my mind that she was still living in Paris,” he eventually answered. “It went alright though. We’ve caught up a few times since.” 

“Really? Huh. How ‘bout that.” 

“Jo.” He was frustrated. “What aren’t you telling me?”  

“Nothing,” she shook her head immediately. “Nothing at all.”

“Jo…” 

“I just hadn’t heard you two had met. Surprises me. That’s all.”

“I was under the impression you and Amy didn’t chat all that often anyway,” he arched an eyebrow in question, even if he knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story. 

“From Meg,” Jo clarified. “You know she’s usually my source of information if not Marmee."

“Of course,” he snorted. “And how often do you chat with Meg?” 

“Often enough,” Jo huffed. “And she calls me with the gossip.”. 

“Well, how would you like to be the source of gossip for once?” 

“What do you mean?” Jo narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 

“Guess who’re flying home for Christmas together!”

“You can’t-“ Jo sputtered in disbelief. “Teddy, you haven’t flown Economy in your life!” 

“That is simply untrue,” Laurie hotly argued. “Some flights I’ve been on never had anything but.” 

She simply snorted in response, giving him a knowing look.

“I’m using my miles to upgrade her tickets,” he shrugged eventually, deciding that this particular recurring argument was unnecessary today. “Long overdue birthday present and all that.” 

“I’d like to see you try convincing Dad and Marmee with that argument,” she shook her head. 

“I mean, I convinced your sister,” Laurie raised an eyebrow.  

“I mean,” Jo snorted again. “That was Amy.” 

It was his turn to affect a suspicious expression, Laurie figured. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” she shrugged carelessly. “It’s Amy. She likes her things expensive. There’s a reason she gets along with Aunt March.”

“I’d have thought you’d have a better opinion of your sister,” Laurie argued, an urge to defend Amy coming to the fore. 

“I do!” Jo protested. “You can be a good person but also err on the side of materialistic. If anything, she’s proof of concept.”

“She’s…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you two got along better now. That the distance and time helped.” 

“We do,” she argued. “But we also take shots at each other. We’re siblings. It’s in the contract. Ask her about my flaws sometime.” 

He snorted in response. 

“I swear to god. Ask her. She has this whole lecture on networking, social capital, and how I can’t help but squander mine. It’ll remind you of Aunt March.” Jo shuddered lightly. 

Laurie smothered a chuckle. “Now I actually want to go do exactly that.” 

“I strongly suggest alcohol. Any kind pairs well with the lecture,” she let him know seriously. “In fact, it’s a goddamn necessity.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind” Laurie assured her, the laughter finally overpowering his attempt at smothering it. “On that note, I think you should try getting some sleep now.” 

“Before the sun comes up,” Jo rolled her eyes as she spoke. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard this one before.” 

“Maybe some sleep hygiene would mean you never hear it again,” he suggested lightly. 

“Where’s the Teddy who went thirty hours with no sleep and a Red Bull addiction? I miss him.” 

“He had a year-long party and retired at the end of it,” Laurie informed her dryly. “Went out before he could cause irreparable damage.” 

“Well, he is well and truly mourned,” she sniffed haughtily.  

“Good Night, Jo.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Good Night Teddy. I’ll see you at Christmas.” 

“I’ll see you at Christmas,” he mumbled in response to a blank phone screen, before looking around for his laptop and texting Amy for her ticket information. 

‘Time to upgrade some tickets.’

——

At Amy’s firm request, her family had reluctantly agreed to meet her at home instead of the airport. It had been, Laurie had learned, almost a year and a half since her last visit. 

This meant that they’d had a contingent of Marches waiting to greet them as the car turned into his driveway, even though it was almost eleven in the night when they reached their homes in Concord. He’d been greeted with the relatively same exuberance Amy had been greeted with, the familial familiarity long since having become norm with the Marches. Rather mercifully, however, they’d been conscious of the weary travelers and kept it short, insisting on a good night’s rest and a breakfast reunion on the morrow instead.

Over the next few days, Laurie realized he found it rather strange that he’d suddenly gone from near-constant contact with Amy to almost none overnight, instead simply meeting where they happened to cross paths. Admittedly, Jo had been happy to monopolize her best friend’s time, given that they didn’t meet in-person quite as often as they did growing up together, and he simply assumed Amy had thought as much. And of course, Amy surely had her own life in Concord to catch up with. 

Nevertheless, he was determined to course-correct, even if only marginally.  And so, he found himself walking into the March kitchen the morning after the 26^th, looking for the youngest March sibling. 

“Morning Marmee,” he greeted the matriarch as he entered the room, furtively glancing around the room for Amy. 

“Morning Laurie,” Marmee welcomed him with a bright smile that turned mildly apologetic. “Jo’s not home. She and Fritz took off together a bit ago. A stroll, I think?”

“Oh, no.” A sheepish expression colored his face. “I wasn’t looking for Jo.”

“Oh,” Marmee looked politely confused. “I thought you two would want to discuss Peru in more detail. I think you’re a bit early for lunch?” 

“Peru’s ages away,” Laurie shook his head. “We’ll find the time for that. I was actually hoping to find Amy.” 

“Amy?” 

He nodded, bringing up the only realistic excuse he’d been able to come up with. “I wanted to settle this argument we were having about cinnamon rolls.” 

“Oh?” Marmee’s confusion had turned to amusement. In Laurie’s defense, he wasn’t actually lying.

“She disparaged my go-to bakery in Concord and I just cannot let that stand. You understand, Marmee.” 

“Of course,” Marmee chuckled. “I’d heard you two had caught up in Paris. Didn’t realize you’d already begun arguing again.” 

“We never argued much back in the day,” Laurie protested good-naturedly. “At least, not as much as Jo and I did.” 

“You argued more often with Jo,” she said agreeably, “but your most explosive arguments were usually with Amy. Rare as they were.” 

“Huh.” That was news to him, honestly. But now that he thought about it…

“She’s in the living room with the twins,” Marmee nodded in the direction, interrupting his internal ruminations. 

“Thanks Marmee!” 

He made his way, navigating the familiar March house, stopping just outside the entrance to the living room when he caught sight of Amy. 

She’d really grown up, he realized suddenly (and honestly, wasn’t this becoming a trip full of epiphanies that took him by surprise), watching her running after the twins, alight with bright laughter and the most unguarded expression he’d seen on her face since their reunion in Paris. 

He could (and did) compare it directly to scenes from their childhood where a much younger Amy had run after Jo and him in almost similar fashion. But Laurie could no longer look at her and see Jo’s baby sister first. She’d grown up to be a beautiful, magnetic woman in her own right. 

“Laurie!” Amy’s surprised greeting broke his reverie. 

“Amy,” he greeted her with a smile, before swooping in and picking up one of the twins. 

“Demi. Daisy,” He greeted the four-year olds warmly. 

“What are you doing here? Jo’s not-“

“Not here,” Laurie interrupted her, nodding. “Marmee told me. I was looking for you, actually.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow in question. 

“You disparaged Sinnamon. I intend to make you eat your words. Literally.” 

Amy burst out laughing. “Laurie, that was weeks ago!” 

“And you disparaged my good word. I demand satisfaction m’lady.” 

It was ever so easy to fall back into childhood dramatics when they were all back home.

“The Pickwick Club’s no longer in session you know,” Amy informed him, mirth shining through her eyes. 

“But Sinnamon’s still open.” 

“Sinfully delightful cinnamon treats,” Amy recited their tagline from memory. “I can’t believe that place still exists.” 

“I can’t believe you no longer think it sells the best cinnamon roll you can eat. Shall we?” 

“I mean, if you want to lose our argument so thoroughly,” she generously offered. “Let me just find Meg or John before we leave.” 

“John was out back, I think,” Laurie let her know. “We can drop the twins off on our way out.” 

The walk up to the bakery was rather pleasant, reuniting Laurie with the (wonderfully) new normal that had pervaded his life in Paris and that he’d missed in his short time in Concord. 

Laurie didn’t think he’d ever been so perplexed by his emotions. 

“I will admit I’ve had worse,” Amy eventually conceded when they’d gotten their hand on a selection of pasties. 

Laurie sputtered. “We’ve all had worse! We went to the same schools remember? Same bake sales too.” 

“C’mon. You’ve got to admit that even that little hole in the wall near my place bakes better,” Amy argued in a reasonable tone. 

“That ‘little hole in the wall’ near your place is a centuries-old family business!” 

“The cinnamon coffee brownies are rather nice here?” 

“‘The cinnamon coffee brownies are rather nice here - Amy March, renowned Parisian artist-to-be.’ Glowing review there, Amy.” 

Amy shook her head with a chuckle. “Is it my fault you’re emotionally biased when it comes to Sinnamon?” 

“And just how am I emotionally biased?” 

“You find it comforting. This was your post-breakup spot,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “At least, through high school. If you were wallowing, this is where we’d find you.”

“That can’t be true,” Laurie shook his head in denial. 

“Every single one I can remember,” Amy insisted. “Sharon in sixth grade. Carmen in eighth grade. Nicole and Penny in ninth-“

“Okay,” he interrupted her. “Okay. I don’t think we need to rehash every failed romance in my life, thank you very much. How do you even remember it this well?” 

“Jo can’t keep a secret to save her life. So she’d let us know almost immediately every time. I’d usually find you here after and we’d go to the movies.” 

Now that he thought about it…

“Or rent a movie if nothing funny was on,” he recalled softly. “I remember that.” 

“Speaking of Jo,” Amy changed topics abruptly. “I heard you two planning quite the trip for next year.” 

“We’re slowly finishing off our old bucket list,” Laurie explained, nodding. “Machu Picchu was always on it. So was The Lost City. We figured we’d get around to at least one of it next year.” 

“And Peru won out.”

“Well, I mean, hopefully. We aren’t going any time soon. Next October, maybe. It’s just so hard to have our schedules align now that we’ve adult responsibilities.” He made a face at that awfully depressing statement. “Planning it early enough means we can at least block out the time.”

“And how is our dear Fritz feeling about the exclusion?” 

“He’s thrilled, honestly,” Laurie chuckled. “I rather think hiking is the last thing he wants to do. The Lost City’s like 28 miles on foot or something like that. He was definitely more than happy to be missing that potential trip.” He grinned at her brightly. “Why? You want to join us?”

Amy snorted in response. “You and Jo? I’d probably become a murderer before that trip ends.” 

“Ah, but who’d be your first victim?” 

She gave him a coy smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You can tell me it’s Jo,” he goaded her playfully. “I know you like me too much to kill me.” 

“You’d stake your life on that belief?” Amy arched an eyebrow in question, amused. 

Laurie gave her a smirk of his own. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

The rest of the holidays passed on in similar fashion. If they weren’t all spending time together, he was usually planning his trip with Jo. Every now and then, he managed to snag some time with Amy. Aunt March had made an appearance (her relationship with the Marches apparently on the mend after a rough patch he hadn’t heard about). The whole younger brood went out on the town, ringing in New Years Eve in all its festive glory (the twins safely tucked away at home with their grandparents). 

And just like that, before he knew it, the holidays had come to an end, and along with it, their time in Concord for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Delectation in the Eye of the Beholder

March 

Amy March had occupied little to negligible real estate in his head for about five years or so. That much was true. But then again, a foundation for a relationship between the two of them was not non-existent. Of course, if Laurie had to contribute, he would say that this aforementioned foundation had only been strengthened by the remains of the relationship that had once existed -  one that might as well have, in the last five years or so, been throughly and truly whittled down to nothing. 

Because they had been friends once upon a time. It had certainly been different. It had been a time when he’d been enamored by a puppy love that he’d grossly misunderstood in retrospect. But nevertheless, they’d still grown up together; spent time with one another. When his interests and Jo’s had clashed, it had oftentimes been Amy or Meg who’d filled the void. Their sensibilities had, arguably, aligned better all the way through their teens, with the Amy and Laurie preferring to hit house parties and have fun in the more conventional ways that Jo had scoffed at or Beth had been intimidated by (Meg had, of course, aged out of the high school scene by then). Amy hdd been there for his breakups, been around to lecture him when she thought he deserved it, and like every other March, for all of his major milestones in Concord. 

They had been friends once, but then he’d gone away to university, and by the time he’d realized that they’d grown distant, Amy had already left to go live her best life in Paris. And until recently, that had been that.

Their relationship, in its reengineering and reconstruction, had been almost laughably and shockingly simple, Laurie realized as he thought back on the first few months of the new year. What had tentatively sprouted before Christmas had well and truly germinated in the ensuing months. 

And yet, Laurie still wasn’t sure what exactly it was growing into. Consequently, he guarded it protectively, feeling incredibly possessive as it grew and flourished. He simply wasn’t ready to let anyone else into their bubble just quite yet. 

Thus, any time they spent together was usually just the two of them. They had managed to sustain a text-conversation that had begun in December and never ended. At any given moment, they had at least three or four separate unfinished conversational threads to pick and choose from. 

They’d spent so much time exploring the city, Laurie was certain Amy had shown him every crevice of note in Paris in three short months. Since they’d been back from Concord, he hadn’t gone two full days without meeting up with her. It didn’t hurt that Laurie’s path home after work could include the Louvre if he so desired (and he often did). It made catching up for a spot of dinner a common occurrence. The more often they met and the more often the spoke meant that all the more often, they made plans together. 

They had even come up with a system, for when one of them was feeling rather melancholic or frustrated, that they reused at least once a month. It included hard liquor, very specific snacks from a very specific bakery, and usually, a very honest (and sometimes very hard) conversation that would never be brought up again unless the grieving party chose to bring it up. It had been revelatory, and while Laurie sometimes wished he’d happened upon it earlier, he doubted it would have ever worked with anyone else.  

How it had happened, he wasn’t even necessarily sure, but Laurie was very aware that Amy had, in the blink of an eye, become an essential part of his life in Paris. 

Really, his life in general. 

It was a friendship that could survive on its own terms, he mused sometimes, even without the weight of its history behind it. Something so utterly new and different that he had no measure of reference for it. Even his closest friends didn’t compare. It was nothing like his experience with Jo had been, where he’d admittedly spent a good chunk of their time together in rose-tinted glasses. It wasn’t the reliable and easy-going bromance he had with Will.  It definitely wasn’t comparable to what had once been. It was all apples and oranges, no matter the comparison he tried to make in his head. 

Whatever it was, however, Laurie had to admit that it was real. Not that the other relationships in his life weren’t genuine. But there was a rawness to this relationship he simply couldn’t describe with words. For all that he loved Jo, emotional strife was rarely her forte despite her best intentions. And Will, while Will had become his rock in the year he’d spent gallivanting around the world, there was still so much he and Will were yet to learn about each other. Not that, admittedly, he wasn’t in a  similar position with Amy. But it still felt different. In a good way, but different nonetheless.

Laurie couldn’t articulate it, but if he were being honest? He couldn’t get enough of it. 

——

Sophie Dupont had been more than happy to declare her blind-date matchmaking a success, never mind that there was actually no romance in sight. 

“I deserve a medal for my golden success rate,” she declared once again, as the trio of Sophie, Will, and Laurie were enjoying a rare weekend lunch together. 

“It would only be a success if we were actually dating, you realize?” Laurie countered with a shake of his head. 

“You realize the whole point of the blind date was you finding ways to occupy your time and stop ruining our date nights?” Will questioned him dryly. 

“When have I once crashed date night?” Laurie demanded incredulously. “If anything, I’m very particular about avoiding your date nights.” 

“Maybe you physically don’t,” Sophie agreed. 

“Damn straight! I’ve roomed with you guys. I’ve seen enough to scar me permanently, I think.” 

“But we can’t enjoy date nights knowing we’ve left you to fend for yourself. All alone in a brand new city? That’s simply no good, you know.” 

“I’m a grown man, Will. I can spend a weekend on my own.”  

“Yes, but because of  Soph’s blind date, you don’t have to,” Will responded brightly. 

“In fact,” Sophie drawled, “I think you spend more time with her than you do with us.” 

“I’m actually starting to feel neglected,” her partner agreed readily. “You’ve been here almost four months now and I feel like I’ve rarely seen you outside of work.” 

Now…Laurie couldn’t exactly refute that. Even simply meeting up for lunch this weekend had taking quite some planning on their part. 

“Wait,” Sophie narrowed her eyes as something suddenly occurred to her. “Do you want to be dating her?”

“Erm,” he shrugged helplessly. He genuinely wasn’t sure what he wanted as far as Amy was concerned. That both terrified and excited him. 

“Our Dora’s got a little crush!” Will crowed gleefully, before frowning in thought. “Wait. Why haven’t we met this woman who’s got you absolutely wrapped around her finger?” 

Laurie grimaced at the nickname first, and then at Will’s insinuation. Dora was, amongst Laurie’s many nicknames, his least favorite. Or so he liked to claim out loud, anyway. 

“Wilbur’s right actually. Why haven’t we met Amy yet?” Sophie looked thoughtful. 

“Wait. Did you really set me up with a blind date you’d never met?” Laurie demanded. “What if she’d been an axe murderer?” 

“An axe-murderer?” Sophie huffed in disbelief. “You really think I’d do you dirty like that?” 

“You set me up with a stranger you’d never met!”

“I’ve met Anette though. And she’s Anette’s best friend. Figured that passed muster,” Sophie argued in a reasonable tone. 

“You’ve been tooting your own horn since December! And you set the whole thing up on pure hearsay. That this didn’t go up in flames was pure chance, you realize?”

“When did blind dates get such a bad rap?” Will wondered idly before smirking at his best friend. “I see what you’re doing though, you know? You don’t want us to meet your Amy.”

Fair. He didn’t want them to meet Amy. Not just yet, anyway. 

“I never said that!” Laurie protested. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I reach out to Anette and set up a meeting with her and Amy?” Sophie enquired with an arched eyebrow, reaching for her phone as she spoke. 

“That seems a little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” he argued, recognizing the futility  in  his argument as he made it. 

“Too late. Message sent,” Sophie gave him a victorious look before reaching for her drink. “It’s time we learn more about this woman who’s got you absolutely enamored.” 

“I’m not enamored,” Laurie sputtered. “I just happen to enjoy spending time with her!”

“Sure buddy,” Will offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’ve gotta say Dora, I’ve never seen you crushing this hard on someone and not simply date them, in the time I’ve known you. And I’ve seen you date many a woman.” 

“You’ve also never seen him hung up on the same person for more than two weeks,” Sophie pointed out lazily. “Not since the big one, anyway. This has to be a record of some sort.” 

The argument over Laurie’s supposed crush on Amy continued well into the afternoon, right up until they’d parted ways. Sophie had also managed to set up a meeting with Anette and Amy in the meanwhile, much to Laurie’s consternation. 

‘Bye bye bubble,’ he’d thought despondently, watching the smug couple walk away as they parted ways on the sidewalk.  

——

As was his luck, Annette, Amy, Sophie, and Will got along fabulously. Laurie supposed he rather got along with Anette too, the only unknown the equation for him. And yet, their first meeting had been unsettling enough that he was sure he would actually never forget it. 

“And if you happen to hurt my best friend in any way, I will find you, harvest you for parts and later force-feed you the best French meatballs you’ll ever eat in your life,” Anette had warned him, the cheerful tone never wavering as she’d transitioned from her greeting to her warning. “Mystery meat edition.” 

“I…” Laurie had looked at her with wide eyes, caught off guard. “I don’t plan on hurting her!”

“That’s good then,” she’d given him a satisfied smile. “But take the warning nevertheless.” 

That had been that. Soon enough, their social groups had merged into one big happy family. However, Will, Sophie, and Anette remained convinced that he was enamored by Amy. Laurie’s efforts in denying as much had been ineffectual. 

And Amy, well, as far as he knew, Amy had continued to remain out of the loop where that particular nugget of information was concerned, blissfully ignorant. 

——

Laurie would, in the years to come, insist that one otherwise unremarkable Saturday night in March in particular, had been a pivotal moment in their newly defined relationship, but not for the perfectly logical reasons that many would automatically point to. 

It was just the two of them that Saturday evening. Their friends had all had plans of the romantic flavor, automatically excluding them in the process. And so, once they’d decided that they were far too lethargic to go out, Amy and Laurie had hunkered down in the latter’s apartment with a proper Italian feast by way of takeout.

There really was nothing noteworthy about the evening or the events planned for it. It was quite simply the two of them demolishing a bottle of wine as they pigged out on  pasta and sustained an innocuous conversation about the most random topics they could come up with, as they often did these days. 

It was a remark in passing on Laurie’s part that infused some tension into the otherwise genial atmosphere. He couldn’t recall what he’d said exactly. It had something to with Amy’s choice of profession, if he had to guess. But he could recall with perfect clarity the way in which Amy’s expression closed off, morphing into to a stony silence and putting an end to the companionable cheeriness. 

“Amy-,” he began, trying to salvage the situation when he saw her affable expression disappear, even though was lost as to the exact reason for the change in her mood.

“You know Aunt March didn’t actually offer to pay my university tuition because she thought I’d be any good as an artist, professionally?” She spoke over him abruptly. 

Laurie fell silent, letting her speak. 

“I don’t claim to be an altruistic person. I never have. I like the good things in life. When I decide I want something, I want. I can be material; mercenary even. I’m a lot like Aunt March that way. We have agendas. We pursue them. I’m selfish like that.” 

“Amy…” She shook her head at his interruption, emboldened by another sip of wine. 

“Aunt March had her agenda in bringing me over. I had mine. It was an implicit agreement between us. I got to go to art school like I wanted. She got to parade me around her social circles. I think I attended more events in society than I went to class in my first year here.” She sounded rueful, Laurie thought. 

“Not to say that I hated it. I like my glitz and glamor. You know that. Everyone knows that. I even went out on a few dates with the ‘eligible bachelors’ that were paraded around in these events.” She used finger quotes to describe the men in question.

“At one point towards the start of my second year, I started seeing this bloke. It got to the point where we went out exclusively, for a few months. Now, the moment Aunt March connected him to the Vaughn fortune-“

“Vaughn?” Laurie interrupted, frowning. “Not Fred Vaughn?”

“That’s the one,” Amy nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say Aunt March was very supportive of the relationship, and wasn’t particularly happy when I eventually ended it. It would have, I think, been the perfect conclusion to whatever European experiment she was running with me.” 

Laurie blanched. “You must have been, what, nineteen?” 

“Thereabouts,” Amy shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, I think that’s when our accord broke. Our agendas weren’t complimentary anymore. And not long after, she fell ill. Her doctors insisted she put an end to her traveling ways and retire to a home base.” 

“Plumfield,” Laurie whispered.

“Yes. You know this part, I’m sure. She decided to go back home to Massachusetts. She didn’t renew her lease here. She was never coming back, after all. Offered to bring me back with her too. Thought I had no prospects in Europe, after eschewing the Vaughns, so what was the point in staying? She never saw the value in art school. Not really. ”  

Laurie was watching her intently, even though she was no longer focused on anything at all, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the balcony doors.

“I had a year left. I wanted to finish it here. Graduate. In an act of kindness I didn’t anticipate, she insisted on paying my final year’s tuition before she left. Even if she thought it was pointless.” 

“That was a nice gesture,” Laurie nodded in agreement.

“Well, for all her posturing, there is a very real heart buried within that crusty old woman.” 

“I didn’t-,” Laurie started, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. 

“I know,” she waved it off easily. “You know, I spoke with Aunt March when I started my current job actually. She didn’t seem all that surprised that I didn’t make it as an artist. I guess she was right after all. I was a hack.”

“But- But you work with the Louvre! I know a lot of people who would term that a successful career,” Laurie sputtered out, disbelievingly. 

“Because I’ve an eye for good art,”  Amy emphasized with a bitter smile. “I’m hardly the artist people come to awe over. At best, I’m a passable forger, only a capable hand at the unoriginal.”

She caught his gaze, looking directly at him. It was rather reminiscent of how they approached their honest and difficult conversations, sans the hard liquor and bakery spread, he thought. “Laurie, I think I gave up on becoming a true artist a long time ago. I like to tell people I haven’t but I don’t even recall when I last picked up a sketchbook, let alone a paint brush.” 

“Amy…” Laurie was at a loss for words. 

“It’s fine,” Amy once again waved him off, this time his urge to console her. “I got over the worst of it a while ago.” 

“Why tell me this at all?” He asked, curious. 

Amy regarded him, as she formulated an answer in her head. “You like to allude to this future where I’m some kind of renowned artist. It’s an uplifting fiction, I won’t lie. Flattery does wonders sometimes. But it’s also exactly that. Fiction. I suppose I thought you ought to be told before you set yourself up for disappointment.” 

“Amy…” Laurie’s tone indicated a protest, an oncoming rebuttal.

She shook her head firmly. 

“Well, I still like your art,” he insisted stubbornly.

“And I’m glad you enjoy it. I am, but just because you do, doesn’t always mean the world agrees with you.” 

“Amy,” Laurie sighed, gesturing her over to him. “C’mere.” 

He pulled her into a comforting sideways hug, both of them still firmly planted on his ridiculously cozy sofa (he had paid a fortune for it, and it certainly continued to served him well). He held on long enough that eventually, she simply sagged into him, settling in comfortably. 

Laurie couldn’t lie to himself, it felt nice having her against him even if the circumstances weren’t the greatest.

“You know, I think I actually ended up framing or scrapbooking almost ever piece you ever gave me? Even those silly little after-school sketches and caricatures I preserved,” he started off conversationally in an attempt to lighten the mood, before snickering. “Well, except for that plaster-cast boot of course. I couldn’t frame that if I tried. Pretty sure I still have it somewhere back in Concord thought.”

“You do not,” Amy started laughing, almost snorting her wine out in the process. 

“Pretty sure I do,” he promised her gleefully. “Remind me the next time we’re there together.” 

“That thing was travesty,” she rolled her eyes. “And it should have definitely been papier-mâché.” 

“Hey, I thoroughly prefer my misshapen plaster-cast boot, thank you very much,” Laurie snootily informed her. “It’s one of a kind and an Amy March original.” 

“So much so that you don’t even know where it is?” 

“I know where it is. It’s back at Grandpa’s in Concord.”

“And just where in that big old mansion is the boot?” 

“Erm…”

Amy started laughing, instinctively burrowing her face against him to smother it. Laurie wouldn’t admit to it even if pressed, but he was rather certain his heart skipped a beat. 

“Surely just in my room,” he protested. 

“Which room? Your study? TV den? Bedroom? You had like eight different rooms to yourself.”

“Unclear, but I will caveat that it’s only because I haven’t spent much time there in a while. Grandpa started spending more time in London, so…”

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask,” Amy changed course, curiosity overlapping the laughter her tone as she reached out to pick on the garlic knots. “How’d you end up working with your grandfather anyway? Last I knew, you hated the idea of it.” 

Laurie considered his answer, and ultimately decided that it was only fair to give her an honest one in return, after the conversation they’d just had. “It was eventually a consequence of growing up, I think. I used to have these big, fanciful dreams when we were younger. We all did, really.  But I was going to embrace the arts and find my life within. Move to the Italian countryside. Live a life of indulgence and decadence.”

“I remember.” 

“I know you do. I also know you absolutely hated the idea. Especially towards the end of high school I think. Which made no sense to me back then. You wanted to be an artist. I wanted to be an artist. How was it different?”

“Laurie, I-“ 

He shook his head, stopping her unnecessary apology. 

“I understood eventually, I think. But first, I had to grow up. I went to college and suddenly I was around people who actually gave a damn, and wanted to change the world. Leave it a better place than they found it. Contribute meaningfully. The whole nine yards. And at first, I scoffed at it. It seemed so textbook and performative. Just, very rote and unrealistic in its own right. Of course I found it intolerable.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “But eventually, they stopped saying and started doing. It felt like overnight,  my peers had begun forging their paths forward. It wasn’t just big talk anymore. And I…I…”

“You know you don’t actually have to talk about this if you don’t want to?” She gently offered him an out. 

“No,” he shook his head. “We’re already here. Might as well.”

“Only if you want to,” she firmly insisted.    

“You know how, as the world you experience gets larger, the more ordinary and unremarkable you feel?” 

He felt Amy nod against him, his own gaze firmly focused on the near-empty wine bottle as he found his words. 

“It felt like that was the story of my life for a while there. My peers were forging their best lives, and there I was, with my stupid, fanciful dreams. They began to feel small and paltry in comparison. Ignorant even. What would it have really mattered if I’d wasted away in some secluded corner of the world, drinking my way through life and subsuming myself in my art, when I was, at best, just about capable at?”

Amy made a small noise of protest.

“I think that’s when I understood what you’d been trying to tell me for all those years. You wanted to create. Invest. Contribute. My pursuit…My pursuit was more selfish. I have no real talent. Not the prodigious kind that would have been a mistake to ignore anyway. For me, it was just refuge where I could hide away from the reality of the world like the coward I was.”

“Oh Laurie…” 

He hadn’t realized he’d been trying to crack his already cracked knuckles while speaking, until she intertwined her fingers with his, putting a stop to his absent fidgeting.

“I spend about a year after undergrad doing exactly that. Being a coward. Running away from things and licking my wounds, self-inflicted or not. But I couldn’t do it forever. You were right, you know. Even when you were an imperious sixteen-year old who loved to lecture others. When I really sat down and thought about it, I realized that I had been handed, on a silver platter no less, so much by way of opportunity. And maybe do something better. Something that affected meaningful change.” 

He paused briefly, turning to look at her. “Do you know that the Laurence offices employ over thirty-thousand people across the world? And directly impact at least forty to sixty-thousand jobs more? And that doesn’t even include the work we do through our foundation and a million other things that I could measure. ” 

Laurie shook his head as he considered his position. “And there I was, with a direct line to the highest office in that hierarchy - doing absolutely nothing with it and the influence I was capable of someday wielding through it.” 

“A big leap,” Amy murmured. 

He shrugged in response. “And so, I moved to where Grandpa was. Enrolled in grad school. Started working with him. Technically, I’m working my way up, for the experience. Began with the foundation in London. Moved to become familiar with the other European offices next. And it brought me here to Paris.” 

“I’m rather glad it did,” she smiled softly. “That’s commendable, really.”

“Not really,” he shook his head, looking away. “I had it easy. My privilege is undeniable.” 

“But you’re conscious of it and you want to do better, with it. That’s already more than  what most in your position would do, I’d argue,” she countered. 

He shrugged again, having no real response to give her. 

“You’re trying,” she reiterated softly, sagging further into his side as she spoke. “You haven’t given up. That’s always something to be proud of. I’m sure your grandfather’s proud of you. And Jo. And Marmee and dad. I’m proud of you. ” 

“Did you ever feel like you did?” He asked her curiously. “Give up, I mean.” 

Amy seemed to consider his question. “I thought I had. When I realized my dreams were dead because I decided I would no longer try. Be great or be nothing, right?”

Her smile was, if Laurie had to describe it, as melancholic as he’d ever known it to be. “But I eventually realized that how I achieve my goals can change. I still want to contribute but maybe my contribution was never meant to be as an artist. I’ve some ideas."

“Oh?” His interest was piqued. 

She shook her head. “Still working out the kinks. I’ll let you know if it ever comes into fruition.” 

“I’ll be waiting. Champagne and all,” he promised her earnestly, laying his head on top of hers as he did. 

“And I’ll return the favor,” she murmured in return. 

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Amy March.”

They stayed that way for a while, quietly nursing their wine until they’d emptied their glasses and the accompanying bottle. 

Eventually, however, Laurie found that he could no longer take the subdued silence. He stood up, gently pushing her off him in the process. 

“Alright. We didn’t sign up for all this doom and gloom tonight. We don’t even have the right accompaniments for it. More wine? Or what do you say we switch gears? Vodka? Tequila? I’ve some good scotch leftover from Grandpa’s visit?” 

“Whiskey sounds good,” Amy amiably nodded. “Low effort too.” 

“Grandpa’s scotch it is,” Laurie announced, searching out fresh glassware and pulling out the open bottle from his cabinet. 

They would end this night on a high note, so help him god. 

——

That particular dinner had certainly been a defining moment in their newly reengineered relationship, for a number of reasons as Laurie would articulate later on as the years went by. 

On another, perhaps more interesting note that others would point to, it had also been the first time they fell into bed together. 

The First Time

The first time it happened, Laurie woke up next morning to pleasant memories of the night before. He indulgently recalled the frenzy in which lips had met, flesh meeting flesh, feeling electric (euphoric), hands gripping his hair, and nails dragging down his back. And then he registered the warmth of another body against his, the familiar fragrance of a floral shampoo invading his senses. All before he’d even opened his eyes. 

It was Amy’s groan and muttered “Oh Fuck!” that brought him back to reality. He’d slept with Amy March. 

He’d slept with Amy fucking March.

‘Oh fuck indeed,’ he thought to himself, realising that his already confusing emotions regarding Amy were only going to get more complicated with this thrown in the mix. 

“I can do casual,” she confirmed with herself before chancing a glance at him, biting her lower lip as she did. “You’re good with casual one-night stands?” 

“Err, sure?” Laurie blanked, caught by surprise. 

“We can do casual, right?” Amy spoke out loud to the ceiling as she sat up, glancing around the room for her clothes. “Yep. Sounds like a plan.” 

Laurie silently watched as she rattled around the room, rapidly dressing and ruining any and all morning glow on his person. She looked at him, still splayed out in bed and observing her, once she was done. 

“This was rather…” She seemed unsure how to finish that sentence. 

“Something,” he offered with a hesitant grin, giving her the easy out she seemed to be desperately looking for. 

“Something,” she agreed immediately, latching on to it with no little relief. “I should really get going. Meeting a colleague - Aurelia, you’ve met her - for brunch today.” 

She hesitated by the door. 

“I’ll see you around?” Laurie ventured in farewell, hating the awkward tension that permeated the room. 

“Of course! Erm, I’ll see myself out.” 

The Second Time

At first, Laurie had simply been grateful that the awkwardness hadn’t lingered for too long, with him and Amy falling back into their new normal and their regular texting schedule within days of the incident.  And they seemed to be pretending that the night had never happened at all. He’d decided it was a small price to pay in the long run. 

And yet, in less than a week, it had happened again. But the second time, the second time Amy had left long before he’d even woken up. Laurie had felt strangely forlorn when he’d woken up alone the next morning, feeling around his bed and getting nothing but cold sheets, the lingering stale fragrance of her perfume, and a hastily scribbled note in return. 

And the Third

The third time was also the first time Laurie had consciously and deliberately initiated proceedings. The third time had also been relatively better, in his opinion, if only because the third time had introduced the concept of a morning quickie to their patterns (and had also cemented the fact that it was a pattern, even if it took him a bit longer to get to that conclusion). 

She’d still left soon after, but she’d at least deigned to wait until he’d gained consciousness. It hadn’t been breakfast, but Laurie had decided he would take the win.

Round Four

Their fourth, positively incandescent rendezvous had come on the heels of a date that had left Amy absolutely seething. 

“Why is it just so hard to find a good man to date?” she’d bemoaned later, as they lay in bed, catching their breath after what Laurie could only describe as a frenetic coupling. 

“I mean,” he’d ventured hesitantly. Hopefully. “I could always take you out sometime?” 

“Hardy har har,” Amy had snorted in response, crushing all his hopes in one swift blow. “I didn’t know we were adding a comedy set to our plans tonight.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laurie had genuinely been taken aback by her response. “We quite literally reunited at a blind date!” 

“It’s you and me, Laurie,” she’d sighed.  “We’re never going to get to have more than this. I know we aren’t. You know we aren’t. So why even bring it up at all?” 

Laurie, for his part, hadn’t known that. He hadn’t even known that she’d thought that until this very minute. But he’d been silent for a minute too long and the moment to follow up had passed. 

And Five  

 The fifth time, he’d managed to gasp out a “We’ve got to talk about this at some point, you know,” in the middle of it all. 

“We can’t not talk about this, Amy,” he’d insisted again as they’d drifted off for the night, sated and exhausted.

“You’re right,” she’d sleepily agreed. “It’s time for some ground rules, if we’re making this a recurring thing.”

That had not been what he’d meant at all, and yet Laurie had somehow found himself negotiating their ground rules over breakfast. Rules that, among other things, included absolute discretion and secrecy as far as their particular activities were concerned. 

‘But hey’, he reasoned to himself after she’d left, ‘At least we leveled up to breakfast.’

And Six and Seven and so on and so forth

Laurie soon lost count, but he’d seen enough to notice that sleeping together had become a somewhat regular habit, for the both of them. 

Like clockwork, Amy would end up at Laurie’s place at least twice a week, if not more. If they’d been out together before that, it was a given that they’d end up there together. Admittedly, that was the more common occurrence, given that they went out together a fair bit, in equal measure with their friends and on their own. 

They never went to Amy’s, simply because she lived with a flatmate (Anette) and he had a whole apartment to himself. It was the more courteous thing to do, they had reasoned one time, and they’d never brought it up again. 

There had never, to Laurie’s memory, been an evening Amy had spent at his place that did not end with them in bed (well, not necessarily always in bed). At least, not since their trysts had become regularly scheduled programming. 

He had even, Laurie soon realized (to his guilt-induced horror) sometime into their arrangement, started treating it like a relationship, no matter that she’d indicated that there would never be one. At least, not one of the romantic nature. 

For one, he hadn’t cared to take advantage of opportunities that had fallen his way in some time now, something he only noted when he’d politely rejected a woman for the third time one night. 

“Not feeling it tonight, Dora?” Will had joked with a smile, having been his drinking companion for the night. It was then that Laurie had registered that he’d not really been feeling it for a while now. Since he’d moved to Paris at least, if he recalled correctly and definitely not with anyone who wasn’t…well…Amy. 

And if he’d begun, while planning out his weekly schedules, accounting for the substantial time he’d spend with Amy (in and out of the bedroom), then that was just Laurie being pragmatic. 

The final nail in the coffin had been a month and a half or so after they’d begun their new arrangement, when Amy had ended up at his one Friday evening, frustrated after another lackluster date. The third time in as many months, Laurie had silently noted (seethed, if he were being honest). It had predictably ended with them fucking, resulting in what, for him at least, had been an incredibly possessive experience, where all he’d wanted to do was stake a claim that he knew wasn’t rightfully his. 

He’d spent the rest of the weekend wallowing in a spiral of desire, envy, and shame - a toxic combination if there ever was one.

“You’re right,” he lamented pitifully, banging his head against his desk in dramatic fashion, when Will entered his office the next Monday morning. “I might just be the tiniest bit enamored.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Desire in the Eye of the Beholder

May 

“I might just be the tiniest bit enamored.” 

Startled by Laurie’s dramatic declaration, Will furrowed his eyebrows as he processed his best friend’s words. 

“The tiniest bit…” His confusion cleared as he processed Laurie’s words. He set down the coffee tray on the desk, walking around to lean against it, near the despondent man. 

“Oh Dora! What have you done now?” He looked sympathetic. 

“Damned if I know,” Laurie mumbled to his desk, his muffled words barely legible. 

“C’mon. Get up. Talk to Will,” his (other) best friend cajoled him. “I got you your favorite, a double macchiato.” 

His hand automatically stretched out in search of the manna Will was using to bribe him (he knew a bribe when he saw one, even if the purpose behind Will’s bribe had rather unexpectedly changed in the face of the rather miserable sight Laurie made for). 

“I may have,” he bit out reluctantly, after taking a minute to inhale his coffee and recompose himself, “just maybe, kinda been sleeping with Amy,”

“You dog!” Will whistled in glee before confusion once again marred his expression. “Wait. Isn’t that a good thing? Why isn't that a good thing? Laurie, why aren’t you skipping on air right now?”

Will’s voice went higher with each question.

“We’re just fucking Will. That’s it,” he explained despondently. “Nothing more.”

“Damn Dora…how on earth do you end up making your crush your booty call?” 

Laurie wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t make her…if anything she…” He reconsidered his words. “No wait. Actually, it just kind of sort of happened the first time. And then it happened again. And again. And again. And now it’s just standard operating procedure.” 

“What the fuc…”

“She’s absolutely perfect, Will,” he groaned. “She’s smart. She’s beautiful. She’s genuine. She knows me inside and out. She’s seen me at my best. She’s seen me at my worst.  She doesn’t let me get away with shit. But I’ve also never felt more confident in life. And when she’s unguarded, I swear I could get lost in her eyes for days.  She’s- she’s…” 

He paused, looking at Will with a manic desperation as he tried to translate his feelings coherently. “When we’re together, it’s electric. It feels like together, we could light up all of Paris. I’ve never felt more on top of the world. She’s just absolutely fucking perfect Will. She’s perfect and she doesn’t want me.”

“Buddy…” Will trailed off momentarily, giving his friend a sympathetic pat on the arm. “You don’t know that she doesn’t want you,” he tried consoling his friend. 

“Oh no. I know,” Laurie assured him morosely. “She practically told me as much. Not like she minced her words in the process.” 

“But she’s still ready and willing to sleep with you?” Will looked skeptical. 

“Well,” he smirked lightly despite his despair. “We are quite good at it.” 

“Electric,” Will repeated dryly. “I listen. So why doesn’t she want you, then?” 

Laurie shrugged. “No fucking idea.”

“Didn’t you say the rejection was rather straightforward?”

“She laughed at the idea of me taking her out. Said we were never going to get to have more than this and that we both knew it.” 

“‘This’ implying your little arrangement?”

Laurie nodded in agreement.

“And do you know why?” 

He frowned at his friend. “Do you think we’d be here if I did?” 

Will snorted. 

“Oh, definitely. But back to the matter at hand. She thinks you know why,” he deduced. “And you’re too afraid to clarify.” 

“I don’t want to risk losing what we have in the process,” he admitted, rather sheepishly if he were being honest. “I want to tell you she’s the center of my universe, Will, but it feels far too soon for that to be true. But centre or not, she’s become pivotal to it. I can’t lose that. Not this time around.” 

“Wait. Hold up. This time around? I thought you were simply old family acquaintances who happened to meet again.” 

Laurie exhaled loudly. He sometimes forgot that despite the many years they’d been friends, there were still some parts of his history in Concord that Will was simply not privy to in its entirety. 

“You know Jo, right?”

“Your other best friend, who’s promised to duel me for the sole honor when we meet? Yep, I know of her. I’m pretty sure I  took up fencing because of her.” 

“And you know how Jo has three sisters?” Laurie intoned. 

The pieces fell into place for Will. “No!” 

He shook his head in disbelief. 

“Dora, tell me Jo March isn’t Amy’s older sister.” 

Laurie simply shrugged in response. 

“The same Jo you were madly in love with until a few short years ago. The same Jo you somehow stayed ridiculously good friends with after. The same-”

“It wasn’t like that,” Laurie protested, interrupting him. “That whole facet of our relationship imploded quite spectacularly. You know that because that was how I ended up meeting you.” 

“Yes. But it existed once nevertheless, didn’t it? You can’t erase history, Dora. Nobody can.” He shook head.  “Wait, how does this translate to losing Amy again though?”

“Back then, it barely even registered. I was off living it up in college with Jo. She was off doing her own thing in high school. We naturally grew apart. And eventually, she went away to Paris to study. I took off on my travels. And before I knew it, I’d neither seen nor thought of Amy in almost half a decade, not until Soph and Annie set us up. And now….” 

“And now, just a few short years after you’ve gotten one March out of your system, you’re madly in love with another.” 

“Madly…in love?” Laurie was skeptical. “Enamored? Maybe. Captivated? Undeniably. Enchanted? Arguable. In love though? It’s a bit too soon for that, isn’t it?” 

“Have you heard yourself at all this morning?” Will shook his head, incredulous. “It’s not like we’re predisposed to fall in love on a schedule, you know.” 

Laurie was unconvinced. He couldn’t have…It was far too early for that to be true…Wasn’t it?

“And just what does our esteemed Jo think of this, anyway?” 

“…Jo may or may not currently be out of the loop as far as this particular situation is concerned.” 

He couldn’t say for sure but Laurie was rather certain he saw Will furtively pump his fist in victory. 

“Scared she’ll side with her sister over you?” Will smirked. 

He snorted. “Hardly even a question. Amy would hate it if I brought her into the middle of all this, though. I could guarantee it.” 

“Have you ever considered,” he ventured cautiously, “that maybe Jo’s the reason Amy’s reluctant about this whole thing?” 

“Jo’s with Fritz now. They’re practically an old married couple even if they refuse to consider actually getting married,” Laurie shook his head in denial. “And besides, Amy was there that summer. She witnessed our implosion in real time. She knows it’s over between us. It was rather conclusive as far as breakups go.” 

“Are you sure or are you simply presuming that she does?” 

“She knows. She has to know,” he insisted. “There’s no way she doesn’t.”

“How certain are you?” 

Laurie wasn’t certain he had an answer for Will.

Will sighed. “Right. You need to do the boring thing. You two need to sit down and have a proper talk. You can’t keep doing this and you know that. It’s not fair. To either of you.” 

“I know,” Laurie groaned in defeat. “This past weekend was horrible, Will. Like you wouldn’t believe it. I was fucking jealous! Of some random two-bit guy she had every right to go out on a date with. And then I was ashamed of being jealous when I had no right to be. I swear if the weekend had gone on any longer, I’d be dealing with an ulcer or two. But-”

“But nothing,” Will shook his head firmly. “Sometimes the best things in life lie on the other end of decisions that terrify the fuck out of you. The only way across is through, Dora. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he sighed despondently, “I’m sorry too.” 

——

Despite his conversation with Will, Laurie had rather reasonably decided that the dreaded conversation he’d agreed to eventually have wouldn’t occur before his birthday. His gift to himself, or so he’d convinced himself, at any rate. 

It definitely wasn’t a cowardly act of procrastination on his part. Nope. Not in the slightest. 

And so, he’d managed to put it off for a few weeks. He was resolutely not thinking about it, if he could help it. And he could, most of the time. Well, some of the time. It was a partial success. 

Well-wishes on his birthday started off, as it generally did, right at the stroke of midnight. A little bit before, actually, if one were being pedantic. It had become something of a competition born out of the rivalry between Will and Jo, who were both usually determined to be the first wisher. He didn’t put it past them to go to ridiculous lengths to achieve their victories. Will had, in the previous year, spent the night at his simply in an effort to beat Jo’s phone call and he’d only just about managed it.

Therefore, he was entirely unsurprised when minutes before the clock struck midnight in Paris, Jo had called him, simply to keep him on the line. 

“Happy Birthday Teddy m’boy,” she’d wished him jovially the second a new day had dawned (figuratively), muttering a low “Take that, Will!” in the process. 

“Thanks, Jo,” he smiled, shaking his head at their stupid competition. 

“Happy Birthday Laurie,” Fritz wished him as well, passing along in the background and only stopping for the one brief wish. 

“Thanks Fritz!” He called, towards the man’s retreating back. 

“So?” Jo asked him impatiently, now that they were past pleasantries and she’d won the day.

“So?” Laurie was confused.

“Who is she?” 

“Who’s who?” 

“The woman you’re trying to woo, Teddy!” 

“I”m not trying to woo anyone,” he yelped in response. There was no way in hell that he wanted Jo, of all people, involved in the matter.

“Teddy,” she arched an eyebrow knowingly. 

“What?” 

“You know I know, right?” 

“I have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about,” he bit out insistently. 

Jo sighed in disappointment before offering her hypothesis. “Any time you’re interested in someone, you automatically stop talking to me for a bit. We default to the odd text conversations instead. Mostly because the women are intimidated by your close friendship with an ex.” She made a face at that last sentence. 

“And because your relationships rarely last longer than three weeks, we’ve never had to evolve past that arrangement. Face the gauntlet, as it were.” 

“I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” he muttered, looking abashed at her analysis of his past behavior. He really hadn’t been doing that this time around, though. At least, he didn’t think he had.

“I mean,” Jo shrugged nonchalantly, “I totally get it. Before Fritz, I went on at least a few dates with people who couldn’t handle our friendship. Besides, I could use the break from you every once in a while. It’s just, this is the first time in a while now.”

She looked at him with a mischievous smirk. 

“But you, Teddy, have been MIA for over a month now because of some woman. But like hell I was going to let that make me miss your birthday and just hand Will the victory. And now I’d like to know more  about her, please?” 

“She’s no one!” Laurie protested, a slight red covering his pale cheeks as she looked at him expectantly. 

Jo gasped in legitimate surprise, making her deductions as she was speaking. “It’s still going on, isn’t it? Whoever this woman is, you’re positively infatuated.” 

“Jo-“

It’s alright,” she interrupted him, almost generously. He didn’t like it. “I’ll wheedle out my answers from you soon enough.  Or there’s always Will. Not like he’d hold out in a conversation with me. So, what are your plans for today?” 

“Some sleep,” he quipped back, grateful she was moving on but wincing at the thought of future interrogations. He desperately hoped that Will wouldn’t spill his guts but also comforted himself with the fact that Will would enjoy having one over Jo for once. “I never go to bed before midnight because I know it’ll only cause you and Will to go nuclear if I don’t answer.” 

“Fair enough. And then?” 

“My friends have brunch planned, I believe. So just that, I suppose.”

Laurie was also seventy percent sure he’d probably end up spending the evening with Amy, but he wasn’t exactly interested in finding out how Jo could make his life miserable from all the way across the pond. 

“Talk about a downgrade from the college years,” Jo scrunched her nose in response. 

“You literally spent your birthday locked away in your room because you were inspired and you just had to write,” Laurie responded dryly. “And you didn’t even do anything with whatever you spent the whole day on. We’re older now. Deal with it.” 

Jo simply sniffed in response. 

“Alright, I might head of to bed now-”

“Yeah yeah. Sleep hygiene. Blah blah,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Good Night Jo.”

“Oh! Expect a package sometime this week,” Jo reminded him before offering her own farewell. “Night Teddy.” 

——

Laurie’s friends showed up bright and early in the morning. Well, it was rather early for a weekend. The group for the day had eventually settled at Will, Sophie, Anette, Anette’s partner Liam, with Amy rounding it out - the core group most often these days, as it were. 

“Happy Birthday Dora,” Will had bellowed jovially, when they spotted him walking out of his building. “Your Jo may have gotten first wish, but this year, I get the hug and the rest of the day.” 

“Sure thing buddy. I’ll let her know,” he patted his friend in the back as he endured a bear hug…that he didn’t absolutely hate. 

The rest of the group wished him in turn, Amy saving hers for the end. 

“Happy Birthday Laurie,” she greeted him softly with a small kiss on his cheek, before they all started towards their destination on foot (but without overwhelming the pavements, like the conscientious people they were).

“It’s a shame Arty and Darcy couldn’t make it,” he heard Sophie conversing with Anette behind him, along the way. He briefly spotted Liam and Will having an intense conversation, all the way in the back that he dismissed almost immediately with a  ‘Sports, if I had to guess.’

“Darcy?” He piped up.

“My brother’s boyfriend. You haven’t met yet,” Sophie explained. “That’s how I met Anette. I believe they were flatmates.”

“It was Amy, Darcy, and me,” Anette confirmed. 

“Ah.” 

“Until he absconded with Arty anyway,” Amy chuckled. “Now we’re lucky if they stop by Paris once or twice a year.”  

“But have you seen some of the places they’ve managed to visit,” Anette asked dreamily. “I’d say yes to their lifestyle in a second if I thought Liam and I could afford it.” 

“Honestly, I’m still waiting for you and Liam to move in together, kicking me out in the process,” Amy chuckled. “It’s been what, two years now?”

Anette blushed lightly. “We may have talked about it,” she admitted guiltily. “But I wanted to wait out our lease.” 

“Annie,” Amy looked touched by the consideration. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“It’s not like we’d let her go homeless,” Laurie agreed easily. She was always welcome at his. Desired, even. 

“No,” Anette agreed. “But we want to find the perfect place together too. So we’re happy to take the time. Worry about all this come November or December.” 

“Yeah. Plenty of time to go,” Amy agreed. “Where exactly are our missing lovebirds now, anyway?” 

“San Juan, I think,” Sophie spoke up. 

“Wait,” Laurie spoke up, confused when something happened to occur to him. “How’d you end up meeting Anette but not Amy?”

“It was honestly a chance meeting,” Sophie shrugged. “Darcy had forgotten something or the other that she ended up dropping off for him at Arty’s. I happened to be in Paris at that time, so we happened to meet and exchange numbers.”

“And so, a friendship was born,” Anette added. “Even if it was primarily over text until she happened to move here as well.”

“Speaking of moving,” Sophie piped up. “Just so you know, apartment hunting’s a passion of mine. Happy to help anytime.” 

“She really is a vicious negotiator,” Laurie nodded, grinning. “You wouldn’t believe the deal she got on their place.” 

Sophie simply shrugged, smug smile on her face.

Their brunch destination for the day had only been a mercifully short  ten-minute walk away from Laurie’s apartment.  So, it wasn’t long before they found themselves seated and perusing a drinks menu at bohemian cafe that Anette insisted served the best Belgian Waffles in Paris. 

“Bloody Mary, Dora?” Will quirked an eyebrow at him, his question clearly rhetorical. 

“It is apparently tradition now,” Laurie shrugged anyway. “You wouldn’t let me say no if I tried.” 

And all because they’d had it one memorable birthday and the habit had, rather unfortunately, stuck.

“Damn straight.” Will looked around. “The rest of you?”

“Raspberry Mimosas,” Anette and Sophie agreed in unison. 

Amy shook her head slightly. “This place makes an amazing Rosemary Gin Fizz.” 

“That does sound good,” Liam looked intrigued.

When Laurie looked at him hopefully, Will snorted. “We’re definitely sticking with Bloody Mary’s,  you and I. Can’t let tradition die now, can we?”

“It’s only been like three birthdays,” Sophie snorted at her partner’s antics. “Some tradition.”

“Traditions have to begin somewhere,” Will sniffed imperiously in response. 

“Did they have to begin here?” Laurie grumbled under his breath.

“Like we’ll stop with one drink,” Will snorted, clearly having heard his friend. 

“I mean, Liam and I will,” Anette shook her head. “Liam and I are off to meet my folks after. My grandparents are in town.” 

“Oh,” Sophie looked intrigued. “Finally meeting the grandparents then? We haven’t done that yet, come to think of it.”

Amy snorted. “I mean, how hard is it really once we get through the parents?” 

“I mean,” Laurie considered. “I’d be pretty nervous to meet Aunt March even if your parents loved me. If I were a hypothetical stranger, of course.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t be nervous going to meet her now,” Amy snickered. “And you’d expend your nerves by getting on her nerves.” 

“Sounds like our Dora,” Will agreed with a chuckle. 

“Isn’t it my birthday?” Laurie protested good-naturedly. “I think I deserve a day off from being targeted on my birthday.” 

“You’re asking for a miracle, knowing these guys,” Liam chuckled. “Anyway, shall we direct our energies to deciding what’s good food here?” 

Between the six of them, it took until the arrival of their drinks for them to decide upon their meals. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Amy spoke up after taking a sip of her drink and silently offering Laurie a taste, when a natural pause had quietened the table. “What is with this whole Dora business anyway?”

“And is it a better story than the origin of the Bloody Mary’s tradition?” Annette cheekily demanded.

“The Bloody Mary’s were just an order-mix up at a restaurant,” Sophie answered easily. “Wilbur just insisted that it was fate and ought to recur every year because he was desperate for a tradition that excluded Laurie’s other best friend.”

“Well, what do you call a man whose preferred name is a nickname?” Will followed up her dismissive words, in dramatic fashion.

“I actually remember the origin of that nickname too,” Sophie chuckled, skipping the theatrics and launching into the story. “So, Wilbur and I met Laurie when we were all taking the time to journey around the world and whatnot.”

“One particular leg of our journey was, if I recall correctly, a sixteen hour train ride. And we were joined by a gentleman seated near Laurie for that particular train ride,” Will jumped in easily.

“Nice guy really,” Laurie informed them, deciding to contribute as well. “But he also enjoyed talking to pass the time. And man, could he talk.” 

“And he looked like Mr. Monopoly. That’s an important visual,“ Will added. 

He was really invested in his conversation with us. Well, mostly with Laurie, because the man had been traveling for months, by then,” Sophie continued. 

“Incidentally,” Will snickered, “for whatever reason, his pronunciation of Theodore sounded like Theodo-ra to me. Us all, really. And there was very little real estate left on his name for a nickname.” 

“A child two rows down was watching Dora the Explorer on her iPad,” Sophie informed the table dryly.

“Laurie’d been exploring the world. That gentleman put Theodora in my head. The more conventional nicknames were out. And so,” Will finished triumphantly, “Dora.” 

“Why was the visual important again?” Liam muttered, confused. 

Will looked around, as if waiting for applause. 

When none was forthcoming, Laurie chuckled, saluting his friend with his drink. “I told you it was stupid.” 

“Oh come off it,” Will scoffed. “You love it.” 

“I’m just naturally predisposed to prefer nicknames over my actual name is all.” 

“He really is,” Amy agreed. “It’s his given names that he can’t seem to stand. I’ve legitimately seen him write in ‘Laurie’ on official forms and documents.” 

“Theodore’s hardly all that bad a name,” Liam mused. 

“But it’s just so stiff…and formal,” Laurie shuddered. “And Theo makes it sound like I’m some rich, irresponsible fuckboy.”

“Which you definitely were, for some time,” Sophie drawled. 

“I like to think I’ve matured.” 

“We know,” she assured him. “We were witness to it. Maybe even partially responsible.”

“This is like taking credit for a blind-date on hearsay all over again,” Laurie accused her.

“Wait, what now?” Amy interjected. 

“Clearly, you two formed a lasting relationship,” Sophie sniffed. “You’re still talking, aren’t you?”

Laurie heard the implied accusation in her words, silently cursing Will for spilling his guts to his girlfriend. He really should have known better than to trust him. He took the minute to glare at his other best friend, just to make himself feel better.

“That’s not the definition of a successful blind date,” Amy argued.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Laurie exclaimed, grateful for the backup. 

Before the argument could escalate, however, they were promptly interrupted by the arrival of their food and then, suitably distracted by the ensuing conversation. Anette’s doing, Laurie wagered. Or Liam. Liam was a sneaky bugger who preferred to mediate without actually having to at all.

The group parted ways at the end of a long brunch, by the couple. Anette and Liam had been the first to take off, given their planned family visit. 

Sophie and Will had said their goodbyes next, with a knowing wink and a smirk, the unsubtle ingrates that they were. 

That just left him and Amy. 

“They know, don’t they?” Amy asked him as they watched the couple leave. 

“They do,” Laurie admitted apprehensively, given that discretion was a rule they’d discussed in detail, and he’d all but ignored it. 

“Anette knows too,” she sighed in response, instead of blowing up at him. “Spent one too many nights away, I guess.” 

“Well,” Laurie exhaled. 

“Nothing we can do about it,” Amy nodded decisively. “Let’s get some tiramisu from that patisserie you’ve been wanting to try on our way back?” 

“Not a proper cake?” He teased her. “For shame, Amy. I’m positively hurt.” 

“Did you want a cake?” She looked at him inquisitively. 

“Not unless they do an exceptional coffee cake,” he answered easily. “And given that that recipe only exists in your mother’s recipe book, I’d say that that’s unlikely.” 

“You never know. They might just surprise you.” 

“No one makes a coffee cake better than Marmee, Amy. No one,” he told her rather seriously. “I’ve traveled many places and tried many cakes. Nothing has come close.” 

That wasn’t hyperbole, as far as he was concerned. 

“Marmee would’ve been touched to hear that. I ought to have recorded it,” Amy chuckled. “Want me to get the recipe from her for you?” 

“So that I can burn down the kitchen and ruin it for myself?” He snorted. He wasn’t exactly unskilled in the kitchen, but his skills extended to the absolute bare minimum required for survival as an adult and not an inch more. “No thanks. I’ll just enjoy it when I can get my hands on it.” 

“I mean,” she sounded hesitant in making her offer. “I could always try my hand at baking it if you’d like.” 

“Seriously?” Laurie was touched. While Amy, like every March he knew save Aunt March, was not as uninformed in the kitchen arts as he was, it wasn’t something that she (much like Jo) necessarily engaged in as a hobby or craft. 

“…Unless Marmee’s got some magic touch that’s missing in me, I think I can follow a recipe.” 

“No,” he hastily assured her. “No. Nothing like that at all. I’d appreciate it. Truly.” 

“I’ll text her,” she gave him a sharp nod. “Now. Tiramisu?”

“Tiramisu,” he agreed. 

Amy eventually insisted on treating him to a tiramisu cake, something that the patisserie had coincidentally been selling that day. 

“You were right,” she shrugged as she held on to the big box on their way up the elevator in his building. “You deserve cake. And if tiramisu can come in cake form, then why not? Besides, they rarely sell whole cakes. So this was clearly a sign from the universe itself.” 

“As long as you don’t mash my face in it,” Laurie chuckled, internally wondering how she was able to call that a sign, but completely downplay everything happening between the two of them. 

“And waste good dessert?” She snorted. “Yeah right. I’m definitely making you blow out the candles though. All twenty-seven of them.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Then why’d I buy the candles?” 

“How on earth did I miss that?”

Laurie checked his coat pockets, successfully pulling out his keys as he spoke.

“You were contemplating their shortbread,” Amy chuckled as he held open the door for her, occupied as her hands were. 

“It did seem rather good, you’ve to admit.” 

“I was honestly surprised you didn’t give in and get some. You love impulse buys like that.” 

“They’re going to melt on the cake before you even finish lighting them all,” he pointed out instead, shrugging in response. He simply…hadn’t (and if it had been because the very sight of Amy had distracted him from a distance before he could make a decision either way, he was hardly going to bring that to her notice).

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take and a sacrifice of good dessert I’m willing to make,” she set the cake down on his kitchen island counter, carefully opening the box.

“And here I thought it was my dessert,” Laurie chuckled, amused, as he searched out the cake knife she’d no doubt ask him for. The warm, affectionate smile she gave him on being handed the knife was gift enough for the day, he thought in passing.

As promised, Amy started sticking in all twenty-seven candles on top of the cake. 

“I’m going to take a video of you blowing this out,” she promised him. “In slo-mo. It’s going to look great. Ridiculous, but great.” 

“As long as we don’t set off the fire alarms in the process,” he sighed in mild resignation. “But absolutely no singing!” 

Before Amy could begin lighting up the candles, however, Laurie’s phone rang out. It was his grandfather. 

“Happy Birthday m’boy,” his grandfather greeted him with a warm smile. 

“Thank you Grandpa!”

“Just in time, Mr. Laurence,” Amy piped up from behind him, visibly surprising his grandfather. “We were going to cut some cake.” 

“Amy March?” 

“Hello!” She greeted him cheerfully. 

“Am I interrupting a party? I could call back.”

“You’re fine. It’s just us two,” Laurie assured him. “We just came back from brunch with Will, Soph, and the others a bit ago.”

His grandfather’s eyebrows raised at the pronouncement. “That’s a rather…cosy celebration.” 

“Rather impromptu too,” Amy confirmed absently, focused on the candles and not the screen. “Laurie, come help me light them so they don’t all melt into your cake.” 

Laurie placed his phone so that his grandfather had visibility before he moved to help Amy with a fond shake of his head. “So your willingness to sacrifice does have  some limitations then?” 

“Do you want less cake?” 

“Do we sing?” His grandfather asked, amused by the proceedings before him.

“Please don’t,” Laurie interrupted hastily, before reiterating. “I’d rather not have the singing. Ever.” 

“Not even a recorded musician?” Amy probed. “This is going to be real awkward without the singing, you know.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he muttered.

“Well, I suppose it’s rather fortunate that I’ve a singing voice that unfailingly grates on people,” his grandfather laughed genially. “I’m rather predisposed to spare you the horror.”

“Alright,” Amy clapped her hands. “Candles up. My camera’s right here and waiting. Your grandpa’s on and waiting. Shall we get on with it, awkwardly music free as requested? Not even acapella? You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m very sure,” Laurie fiddled with the knife she’d left by his impromptu cake. 

She aimed the camera at him, wishing him a happy twenty-seventh. It was awkward without the music, Laurie registered somewhere in the background as he tried blowing out the candles in one breath. He almost succeeded too, but a few had managed to reignite, causing him to huff them out in annoyance. 

“Only four drops of wax on the cake,” Amy pronounced triumphantly. “Not too bad, for twenty seven candles.” 

“Not too bad at all,” he agreed cheerfully. “And all because of my candle blowing skills.”

“I’ll have to see how you go with twenty eight, before I can confirm or deny that,” she teased him. 

“Happy Birthday again, Theodore. I’ll leave you two to enjoy your cake. We’ll catch up another time.” His grandfather gave him a knowing smirk. “Farewell, Ms. March!”

“Goodbye Mr. Laurence!” Amy, busy picking out the candles, turned to flash him a quick grin before heading back to her task. 

“Time to finally eat some tiramisu?” Laurie asked with a grin as he swiped a finger at the cake, getting himself a taste in the process. “After we shave off the the tribute to the candles, of course.” 

“And to celebrate,” Amy agreed with a flirtatious smile, swatting at his hand and missing by a few seconds. “You are the birthday boy, after all.” 

“Oh?” Laurie offered a rakish grin in return, now that they were alone again. 

“We do have a whole afternoon to ourselves.”

“And the evening too,” he agreed in easy acquiesce, pulling her towards him. 

“Plenty of time for a proper celebration,” she murmured, pulling him into an unrepentant kiss. 

Proper celebration. Yeah, if a proper celebration was going to start this way, Laurie wasn’t against that idea at all. He was hardly going to complain if the rest of his day morphed into a gift that kept on giving, even if he would have been content with much less. 

As they lay in bed later that night, Amy already fast asleep and curled up against him, Laurie simply knew that he couldn’t put it off anymore. Today had shown him, once again, just how much he’d be risking; just how much he’d be loathed to give this all up. But he also knew he had talk to her before things got untenable. Before they dug themselves a deeper hole. Have ‘The Conversation’ as he’d taken to calling it, before it was too late. 

He had no more excuses to give. Not even to an adjudicator as biased as himself.  It was time. 

“Next week,” he resolutely promised himself, before drifting off into unconsciousness, subconsciously pulling Amy closer towards him in the process. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Revelations in the Eye of the Beholder 

May (continued)

Laurie did want to have ‘The Conversation’ with Amy. He genuinely did. It just…didn’t help matters that every time he tried bringing it up, something else would always end up getting in the way. 

In the few weeks after his birthday, there were at least a few times that he’d hoped he might be able to bring up ‘The Conversation’. But lo and behold, he somehow found his objective derailed every single time.

Attempt 0

Well, Laurie really wouldn’t label his first attempt an attempt at all. He wasn’t a monster. It was going to be one. Sure. He’d talked himself up. He was ready to go. Raring, if anxious to get it over with. 

But then, Amy had baked him her mother’s coffee cake.

Attempt 1

His first proper attempt, well that first time really was his own fault. Laurie was man enough to admit that he had no other excuses. 

But in his defense, they’d been having a really nice evening. They’d both been on a genial high, and he’d been reluctant to ruin that at first. And then, well, the evening had taken its (now) predictable, intimate turn and really, what man had the strength to say no when a literal goddess was beckoning to him?

Attempt 2

Laurie’s second attempt had been derailed by good old-fashioned conversation. It had come out of nowhere, but it had held so much promise and hope for the future that he’d been loathe to ruin it.  

His second attempt had happened on a Friday night. Laurie had dropped by the museum after work, and the duo had made their way back to his for dinner. Amy had been bubbling with excitement the entire way home. 

“It’s actually coming together,” she told him with bright eyes as they settled in front of the television for the evening, warm leftovers in hand. “The launchpad might actually be reality soon!”

“I’m sorry?” Laurie was confused. 

“Remember when I told you I’d find my own way to contribute?” 

Laurie remembered that night quite well. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t make him forget it, he wagered. 

“You’re finally ready to talk about it, then?” 

“A launchpad that promotes new artistry but also preservation of the old,” she burst out enthusiastically. “We’d partner with museums and galleries around the world to promote up and coming artists. Help make their art valuable today, not posthumously. Spotlight them in new and inventive ways. Be a modern patron to the artists without access or notoriety.”

“Amy,” Laurie was speechless, pleasantly astounded.

“It’s not named as of yet,” she admitted. “But the museum’s agreed to work with Aurelia and me if we can land our investors! And some others have shown interest too.”

“That sounds absolutely brilliant.”

“We’ve been working on this for a few months now,” Amy beamed at him, flushed as she admitted more cautiously, “And we’ve heard back from two potentially interested investors. Big names too.”

“You’ll get them,” Laurie was confident, pride bleeding into his words. “This all sounds amazing. You are amazing.” 

And he knew right then that he wouldn’t ruin that night. He couldn’t. Not in good conscience anyway.

It had also been, he’d idly noted later, the first time Amy had spent a night in his bed and they’d simply, quite literally, spent the night sleeping together. 

Attempt 3 

For his third attempt, Laurie decided that a late morning or early afternoon was his best bet. He’d also wondered if a change of scenery might help. And so, he’d decided to surprise Amy at hers, with lunch. 

A quick text to Anette had let him know that she’d be out for the day, leaving Amy and Laurie with the whole apartment to themselves. Nervous enough that he’d gotten there early, Laurie just so happened to enter the building as Anette was leaving. 

She greeted him in passing, leaving him behind with a mildly threatening, “You remember our little conversation about hurting my best friend, don’t you?”

“Could’t forget it if I’d tried,” he assured her hastily, as the doors slammed shut behind her.

Laurie shifted the bag of takeout from one hand to another as he made his way upstairs and knocked on the apartment door before his nerves got the better of him. 

“Laurie!” Amy started at his presence when she opened the door. 

He lifted the bag in silent offering. “Thought I’d surprise you with lunch?” 

She chuckled, motioning for him to come in. 

“You do know you don’t have to bribe me with food when you want something?” 

“Who said I want anything? But still, food never hurts,” he simply shrugged in return. 

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed as they stopped by the kitchen to pick up some plates. “Table? We can eat like adults, for once.” 

The dining table at Amy’s apartment was rather pleasantly placed by a big, open widow that overlooked a park. It always made for a lovely spot to hunker down when they were here instead of at his, rare as that was. 

Casual small talk filled the silence as they settled down, spreading the containers in between them and grabbing some cold drinks to compliment the food.

Laurie steeled himself before he spoke up, once they’d settled down at the table. 

“Amy, we-“

The almost obnoxiously loud buzz of his phone interrupted  his sentence. He waited it out, deciding to ignore the text in question until Amy’s phone also lit up with a series of messages. 

She shrugged, gave him a small smile and nodded at his phone, picking hers up in the meanwhile. 

He winced when he realized the message was one long rant from Will. One he couldn’t ignore. 

They spoke up in unison. 

“Soph’s-“

“Will’s-“

“A relationship in crisis?” Amy guessed with a chuckle. 

“Looks like you’ve one side of the story and I’ve the other,” he nodded. 

“Oh wait,” she looked at him inquisitively. “What did you want to talk about?”

He shook his head. The Will and Sophie crisis seemed more immediate, he reasoned with himself. “It can wait. Now, these two on the other hand? Dramatic sods who desperately need our help.” 

“Alright,” she acquiesced easily enough. “What does Will think Sophie’s thinking?” 

“Well, first things first,” he started, “I think it’s important we establish that Will’s an idiot and Sophie can sometimes overreact.”

“And that they’re both too proud to admit when they’re wrong,” Amy nodded knowingly, thumbing through the messages on her phone.

And so, his plans ended up going nowhere as they spent their lunch and the rest of their afternoon attempting to patch up what was, in his opinion, an absolutely stupid argument between the two idiots  he called his closest friends on the continent. 

Attempt 4

Attempt number four saw Laurie setting up for the evening as they often did when they sat down for their hard conversations and worked out their frustrations, a selection of pastries from the anointed bakery and all. In preparation, he’d even picked up a brand new bottle of Amy’s favorite tequila. 

“How’d you guess?” Amy looked astonished as she entered his apartment later that evening, having long since been given a key. 

“Guess what?” He was perplexed. 

“Guessed that it was one of those nights,” she shrugged as she evaluated the spread he’d put out, giving him a grateful smile. “And my favorites too! I think you just brightened up my whole weekend.”

“Oh?”

Amy suddenly looked unsure. “Unless it was you who wants to-“

“Oh. No. No,” he hastily assured her. Now was clearly not the time. “I’m just clearly psychic. What happened?” 

“The launchpad’s biggest investor pulled out,” she grumbled. “Just two weeks after we’d secured them. They’d promised almost half our funding.” 

“Oh,” Laurie realized it really was going to be one of those nights. “What happened?” 

“Something about unexpected market conditions,” Amy began her frustrated rant as she unsealed the tequila and reached for two tumblers. “Absolute bullshit if you ask me.” 

And just like that, Laurie saw another attempt go down the drain, along with his more optimistic hopes that they would ever get around to it at all. 

Attempt 5 

Amy’s frustrations regarding her launchpad’s flaky investors followed them through the ensuing days, given that it was all she was able to think about as she scrambled to find new backers before all the hard work she and Aurelia had put into it went down the drain.

“We’d almost come up with a name too,” Amy grumbled one evening, just as Laurie was contemplating maybe bringing up ‘The Conversation’. Instead, his mind fell to another idea entirely. 

“Oh? What were you going to name it?” 

“Curtain Call.” Amy blushed lightly even as she said it. “Well, alright. We haven’t decided entirely. Illustry is also in the running.” 

“Not the March-Rouge Initiative?” He joked lightly. “Rouge-March Foundation?” 

“I offer no monetary resources. And I don’t want it to be named for us,” she shrugged. “Aurelia agrees. It feels disingenuous. This is about the artists and the art that we foster, promote, and preserve. Not us.” 

“I know,” he murmured in agreement, before the idea actually came to him.

“You know,” he started off in strained nonchalance. “I’m doing this thing for Grandpa in a couple weeks. It might be useful for you too?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You realize you’re being deliberately vague, right?”

“Grandpa may or may not be able to make it. So I’m slated to make an appearance at the McLaren’s Gala on the first of July regardless of his appearance. Come with me.” 

“McLaren’s…,” Amy’s eyes widened in recognition. “That’s the one happening in the Tuileries Garden! It’s touted to be the biggest charitable benefit of the year.”

“Think of it as all your potential investors sitting in one place,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “The who’s who of Europe. All the networking opportunities you’d ever want or have.” 

Instead of getting excited, Amy frowned in response. “I’d just come off as an opportunist, though. I wouldn’t want it to seem like I’m using you.” 

“But you would be,” Laurie pointed out easily. “In fact, I’m telling you to to use me.” 

“Laurie,” she shook her head lightly. “Reputations, remember? You have one. I hope to have one.” 

“Please, everybody who ends up there usually has an agenda of some sort,” he dismissed her concerns. “Otherwise they’d simply write out a cheque and avoid the grandiose self-congratulation of it all.”

“Laurie!” 

“You wouldn’t stand out at all.” He gave her a once over with a cheeky grin. “At least, not in a bad way.” 

Amy chuckled at his ogling. “Your mind would go there.”

“Go where?” He protested good-naturedly. “I was just thinking about all that training you must have had under Aunt March. I bet you’d already know some of the people attending by virtue of her.”

“That might be true, actually,” she mused. 

“In fact,” he proffered, “Aunt March might even be able to score you an invite all on her own if you asked her.” 

Amy immediately shook her head at that suggestion. “I don’t think I-“

“Then just come with me,” he proposed again. “I’m given a plus one for a reason, aren’t I? Let’s use it productively. Besides, I’m never going to say no to good company I can actually tolerate at these things.”

“Only if your grandfather doesn’t think it’s a bad idea,” Amy eventually relented. 

“Then you best mark your calendar,” he gave her a triumphant grin. “There’s no way Grandpa’s going to say otherwise.” 

“Thank you,” she gave him grateful smile in return. 

“Anything to help. And well, you were never going to let me offer up Laurence Foundation, so…” he shrugged.

“No,” Amy agreed. “Thank you for understanding, though.” 

Her smile slowly morphed into a cheeky smirk. “Care for a token of my appreciation?” 

And just like that, any and all thoughts of having ‘The Conversation’ fell by the wayside for the evening. 

Attempt 6

Laurie had argued with himself about ‘The Conversation’ ever since he’d invited Amy to attend the gala with him. He’d been going back and forth for a bit. After, he argued with himself, was the pragmatic decision because it didn’t risk her career (and if for a while longer, their relationship as well, that was just a bonus). And yet, he couldn’t help but try again one more time. 

Because, what if it actually went well?

For his sixth and final attempt before he fully gave into his despair, Laurie once again ventured outside his apartment. This time, however, he’d decided that they could probably just have their conversation in public. Somewhere outside, he’d reasoned, where they wouldn’t get distracted (neither of them had particularly exhibitionist tendencies), and hopefully, would remain uninterrupted. 

As ever, Lady Luck had all but decided to overlook his existence. 

They were at the park by Amy’s place, coffee in hand and enjoying the afternoon well enough that they were taking goofy videos and pictures for her Instagram stories. A precursor to the hard conversation, he comforted himself, wanting to at least finish their drinks before things got somber. 

“You make that face again and I swear I will make it a permanent post instead,” Amy warned him playfully as she scrolled through the pictures and videos, showing him a few every now and then. “Every single time, honestly!” 

“Your account is private,” Laurie informed her with a chuckle. “That isn’t the threat you think it is.” 

“You realize I’ve a public account too, right?” Amy gave him a weird look before bursting into full-blown laughter at his obvious presumption.  “Laurie, I wanted to be an artist. Of course I had a public account,” she managed to wheeze out in between.

“Why don’t I follow it then?” He decided that getting into an argument about her giving up her art was hardly appropriate right then and there. It was a discourse best shelved for another day, if at all. Especially with the plans he had in store for the afternoon.

“Because it’s more or less inactive. Just the occasional, neutral post,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I only still have it because potential employers and investors look you up. Social media makes it so you come off as a real person.”

“Curated posts as opposed to the in-flesh meetings and conversations?” He asked dryly. “Sounds about right.” 

“As opposed to being weird and off the grid to an unnatural level. It matters, trust me. I’ve heard HR talk about it!”

“That’s got to be an exaggeration.” 

“It’s like a character reference!” 

“Well, I’d never-“

“Of course you wouldn’t-,” she snorted. 

“Amy?” A third voice interrupted them as they were merrily squabbling. 

It was then that Laurie’s well laid plans, once again, went off the rails. Amy turned around to look at the person who’d called her name, Laurie following her gaze.

“Darcy?” She sounded surprised . “And-“

“Arthur,” Laurie finished in her stead, nodding at his friend.

“You’re back in town!” She moved forward to hug the men in greeting. 

“Just for the week,” Darcy shook his head fondly at Amy’s exuberant greeting. “We’re off to Iceland next.” 

“Does Sophie know?” Laurie enquired. 

“Or Anette for that matter?” Amy added on. “Actually. Wait. What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh you know,” Arthur started off airily. “When your partner misses his old neighborhood, you simply cannot not walk through it. No matter the time of the day or the plans that you’d had.”

“And just look at who we ran into,” Darcy responded pointedly, gesturing at Laurie and Amy before turning to look at them. “I didn’t expect you two lovebirds to be in the area, honestly. Thought you’d be in his fancy apartment and whatnot.”

“Oh,” Amy startled at Darcy’s words before Laurie, flummoxed as he was, could speak up. “We aren’t…”

Realization visibly hit Darcy as Amy trailed off. He abruptly changed tracks, like the good friend he was. “So, anyway. Impromptu reunion at the old place? We can give the others a call. Early dinner, maybe?” 

“Old!” Amy was immediately affronted. “You do realize Anette and I still live there right?” 

“But I haven’t been there in ages!”

“And just whose fault is that, exactly?” 

Laurie and Arthur watched on silently as their companions both ignored them entirely, walking towards the apartment as they quarreled like the old friends they were. They stopped when they’d walked about fifteen feet or so, and looked back at the duo watching them silently. 

“You coming?” Amy asked impatiently, waving them forward. 

“Shall we?” Arthur offered graciously, in response. 

“Talk about interrupted plans,” Laurie mumbled despondently as they started walking. 

“You and me both, my friend,” Arthur gravely agreed. “You and me both.” 

Somehow, just somehow, Laurie had the feeling that their plans for the afternoon had been as dissimilar as plans could possibly get. 

——

June

Laurie’s sixth attempt had, predictably devolved into an evening of reunions, big group dinners, and as such, left him with no opportunity to capitalize upon. Given that the mini-reunion had occurred at Amy and Anette’s apartment, Laurie had also ended up going home alone that evening. Fortuitously enough, he’d decided a few hours later. But at the time, the mild despair had reigned supreme. 

The event in question that had retrospectively made him reconsider his stance was a late night FaceTime call. A FaceTime call from his transatlantic best friend, in particular. It had been going eleven in the night, when Jo first called him. He stared his phone warily, long enough that it was eventually a missed call. 

Jo had, every single time they’d interacted since his birthday, been attempting to wheedle out more information about his mystery woman. She’d been unsuccessful so far, but he was well and truly getting weary of deflecting her questions. And tonight, well tonight he was afraid he might just break. 

His phone hadn’t dimmed from her first attempt at a call before a second one immediately took its place. And soon after, a third. 

By her third attempt, Laurie had realized that there would be no avoiding her if he wanted a restful night. So he exhaled loudly, trying to rally in himself the fight for another conversation full of deflection and cross-examination, before he answered the call. 

Jo spoke first, not even sparing a moment for perfunctory greetings. 

“It’s Amy.”

“Wha-“

“Your mystery woman. The one you’re infatuated with and refuse to tell me about,” she interrupted him impatiently. “It’s Amy. Isn’t it?” 

“And how exactly did you even come to that conclusion?” Laure was taken aback by the blunt confrontation.

“Anyone would,” She snorted in response, before adding, “I have eyes, you know.” 

“Actually,” a voice interrupted her dryly. “We had the eyes. You were just impatient enough to call him first.” 

“Beth,” Laurie found himself greeting the other women on the call. “Meg. You guys all in Concord then?” 

“It was a long weekend,” Jo waved his question off, laser focused on the matter at hand. “Let’s not get off topic. You. Are. Infatuated. With. Amy.”

“How even-“ Laurie shook his head incredulously. Ambushed by three Marches at once. It just wasn’t his night. Or day. Or week. Or month, apparently, if recent events had been any indication.

“We saw Amy’s Instagram story,” Meg explained apologetically, almost as if they’d something wrong. “It was rather obvious, really.” 

“Laurie, you were literally pining,” Beth exclaimed in agreement.

“Does she know?” Meg asked him, hint of a smile on her face.

“How do you spend an entire afternoon with the woman, with figurative heart eyes, and have her not realize it?” Jo snorted in response. 

“Rather easily, I assure you,” Laurie responded instinctively, before cursing himself. 

“Aha,” Jo quite literally yelled, victoriously. “I knew it.” 

He’d officially broken. There was no way he could talk his way out of this, Laurie realized. Well, he could have brought up Jo’s own obliviousness from years ago, but he neither had the inclination nor the desire to exhume that particular corpse. It just wasn’t worth it. He also simply didn’t have the energy to face off against three Marches together just right then. 

“Fate sure is funny, sometimes,” Beth mused absently. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laurie tried probing, curiosity piqued, before he was assaulted with more questions. 

“Does she not know?” Meg. 

“Don’t be stupid! Of course she does. Do you think she likes you back?” Jo. 

“Do you plan on asking her out?” Beth. 

“No wait. Actually, what’s the situation, exactly?” Jo again. 

“Am I going to be allowed to talk at any point?” He interjected dryly, as he moved to lean against his kitchen island and make himself more comfortable. “Or shall I end the call and let you discuss it amongst yourselves? Come back to me with prepared remarks.” 

The sisters only looked mildly sheepish. 

“What is this about fate, anyway?”

“Oh,” Beth seemed surprised by his ignorance. “Y’know. Her little middle school crush.”

What? 

Jo made a noise of protest.

“What?” Beth demanded. 

“High school crush,” she clarified. 

What?

“No,” Beth shook her head. “Middle school. Because I remember quite clearly, back in seventh grade-” 

“Try ninth grade. Those house parties. You remember Gardner’s-“

“That’s irrelevant! None of us did parties as well as these two. Besides she was dating- oh what was his name?”

Meg’s eyes had bugged out as the sisters debated the timing of Amy’s crush. Laurie was, for his part, equally lost. 

“Amy’s what now?” He broke in sharply, interrupting the two sisters when he’d regained his wits. 

“You know, she had the biggest crush on you through middle,” Beth paused, glancing at her sister’s barely suppressed urge to burst out, “and high school, apparently.” 

“And I didn’t know about this?” Meg demanded hotly. 

“Well,” Beth pointed out in a reasonable tone. “Neither did Laurie, and he arguably spent more time with her back then.” 

“You were off in college, all distracted with real life and John and whatnot,” Jo nodded in agreement. 

“If it helps, I had no idea about high school. And middle school was my own inference,” Beth added, before frowning at Jo. “Wait, how exactly did you…”

“Because she chose Paris,” Jo shrugged easily before wincing, realising what she’d just given away. Even Beth seemed surprised by her answer.

“Wait. What on earth are you talking about? You’re not saying-,” Laurie bit out, heated. “Amy actually liked me?” 

He was lost. Then why wouldn’t she…

He shook his head in denial. “You’re really telling me- That’s impossible. I remember those last few years before Paris; she only ever spoke to me when she was unimpressed with my choices. I’d have thought she hated me if she were anybody else. There’s no way- Why would she- I would have known.”

He would have known. He should have known.

“It’s not like Amy to keep what she wants to herself,” Meg nodded in support, working on believing her sister’s words herself, by the looks of it. “And she definitely wouldn’t have kept it from me.” 

“She would if she knew she was never going to get it,” Beth spoke, seemingly coming to her realization as she spoke, finishing softly, “And back then, she definitely would have if she’d known that she’d lose to Jo.” 

Jo, uncharacteristically, didn’t protest or crow at the statement. That only made Laurie frown deeper. 

“Besides,” Beth continued speaking. “It’s not like she told me either. I just extrapolated. How do you connect it to Paris, anyway?”

She glanced curiously at her sister. Jo, while arguably interested in figuring things out and getting her answers, did better when words on paper dealt with the nuance and real life hit her head on like a big red firetruck, sirens and all. 

With three increasingly demanding stares glaring her down, Jo eventually mumbled an answer. “She told me.” 

“She told you,” Laurie repeated flatly. And Jo hadn’t told him. 

No. Not just him. Jo hadn’t told anybody. 

This was going to be another conversation entirely, he realized, suddenly revitalized. This was going to be a conversation that gave him answers. 

“Jo. Talk,” he demanded tersely. Her sisters backed him up.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” she mumbled before sighing at the sight of three irritated expressions. “Fine. Fine. It’s been years anyway.”

She seemed to contemplate her words. “You all remember ‘the summer that shan’t be mentioned,’?” she started eventually, scrunching her face up in distaste even as she spoke. “Well, I’m going to have to mention it.” 

Beth snorted. “That was quite the summer. Your disastrous relationship. Amy’s cold war with Marmee and Dad. My almost recurrence scare after one year of remission. Which part, exactly?” 

Jo shrugged. “Most of it, I think. They were all kind of connected, really.”

“How? Individually, I know all about this but…” Meg trailed off, seemingly as lost as Laurie was. 

It seemed strange to him, really. That Jo was the one who knew the most in that little group on call, and that she’d managed to keep it to herself for so long. Jo, arguably the worst March when it came to secrets, holding on to what seemed like the biggest one of them all. 

“How was my thing connected?” Beth asked. Jo shook her head instead. 

“You remember how Aunt March used to attempt to bribe my behavior with the hint of an offer of maybe one day paying for a fancy European summer writing course?” 

“And then she never did, which left you distraught. And Marmee and Dad thought she’d just been cruel in promising you that and leading you on.”

“Something similar happened with Amy. Except, she actually made her an offer and came through on it.” 

“Marmee and Dad didn’t like it,” Meg correctly recalled. 

“Not at all. But you know Amy. She’s ever so practical, our little sister. Calculating, even.”

“Jo,” Laurie interrupted in a warning voice. They’d had this argument before. A few times now, honestly. 

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t like it when I do that. Yeesh. I know. And now I know why.”

“The point of this little segue?” Laurie asked, losing his patience. 

“I don’t know if she really told anyone. Even our parents honestly,” Jo pondered absently before getting to the point. “But she’d applied to art schools everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I saw some of her acceptances that day. She had offers from places like Yale, UCLA, Rhode  Island, some obscure place in Vienna, and of course, Paris.” 

“She was rather secretive about it all. Always gave me a vague ‘oh you know. A bunch of them’ answer when application season came about,” Meg remembered. “But I wasn’t living at home then, so I never delved much into it.” 

“I really didn’t either. We were all distracted by college and by work,” Jo agreed, “and of course Beth…”

Her sister nodded easily. “We’d simply figured we’d celebrate when she made her decision, wherever that was going to be. But then she chose Paris, and the mood was…not great for a while there in general.” 

Laurie had been quite clueless about her college application process too, he realized. And then he recalled his own college applications process, one he’d engaged in together with Jo. Amy had been with them right through, to the end. She’d spent hours getting them both to debate schools, scholarships, and their merits, helping them pick and choose. He suddenly felt ashamed of his ignorance in return. 

“I don’t know how exactly Aunt March happened upon the information but regardless, she offered to pay Amy’s way through art school in Paris. Only in Paris.” 

“Classic Aunt March,” Meg snorted. “Conditional, as always.” 

A part of this story Laurie could infer, from his conversations with Amy. But he was hardly going to share that private conversation with the group. Talking to them about Amy without her felt underhanded enough, he’d realized when a smidgen of guilt made itself known. But he needed some answers, so…

“Anyway,” Jo exhaled. “I don’t actually know if she’d received any scholarships. And you know Marmee and Dad…”

“Insisting on helping with at least some of our tuition so we didn’t drown in debt,” Beth agreed immediately. “No matter what.” 

“None of her options were necessarily cheap, were they?” Meg asked shrewdly. “I mean, Yale.”

“And if they’d done it for all of us, principle would demand that they did it for her too.” 

“Except this was barely a year after my chemo, and I’d also just started on my bachelors,” Beth realized. 

“And we were all afraid there was a recurrence,” Jo nodded reluctantly.

“You said all three were connected,” Laurie muttered, trying to connect the dots. “That alone wasn’t enough to make her decision, was it?” 

“I don’t think so, no,” Jo agreed. “It may have been, but Marmee and Dad disapproved. Their disapproval is a powerful force. I genuinely think what really tipped it over the edge was us.”

“But we were a disaster,” Laurie protested. “All we did was make ourselves and everyone around us miserable that summer.”

Jo made a noise of protest. “Even before that summer,” she explained, “we were rapidly heading towards our terrible decision. Everybody knew we were.”

“We really did,” Beth agreed. “It was only a matter of when for a good six months or so.”

“And maybe you guys made Amy miserable in a different way entirely,” Meg mused as she pieced together the story out loud, much like Laurie was doing in his own head. “And never even realized it.”

“For all that we harp on each other, Amy’s rarely ever lied to herself,” Jo started. “I’ve got to give her that.”

‘I beg to differ,’ Laurie thought to himself, only a little bitter. 

“I genuinely believe what tipped her over the edge was the possibility of getting away from us,” Jo huffed lightly, “or rather, you. She was, in her own words, besotted with you. She insisted that she couldn’t stay. Couldn’t watch, as her feelings festered and started turning ugly.”

“Oh Amy,” Meg sighed sympathetically. 

“She said,” Jo laughed lightly to herself. “She said she’d been there before. She didn’t want to go there again despite herself. Sabotage, consciously or otherwise.” 

“Your sixth grade prize-winning story,” Beth guessed, reminding them all of the time Amy had, in a fit of anger, cut it up to pieces with scissors. Her punishment had been taping the whole thing back together, if Laurie recalled correctly. It had taken her hours. 

Jo shrugged. “Now mind you, our conversation was after I’d realized you and I were a powder keg waiting to explode. I even told her as much. But it didn’t seem to deter her.” 

“And that was that?” Meg guessed the end of the story. 

“Two weeks later, we’d imploded as we were always going to. Amy’d begun packing her bags and talking to Aunt March. Marmee and Dad weren’t pleased but Amy’s stubborn insistence won out. Three weeks later, Beth, your tests had all come back negative, Teddy, you’d run away on your gap year. And Amy, she’d run away for her own reasons. We collectively decided to never talk about that summer ever again, and yet, five years later, here we are.” She sighed as she finished her story. 

“Talk about things I didn’t know I needed to know,” Beth exhaled. 

“I can’t believe she left us in the dark,” Meg agreed, mildly miffed.

“None of you are bringing this up with her,” Jo said, rather vehemently. “It’s her business. Her story to tell.”

“But you told it anyway,” Laurie pointed out.

“Only to temper your expectations,” she shot back. “Especially if you’re going to keep on this like a dog with a bone. And it’s been months Teddy. You don’t do months, so I think you are.” 

“Jo, we can’t not talk,” Laurie protested, babbling a little more than he’d intended to in the process. “I think we rather have to. We can’t stay where we are forever.  There has to be resolution in some form.” 

“Just stay friends. It can’t be that hard,” Meg shrugged, blissfully unaware of their current relationship. “Not if she managed to do it for years.” 

Her sisters were not as kind to him. Jo’s eyes narrowed, but Beth voiced her question first. “Wait. Where are you? Laurie, what have you been doing with my sister?” 

Laurie turned red at the question, sputtering wordlessly in response. Meg’s mouth widened in realization.

“You haven’t been,” Jo demanded. “Teddy, tell me you haven’t been messing around with Amy.” 

“I-“

Jo gasped loudly. “You’re in love with her!”

“Why do you lot keep jumping to that conclusion,” Laurie complained, before slapping his hand over this mouth.

“Will,” Jo’s eyes narrowed in consideration briefly, before she refocused on him. “You aren’t infatuated at all! If you’re messing around with my sister in the way I think you are-“

“He is,” Meg and Beth chorused helpfully, throwing in glares of their own. 

Jo barely stumbled. “You’ve gone way past infatuation. Teddy, what the fuck!”

“What?” Laurie bit out defensively. 

“Of course you’d go and fall in love with my baby sister, you absolute prick.” 

“Our baby sister,” Meg corrected mildly in the background.

“You keep saying ‘in love’. Just how did you get to that conclusion?” he protested. “A little enamored maybe. I’ll even take besotted.” 

“What were you up to today?” Beth asked him suddenly. 

“How does-“

“Answer the woman,” Jo backed her sister. 

“I had dinner with my friends?” Laurie raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“And before that?”

“I was out in a park. How does this-“ 

“With Amy,” Meg supplemented his sentence. 

“Yes. We were taking a stroll. Ran into some visiting friends. Ended up at hers. And then dinner. So? 

“Last Wednesday?” Beth asked, undeterred. 

“The Van Gogh exhibit at-“

“With Amy,” Meg finished for him again, knowingly. “We all have Instagram.”

“After brunch on your birthday?” Jo questioned next

“We went to get tiramisu,” he snapped back, annoyed.

“The we refers to you and Amy, I’ll wager,” Jo offered dryly.  “And then?”

“We came back to mine, and we…” Laurie trailed off. 

“Yeah. We can skip that,” Beth wrinkled her nose. “What were you up to on Valentines this year?”

“Hey, we actually spoke with Grandpa after we got back,” Laurie protested lightly. “And had some tiramisu.” 

“Do we really want to discuss what happened after that?” Meg raised an eyebrow. “Valentine's, Laurie?” 

“Our friends are in relationships. Neither of us had plans, so we watched shitty romcoms and drank a lot of wine.”

“I don’t want to ask ‘And then’, do I?” Beth drawled. 

There wasn’t actually an ‘And then’ back then just yet, but before Laurie could make that point, Jo barreled on.

“You hate romcoms,” she accused him.

“The shitty ones are unintentionally funny,” he shrugged instead. “Especially when it's glazed with some wine. Must we really-” 

“And when the company has you wrapped around her finger,” Beth snorted, interrupting him. 

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Meg piped back in. 

“I mean…I technically reunited with your sister on a blind date?” Laurie rubbed his neck with his free hand. 

“Not with my sister,” Meg clarified. 

Laurie thought back over his final few months in London. “I think I met someone for coffee a week or two before Halloween?” he finally offered, after a long pause. 

“So before you even moved to Paris and met Amy,” Jo clarified. “What about after that?” 

Laurie shrugged noncommittally even though he knew the answer was an easy one. “Define a date.” 

“A rendezvous with romantic intentions,” Beth supplied readily. “But I’ll take that as a no or just with Amy. How often do you meet up with my sister in a week?” 

Laurie shrugged again. “I don’t keep track. Every other day or so? Sometimes it’s just a quick dinner after work. Sometimes we actually, properly hang out.” 

“Teddy,” Jo sounded sympathetic, shaking her head. 

“What?” 

“You’re dating our baby sister,” Meg declared.

“What? No! I would like to take your sister out on a date. Honestly, I would really like to take her out, but Amy shot me down a long time ago.” 

“You have standing dinner dates,” Beth ticked off. “You go out to exhibits together. I bet you’ve taken her to the opera.”

Laurie couldn’t deny that in good conscience

“You spent Valentine’s with her,” Meg continued. “You upgraded her flight tickets so you could fly home for Christmas together. You haven’t been on a single date since you’ve met her.”

“And you’ve been hung up on her for months! The longest I’ve seen you go is barely three weeks,” Jo piped in. “Present company excluded, for obvious reasons.” 

“You spent your birthday together,” Beth continued. “And she told me you’re taking her to the McLaren’s Gala next week! Admittedly, she said something about networking but still.” 

“Laurie, you’re dating Amy March,” Meg concluded apologetically. “Even if the two of you have absolutely failed to register that little fact.” 

“And you’re in love with Amy March,” Jo added confidently. “If I got to that conclusion, and my sisters got to that conclusion, and Will got to that conclusion…Teddy, you’ve got to admit you’re the only one who’s taken a wrong turn somewhere.” 

“I’d like to see you try telling her that,” he muttered. “She’s the one who’s even denying the possibility of anything between us.”

“Well, we never said she’s in love with you,” Beth offered reasonably. “Only that you’re unintentionally dating.”

Laurie’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. “That was almost entirely what we were talking about!”

“But that was some five years ago,” she pointed out. “This is now. Who knows if, when, and how she moved on.” 

Meg and Jo snorted in unison. 

“I mean…” Meg intoned.

“If she’s alright with fucking the man despite everything,” Jo filled in the blanks anyway. 

“Surely there’s still something there,” Meg finished. 

‘Fuck,’ Laurie thought, still processing the March sisters’ presentation. 

“I’m in love with Amy March,” he tried saying the words out loud. 

And suddenly, just like that, his complex and confusing emotions surrounding Amy fell into a place like a perfectly pieced together puzzle. 

 “I’m in love with Amy March,” he whispered in realization. 

“Somewhere, Will’s really mad that I got you to admit it before he did,” Jo crowed gleefully. “Point to Jo.” 

“You can’t tell her,” he implored at the sisters on screen. 

“Laurie, you can’t not tell her,” Meg responded warily. 

“I know,” he agreed despondently, banging his head on the pillar near his kitchen island. “The only way across is through.” 

“Oh,” Beth seemed taken aback. “Alright. That was much easier than I thought it was going to be.” 

“I’ve been trying for weeks,” he informed them mournfully. 

“But you only just realized you were in love?” Meg questioned him doubtfully. 

“I’d already admitted to mildly enamored weeks ago,” he shook his head. “All I wanted was to wrangle a date or two though. You just came in and upped the stakes significantly. Thanks for that. Truly.” 

“Oh Laurie,” Meg looked at him sympathetically, when he gave them a dirty look. “The stakes were always where they were.” 

“You were just too afraid to admit it,” Beth added. 

“All you needed was some good old March wisdom to set you straight,” Jo nodded. 

“After the gala,” he said resolutely, out loud for the sisters to hear as much as it was for himself. “I’m not messing with her networking opportunity or ruining it for her,  especially when it could be make or break.” 

After the gala. Especially now that the stakes were higher than ever and he was actually willing to admit to it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Antecedents in the Eye of the Beholder 

July 

The McLaren’s Gala (for Endangered Rainforests this year) was horribly vapid and performative in its execution, Laurie would readily admit. Insist, even. But at the very least, the money it raised went to some decent organizations that did good work. He had checked before writing out the Laurence donation cheque. And it really was a great opportunity for Amy to network and find new investors. For the moment, Laurie contented himself with that. 

While his grandfather was attending the event, they were arriving separately because he had to pick up Amy first, and his grandfather had flown in later than expected. Separate cars also made sense because his grandfather was staying elsewhere for the night. 

And it was not at all because Laurie simply knew his grandfather suspected something and that this was his way of giving them some time to themselves.

It wasn’t just his grandfather who had begun harboring some suspicions. Laurie’s rather revelatory chat with the March sisters had occurred about a week ago. And while he’d not brought up ‘The Conversation’, just as planned, in the time he’d spent with Amy since then, he couldn’t help but (over)analyze everything she did. Couldn’t help but look for signs of her affections, for a measure of reciprocity. He’d become obsessed to the point that it had become rather obvious. Amy had noticed. She had outright begun calling him out, asking him if he was alright when he would stare at her for a beat too long and she happened to catch him in the act, entirely bemused.

“Well, don’t you look dashing in a tux,” Anette greeted him at their door, when Laurie showed to pick up his date for the evening. She let him in with a knowing look and nodded in the direction of Amy’s room. “She’s almost done but you can go in if you  like.” 

He took her suggestion with a grateful smile and moved further into the apartment, familiar enough with the space by now.  Laurie paused when he neared Amy’s doorframe, unnoticed by her still, and took her in. Her entire focus seemed to be on her struggle to put on a glinting bracelet of some sort. 

Amy was, he concluded as he drank her in, an absolute vision in teal, all wrapped up in an ensemble that was comfortably ensconced in the shades of blues and greens she seemed to have a natural bias for.

‘Enchanting,’ he thought to himself, shaking his head slightly as he moved forward into the room. 

“Want some help with that?” 

Her delicately styled blonde curls bounced as she startled, looking up with wide eyes that were only enhanced by her cosmetic efforts for the evening.

“Laurie,” she acknowledged him with a smile, automatically extending her wrist in response to his question. 

“Amy,” he greeted in response as he gently reached for her wrist with one hand, caressing her pulse point as he held it and picked up the bracelet with the other, even as his gaze remained on her. He could swear he felt her pulse skip a beat. 

Or was he simply imagining it because he wished it did?

“You look absolutely divine,” he complimented her softly as he clasped the bracelet on, and properly looked at it for the first time. It was a set of sapphires and diamonds - one that looked strangely familiar to him. Then again, he knew little to nothing about jewelry except perhaps how expensive they might be. He wondered if this was, once again, his emotions messing with him. He did notice however that the sapphires were, in fact, almost the exact same hue as her gown - a mesmerizing mix of the two colors it echoed. 

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked lightly, interrupting his thoughts, only for him to realize he’d been staring at her bracelet for a smidge too long. 

Laurie blinked, shaking his head. “Nothing really. For a moment, I just felt like there was something very familiar about this bracelet, that’s all.” 

She shrugged it off, unconcerned. “You probably saw Aunt March wearing it at some point. It’s part of a parure she bestowed upon me before she left Paris. I tend use them as a good luck charm every now and then.” She gestured to her earrings, the only other significant piece of jewelry she was wearing, as she spoke. And well, they did seem to match. “Although, that is unlikely given what I know about it.” 

That last bit, she’d mumbled to herself. Laurie had only just about been able to comprehend it, even though he’d literally been standing a hair’s breadth away from her.

He raised an eyebrow nevertheless, skeptical. “Aunt March gifted you a set of expensive jewels before she left Paris? When she was…mad at you? Am I hearing this right?” 

“A rather unusual one too,” Amy nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime, actually,” Laurie admitted immediately, his curiosity much too piqued by both the parure’s strange familiarity and its former owner. “If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

“After. When we have the time,” she promised him as she picked up her clutch for the evening and slipped into her stilettos, gripping his arm for balance as she did. “Aren’t we already running late?” 

“It’s a gala, Amy,” he shook his head fondly. “Being on time is meaningless unless you’re scheduled to give a speech.”

She graced him with an incandescent smile. “Nevertheless, shall we?” 

“So we shall,” Laurie grandly offered his arm in return. 

“Aww, don’t you two look all spiffy, dressed up and ready for…what is it you Americans call it? Summer formal?” Anette teased them as they walked out of Amy’s room hand in hand. She even insisted upon a few awkward prom photos before she let them leave (‘Ah, prom!’ she’d eventually exclaimed at one point, when the word came to her). 

“Bring her back before midnight, Theodore,” she called after them in mock sternness as she saw them off. 

“She’s hardly Cinderella, Annie,” he called back, chuckling, just as the elevator doors closed. 

“You do look rather spiffy, you know,” Amy told him conversationally as they made their way to the car idling outside her building, waiting for them. “That perfectly careless tousle of your hair is an art form I could never conquer.”

“I think I might have preferred devastatingly handsome or dashing or something more emphatic, if I’m being honest,” he teased her in return. 

“And who exactly are you planning to devastate today?” she asked him with a quirked eyebrow, amusement all but written across her face. 

“Why, you of course,” he responded without missing a beat.  

Amy snorted in response. “Then you know all this extra effort was needless in the first place.”

“Ah, but everyone deserves to be spoilt from time to time,” he tutted, before they both broke into down in laughter, in the backseat of the car service he’d hired for the night. 

“And who exactly was the beneficiary in this particular case?” Amy managed to snort out in between her bouts of laughter.

“Well, that rather remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

——

One hour in and Amy had already found her feet with the Gala’s supercilious crowd, Laurie realized as he watched her work the room from the corner bar, furtively nursing a glass of bourbon. 

He had barely done a couple introductions before he’d realized that his presence was well and truly unnecessary for her to shine. But then again, he’d remembered a beat too late, she had learnt the art at her Aunt March’s knee and that woman had been a veritable force in her own right. And so, he had taken brief refuge at the bar, with the bare, unsubtle excuse of picking up some cocktails for the both of them. 

“She’s quite the whirlwind, isn’t she?” His grandfather’s idle remark startled Laurie’s gaze away from her. “Catches on quick and makes things work to her advantage on the go.”

“She looks like she fits in with this crowd better than I ever have and I ever will,” Laurie admitted ruefully. “I don’t quite know how she does it, sometimes.” 

“I suppose she did learn from Josephine,” his grandfather echoed his earlier thoughts as he watched Amy snare another potential investor, business cards obliquely exchanging hands. “You know, for all that she was much older, Josephine actually got along quite well with your father back in the day.” 

“Oh?” Laurie was taken aback by the rather abrupt tangent his grandfather had decided upon, apropos of nothing. Perplexed, he defaulted to making light of it. “Huh, is that why she generally can’t stand the sight of me, then?”

His grandfather shook his head briefly. “Those earrings Amy has on reminded me of her is all.”

“It used to belong to Aunt March,” Laurie informed him casually, as though he’d not learned that little fact just a few hours prior. “Apparently part of some set. An heirloom, I think.” 

“Oh?” His grandfather murmured, lost in his own thoughts. “Interesting.”

“Think she’ll find her new investors here tonight?” Laurie couldn’t help but ask his grandfather, given that he was more familiar with the crowd than Laurie himself was.

“Perhaps,” his grandfather nodded in consideration, before commenting, “I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t make a push for Laurence Foundation to invest.”

“I wanted to,” Laurie agreed. “It would have been simpler. Less of a headache for her too. But I don’t think Amy would have approved or accepted at this stage. This is her baby. She didn’t even want to come here as my plus one, remember?”

“Succeeding on her own merits,” his grandfather mused, “I can understand that. That’s what brought you to Paris, after all.” 

“Yes, but I’ve a long way to go still,” he sighed.

“I heard you beat the Shipleys to win the Blancas bid.” 

“It was a team effort,” he countered immediately, shrugging off the implied praise.

“Ah, but this was the first time you’d taken point,” his grandfather pointed out. “I’m very proud of you.”

Laurie ducked down, reaching for his bourbon, as he felt the heat rushing to his face at the explicit compliment, reddening his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, “I’m just glad it went well.” 

“This is but the first of many, Theodore. You’ll get used to it,” his grandfather assured him confidently, before flagging down a bartender to secure his own drink. 

He then turned to give Laurie a knowing smirk. “Now, I think it’s high time you get back to your date for the evening. The dances are starting soon. I’ve no doubt you’ll want to secure your spot before it gets filled up by some other well-meaning gentleman.” 

“There’s dancing in this thing?” Laurie yelped in surprise. 

“And I believe I spy young Miss March talking to the Shipley scion. Didn’t you two go to university together?”

Laurie’s eyes tightened imperceptibly as he turned around to see the pair laughing; they seemed to be having their chat about twenty feet away from him. “He was a snot-nosed brat then and he continues to be a wanker today,” he bit out. “One of the many reasons why winning the Blancas bid was as satisfying as it was.” 

He shook his head, setting down his empty tumbler on the bar. “You’re right, Grandpa. I should go dance with my date. I’ve left her alone long enough for the evening.” 

“Of course.” His grandfather looked amused as he watched Laurie make a beeline for Amy, who was blissfully unaware and conversing with Shipley. 

Laurie put on his best game face as he neared the duo, deliberately choosing to slot himself next to Amy, arm snugly settling around her waist in a rather unstable fashion. 

She didn’t seem too startled by his reappearance, scarcely batting an eye when he settled next to her, he realized with a small, satisfied grin. Instead, she gave him a barely there smile, instinctively leaning into his grip. And oh, if that didn’t make his heart sing just a little more.

“Amy,” he greeted her first. “Found Grandpa by the bar.” 

“I ran into him when I was talking with the Laurents,” Amy let him know, nodding in return. 

Shipley cleared his throat lightly.

“Walter,” Laurie greeted him with a blindingly artificial smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Come on now, Theodore. Don’t play coy,” Walter Shipley chided him with an artificial geniality of his own. “Congratulations on Blancas.”

Laurie shrugged nonchalantly. “You win some, you lose some,” he offered graciously. 

“And how do you know Amy here?” Walter probed further. “We were just talking about her wonderful launchpad initiative. Did you know-“ 

“I do,” Laurie cut him off tersely, “Amy’s my date for the night.” 

“Is that so?” His eyebrows went up, before he focused on Amy. “I didn’t know you were taken, Ms. March.” 

His tone was mildly accusing, which had Laurie bristling. Amy’s eyes had narrowed as well. 

“I didn’t know that mattered one way or another, Mr. Shipley,” she responded evenly. “We were, after all, only talking about my initiative.”

Before Walter could speak  and raise his hackles, Laurie hijacked the conversation. “And I’m sorry I interrupted. But I was wondering if I could steal you away for a dance before dinner, Amy?” 

“Is that why you returned without my drink in hand?” She arched an eyebrow in response.

“I thought it would be better appreciated after the fact?” He gave her a hopeful smile, knowing full well that he’d simply forgotten to pick it up in his haste to get to her. 

“Well, we’ll simply have to put your theory to test then, I suppose.”

“If you’d excuse us, Walter,” he gave the man they’d ignored for the past thirty seconds  or so a smug smile in farewell. Shipley’s annoyed expression only further reddened at the dismissal. 

“It was lovely talking to you,” Amy added politely before she moved with him, allowing Laurie to lead them away before Shipley exploded. 

She waited until they were out of Shipley’s earshot before she exhaled in relief. “I’m ever grateful. But how did you know I needed the rescue?”

“I didn’t,” he mumbled in response, looking ever so sheepish. “But Walter Shipley? He’s the guy I was cribbing about over the Hennessy last week.”

Amy made a noise of realization before grinning. “He really is sleaze personified. I thought I’d understood what you’d meant, but you really have to meet the man to fully comprehend it, huh?” 

“I may love my hyperbole,” Laurie chuckled, “but that was definitely anything but. Now, would you still like that dance?”

“Oh? That was a real request then? Not just you playing knight in shining armor?” 

“I didn’t know you were a damsel in distress,” he quirked an eyebrow. “If anything, you’ve been the dragon marking its chosen in a crowd full of prey tonight. Walter was just an unfortunate pest. I’m sure you could have handled him.” 

Amy shook her head in silent laughter. “You’re really piling on the flattery tonight Mr. Laurence. I should warn you, I’ve already been promised quite the evening by a devastatingly handsome man.”

“What an absolute shame,” he deadpanned. “Well, I tried my luck. Nevertheless, a dance, my lady?”

“A dance it is, my lord,” she agreed with a bright grin. 

——

They spent the rest of their evening at the gala together, and honestly, Laurie preferred it that way despite the consequent need to socialize, suffering the airs and graces he generally loathed with a vengeance. They’d danced a little, engaged in dinner conversation, suffered through the perfunctory speeches, networked a little more, and spent some more time with Laurie’s grandfather. A little before eleven in the night, they’d mutually decided that they’d accomplished what they’d come there for and that they could make their way home.

On their way back, an impromptu change of plans had Laurie directing the car service drop to them off by a late-night cafe about twenty minutes away from his place instead. The cafe, Insomnie, made in the duo’s humble opinion, an absolutely decadent hot chocolate.  Even despite their preferences being as diametrical as it could possibly be when it came to hot chocolate. 

Insomnie also had a rather lovely waterfront seating area that remained open late into the night, where they could just relax and take in the Seine as they nursed their drinks. They’d collectively decided that it was the perfect way to decompress after the evening they’d just had.

After a rather amusing interaction with the barista working the counter, who’d valiantly bit his tongue to keep from asking why Laurie and Amy were dressed to the nines as they were, they made their way out back. Warm chocolate in one hand, Laurie loosened his bowtie with the other as they made a beeline towards the door that lead them outside, to their preferred waterfront-facing seats.

“It has been five months and I still refuse to believe you prefer white hot chocolate,” he shook his head in denial as they were walking through the cafe, regurgitating an old argument in the process. “It doesn’t even have cocoa!” 

“I still believe it’s better than the travesty that is milk chocolate,” Amy responded snootily. 

“So go dark! Like normal people. White’s not even proper chocolate! It’s just cocoa butter.” 

“Laurie,” she spoke his name in a chuckle. “It’s not like I’m forcing you to have a taste of my chocolate. Your outrage is an overreaction.”

“I mean…” He scrunched his nose as he considered the prospect of them making out in the near future, but chose not to voice that particular counter-argument out loud. Wisely so, he thought to himself.

“You realize we have this exact same argument every time we’re here?” She pointed out, shaking her head as she opened the door to the  outdoor seating area. It was utterly deserted, void of customers this time at night. “We ought to just agree to disagree and let sleeping dogs lie, I think.” 

“I’m going to convince you one day,” he promised her. 

“We’ll see,” she accepted his challenge just as confidently as they found their seats. 

They settled down next to each other, Amy leaning into his warmth as she’d only bought along what was, in his opinion, a rather flimsy wrap to supplement her evening gown. His first thought was to offer her his jacket, but then the traitorous part of his brain reminded him that he liked Amy cuddling into him. 

And so, he instead wrapped his free arm around her shoulder, bringing her even further against him and shielding her from the mild breeze as best he could in the process. 

It helped his fluttering heart little that she sunk in against him as easily and naturally as she did.  

They reveled in the tranquil silence that was only tarnished by the quiet, ambient noise of the Seine flowing into the night, a welcome reprieve from the glitzy and noisy gala.

“So, think you reeled anyone in tonight?” Laurie asked, eventually breaking the quiet that had lingered for a long minute. 

“Mr. Laurence seems to think so,” she shrugged. “I’ve at least six or eight emails to send out next week. Maybe a few calls. Fingers crossed, I suppose. As ever.” 

“And if nothing catches,” he shrugged in response, “I’m pretty sure there’s something or the other on every other week. Grandpa’ll get us invites if we want it. He’s got a calendar full of them to pick and choose from.” 

“I know. He told me as much, just before we left. Your grandfather is an absolute treasure, you know.” 

“So I’ve come to appreciate more and more in recent years, ,” Laurie smiled fondly at the thought of the man who’d taken him in at such a bleak time in their lives and somehow, managed it as well as he had. 

“While we’re speaking of family members, can I request the Aunt March story now? We have time, I don’t want to forget, and I remain undeniably curious.” 

“I suppose I did say I would,” Amy mused. “I feel like I have to have a disclaimer with this story, though. At least half of it is conjecture on my part. I mean, I think it’s valid but still, just an educated guess at best.”

“Duly noted.”

“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she informed him one last time, before turning contemplative. “Where do I begin?” 

“You said it was an unusual set?” He offered helpfully. 

“Oh. Yes. That’s right,” she nodded, explaining further. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen or owned all that many jewelry sets. Or rather, parures. This is actually my first and probably my last one. But they generally come with a necklace, earrings, a ring, a bracelet. And the fancy ones also have a brooch and a diadem, or so Google tells me anyway. I’m sure you’ve seen more of them than I have at balls and galas and whatnot. This one has a necklace. And damn if I wouldn’t be terrified to wear that in public without a security detail.” She shook her head slightly.

“I don’t even know how or why I ended up owning this thing sometimes,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. “Anyway. Aunt March’s set also has a less ostentatious pair of earrings and a pendant in addition to the conventionally elaborate pieces. And the bracelet, obviously. But no brooch or ring.”

“And no diadem either?” Laurie joked. “That’s a shame. It would have rather suited you, I think.”

“I’m like seventy percent sure the extra pieces were repurposed from an original diadem actually,” she answered promptly. “Or the other missing pieces. I told you, lots of conjecture to this story.” 

He chuckled lightly. “Especially because if the set belonged to Aunt March, I don’t see anyone giving her less ostentatious jewelry.”

“You’re confusing ostentatious and expensive,” Amy retorted dryly. 

“Mayhaps,” he nodded agreeably. “You know her better than most. But why exactly did she bequeath to you a family heirloom? Last I heard, she’s still alive and well in Plumfield. And mad at you.” 

“Oh, it’s not a family heirloom,” Amy dismissed easily, before pausing in thought. “Well, I guess it is now that it’s been passed across a generation? What are the rules there? Does this even count?”

Laurie pulled at her hand gently to re-examine the bracelet underneath the cosy, barely there lights that actually lent itself to a rather romantic ambience. “No one commissions a set like this,” he disputed instead. “Not anymore.” 

“Oh, this set is easily fifty years old. Could be older,” she acknowledged. “But I don’t know its story before it made its way into her hands. I barely know how it came into her possession at all. I’ve not had the heart to ask her, really.” 

“So why’d she give it to you? How’d she come to own it? And why’d she give it to you when you told me that she was displeased with you about the whole Vaughn thing?” 

“You know you don’t have to pull the story out of me piece by piece?” Amy arched an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by his impatient intrigue. “I’m quite literally telling you the whole thing.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. By your leave then.” 

“Aunt March was mad about the Vaughn thing. She was displeased. Thought I was making an absolutely foolish decision. Waiting for a fool’s promise instead of taking advantage of the perfectly reasonable option in front of me, all because I idealized love.” 

She shook her head in resignation, exhaling loudly. “She told me, castigated really, that love could never be guaranteed, but respect was another matter entirely. That it was a more secure high ground than love could ever be. That respect was what I should be aiming for in life. All I should be aiming for.” 

“That’s- That’s…” He couldn’t elucidate his stupefaction in words. 

“She was actually in love once, if you’d believe it.”

“The esteemed Josephine March?” 

Laurie couldn’t believe it.

“A long time ago, I think,” she nodded. “Again, I’m severely uninformed when it comes to the actual story there. But it was the origin story for these jewels. A promise, she once told me, of a future that had been unceremoniously ripped away from her. A mistake that I was making after everything, by hoping for a future that might never be.”

 “A fool’s promise,” he whispered. 

“I like to think she was ready to burn the world for love once. But the world burnt her instead,” Amy murmured. “And ever since, she’s been…” 

“Closed off,” Laurie offered. “Defensive.” 

“Mmm. Something like that,” she smiled in agreement. “Ironically enough, it was her own actions that reinforced my decision to end things with Fred.” 

“Fred?” Laurie made a face at the mention, even though he knew how that story had ended. 

“That is his name,” Amy drawled, clearly amused.

“So how exactly Aunt March convince you?” He asked her, some cheek entering his voice. “Asking so I can decide if and how many flowers she’d appreciate in thanks.”

“She wouldn’t see any flowers as a thanks,” Amy dryly advised him instead. 

“I’ll figure it out,” he shook his head easily. “Or default to alcohol. I know she enjoys her cognac. Now, let’s talk about Aunt March’s unintentional good deed.”

“She held on to it,” Amy shrugged, gesturing at the jewels she currently wore. “Aunt March never, to my knowledge, used the jewelry from this set. Never. She never wore it. Never lent it. Never shared it. But, she also never sold it. Any scorned woman would have sold the set for a fortune, honestly. Aunt March though, she held it so close to her heart that she took it with her, wherever she went. No matter what. Talk about the security risk, honestly. Remind me to show you that necklace sometime. I legitimately had to buy a lockbox. And I’m still afraid. You don’t know how relieved I was that it came to my possession insured.”

Amy paused, turning to look at him earnestly. “And this part is all conjecture on my part, really. But I like to think that, no matter the tragedy in her story, she cherished her mystery love. She cherished him enough to almost desperately hold on to something he’d given her for almost half a century. And if, despite her vehement advice that I ought to think with my head and plan for respect, that love still lingered? If she could never escape it? I knew I could definitely never. It was an easy choice, really.” 

“She gave them to me the night before she left Paris for the last time. She knew then that she wouldn’t be coming back, possibly ever again. Told me a naive, foolish girl was once gifted this set and sold an imaginary fairytale future in this very city. That it was only right that she pass that along to an equally naive girl, making the same foolish decisions all over again in the very same city.” 

“So giving it to you was what? Her punishment? Your scarlet letter?” He frowned at the idea, almost offended on her behalf.

Amy simply shrugged in response. “There’s two possible takeaways from it, really. One is pretty much exactly that. She thought I made a big mistake, and she marked it with what she thought was a reminder of the very same mistake she once made. Another, and I prefer this one, is that she understood. She may not have liked my decision, but she understood it. There was kinship there. And this was her way of recognizing that. She treasured these jewels far too much for her to part with it in an act of spite, I think. ”

“You’ve really never asked her about this mystery guy? Or about the missing pieces? Or the story in general?” Laurie genuinely wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to hold back like that. 

“She never seemed to want to talk about it. If she ever referenced it, it was vague and tinged with a sadness that was almost uncharacteristic for her. I’ve no clue what happened or how it happened. And I couldn’t just…I didn’t want to bring up potential heartache. I didn’t know how, honestly,” Amy smiled softly. “Aunt March isn’t exactly known for her capacity to have emotional conversations.”

“And yet you know so much,” he pointed out. “Probably the most amongst us all. Your parents didn’t know anything about it?” 

Amy hesitated. “My parents don’t actually know she gave them to me,” she admitted slowly. “No one really does. I don’t even know if they know the parure exists. They already thought that she’d done too much, what with paying for Paris and school.” 

The cold war her sisters had mentioned came to mind, and Laurie assumed that it had played a role as well. 

“Besides, I don’t know the full story behind it, and I may never know the real story behind it or why she chose to bequeath it to me. But I do know that everything to do with it is extremely personal to Aunt March. I didn’t want to make it a big deal or a point of friction that left a sour taste between my parents and her. Especially not when they’re all finally getting along again.” 

So much of tonight seemed to revolve around Aunt March, Laurie mused silently, when his grandfathers’ comment in passing came to his mind. 

“Hey, did you know that apparently Aunt March and my dad got along quite well back in the day?” 

“Huh,” Amy looked surprised. “How about that? She’s never mentioned that to me once, honestly.”

“Grandpa didn’t say much else either, but apparently the list of people she once got along with now extends to two.” 

“Two?” 

“My dad and you,” Laurie shrugged. 

“I suppose it’s not all that unbelievable,” Amy eventually surmised. “If I recall my facts correctly, both of them enjoyed spending time in Europe. Your parents met here, didn’t they?” 

“So I’ve been told,” he agreed, looking contemplative. “I wonder how long it took dad to wear Aunt March down.”

“We ought to ask your grandfather sometime,” Amy suggested. “I’d like to hear that story.” 

“Or we could go directly to the source. Ask Aunt March.”

“You’re really willing to sit down together and have that conversation?” Amy looked like she didn’t believe for a moment that he would be.

“I’m willing to let you have the conversation and hear all about it second-hand,” Laurie shook his head with a wry grin, confirming her suspicions. 

“How very kind of you,” she snorted. 

“Oh, I’m a proper gentleman, I am,” he quipped. 

It really was extraordinary, how much Aunt March had been involved in tonight’s events despite her tangible absence, Laurie thought in amusement as he absently replayed the conversation they’d just had. She’d truly had quite the life if they were still only uncovering bits and pieces of it fifty years on. 

As he was processing, however, Laurie came to the realization that nestled in that conversation was another one entirely. One that he’d, admittedly, been putting off for a while now. 

“So, if I got this right,” he looked at Amy cautiously. 

“Mmm?” 

“You ended things with Fred Vaughn despite Aunt March’s advice otherwise because you decided you would hold out for love,” he stated carefully. 

Amy gave him a quick nod. 

“And you’re still holding out for love,” he assessed correctly, getting another nod and an apprehensive look in response.

“Laurie, wha-“

“And you’ve told me in no uncertain terms that you don’t see us getting together,” he barreled on. 

Her expression grew tense. Laurie’s heart grew numb. 

“So what the fuck are we doing here, then?”

“Laurie…” 

Amy trailed off. 

Laurie steeled himself. This really was it, he realized. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was time for ‘The Conversation’.

He looked her directly in the eye. 

“Amy, I think we need to talk.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Conversations in the Eye of the Beholder

July (continued)

“Amy, I think we need to talk.”

His own words were ringing in his ears as Laurie searched Amy’s expression for a reaction. 

Any reaction. 

Because he’d finally said the words out loud. They were really going to do it. They were going to walk through the goddamned fire that was ‘The Conversation’. He just desperately hoped that there was something that they could salvage at the end of it all. 

Laurie eventually got his wish when Amy broke eye contact and looked away from him. 

“I guess we can’t put this off anymore, can we?” She sounded entirely small and disheartened. Dare he say heartbroken. 

“We really can’t,” he agreed, almost apologetic. Almost, but not quite.

They spoke simultaneously. 

“Shall we-“

“Head back to mine?”

“Yeah, lets,” Amy nodded decisively, her tone a stark contrast to her otherwise downcast expression, as she stood up to stretch her legs.

The twenty-minute walk back to his apartment was silent and somber, almost painfully accurate in its reflection of their mood. And neither Laurie nor Amy seemed to be inclined to break the stifling tension that had overwhelmed the ambience around them. 

Laurie unlocked the door to his apartment and headed straight for the living room, carelessly dropping off his jacket along the way. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to freshen up before they got into it, whatever it was going to end up being. Amy, seemingly, was of a similar mind. She followed suit, slipping off her heels and dropping her wrap on top of his discarded jacket as she soundlessly followed him into the living room.

‘No more interruptions’, he realized, heart hammering, as he all but dropped into his seat of choice. 

And so, there they were, more or less dressed to the nines, exhausted from a long night out, seated in opposing armchairs, and steeling themselves for another, assuredly worse confrontation. At least, Laurie decided, he was because everything about what they were doing and telegraphing felt undeniably confrontational to him. 

“It’ll never work,” Amy started them off abruptly, getting straight to the point. 

What? 

“You don’t know that,” he argued immediately because what… “You won’t even let me take you out on a date!” 

“Why would you even want to, really?” 

Laurie gaped at her. 

He’d thought it was beyond obvious at this point.  

“Why do you think? I. Like. You.”

He watched as she rolled her eyes in dismissal, and impulsively decided to make it a smidge worse, going all in.

“In fact, I might even be a little in love with you,” he informed her, enjoying the surprised expression that briefly flitted across her face. “And a little birdie told me that reciprocation might not be entirely unfathomable.”

“You…you can’t-,” Amy’s eyes narrowed as she processed his words. “Which little birdie?”

“Irrelevant.” Internally, Laurie winced, knowing that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned that part right off the bat. 

“You brought this up with Jo?” 

Laurie blistered at the accusation in her voice nevertheless. He’d done his best to do anything but. 

“Actually, you brought this up,” he informed her in a rather cutting tone that surprised even him. “With all your sisters and  basically everybody, with an Instagram post. They just confronted me before they could get to you.” 

“And so, you then what? Discussed me? This, whatever this is? Came to your conclusions and are now catching me up on everything? Thanks ever so much.” 

Amy sounded exceptionally bitter, he thought. It even bled into her gesticulations as she spoke, all sharp and snappy. 

“It wasn’t like that,” he protested. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she exhaled loudly. “I told you Laurie, it’ll never work. So there really isn’t much merit in having this discussion.”

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that! Amy, it’s already working!” 

“This isn’t the same thing,” she rejected insistently. “This is just sex.” 

“I would have agreed,” he nodded, “but it was rather vehemently pointed out to me that we have been unconsciously dating for months. We do everything together, Amy.  Every goddamn thing. We spend more time together than we do apart. You have a whole shelf to yourself in my closet. Your favorite medium roast is on my recurring grocery order. You have a fucking key to my place!”

“That was just convenience,” she interjected half-heartedly.

“It always is, no matter the relationship. Amy, when was the last time you went on a date?” Laurie tried throwing at her the question her sisters had thrown at him. 

He realized his error a beat too late, when she made to open her mouth. He stopped her with a hand motion. 

“Wait, no. I remember that night well,” he stared directly at her. “Because that night ended with us fucking right here.” He pointed at the aforementioned sofa to emphasize his words as he spoke. “As has every date night of yours since we began…whatever this is.”

Amy opened and closed her mouth rather ineffectually, seemingly wanting to protest but finding no words.

“Why do you think it’ll never work?,” he asked her finally, in resignation. “Just, no more prevaricating. Give it to me straight. Assume I know absolutely nothing.”

“It’ll never work because I’ll never be your first priority,” Amy bit out her response immediately, without an ounce of hesitation and assured in her conclusions. 

Laurie, for his part, was absolutely flabbergasted by her pronouncement. “How would you even come to tha- You don’t know that!”

“Don’t know that?” Amy laughed. It was a short, ugly laugh steeped with the bitterness that had lingered around her since they’d started talking. 

Laurie didn’t like it one bit. 

“Don’t know that? Laurie, I’ve lived it!” She shook her head, rather wistfully. “I’m not the March you’ll prioritize. I never have been. I never will be. I told you. This, whatever we have, it’s been lovely. An absolute dream, even. But it’s also as good as we get. As we’ll ever get.”

“That’s not fair,” he objected with a  frown. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“No?” She asked him in a dangerously soft voice. “Laurie, you had an entire discussion about this with her before you did with me!” 

“And Meg and Beth too,” he pointed out before he realized that wasn’t going to help him any. “Jo’s my best friend! Tell me you and Anette haven’t spoken about this too. Besides, it wasn’t for lack of trying. I really did try.”

Amy didn’t refute his claim. “And I’m not telling you she’d not. Or that you can’t talk to her. But…” She trailed off. 

“So you really are just following in Aunt March’s footsteps then?” He spoke up, heated, before he could stop himself. “You’re just going to give up on a chance at happiness because you’re scared? Of what, exactly? My friendship with Jo?” 

Laurie knew he’d crossed the line even before he’d finished speaking. He didn’t need Amy’s face going blank to clue to him in. 

“No, wait,” he tried to correct his words hastily. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m trying to-”

“No. No. That’s exactly what you’re trying to say,” she interrupted coldly. “You wanted to be frank. Let’s be frank. But you’re skipping over one thing. I tried too. I really, really did. Maybe not in Paris, but…”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Laurie was very, very confused. 

“I guess we recall our childhood memories very differently, don’t we?” She laughed her bitter laugh again, before launching into an equally acerbic explanation. 

“No matter how much I wished otherwise, how much I tried, I have always been incidental to your life with Jo. Your relationship with Jo. That will never not be true.”

“That’s not-“

“Not what? Fair?” She interrupted his protest sharply. “Fairness has nothing to do with what I felt. We grew up together, sure. And yes, we all spent time with each other. Ostensibly friends. You’re practically a March in all but name. Fair claim.  But none of that would have become reality if you hadn’t first become Jo’s Teddy, would it? Jo’s best friend with a special nickname that no one else was allowed to use. Jo’s…” Amy huffed, before finishing in a murmur, “The boy so madly in love with my oblivious sister that he never realized I was in love with him the entire time. Truly a complimentary pair, weren’t you?”

In love with him? In love…Had he really been that oblivious growing up? 

The words flooded his brain, static and resolutely refusing to fade away as it went into overdrive. 

Laurie didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. He hadn’t wanted to believe it when her sisters had clued him in on her little crush growing up; that he’d missed so much. But hearing it reaffirmed by Amy herself was a genuinely a bitter pill to swallow. 

“Amy…”

But she was on a roll, barreling past his apologetic expression with little regard.

“And I tried. I really did. Even before I realized I was in love with you, I tried to be friends with you outside my sister’s shadow. Because we definitely shared some sensibilities that we didn’t with her. And I liked that. I liked spending time with you, having things in common with you. And after…after, I took comfort in the fact that you were actively dating. Because for a while, it meant that there was a chance, didn’t it? Sharon, Carmen, Nicole, Penny, Susie…Why do you think I remember those names so well?” 

“Amy, I didn’t know,” he managed to interject in a hollow whisper.

She snorted in response, like that had been exactly what she’d been expecting him to say.  

“Of course you didn’t. You had these selective blinders when it came to Jo. This bias. Maybe you still have it, I don’t really know anymore. And I’m not saying I was special. It didn’t just happen to me, did it? All of those girls you dated in high school?  Sharon. Carmen. Nicole. Every break up, honestly. It was because they felt like they took a backseat to Jo. Did you never once realize?”

Amy shook her head ruefully has she spoke. 

“It wasn’t something you did just once or twice, when it was important. Laurie, for you it was a character trait. And I’d hoped otherwise for the longest time, but…do you remember that Raphael exhibit at the MFA I was really looking forward to back in ninth grade?

“Vaguely,” he admitted. “That was the one that had you excited for weeks before it was even up and running, wasn’t it?” 

“And you, in turn, promised me multiple times over, that you’d take me on opening night. I even got us the tickets.” 

“I don’t remember going to that exhibit,” he frowned as he tried recalling the event in question. 

She graced him with a small, sad smile - one eschewing the acridity that had permeated her every expression until then. “Because you didn’t. Neither of us did eventually, together or separately.”

Amy really wasn’t giving him a moment’s respite tonight, Laurie thought as he winced in acknowledgement. It felt like she was laying his sins, sins he’d never acknowledged, bare for all (him) to see. 

Then again, he had all but asked for it.

“You’d ended up going on some college visit with Jo, because she really wanted to see the place and she asked you to come along, I think,” Amy huffed lightly. “I don’t even remember which one, honestly. But I do remember that you were a no-show and I had to find out why from Marmee. My heart broke in two that night. And every shred of hope I had that we could have a friendship independent of Jo, let alone a relationship, went out the window that night.”

“You were my first real heartbreak,” she admitted with a rare, raw countenance that he was seldom privy to. And usually, usually it made his heart sing, not curl up in agony. 

“The tragically funny thing about it was that I never even got to have you before I’d realized I had well and truly lost my chance. And so, I tried to do everything I could to move on past you, after that night. Tried and mostly failed, but I tried.”

“That’s why we grew apart. You really chose Paris because of us,” he whispered numbly, in realization. “Jo was right.” 

“I chose Paris for me,” Amy responded, counterbalancing his numbness with her ferocity. “I needed the clean break. I needed to move on. Three years apart in the same country clearly hadn’t worked out. If memory serves me right, you did almost exactly the same thing after you and Jo imploded.”

‘And even after all this, you still chose love over Vaughn,’ he didn’t say out loud, far too afraid to just right then. 

She exhaled loudly.

“I…”

“None of this was really your fault anyway,” she interrupted him in a resigned voice, seemingly done with her moment of fury.

“It certainly sounds like all of it was my fault,” he disagreed with her sentiment, a dull dejection bleeding out as he did.

“It really isn’t,” she insisted. “You were young and in love and consumed by it. I was young and in love and consumed by it. You had no more of an obligation to my feelings than Jo had to yours. We love who we love. It doesn’t come with guarantees.” 

She was unconsciously echoing her Aunt March’s words, Laurie realized.

“But I could have been a better friend,” he insisted despite the respite she seemed to be graciously offering him. 

“Perhaps,” Amy agreed. “And I could have tried to move on from unrequited love like normal people do.” 

Tried to move on? Did that mean- Was he overthinking her words?

“But you’re still here…” he whispered, heart audibly hammering. “With me.”

Amy looked beyond exasperated as she gave him a deliberate once over.

“Of course I’m still here! Because I thought enough time had passed and I could…You’re you. I grew up loving you. I was in love with you. I cherished you. I thought the world of you. I desperately wanted the friendship, the relationship. And then, I did my damn best to move past you. But just because I did everything I could to try and fall out of love with you, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’ll always love you.”

“But that’s not enough for you to give this a chance.”

“Laurie…“ she faltered. “What if I do? Let’s just say I do, for a minute. What if I throw caution to the wind, say yes and we go all in. And then, a few weeks later, it just implodes in our faces as well?” 

Her eyes glistened, unshed tears choking her up as she spoke. “I don’t want to end up like Aunt March, Laurie. Left behind holding on to some gemstones and a foolish, broken promise I should have never relied on in the first place. I don’t think that I can live with…that I…”

“You don’t trust me,” he concluded hollowly. 

“Laurie, you were in love with Jo for literal years…And we both know how that ended.”

“This is not the same as that!”

“Of course not,” she agreed readily, blinking away the unshed tears in a scarily efficient manner. “It’s barely been half a year of whatever this is between us. Hardly as impactful on your life.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he responded, struggling to keep his tone even. “This is not the same as that because back then, we were young and confused. And Jo didn’t know what her feelings were. I was infatuated and I didn’t really know the difference.”

He exhaled loudly. “But now, now I know. I know what love is and God help me, I’m in love with you. And I don’t think- I really hope I’m reading this right, but I don’t think it’s entirely one-sided.”

Amy didn’t refute the conclusion he’d come to. Instead, she looked away without responding, getting up to go get herself a glass of water. 

“Can’t we give this a chance?” he asked her softly, as Amy stood silently, facing away from him. The sound of running water was the only other noise in the room as she filled her glass to the brim, almost obscenely loud to his ears. “Give us a chance now there is one. Give me a chance to prove it to you, at least?” 

She took a long sip of her water, considering his words, before she deigned to speak.

“And how does that work exactly? You proving yourself?”

Laurie was thrown, admittedly unsure about the straws he was grasping at in making his appeal. “I don’t…know just quite yet.” 

Amy shook her head sadly. “I don’t want to be that person, Laurie. Insecure enough that I stand here and demand the twelve labors of Theodore Laurence just so that we can be together. Asking you to prove yourself. That’s not the kind of relationship I want. Not the kind of person I want to be.” 

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “In fact, I’m not demanding anything at all. Why can’t things just be the way they’ve been? This has been nice so far, hasn’t it?” 

“And where does that story end? How does it end? We stay exactly as we are for the rest of our lives? Keep it strictly casual. Never move forward. We can’t move backwards. Be right here when we’re both eighty-something? Or does it end with you finding the love of your life and leaving me behind in the process?” 

He exhaled loudly, slumping into his chair once he was done. Unprompted, Amy silently filled another glass of water and left it by his armchair as she made her way back to her own. 

“If history’s taught me anything at all, you could very well be the one leaving me behind,” her voice trembled as she quietly countered his words. 

“Amy…” he was heartbroken by her words, and he was certain the anguish showed in his face. He could certainly feel it. 

“Amy, look at me.” 

She did so, reluctantly.

Laurie got up and moved towards her. He ended up kneeling in front of her, desperate to say his piece without any chance for miscommunication. He reached out to take her hands in his as he spoke.

“Amy, as far as I’m concerned, you’re it for me. You’ve been it for me since I first laid eyes on you last November, and I didn’t even fully realize it until a few months ago. It’s a mystery I’d been trying to solve since our blind date. But now, now I can’t imagine anything else- anyone else…”

His gripped her hands tightly as he continued to speak, her disbelieving eyes wide open and shining through its renewed wetness, as she listened to him speak. “And what happened in Concord, I didn’t know about until recently. I wish to God I had but I didn’t! But Amy, what happened in Concord is history. It happened over half a decade ago. It can only affect us here and now as much as we let it. Here and Now. Where I love you. Where you might just still like me. Where all I can offer to do is prove the sincerity of my words given the chance. Where I can ask you to trust me. You have to decide one way or another.”

“Maybe,” he postulated wildly. Desperately. “Maybe Aunt March didn’t give you those sapphires in spite. Or because she felt the kinship in your shared misery. Maybe it was because she hoped you would find what she never did. Because you were determined to take a chance on love like she never could after…after.” 

He shook his head. “Of course, it’s entirely up to you to decide when you take that chance. And how. But I’m asking you to take it with me. What we have together is nice. Brilliant even. But we could be so much more. Why should we deny ourselves that?” 

Laurie stood up, certain that he’d be unable to keep from breaking apart if he stayed there any longer, only to be rejected straight to his face. He instead moved to stand by the large windows that looked out into the city, taking in the bright lights that illuminated an oblivious, sleeping metropolis that probably couldn’t have cared less about the two of them and their problems. Even thought Laurie knew that what was happening right then had the potential to upend his whole life. 

“Trust is hard,” Amy offered eventually, after a long, tense moment of silence. 

“Trust is earned,” he countered easily. “Do these last seven months really count for nothing? Is it just inconsequential in the face of everything else? Even when it might mean so much more?”

“These last seven months have meant everything to me!” Amy snapped back, clearly bothered by his words. “It’s been everything younger me dreamt of at one point. Almost everything I thought I’d never get to have. But dreams are fleeting, Laurie. Temporary. We have to wake up eventually. Like we are, right now.”

“But what if this dream can become your reality? Doesn’t it merit consideration? Don’t we?” He there his hands up in exasperation. “It feels like we’re going around in circles.”

Laurie turned around to once again look at the object of his desires, and his frustrations. “We need to figure this out. We can’t go backwards. At least, I can’t. Not anymore. We can’t go forward. Because you don’t want to. We can’t stay here in limbo forever, because this cannot possibly sustain as a never-ending situation. Amy, what’s the answer here?”  

Amy seemed lost for words, speechless as she looked at him with a stricken expression. “I-“ 

“You know what scares me?” He asked her abruptly, rhetorically, with a sharp acidic laugh, as he came to a realization of his own . “I would actually stay no matter what. Ten minutes. Ten months. Ten years. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here, however you want me.”

“And when you walk away,” he shook his head slightly, “you can walk away knowing that my heart’s breaking. No matter when. A broken heart for a broken heart. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

“Don’t say that like that’s what I want,” Amy hissed, visibly hurt and angered by his words. “If you really think I- That’s not what I want. For either of us.”

“Then what do you want?” He gritted out in response, equally ruffled. “I don’t understand what you want! You’re not telling me what you want.”

“I want for us to be happy. I want to dance with you and laugh with you. Live with you. I want the highs of these last few months and the lows of these last few months. I sometimes wish we’d never met before Paris. ” 

Amy stood up as she was speaking and harshly gesticulating, coming forward to face his stricken expression head on.

“I wish we didn’t have the weight of our shared history in between us. That you weren’t so firmly entrenched as ‘Jo’s first’ in my brain. That you didn’t feel the need to have to prove yourself otherwise. That we’d just met on that blind date for the first time, hit it off, and fallen in love. Because we would have. I would have. If you’d been anybody else but you, I would have probably fallen head over heels by now, no hesitation. But we…”

“Even Fred Vaughn?” Laurie couldn’t help but mutter under his breath despite everything that was happening.

Amy was close enough to him now that she could make out what he said anyway. She let out a wet chuckle. 

“No. Probably not Fred Vaughn,” she assured him, causing him to chuckle with her and tentatively break whatever tension had been simmering between them.

Laurie pulled Amy into a desperate hug, never wanting to let her go but acutely aware (afraid) that he might just have to. He felt immeasurably better when she clung on to him just as tightly, the two of them processing everything that had been said out loud that night as they simply held on to each other. 

This couldn’t be how it ended. How they ended. Not when they both…There just had to be a solution here. 

He eventually sunk down against the windows, exhausted, pulling an amenable Amy down along with him.

“I can’t erase our history,” he told her gently, the first to break the tenuous silence that had taken over. “You can’t erase our history. We can never forget it. But we can try to move on from it and forge our futures despite it. If these last few months have proved anything at all, it’s that.”

Laurie looked at Amy earnestly, holding her close as he spoke. 

“You want to be happy and with me. I want to be happy and with you,” he offered once again one last time, strangely calm as he did. “This is our chance. We’re both at the starting line together for once. So let’s just be happy together.” 

“Just like that?” Amy shook her head incredulously. 

“Just like that,” Laurie agreed. “No preconditions. No talk of proving anything. No chains beholden to our past. No crossed wires. Just a little bit of your faith in me. A little bit of my faith in you. And we jump off this cliff together, wherever it’s taking us.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” 

“Maybe it should be,” He shrugged. “Everything else about our time together  in Paris has been. Our unexpected reunion. Our re-contextualized friendship. When it became more. Well, until I caught feelings anyway. But even then! It’s all been so easy, so effortless, so good. So maybe, just maybe, if we let it be, so will this.” 

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“If it doesn’t work, not that I think it won’t mind you, but if it doesn’t, then we tried.  Together. Genuinely and properly gave it our best shot. While on the same wavelength. No crossed wires getting in our way. No what-if’s or regrets to haunt us. That has to be better than being stuck, going nowhere.”

“Or hiding away entirely, like Aunt March,” Amy murmured to herself as she considered him.

“So, just how does one go about asking you out on a date these days?” Laurie asked her with a hopeful grin. “I’m rather rusty, you see. It’s been a minute.”

“I suppose I’ll be taking you anyway,” she responded with a small grin of her own, before a trepidatious expression filtered through.  “You really think this is a good idea? Despite everything- After everything- Because of everything…” 

She trailed off. 

He looked at her carefully. 

“Only time will tell really, but I’m sure as hell feeling lucky. Do you really think this is a bad idea?”

“A risky one,” she compromised. 

“Sometimes the best things in life lie on the other end of decisions that terrify the fuck out of you,” Laurie softly quoted the advice he’d been offered only sometime  ago. 

“Wise and oddly appropriate words for the moment,” Amy shook her head lightly. 

“But we’ll never tell Will that,” he chuckled in response. 

“Will?” Amy snorted in surprise. “So Sophie isn’t lying whenever she insists he has hidden depths we just don’t see?” 

Laurie shrugged in response, content to simply hold her against him. Will had been his rock after the whole Jo debacle for a reason, after all. 

They stayed that way for a while, each processing the evening in their own way. Laurie’s optimism all but began growing steadily as Amy continued to not pull away from him.

She was the one to break the silence this time. 

“Camille tomorrow?” She asked him with a tentative grin. “I think it’s only right that we go back to the start.”  

“We’re really doing this?” He asked, a sanguine smile gracing his face as he deliberately caught her gaze with his own. 

“Great or nothing. Not stuck languishing somewhere in between. Love and respect. Not just settling for the latter,” Amy shook her head slightly. “I have to start putting money where my mouth is at some point, don’t I? If I don’t, then I’m really no better than Aunt March, just shying away from, well, anything real.”

“I’m honored that the point you choose is me.” 

“And if I’m going all in with this-“

“You won’t regret it,” he interrupted her softly. “I’ll do my best to make sure of that.” 

“I know,” she murmured, soft but assured as she spoke. Her fingers gently trailed across his face before her hand settled around his neck, tapping at it lightly. “I don’t doubt that you’d do anything but try your best.” 

It wasn’t an unshaken, unwavering trust, but after everything, Laurie couldn’t  find it in him to fault her for it. Because it was a measure of trust, if not absolute, and surely that could only grow with time. Surely. 

“Was Camille really the start, though?” He wondered out loud instead, keeping his musings to himself for the moment. 

“It was for the us we are now,” she reasoned. “If we’re really not going to be beholden to the past, the version of us that makes any of this possible at all came to be that November evening we spent together at Camille, didn’t it?”

Laurie couldn’t argue with that. “You’re right. Camille it is. And say, Amy-“

“If you’re going to ask for permission to kiss me, I’m going to be very confused by the man I’ve been sleeping with for the past few months,” Amy warned him, her grin having settled into a warm smile. “I’m also going to tell you that I’ve become rather impatient, so-“

“Just trying to be a gentleman,” he murmured, pulling her even closer and melting into what might, in Laurie’s humble opinion, have been the most (emotionally) satisfying kiss he’d ever been party to, technique (or lack thereof) be damned. 

“I have to ask,” she asked him conversationally when they eventually broke apart, no longer desperate to revel in the feeling of being all but consumed by one another. “Does it feel odd to you at all that we had this entire conversation dressed in black tie attire? Although, I suppose it did make for a much more dramatic setting. Despite crumpling our expensive clothes and everything. There’s definitely a hefty dry cleaning bill in our future.”

“Dramatic setting?” Laurie chuckled. “What, like we’re filming a soap opera? Who’d have been been watching us? 

“…Doesn’t Mr. Laurence stay here while he’s in town?” Amy’s eyes grew wider in horror with every word of her question. 

“Sometimes,” Laurie agreed. “He’s also got a few old friends in the city who insist he stay the night from time to time. Tonight was one such night.” 

“Fortuitously for us,” she muttered, relieved. “So that’s why we took different cars.”

“Mmm,” he nodded in agreement. ”And because he wanted to give us some time to ourselves, I think.”

Amy flushed. “He knew?!”

“Depends on what exactly you think he knew,” Laurie shrugged, unconcerned. “Did he suspect something? Absolutely? Did he know it would escalate the way he did? I mean, even I didn’t know this would happen tonight, so if he’d guessed it, the man’s probably a seer of some sort.” 

She squinted at him suspiciously. “You really didn’t plan for this?” 

“Believe it or not,” he chuckled, “The one time I didn’t plan for it was apparently the best time for us to have this conversation. I’ve tried and failed to have this conversation so many times now, it’s like the universe actively plotted against me.” 

“I’m almost tempted to start making guesses now.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he shook his head in tired amusement, “I believe I’d promised you quite the evening, when we got together earlier today. I honestly just think Grandpa expected that, and I doubt he wanted any part of that.”

“Well, I was certainly devastated,” she drawled. “We both were, I think. Just not the way we expected it to happen. But it didn’t end all too horribly, right? ” 

“Not horribly at all. In fact, I think it went miles better than I’d hoped. We can still correct that little oversight, however?” he offered, making for the both of them to stand up. “Tomorrow though. I think I might be exhausted enough that I will crash the second we get to the bed. And I refuse to be a subpar partner.” 

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she agreed, looking as weary as he felt. “I’m running on empty too. I might actually sleep through lunch.” 

“Thank the heavens tomorrow is a Saturday,” Laurie nodded as they began making their way to his bedroom. “Did you want you leave your earrings in the safe overnight? I can open it for you, if you’d prefer to.” 

“If you don’t mind?” 

“Of course.” 

For Laurie, sleep came easy that night curled up against Amy as he was. It might have well been the best night’s sleep he’d gotten since he moved to Paris. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 

Reverberations in the Eye of the Beholder 

July (continued.)

It had been a long night for Laurie and Amy, one that had left them drained and exhausted by the end of it (he was quite certain they’d gone to bed around two in the morning, all said and done). Despite that, Laurie stirred awake at the reasonably early hour of eight-something on Saturday morning. 

He reveled in the warm body nestled against him, pulling her closer to him as he gave in to the dreamy sigh that escaped him and the satisfied smile that was positively bursting at the seams when he thought back to the previous night. 

‘Eventful is an understatement, Laurie mused to himself. The emotional whiplash of the evening shocked him in hindsight - going from genial, flirty, and jovial to contemplative conversation to anger, frustration, desperation, devastation, and finally, finally, resolution. 

Resolution.

And oh, if it hadn’t been the resolution Laurie had only dared hope for when the slightest rays of optimism occasionally escaped his well-constructed walls of realism (really: defeatism) blocking it out. A tentative resolution, arguably. But still, it had been one he’d almost not gotten. 

A good one.

Consumed by his thoughts as he was, Laurie failed to realize that he’d unconsciously awakened his bed partner with the staccato beat he’d been idly tapping against her arm as he held her close.

“And just what are you ruminating on this early in the morning?” Amy asked him, slowly blinking away her bleary eyes. “We got through the hard part last night, didn’t we? At least, I thought we did.” 

Startled out of his thoughts, Laurie shook his head slightly. “Good morning,” he greeted her with a beatific smile, almost too bright for the morning he was aware. But honestly? He just couldn’t seem to dim it down. 

“Good morning to you too,” she responded with an indulgent smile of her own. “This doesn’t feel all that different to the usual at all, does it? It feels rather familiar, all said and done.”

“That’s probably rather telling, isn’t it?” 

He interrupted the apologetic expression forming on her face, her immediate reaction to his rueful words. 

“But no, actually. I beg to differ. This is much better. Knowing that I don’t have to let you go? Nothing beats that. ”

“You do realize I’m going to have to go home at some point?” 

Laurie gave himself an internal pat on the back, satisfied as levity effortlessly replaced Amy’s momentary dip into contrition. 

“Especially if I have a date to look forward to tonight.”

“And I get to pick you up for that too,” he grinned merrily. “After breakfast though…Maybe even lunch.” 

“We’ve got time,” she glanced at the clock on his bedside table. “More than enough time, actually.” 

“As much time as we want.” 

Really, the rest of forever, if Laurie had it his way. 

Amy exhaled loudly. “We’re really, actually, properly doing this, aren’t we?” 

“If you haven’t changed your mind,” he looked at her, immediately cautious. 

“I haven’t,” she promised him without any hesitation (that he could see, anyway). “No regrets just yet. Just working on the believing part of it all.” 

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” he agreed.

“Well, dream or not, I do believe we had other plans as well? Now’s as good a time as any for those, I say,” she murmured. “Nothing beats a little morning celebration to begin our day. Especially today.” 

Amy gave him a coy smile, fisting her hand in his shirt and pulling him towards her. Their lips met in the middle. And Laurie’s thoughts blanked out on him for, oh, the next hour or so.

——

Their lively morning on the heels of an exhaustingly long night consequently demanded a sumptuous breakfast that Amy and Laurie were far too lazy to expend any actual effort on. They’d eventually settled on eggs, toast, espresso, and decided to throw a few last-minute hash browns in the oven for good measure. 

“Want to stay for lunch as well?” Laurie asked, distracted as he picked out their preferred coffee cups from the dishwasher. “Grandpa’s dropping by before he flies back to London. He’ll probably insist on treating us to expensive takeout.”

Amy snorted. “If I recall last night correctly, he already knows I’m here, doesn’t he?” 

“We weren’t exactly unsubtle about our plans.”

“As long as I’ve time to stop by mine before tonight, I don’t really mind.” 

It was Laurie’s turn to snort. “You could show up to Camille in what you’re wearing right now and I wouldn’t mind the slightest, you know that right?” 

Amy made a show of looking at her clothes (his t-shirt and short pajama shorts, for the record) and drawled with a skeptical look, “Really?”

“Well,” he demurred as he turned on his prized coffee machine, “I know for a fact that you’ve at least one pair of jeans in the closet upstairs. But you’re welcome to my shirts anytime. It’s encouraged, even.” 

“Boyfriend-fit doesn’t necessarily mean wearing your actual clothes, you know,” she muttered in response to his cheeky grin, making her way towards the toaster with butter spread in hand. 

“Wait, do I actually get to call you my girlfriend now?” He looked at Amy bright a bright grin, the thought just now occurring to him. “I do, don’t I?” 

Amy looked up from the bread she had begun buttering, wrinkling her nose as she did. “Girlfriend feels a bit too high-school, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I hate the term ‘significant other’. It just sounds,” Laurie shuddered to describe his feelings, unable to elucidate in words. “Partner, then?” 

She looked doubtful still. “Bit too early for that, right? Maybe one day, but…” 

“When we get there,” he agreed easily because he was feeling far too optimistic to conclude that they might not. “Besides, it feels a bit too corporate for our tastes anyway.” 

“But girlfriend and boyfriend are terms that are totally on brand,” Amy snorted in response. 

“Give me an alternative, then?” He challenged her playfully. “Loverrr.”

“Oh please no!” Amy started laughing. “Or at least, never in front of Will. We’d never hear the end of it. Or Annette, actually.” 

“You really think Sophie is the kindest of that bunch?”

“Oh, no. Liam by far wins that title. Those two would just be the worst is all.”

“So what I’m really hearing is that our high school endearments are the most suitable ones for us right now.” 

“Only until we find the alternative that’s currently escaping us,” she acquiesced reluctantly. 

“Unless we level up to partner before we find it,” he added. “Do we know how that happens, anyway?” 

“I always thought it was an arbitrary thing,” she shrugged, popping the last slices of bread into the toaster, and moving to rinse her hands. “Whenever we feel ready, I suppose.” 

“Happy to follow my girlfriend’s lead,” he gave her an unrepentant grin. 

“You’re going to be positively insufferable with that, aren’t you?”

“Not to the point it becomes intolerable,” he chuckled. “Where you’re concerned anyway. Now, Will on the other hand…”

“As long as it doesn’t come to haunt me as well as you,” Amy warned him as she moved their plates to his kitchen island that doubled as a breakfast bar, complete with barstools that he’d bought on a whim (when, rather incidentally, he’d been out with Amy and she’d declared them ‘positively perfect’ for his kitchen’s aesthetic). 

“I mean, now you’re just asking for the impossible.” He placed their coffee by their plates, settling down next to her. “Fifteen minutes on the hash browns.” 

Amy nodded. “Ah, but can you deliver nevertheless? That’s the real question.” 

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we? Worst case, we bribe Sophie and set her on him. Now, shall we?”

“Before the eggs turn to rubber and the coffee, undrinkable bean water,” she agreed. 

Ravenous as they were, it wasn’t long before they’d emptied their plates and Amy was peering into the oven, impatiently checking in on their hash browns. 

It was then that Laurie’s phone lit up with a familiar early morning caller. 

“Hey, where did we land on telling your sisters about us?” He asked his girlfriend from across the room. 

Girlfriend. Laurie wouldn’t lie. He loved using that word, and the little high it gave off every single time. It left him feeling excruciatingly giddy with pleasure. 

Amy looked uncertain. “We didn’t.” 

“But if we did?” 

She shrugged, her eyes tightening minutely. “Given that everybody’s already up in our business to some extent or the other, we gain nothing by purposefully avoiding it at this point I think. Why? Did you want to be the one to tell Jo?”

He tensed, silently holding up his phone, Jo’s name and image flashing brightly on his screen.

“Oh,” she realized, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Wait. This early in the morning?”

“Probably not able to sleep, but stuck with writer’s block,” he shrugged with a strained nonchalance. “It’s honestly a miracle she hasn’t called when you were around in the mornings, before today.”

“And she calls you when that happens?” Amy snorted, faint echoes of the previous night’s bitterness present but not necessarily prevalent. “Color me surprised.” 

His phone briefly went dark, Jo’s call having been cut automatically before it lit up again. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged again, eventually. “Why not, I suppose. Did you want to tell her or tell her?” 

“What?” 

“Are we scandalizing her or just telling her?” 

“Why would we-,” Laurie chuckled but shook his head nevertheless. Sisters. “Just telling her, I think.”

“Shame. A shirtless you is always a welcome sight.” Amy swiftly took the phone from him before he could process her words, answering Jo’s call before it cut off again. 

“Teddy,” Jo’s voice came barreling through almost immediately, although her visual focus was clearly elsewhere. “Just what were you doing that you’re ignoring your phone at such a respectable time! If it was my baby sister again, I swear I will-“

Amy cleared her throat, plainly amused that her sister hadn’t noticed just who had answered the phone. Her amusement tentatively eased the tension that had coiled in Laurie at the prospect of the two sisters interacting so soon after the previous night’s…well, everything. 

“Evening Jo. Or should I be saying good morning?” 

Jo stopped talking to peer at her phone screen in confusion. 

“Amy,” she squeaked in recognition. 

“No, please. Go on,” Amy encouraged with a grin. “What would you do if he was doing me? I’d personally love to hear all about it.” 

“That is a new threat,” Laurie agreed cheerfully, coming to stand behind her . “I’d like to know too.” 

“Wait,” Jo narrowed her eyes. “Something’s going on here.”

“Yep. Sure is,” he agreed gleefully. “You were in the process of probably threatening bodily harm if I, how’d you phrase it? Did my girlfriend.” He really couldn’t help himself. “So?” 

“Girlfriend?” Jo demanded immediately. “Did I hear that right? When? How? Does Will know yet?” 

“Will?” Amy looked bemused. 

“Jo and Will are rather competitive…and protective of their titles.”

“I was there first, I have seniority,” Jo sniffed, regurgitating an age-old declaration. “‘The summer that shan’t be mentioned’ doesn’t count. That was quite simply an anomaly in the timeline.”

“I’ve told you guys,” Laurie shook his head immediately, “Don’t bring me into this. I’m not deciding either way.” 

“But I better be your Best Man,” she threatened him. “Now that you’ve shacked up with my sister and whatnot, I presume that’s inevitable.”

“We haven’t actually shacked up just quite yet,” he protested. 

“Really feeling the love here, big sister,” Amy interjected dryly. 

“Oh, we’re going to have a conversation,” Jo promised her sister. “I just need to get the other two for it. And get your-,” Jo made a face, ”Teddy out of it.”

“Let’s be clear,” Amy wrinkled her nose. “He’ll never be my Teddy. Too much baggage there. You can keep that one, I think.” 

“If it helps any, I’ve never even actually seen the man’s package,” Jo offered amiably, in what Laurie presumed she thought was a helpful overture. 

It really wasn’t.

“Jo,” he yelped in protest. 

“We could barely get through the above-the-waist stuff,” she continued on, undeterred. “Should have known the whole thing was dead on arrival right then.” 

“Great. I’ll remember that you’re terrible for advice once I get past first base,” Amy deadpanned. “Oh, wait.” 

“Can we maybe not talk about this while I’m here? Or actually, never? You’re on my phone for Pete’s sake!” Laurie protested the conversation, attempting and failing to grab his phone from Amy. 

An inevitable comparison to his brief and disastrous relationship with Jo was the last thing he needed on the very first proper morning of his relationship with Amy. Especially when things seemed to be going as well they’d been so far. 

“You refused to answer my other questions,” Jo shrugged indifferently. 

“Jo,” he warned his best friend.

“So, how’d you do it? Something stupidly over the top?” She turned to look at her sister. “Tell me he didn’t book the Eiffel Tower.”

“Just how dramatic does she think you are?” Amy asked him in turn, amused. “I thought we just got together. It’s not like you proposed.”

“Guys,” Jo growled in frustration. “Stop ignoring my questions!” 

“The start asking the right ones,” Laurie quipped back. 

“When and how seem perfectly necessary to me,” she pointed out.

“Last night,” Laurie offered, as Amy simultaneously added her input. “There was a lot of talking.” 

“Just last night?” Jo snorted. “How weren’t you fucking when I called?”

“Oh, we were just having breakfast. Fueling up after,” Amy smirked. 

“It was a rather…vigorous start to the morning,” he agreed, playing along. “We basically-“

“Okay. Okay. Stop,” Jo put her hands up hastily. “I changed my mind. You two are practically my siblings. I can’t listen to this. In fact, I never want to hear about it again.” 

“I am quite literally your sibling,” Amy shook her head indignantly. “There’s nothing 'practically' about it.” 

“You know what I mean,” Jo tried waving it off.

“Do I?” She turned to look at Laurie, wordlessly soliciting an opinion.

“Don’t pull me into this either,” he backed away with his hands up. “I’m not taking sides in whatever this is going to end up being.” 

“Coward,” Jo muttered. 

“At this rate, what exactly would you like to get pulled into?” Amy asked him, chuckling. 

“You could pull me into anything,” he offered easily with a grin, “except intra-March arguments and conflicts.”

“Will and I aren’t an intra-March argument,” Jo argued. 

“And neither of you are Amy,” Laurie quipped. “So tough luck.” 

Jo mimicked a dry heave. “I also don’t think I want to see the flirting.”

“What about-“ Laurie got a mischievous glint in his eye before he pulled close to Amy and started playfully kissing her. His girlfriend (he was unbearably giddy, alright. He knew it) was happy to go along with it. 

“I will cut this call,” Jo warned. 

“Good. You should be sleeping,” he retorted, looking intently at Amy as his frisky demeanor morphed into something more rousing. “And we should-

“I thought you wanted to be Best Man,” Amy asked with a snicker, interrupting his words before he could agitate Jo further. “Doesn’t all this come with the territory?”

“Not when it’s my baby sister!” 

“I mean, you already picked him over me. I really don’t see how it matters that I’m your sister.“ 

“And when did I do that?” Jo demanded in outrage.

“Literally the moment you asked to be Best Man instead of in your sister’s bridal party,” Amy offered dryly. 

“So you are already thinking about marriage!” Jo exclaimed triumphantly, as though she’d gotten Amy to confess something. “Not shacked up yet, my arse.” 

“You implied as much!” Amy sputtered. “I was just following your line of thinking. And besides, wasn’t I downgraded to ‘practically a sibling’?” 

It was an undisputed fact that Laurie was used to breaking up arguments between the two sisters before they got overheated when they were younger. He was, in fact, their most effective mediator on record. And so, he instinctively moved to mitigate their argument before playful turned into hurtful and they landed hits on each other, intentionally or not.

“Alright,” he interrupted. “How about we give this thing another week or two before we begin talking wedding favors.”

“Just a week?” Jo snorted. “Someone’s feeling ambitious.”

“Didn’t you take three months to pick an accent color for your bedroom walls?” Amy teased him as well. 

“I mean,” he shrugged. “If we want to be technical, I’m pretty sure you picked the colors. I just went along with it.”

“You just went along with what I wanted after beating around the bush for three months?” she emphasized incredulously. 

“It was nice to see you light up and get excited every time you thought you’d found the combination that was perfect for me and finally cracked it?” Laurie looked sheepish. “Also meant we got to spend more time together back in the early days. But then we started…” 

“I thought I said no flirting,” Jo complained as he trailed off.

Amy was looking at him intently, as though she had discovered something new and was busy cataloging it. 

“Laurie’s right, Jo. You really should be sleeping,” she murmured, not looking at the screen as she reached out to cut the call. “Good Night.”

“Hey-“ Jo managed to squawk in outrage before being cut off entirely. Wisely, she didn’t immediately call back as Jo was wont to do.

“So yes flirting?” Laurie chanced with a grin. He distantly heard a kitchen timer going off. 

“And more,” she promised him with a heady expression. “So much more.”

“Hash browns can keep,” he agreed automatically, only slightly enraptured. “Let me just turn off the oven and I’m all yours.” 

——

Unsurprisingly enough, their post-breakfast segue into the bedroom kept Laurie and Amy distracted enough that lunchtime crept up on them before they knew it. 

When Laurie finally happened to notice the time, they scrambled their way through a hasty, joint shower and began picking up after the remains of their interrupted breakfast. 

“Think they’re worth keeping to reheat?” Amy sounded dubious as she poked at the cold, limp hash browns she’d finally rescued from the oven. 

“Y’know? I’ve never actually had to try before.” 

“Neither. Might as well experiment then, I suppose.” 

“Throw them away now. Throw them away later. Doesn’t make much of a difference in the end.”

“I mean, unless we manage to salvage them.”

“Truly find out just how well potato can adapt to circumstances,” Laurie agreed with a chuckle. “Sounds like a plan.” 

“I guess now we’ve set plans for tomorrow as well.” 

He snorted. “You say that like we wouldn’t have had any if not for hash browns in need of an experimental resurrection.”

“I mean…” 

“I told you. For as long as you let me hold on to you, I’m never letting go,” he murmured, pulling her towards him. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” she agreed, with the caveat she perceived. “You’ve definitely said as much.”

For the moment, he decided he’d take it.

“And now, I get to show you.” 

He closed the distance between them with an indulgent kiss, no agendas or sense of urgency behind it. It just…was. 

And if Laurie was ever asked to define contentment, he knew that he’d more than likely attempt to describe this moment in words. He’d likely fail, but he’d damn well try. 

As ever was their luck, Laurie and Amy were interrupted by a polite clearing of the throat, one that caused them to immediately spring apart.

“Grandpa!”

“Mr. Laurence.” Amy blushed in response, hastily fixing herself up. 

“Theodore. Amy,” his grandfather, having entered the apartment with his own key, greeted them both with a warm, knowing smirk.

Laurie shook his head lightly. Only the venerated James Laurence would get away with a warm smirk. 

“I take it you’ve news for me?” 

“Does the news really need explaining?” Laurie asked mildly. 

“I’d prefer the verbal confirmation, I think.” 

“We’re together,” Amy announced softly. “It’s very new and it’s been a long time coming and…”

“We’re very happy,” Laurie finished when she trailed off. She readily nodded her head at his words. 

His grandfather considered the two of them before he spoke.  

“I’d had my suspicions for a while now. Since your birthday back in May at least,” he admitted to the couple. “But even if I hadn’t, last night made things blindingly clear. Green doesn’t suit you nearly as well as it does young Ms. March, Theodore.”

“Grandpa!” Laurie went red. 

“Shipley?” Amy guessed with a chuckle. 

“Shipley,” Laurie agreed readily. “Shipley the annoying, snot-nosed-“

“I’ve heard the rant, Laurie,” she interrupted him with a smothered chortle. “Hennessy, remember? I’m sure Mr. Laurence doesn’t need to hear it as well.” 

“Oh no. I’ve been privy to it many a time through his university years,” his grandfather chuckled. “This is hardly novel.” 

“You’re looking exceptionally spiffy today,” Laurie deliberately tried changing the conversational track and the target away from his back. “Breakfast date?”

“Just caught up with some old friends from Oxford this morning,” he was waved off good-naturedly instead. “Congratulations, by the way. I genuinely hope this works out the way you two want it to.”

“As do we, Mr. Laurence,” Amy agreed, speaking for them both. “As do we.”

“Takeout from that bistro you like?” Laurie ventured again, eager to distract them before they jointly decided that he was their source of amusement for the afternoon. “We can get our usual.” 

“Which bistro is that?”

“Pharamond,” his grandfather brought Amy in the know. “And I don’t mind. Have you been there before, Amy?” 

She looked unsure, so Laurie stepped in. 

“Remember that boeuf bourguignon we ordered in while on that eighties movie marathon?” 

“Ohh,” her eyes lit up in recognition, much to his grandfather’s amusement. “Guess I’ve definitely eaten food from there, at any rate. Works for me.” 

“I’ll throw in the order,” Laurie nodded, already having pulled out the app on his phone. “Did you want to pick something else off the menu?” 

“You know what I like and you know the restaurant better. Surprise me,” Amy answered easily as they made their way towards the sofas in the living room. “In the meantime, would you like a drink, Mr. Laurence?”

“It can wait,” his grandfather shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes even as he observed the two of them naturally gravitating towards each other, settling down on the sofa in front of him.

“Should be thirty to forty minutes.” Laurie cocked an eyebrow as he moved to drop his phone off on the table. “Something wrong, Grandpa?”

“It’s just rather unexpected to actually see in-person, I suppose,” his grandfather murmured. “Another one of Josephine’s protégés succumbs to the Laurence charm. Someone ought to give her the heads up.”

“Another?” Laurie muttered to himself in confusion. Amy happened to pick up on another part of the sentence entirely. 

“Doubt she’d ever consider me one of her protégés now,” she chuckled regretfully. “Past or present. Pretty certain I failed in that role spectacularly.”

“She’d have never given you those sapphires if that were the case, my dear,” his grandfather assured her without hesitation. “That much I can tell you with absolute certainty.” 

“Do you know the story behind them?” Laurie grasped onto the offered straw immediately. 

“I’m genuinely surprised you even knew they belonged to her,” Amy added, intrigued in her own right. “I’ve never seen her wear them. Have you?” 

His grandfather gave Amy a considering look. 

“You’re right. Never Josephine actually, come to think of it,” he shook his head. “Elena was rather fond of borrowing them, however.” 

Laurie looked up sharply at his grandfather’s words, voice cracking as he clarified, “Mom?” 

What?

“Mom?” Amy looked at Laurie, surprise in her eyes before she made her own deductions. “Mrs. Laurence was the protégé you mentioned earlier?”

“Aunt March knew my mother that well and I never knew?” 

That had certainly been something Laurie had not expected. It didn’t even come close. 

“Pretty sure she was the light of Josephine’s life at one point if I were to be honest.” 

Light of…What?

“She’s never mentioned Mrs. Laurence to me,” Amy murmured. “Not by name, anyway.” 

His grandfather looked like he’d expected nothing less. 

“Hardly a surprise. For all the tragedies that your Aunt March has suffered through, I doubt few hit her as hard as Elena’s…as the accident did.” He spoke somberly, the weight of the conversation getting to him.

Admittedly, Laurie could relate. Almost twenty years and time had only served to dull the pain, ever-existing as a background feature in their lives.

“Is that why Aunt March and Dad used to get along well? Because of Mom?”

“I couldn’t really say how much, but Elena more than likely played a part in Edward and Josephine getting along,” he agreed. “Not that I was ever privy to the whole story there, mind you. You’d have to ask Josephine.” 

Laurie found himself feeling increasingly lost and frustrated the more his grandfather spoke. “How did I- Why- Were you ever going to tell me? About any of this?”

To his credit, his grandfather did look remorseful. Not that Laurie, at this point in time, was willing to take that into consideration. 

“It never really came up before now. And it seemed…fruitless to drudge up all the memories, the pain, without any good reason for it.”

“Me knowing about a relationship between my mother and a woman so close to her that you called Mom the light of her life wasn’t reason enough?” 

“Theodore-“

Laurie pushed on, too worked up to stop now. 

“I’ve seen every photograph we have of my parents. Every video. I’ve obsessed over them. Tried to piece their lives together, growing up with just the photos, videos, and stories you told me. And I’ve never spotted Aunt March in anything but the wedding photos. That wasn’t not speaking about it. It was a deliberate oversight.”

“Laurie,” Amy whispered, gripping his arm in an attempt to, if he had to guess, quell his unexpected outburst.

He turned to look at her, certain that the anger and hurt in his eyes were plain as day as he made to tug his arm from her grip. But her concerned expression stopped him short. 

“It was my mother’s story, Amy,” he implored instead, in a broken whisper. “Her life. I deserved to know.” 

“You did,” his grandfather nodded, regret lacing every syllable as he spoke. “Back then, Josephine was determined to suppress everything and never bring it up ever again. Her way of dealing with it was trying to forget it ever happened at all, and I suppose I did play enabler because it was easier for me to. ” 

“Mr. Laurence-“

He shook off Amy’s sympathetic interruption. 

“I should have mentioned it sooner. Theodore, just as anybody does, has a right to his parents’ story. At the very least, he’s owed what we know, given that they’re not here to tell him themselves. Just…It was a rather painful exercise at first, and you were too young to fully understand it anyway, but then before I knew it, too much time had passed and I could never…” 

Remorse over his brief tirade crept up Laurie’s back as he witnessed his grandfather’s painfully easy surrender.

“Grandpa…” Laurie gently untwined his hands from Amy to move across the table. 

He pulled the disconsolate, white-haired man who’d uncomplainingly retraced his steps through parenthood with him despite everything, into an earnest one-armed side hug, as he sat down next to him. 

“You know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, right? And the stories you’ve told me about them, how much you've done to help me remember them. Even if helping me did little to help yourself. You went above and beyond what you needed to do, and I can never thank you enough for that. I just- It was…” 

Laurie trailed off, unsure how he wanted to finish that sentence.

Nevertheless, his grandfather seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “You already know so little of your mother’s life before she met Edward. Anyone in your place would want to know more if there was even the slightest opportunity.” 

He nodded silently, glad his grandfather could put in words what he couldn’t, even if his outburst had been somewhat unwarranted. 

“I’m afraid, however, that much of the story you’re looking for is Josephine’s to tell, not mine. There’s little I can add to it, beyond what I’ve already told you today.” 

The loud crackle of the intercom broke the somber mood in the room, almost offensively jarring in its interruption. 

Amy, who’d become a mostly quiet spectator as the conversation had gone on, leapt to her feet at the noise. 

“I’ll just go get that, shall I? It’s probably the food.” 

She barely waited for their quiet acknowledgment before she moved to the entrance hallway and out of their sight. 

They watched her leave the room before his grandfather turned to look at him. 

“Remind me the next time we’re both in Concord. I believe I may have a few photo albums from their time in Europe locked away there that you haven’t seen yet.” 

“I’ll do that,” Laurie agreed, already mentally planning to determine when that would be. “Thank you.” 

“Always, my boy. I’m just sorry that it took as long as it did.” 

“I’m just glad we managed to get here at all.” 

Laurie stood up after giving his grandfather one last squeeze as Amy made her way back into the room. 

“Now, I say we’ve more than earned that drink with our lunch. Shall we?” 

——

Lunch went on to be a deliberately lighter affair, Amy taking on the challenge to keep conversation easy and moving, and succeeding. Scheduled to fly back to London that evening as he was, his grandfather had left directly for the airport soon after. 

“So, how are you doing, really?” 

Laurie looked up from the empty dishes he was staring at, instead of loading the dishwasher. He simply shrugged in response. 

“Laurie,” Amy sighed softly. 

“There was a whole facet of my mother’s life that was kept from me because the only two people who really knew anything decided they didn’t want to talk about it. And there’s every chance I never would have even come to know of the little I do now if you and I had never gotten together, by the looks of it. So, I’m feeling positively chipper.” 

Amy put down the Tupperware she was sorting and moved towards him as he finished his mini-tirade, clearly pulling him into the most comforting hug she was able to offer him, as she spoke.

“We are going to get to the bottom of this little mystery. Even if we’ve to confront Aunt March to do it. I promise you.”

Laurie snorted as her hands absently continued to rub circles on his back. “She’s going to end that call before we even get a full question out. Given everything we know, that’s a bet I’m willing to make right here and now.” 

Amy chuckled. “We’d be fools not to plan for that confrontation to happen in person. And we may be many things but we, Laurie, are not fools.” 

“No. We’re at least two steps above that baseline.” 

“What we need now is a conspiracy board, however. Put together everything we know so far, and Pepe Silvia be damned, we’re piecing together the whole story one way or another.” 

“I’m guessing two steps above fools is obsessed amateur detectives then?” He joked, touched and heartened by her resolve. 

“Hey-“

“I know. I know,” he cut off before she could take umbrage. “Thank you. For caring more than you need to.” 

“This affects me too,” she shrugged lightly. “Not as much as you, because well, it’s your mother. But if the jewels Aunt March gave me have a connection to her as well, then…” 

“We’ll figure it all out.” 

“You and I, together,” Amy agreed, pulling him into a quick, assuring kiss. “Speaking of us, did you still want to do Camille tonight? I can understand if you wanted to postpone.”

“No,” Laurie was surprisingly confident in his answer. “No postponing. No waiting. No putting it off for a better time. If you’re still up for it, I’m still up for it.”

Amy looked dubious. “I am, but you’re sure? I can understand wanting some time to process everything.” 

“This piece of history may be our little mystery to solve, but it is still history. It’s not going anywhere. I may want answers but I’m not letting that get in the way of our present lives. Not if I can help it.” 

He freed a hand to gesture between the two of them. 

“This, Amy. No matter what, this will always take precedence if I have to choose.”

“Alright,” she accepted his words with a firm nod (and no caveats, his brain screamed at him). “Alright. Dinner at Camille tonight it is.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 

Promulgations in the Eye of the Beholder

July (continued)

For all the progress they’d made, defining their relationship made it feel like Laurie and Amy were starting all over in some ways. Dinner at Camille had been the symbolic reset that they’d needed, serving them just as well as it had when they’d first reunited. 

And yet, along with their reset had come a measure of tentativeness that was new to their relationship - an unsureness that almost felt foreign as they slowly discovered facets to each other that had been carefully hidden or overlooked, peeling a new layer of the onion every single day.

They were also, Laurie realized, processing ‘The Conversation’ in their own ways, revisiting it every so often when one of them had reached an epiphany and felt the need to share it with the other.

On Laurie’s part, a dogged guilt had continued to trouble him from the revelation that he hadn’t been a great friend to Amy, and worse, had never even realized it. He had, if he was being entirely honest with himself, been introduced to the idea when he’d been talking to Amy’s sisters. But ‘The Conversation’ had cemented it so firmly with Amy’s reaffirmation that he simply couldn’t move past it.

He brought it up with her one afternoon over lunch a week or so after, when he’d come to the conclusion that he had to confront the truth in order to find a measure of acceptance with it. 

“I’m sorry I was such a bad friend.” 

Amy looked up from her plate, visibly surprised. “What?” 

“Back in Concord,” he explained, “The Raphael exhibit, and honestly, everything. I never realized I was a horrible friend, and that was shitty of me.”

Amy looked at him, exasperated. “Didn’t I already tell you that wasn’t your fault?  I’m fairly sure I did. Meeting my expectations was never your obligation.”

“But I took, Amy,” he tried explaining the remorse that was haunting him. “And I took and I took what you offered, but I never gave back. Not nearly enough. And I never even realized it.” 

“Laurie,” Amy sighed. “That’s not true.”

He couldn't bring himself to believe her words. 

“Isn’t it? Amy, I know nothing. I don’t know what your break-up routine was back in high school because I’ve never been around for one. I still couldn’t tell you how many schools you’d applied to or how many you got into. I don’t think anyone knows that, really. I- I didn’t even stick around long enough to see you off to college before I absconded from Concord that summer. And I never bothered reaching out, not until…” 

“A lot of that is a two-way street you know,” she pointed out. “My college applications were deliberately a secret because I didn’t want to advertise potential failure. And I could have reached out over the years as well. I chose not to. We all know why now but it was still a choice on my part, just as much as it was on yours. I always knew where you were, you know” 

“A lot is not everything,” he pointed out stubbornly. “Arguably, some of it is entirely on me.” 

“Laurie…You know you’ve also been a good friend, right? Our nights where we let each other vent, no judgment? No other friend has ever been able to understand or offer that sympathetic ear as well as you have. You always seem to know when I need a coffee, and what kind of coffee is needed. I still don’t know how you do that. You pick up obscure gelato flavors for me whenever you come across them, not because you like them but because I love experimenting. You-“

“But this is all in Paris,” he interrupted her. “And you and I both know Concord was  a different beast entirely.” 

“I thought we also agreed that if we were doing this, we wouldn’t be beholden to our history along the way. So why are you rehashing history?” 

“I would have wanted to apologize even if we weren’t doing this,” he argued. “I just…I can’t believe I never realized it until now.” 

“Fine,” Amy huffed. “You’re forgiven. It’s all good. We’re square.”

“Amy-“

“You weren’t a bad friend in Concord per se, you know?” She interrupted him, frustrated. “We just had different ideas of what our friendship ought to have been. You were still around to help me figure out math homework, or pilfer cookies when no one was looking. I still knew that you’d see me home safely when we went to high school parties together and got sloshed. It may have been an incidental relationship, but it doesn’t mean that it was a bad one. Just, disappointing at times. But that’s not squarely on you.” 

“But-“

“I refuse to have this become a recurring argument and let this misplaced guilt fester,” she declared insistently. “We can either agree to disagree, or I can accept your apology. Either way, we move on past this. Like we said we would try to. Or what’s the point in giving this all a try at all?” 

“Fine,” Laurie conceded eventually, after a drawn-out standoff between them that had devolved to a staring contest (that he lost). “We move past this.”

He knew that he required a little more time yet to process it all, but surely with Amy’s emphatic forgiveness (uneasily earned or not), he could eventually get there. 

“I mean it,” she warned him lightly. “We move on.”

“Me too,” he assured her. “I’ll try my best.” 

“I’ll take it.”

And that had been that. 

Amy, a few days after Laurie’s attempt at an apology, felt the need to clarify with him her own doubts and issues from ‘The Conversation’. 

She brought it up one night, apropos of nothing, while they were lounging in front of the television and watching a film that they weren’t necessarily too invested in. 

“You do know that I trust you, right?” 

“What?” He looked away from the television and towards her, startled by the randomness of her question. 

“I’d have never said yes to this if I didn’t trust you,” she elaborated. “Hell, I wouldn’t have continued sleeping with you if I didn’t have a  measure of trust in you.” 

“What brought this on?” 

“I know we said- I said a lot of things that night,” Amy started. “And I didn’t want anything to…“ 

She looked frustrated as she broke off, trying to find the right words no doubt. Laurie knew how hard that could be. 

“I know you’ve some measure of trust in me,” Laurie responded carefully. “I also know we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. And I hope you know I’d never want to abuse-“

“It’s not that,” she interrupted him with a shake of her head. “I know all that. It’s just, I also know allusions were made that night and I…I didn’t want you to misconstrue my words. We said a little bit of faith, right?” 

“A little bit of faith,” Laurie agreed easily.

“Just letting you know that it’s there. The trust; the faith. I know I have my hangups. You know I have my hangups. But that doesn’t mean…”

Laurie found it quite telling that Amy was trying to explain her position without bringing Jo up outright, but he kept that observation to himself. 

“I do trust you,” she reiterated. “It’s not non-existent. It’s not even really tainted. It just…”

“It just has room to grow,” he murmured, hoping that he’d picked the right words to offer as he spoke. 

“And it has been growing for a while now,” she finished softly. “I didn’t want you to infer otherwise.”

“Noted and appreciated,” he promised Amy, undeniably warmed by her words, as he pulled her closer to him.

She shook her head with a small smile. “Well, if it’s appreciated…” 

Amy trailed off as the couple comfortably settled against each other to finish their movie and then promptly forget it all to pursue the more interesting, if raunchier activities on their agenda.

——

Although the dynamic between Laurie and Amy had seen a significant emotional shift, it had also been a rather isolated development. Their lives, in general, had otherwise, remained relatively unchanged 

Even though they’d concluded that keeping their relationship a secret wasn’t necessarily a concern for them, Laurie and Amy hadn’t made an announcement about it. They’d figured that it would come up naturally at some point and that they could confirm it then. In the meanwhile, they’d jointly decided to instead enjoy their private bubble of two for as long as it would sustain (Jo and his grandfather excluded from consideration). 

And it has, thus far. 

Part of it also had to do, Laurie realized as some time passed, with their habitual default to discretion from back when their relationship had been a non-relationship. Public displays of affection no longer seemed to come naturally to either of them. 

He could vividly recall the first time he’d noticed as much. They’d spent the day outside with no real agenda. And as they were walking out of a gelateria sometime late in the afternoon, he’d had the sudden urge to intertwine their free hands and maybe even pull Amy in for a quick kiss. And just as suddenly as his urge had come to be, so had his instincts to suppress it because it had failed to pass muster under the rules guiding their non-relationship. 

Another time he’d noticed it, he’d been dropping Amy off at hers and she’d leaned in to kiss him farewell outside her building’s entrance, only to instinctively abruptly abort it and go for an awkward hug instead.

He found it rather telling that they never seemed to have this problem when they were alone, ensconced in the privacy of their homes. Of course, as Laurie ought to have known, even the most private of spaces usually had doors that might be unintentionally opened. 

The incident in question that broke the news to their group of friends in Paris was Laurie’s fault entirely. Well, he’d posit that at least some of it was on Amy, what with her having been the source of his distraction. But it had still mostly been his fault. 

Laurie and Will had, at some point in the previous week, decided upon a time when Will could come drop off Laurie’s car keys, having borrowed his car earlier. Will, incidentally, was also the man who held onto Laurie’s spare key in the city and preferred use it for anticipated visits (Amy had her own key too, but it wasn’t what he would call a spare), something that had slipped Laurie’s mind entirely, alongside the planned drop-off. 

And so, when the Saturday afternoon in question arrived and Will came up to Laurie’s apartment to drop off the car keys, he was greeted by Laurie’s bare back, and a couple entirely lost in each other, furiously sucking face. 

“Holy fuck! You could have warned me,” Will yelled. “Don’t you have a room you can go to?” 

Amy and Laurie sprung apart at Will’s loud reaction. 

“Will,” Amy shrieked, slapping Laurie’s shirt against his chest. 

“This is my apartment,” he argued, voice muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. “What are you even-“

He spotted the car keys in Will’s hand, eyes widening in realization. “Oh. Was that today?” 

“I texted you when I left,” Will responded evenly. “You two are usually a lot more discrete with this.”

Will had long since given up hope that Laurie would ever have a talk with Amy regarding his feelings. To be fair to him, it has been months and even Laurie had been running out of excuses before the gala.

The couple flushed in response. 

“We were in my apartment,” Laurie repeated, “where I happen to live alone.” 

“Alone,” Will snorted. “Yeah, right. How long has it been since Amy’s seen the inside of her own apartment again?”

“I was there yesterday, thank you very much,” Amy huffed at his insinuation. 

“Morning or evening?” Will countered with a knowing smirk. 

“Thank you for the keys Will,” Laurie spoke up pointedly. 

“Anytime,” his other best friend waved it off, more intrigued by the scene in front of him. “You’re hiding something. What is it?” 

Laurie turned to look at Amy, frowning in question. He didn’t think they were attempting to hide anything per se. She gave him a shrug in response, which he interpreted to mean that they were on the same page.

“I don’t think we’re hiding anything,” Amy echoed his thoughts eventually, giving Will a hint. “You’re simply yet to comprehend what you’re seeing.” 

Laurie flashed him a triumphant grin. And that was all Will needed to put the pieces together. 

“Finally! When? How? Does Jo know yet?” 

“Of course, that would be your first concern,” Amy snorted. “You really have a type when it to comes best friends, huh Laurie?” 

“Jo found out before me?” Will looked like he’d been dealt with a betrayal of the highest order. “How long has this been going on for?” 

“Erm,” Amy looked at him. “Since the McLaren’s Gala. So, like…three weeks?”

“Almost to the day,” Laurie agreed. 

His best friend glared at him. “We see each other at least five days a week at work,” he ground out. “We’ve caught up as a group at least thrice outside of work since that gala.  Anette literally teased you with her prom pictures for a week after the gala! And you didn’t think I deserved to know about this?” 

“Will-“

“You’re okay wasting entire mornings pining after her and subjecting me to it, but you actually do something about it, and you go stone silent? Or worse, tell Jo?”

“Pining?” Amy mouthed to him, grinning, before she tuned back into Will’s theatrics.

Laurie rolled his eyes in response but he knew that was likely not the last he’d hear of it from her.

“Aren’t you being just a little bit dramatic?” Amy gave Will a purposefully dubious look. “It’s not like that much has changed.”

“Not that much?“ The man sputtered in response, predictably outraged. “Not that much? I’ll show you not that much.”

He whipped his phone out, furiously typing something out. “I’m telling the others.” 

The responses buzzed through almost instantaneously. 

“Everyone’s coming here,” Amy sighed in resignation she scrolled through them. “There goes the afternoon.”

“It’s your own fault,” Will snorted as he made himself comfortable in an armchair. “You couldn’t just tell us when you had the chance, could you? If you had, you’d have had the whole afternoon to yourself and whatever kinky adventure you had planned.” 

“We were trying to work it out between ourselves,” Laurie grumbled. “And enjoy the peace and quiet.” 

“Why’d you presume it was kinky?” Amy asked, mildly affronted.

“Would you like to confirm otherwise?” Will raised an eyebrow. “The man may have been tightlipped about whatever’s happening here, but I have heard of his other conquests. And I’ve heard that whatever this is, in his own words, it’s electric. It was a natural conclusion, really.”

“As ever, a helpful friend Wilbur,” Laurie muttered in response. 

“Always, Dora,” he smirked in return. “Think of it as my retribution for finding out second when I was subject to the whole pining phase of it all.” 

Laurie’s eyes shifted guiltily. 

“I saw that!” Will narrowed his eyes. “And I’ll take it as a non-verbal concession.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you and Jo were both obsessed with the man,” Amy interjected drily. “Something I ought to know, boys?” 

Both of them flushed in response. 

“No!” Laurie sputtered. 

“Well,” Will looked considering. “There was that time in Luxembourg-“

“That was a dare!”

“Of course, you’d have a past with the two people literally fighting to be your best friend,” Amy snorted. “You really attract a type, don’t you?” 

“What does that say about you, then?” Laurie sniffed in response. Amy deigned him no response but a provocative smirk before she turned her attention to Will.

Will blushed, breaking rather easily under her intent stare. “It wasn’t exactly an illicit affair! Just seven minutes in- Yeah, I’ll shut up now before I give you more fodder.”

“Was it heaven on earth?” Amy teased them. 

Laurie, for his part, was determined to give her a non-reaction that she couldn’t abuse. Especially when he knew he was already in for it with the ‘pining’ comment. 

“If only because we were high on the good stuff,” he shrugged it away in an easy manner, getting up as his intercom sounded the suspiciously quick arrival of their friends. 

Sophie led the charge, piling into the apartment with her brother, Anette, and Darcy. Liam had, apparently, been unable to make whatever secretive plans they’d had going on. 

“I knew it!” She yelled triumphantly as she entered the living room where Will and Amy remained seated.

“We were waiting on Will downstairs. He was supposed to drag you guys down for a coffee,” Anette explained offhandedly to Laurie as she followed Sophie in. 

“Darcy! Arty! I didn’t know you were already back from Iceland,” Amy stood up to greet them. 

“Just got back last night,” Darcy explained, moving forward to hug her in greeting. “We might actually stay put for a while before we go anywhere else. Some time to catch up, meet the family and whatnot.” 

“You know this is her way of trying to distract us?” Anette asked in a knowing tone. “And you’re falling for it like the gullible idiot that you are.” 

“His street smarts actually far outstrip my own, you know,” Arthur spoke up mildly. 

“Ah, but we’ve lived with him long enough that we know his weaknesses,” Amy chuckled.

“They really do,” Darcy agreed readily. “It’s that I choose to trust them.” 

“Alright, back to the news of the hour,” Will spoke up loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “I walked in today to find these two humping like rabbits in heat today!” 

Anette snorted. “Is that not what they’ve been doing since last November?”

"Hey!” Laurie protested. 

“You know it hasn’t been that long,” Amy sniffed. 

“But my blind date matchmaking skills are unparalleled,” Sophie interrupted smugly. “I’ve got a hundred percent success rate, you know.”

“You set me up with a stranger,” Laurie reminded her. 

“This was about the destination, not the journey,” she waved him off impatiently. “Are we there yet?” 

“They’ve apparently been there since McLaren’s, babe,” Will informed her solemnly. 

“McLaren’s was three weeks ago,” Sophie looked outraged. 

“We reserve the time to find our footing,” Amy argued. 

“You’ve definitely been doing that since November!” Anette exclaimed. 

“And if not, definitely since March,” Will added. “You know, when you started fu-“

“We know,” Laurie cut him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Congratulations,” Arthur spoke up, quieting the argument in the room with his distinctive gravely voice. 

“For finally getting your train wreck of an act together,” Darcy piped up, adding on. “And finding happiness and all that bull - I can attest to it being a good thing.”

“I think we all can,” Will snorted before his expression turned horrified. “Holy shit! We’re that group now. Couples only.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely feeling dramatic today,” Amy snorted. 

Anette seemed to be considering something rather intently. When Laurie raised an eyebrow, she simply muttered, “Double dates.” 

When she took in his unimpressed realization, she smiled at him sweetly. “You remember my offer of meatball soup, yes?” 

“That’s going to stop being threatening at some point, Annie,” Amy shook her head fondly. 

“I think you underestimate how much we value these particular meatballs Amy,” Darcy chuckled, the other men in the room nodding along in agreement. 

“Speaking of meatballs, I’m hungry,” Sophie announced, abruptly diverting the conversation. “We should do lunch instead of coffee. I’ll bet the half of us who have eaten like responsible adults will definitely be able to stomach a second lunch. And the rest, well, we desperately need our first one.” 

“Dora’s treat for traumatizing me today,” Will interjected with a winning smile.

“All you saw was a shirtless Laurie,” Amy snorted in amusement. “You drama queen.”  

“Amy was here too,” Laurie argued for absolutely no reason, knowing full well that it was unnecessary. He was offensively rich and more than fine with treating his friends when they let him, even without the excuse.

“We can go halves,” she agreed easily.

“Like I’d make you do that,” he predictably muttered. 

“Oh, and yes,” Sophie looked up from browsing UberEats on her phone. “Congratulations and all that. It was toeing the line of painful to watch, so I’m glad you idiots figured it out. ”

“We are happy for you,” Anette nodded. “Liam sends his congratulations too. It was more of a ‘Finally!’ but you get it.”

“You walked through the fire, Dora,” Will agreed with a big grin. “I’m proud of you. Even if it only took you like forever.” 

“It was two months,” Laurie bit out, despite experiencing a rush of warmth at his friends’ reaction to their news. “But thank you. We’re rather pleased with ourselves too.”

“What he said,” Amy agreed, catching his eyes with a soft smile. 

“As you should be,” Arthur agreed. “It is an adventure like no other but one you get to have together.” 

“All this travel’s making you sappy, Arty. If I hadn’t seen it happen before my very eyes on FaceTime, I might have assumed you were replaced with a clone of some sort,” Sophie snorted at her brother’s words before looking at the rest of the group. “Are we thinking something simple? Pizza?” 

“I can do pizza,” Amy shrugged easily.

“I’m sure you two were well on your way to working up an appetite,” Anette teased her friend. 

“You’d know Annie,” she snorted in response, eliciting a blush from Anette. “You forget that you and Liam didn’t have the luxury of an apartment to yourselves back in the day.” 

“I want Dalmata,” Will announced in the background. 

“Anima,” Amy suggested, piping in immediately. 

“Da Graziella,” Arthur insisted in a voice that brokered no argument. “We don’t visit Paris often enough, so we ought to get our say.” 

“I’m apparently paying,” Laurie argued anyway. “I say Bijou.” 

And just like that, the afternoon devolved into a happily chaotic time with friends. Really, Laurie knew he had little room to complain. Even if his plans had been interrupted and he’d been stuck footing the bill. 

The pizzas may have cost him a pretty penny, but the time they got to spend together was priceless and he didn’t need a retrospective epiphany (or a Mastercard ad campaign, for that matter) to come to that realization.

——

“Well,” Amy exhaled when they’d finally been left alone, after an afternoon with their friends. It was barely six in the evening, but everyone had had plans of their own to get to - something Will had briefly upended with his breaking news. “That happened.” 

“Maybe we should tell the family before they accuse us of hiding it too,” Laurie considered. 

“Want to get through it tonight? Make a day of it?” Amy suggested. “We didn’t have much else planned for the evening anyway.” 

Laurie gave her a heady look. “I quite thought we had a lot planned. And that we were just rather unceremoniously interrupted.”

Amy snorted. “If you thought that our stamina would have carried us throughout the afternoon and into the evening uninterrupted, you had great expectations and we’d have definitely failed to meet them.” 

“Must you inject a dose of reality into my fantasies?” He complained good-naturedly. 

“Well, if you’d like alone time with your fantasies, I’m more than happy to facilitate that. Annie’s been wanting some girl time-“

“Alright, alright,” he surrendered easily, leaning into a lazy kiss as he did. “I’ll concede.”

“I do have some ideas, however,” she murmured against his lips as his hands made their way up her back and into her hair. “Realistic ones, even. They’d put your fantasies to shame, I bet.”

“Want to give me a list?”

“I’m rather partial to ‘show, don’t tell’ myself.”

“I can get behind that.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Amy agreed, breaking their languid make-out session and tapping his cheek lightly as she pulled back. “After we get through telling the family.” 

Laurie grumbled lightly at the smirk on her face, untangling his fingers from her (now) wild hair. “Fine. Not like we’re expecting them to take it badly, anyway.”

“Great,” Amy chirped, reaching for the iPad on the coffee table. 

“After,” he immediately moved forward to stop her with a small smirk of his own, “we freshen up so you don’t look like you were recently ravished. Especially if we’re talking to your parents.” 

She blushed in response. “Good call there. Not that your hair remains perfectly coiffed, mind you.” 

“I could definitely afford to run a brush through my hair too.”

Telling the Marches, Laurie was well aware, would be a proper and predictably tumultuous family affair. Especially if they were all gathered together in one call. 

“You really think Jo’s kept it a secret?” Laurie wondered, as they resettled in the living room about fifteen minutes or so later. 

“Well, has anyone asked you about it yet?” 

He shook his head in denial.

“Neither. Jo can keep secrets. Sometimes.” 

There was some merit to her statement. Recent events had certainly enlightened them all to that. 

“Sometimes, yes. But such juicy news and for this long? I’d have honestly bet against it a few months ago,” he reasoned, nevertheless. 

“Maybe it’s because she was away in New York,” Amy offered her counterpoint. “Easier to keep secrets when there’s distance involved.” 

“Or they all know and they’re waiting for us to confess,” Laurie theorized. “Marmee might have insisted.” 

“Either way, no better time than now. They’re all home for some summer long weekend or the other. And Jo’s probably going to break soon if she hasn’t yet.” 

'Especially because you lot were already discussing this without me’, Amy left unvoiced, but he understood anyway. 

“So let’s get ahead of it,” he nodded, calling her folks.

“Amy,” her dad’s voice crackled from the iPad. “And Laurie! Afternoon, kids.”

“Marmee. Mr. March."

“Dad,” Amy greeted her father with a familiar grin. “Marmee. Just you two around?”

“It’s a full house. Almost. The girls will hijack this conversation sooner or later,” Marmee shook her head fondly.“We’ll just take what time we get before that.”  

“So how have you kids been? All good in Paris?” Her father inquired genially. 

“That’s kind of why we’re calling,” Laurie admitted with a sheepish smile, rubbing his neck awkwardly as he tried formulating the words to tell them that he was dating yet another one of their daughters. Hopefully disaster-free this time around. 

“Oh, is everything alright?” They looked concerned. “Is something-“

“More than alright,” Amy assured her parents before they spiraled. 

“Amy and I are…” Laurie started, before trailing off. 

Dating? Seeing each other? In a relationship? What was the best way to put it when describing their relationship to her parents?

“Together,” He finished eventually, echoing the same words Amy used to confirm the news with his grandfather. 

Her father opened his mouth to speak before Amy interrupted him. 

“In a relationship,” she nodded, backing Laurie’s words. 

“It’s rather new but we’re very excited.”

Marmee gave Laurie a knowing smile.

“And very happy,” Amy added. 

“And we’re happy for you,” her mother affirmed easily. “Thank you for telling us.” 

“Is that the third of my daughters you’ve crossed off the list, Laurie?” Mr. March questioned him, chuckling lightly. “Should Beth be keeping an eye out next?” 

Well, Mr. March was known for his awkward jokes. Or awkward timing, at the very least. Definitely the one seemingly inevitable aspect of fatherhood Laurie feared manifesting someday. At least it wasn’t outright anger and disappointment, he reasoned to himself. 

“Dad!” Amy complained instead, speaking for both of them. 

“He only accompanied Meg to prom because her date broke his leg the day before,” Marmee agreed with a straight face, the amused glint ever-present in her eyes. “So it’s only two so far, dear.” 

“We wish you a long and happy relationship Amy, Laurie,“ Amy recited facetiously. “Not one prophesied to inevitably end and lead on to the next one.”  

“You know we’re just joking,” her mother chuckled good-naturedly. “Of course we want you kids to be happy.” 

She gave Amy a challenging look. “Or did you want me to start a Pinterest board for your wedding plans in response?” 

“Only if I get to pick the color theme, Marmee,” Laurie bargained in jest. “I was thinking fuchsia and emerald.” 

Amy wrinkled her nose in response. He nudged her lightly.

“I’ll even find a suit in that combination,” he offered playfully.  “Just for you.”

“Knowing you, you’d actually do it and show up dressed like the Joker just to fuck with me,” she accused him, snorting in response. 

“Knowing you, you really think I’d mess with our wedding like that?” Laurie raised an eyebrow. 

“Erm,” Marmee interrupted, simultaneously amused and unsure. “Do I actually need to start looking into this or…?” 

“Knowing Amy, she’ll just present you with a finished set of plans when she’s well and ready to get married,” her father chuckled. “She’s particular like that. But also efficient like that. Gets it from you and Josephine.” 

“Oh my god, when the time comes, I think I might actually just elope at this rate,” Amy rolled her eyes. 

Her father audibly snorted. “Remember when Edward almost did that?” he nudged his wife with the passing comment.  

“Over my dead body!” Marmee warned Amy simultaneously. 

It was Mr. March’s words that caught their joint interest, however. 

“Wait, what’s this about Laurie’s dad?” Amy asked instead. Laurie could have kissed her. He was actually rather proud of his restraint in the matter. 

“My parents didn’t elope,” Laurie added, confused and eager to uncover yet another piece to their as-yet-unfinished puzzle. “I’ve seen the wedding video. It was a proper, lavish production if anything.”

“That happens when Josephine is involved,” Marmee, uncharacteristically for her, snorted. 

“Mr. Laurence did say she was close to Laurie’s mother,” Amy mentioned, subtly probing for more information. 

“She was practically Elena’s godmother in all but name,” her father offered them the crumbs they were looking for. “Doted on her like she was her own daughter.” 

“Not that Elena deserved anything less, mind you,” Marmee added. “But surely you know all this, Laurie.”

Laurie shook his head slowly, almost ashamed as he admitted, “I didn’t even know she knew Aunt March until recently.” 

“Oh,” Marmee looked visibly surprised. “I always thought…Josephine was how your parents met, after all.” 

Mr. March nodded, more than willing to tell them the story by the looks of it. “Life was always a little harder on Elena than it ought to have been. Losing her grandparents first, her only uncle in Beirut, and her parents to illness soon after. Just a terrible series of unfortunate events, that.”

“I knew she had no family left. None close enough that I’ve ever met them anyway,” Laurie added. “An aunt on my grandfather’s side, maybe?” 

“Perhaps. But Josephine practically fostered her after that,” Marmee continued the story. “She paid for boarding school, piano lessons, and even college, after. She’d always enjoyed Europe but after Elena, she’d go there every summer without fail, to keep her company. Started spending even more time there, after the plane crash.” 

‘When her husband passed’, Laurie recalled silently. 

“A few years into his university studies, Edward somehow landed on the idea that he needed to travel. A summer of adventure in Europe was the right answer, he decided.” Mr. March chuckled. “Your grandfather could hardly stop him at that point, so he asked Josephine to keep an eye on him instead.” 

“And that led to them meeting,” Amy surmised in a murmur. 

“Edward was practically a lovesick fool when he came back at the end of that summer, proclaiming to anyone who’d listen that he’d met the woman of his dreams. But she was studying in Vienna, so he made it a point to go visit anytime he could, after that summer.” 

“Not that Elena wanted to give him the time of the day, initially,” Marmee interjected. “She had her own ambitions. She was going to become a classical pianist. She was so  very certain that her future was in Europe, and that Edward’s was back here in Concord with the family business.” 

Mr. March huffed in fond reminiscence. “So naturally, Edward decided that he’d expand their base of operations to London, instead of just keeping their small satellite office there running. Argued with his father for months on the end about it, but he dug in his heels and won eventually. Took him a bit longer to convince Elena I think, in all honesty.”

"And longer still to convince your Aunt March,” Marmee snorted. “Who scared them into a proper wedding ceremony, I reckon. Edward and Elena were far too impatient to get married by the time they finally got their act together.”

She stared at them (him more so than Amy, Laurie thought), light warning in her tone as she spoke. “And I don’t have Josephine’s patience. So I won’t repeat it again, but we better be around to witness it if and when you exchange vows.” 

“Why does every second conversation about our relationship end up in talk about marriage?” Amy asked, exasperated. 

Laurie knew that mentally, Amy was filling out their conspiracy board, much like he himself was. But he didn’t want to push their luck, and so it seemed, that neither did she. 

“Thank you. For telling me a part of my parent’s story that might have otherwise been lost to history,” Laurie added gratefully. “Amy’s right, though. We’ll keep your warning in mind, but we’re nowhere near ready for an exchange of vows just yet.” 

“Who’s exchanging vows now?” Meg’s voice could be heard as she entered the room, alongside her sister. 

“Cousin Flo’s finally getting married to that oil baron of hers, then?” Beth’s voice piped in. 

“I thought he was a European baron?” Meg sounded confused. “The nobility and title type.”

“We were just discussing a hypothetical with Amy and Laurie here,” Mr. March casually explained, astutely forgoing their brief segue into history.

Laurie appreciated it, rather selfishly wanting this mystery of theirs to be one that was just their own to solve together. 

“Amy and Laurie?” Meg yelped, startled. 

“They’re together?” Beth deduced before her. “When?” 

“That is actually a good question,” Marmee nodded, before looking directly at the couple. “When?” 

“Oh, about three weeks or so now?”

“Night of the McLaren’s gala,” Amy agreed 

“And you didn’t tell us?” Meg demanded hotly. 

“After all the counsel we gave you, Laurie?” Beth added, albeit a smidge more playful in her accusations. 

“What’s all this shouting about?” Jo’s voice interrupted the conversation from the hallway. “John’s grumbling about twins and nap time.”

“Amy and Laurie are together!” Beth informed her, as she walked into the room. 

“Oh, finally told the family then,” Jo nodded easily before spotting the iPad on call. “Good. I was surprised I lasted as long as I did. Amy. Teddy. You’re still on my shit list for cutting me off as rudely as you did last time so be damn well grateful that I kept your little secret.” 

“Jo knew?” Beth asked incredulously. “Jo? ‘Must spill every secret’ Jo?” 

“And you didn’t tell us?” Meg demanded of her sister. 

“It’s their news,” Jo defended herself. 

“She called. We were on an emotional high,” Laurie shrugged. “We couldn’t help it.” 

“Emotional high,” Jo snorted. “Yeah, right. Sure. We’ll call it that.” 

“Besides,” Amy pointed out reasonably. “It’s not like we were keeping it a secret.” 

“Oh, no?” Meg challenged her sister. “We were on the phone two nights ago!”

“It didn’t come up!”

“You quite literally spent an hour talking about that Netflix show you both like,” Laurie noted absently, agreeing. “The one about the hot priest or whatever.” 

“You were by him the entire time,” Meg demanded,“and it still didn’t come up?” 

Amy shrugged helplessly.

“Teddy was quiet the entire time?” Jo snarked in the background.

“What’s this I hear about you spending nights together?” Her father interjected in a stern-sounding voice. 

Laurie preemptively went stiff but Amy simply huffed. “Dad, you were literally talking weddings not two minutes ago.”

“Besides, it’s like eight or nine in the night there,” Jo snorted, ever so helpfully. “I don’t see Amy going home after this call either.” 

“Like you don’t literally live with your boyfriend, or did I miss an engagement announcement?” Amy rolled her eyes at her sibling’s antics. “Anyway. Enough about us. Where’s the rest of the brood?” 

“But you’re the flavor of the day,” Jo mock gasped. “You must be the center of attention.”

“At least for as long as you’re on call,” Beth agreed. 

“And dinner table gossip after,” Meg supplemented readily.

“How’d you finally spill your guts?”

“I take it that’s for you,” Amy looked towards Laurie at Beth’s question. 

Fair. Amy hadn’t, to his knowledge, discussed her guts with any of her sisters.

“We had a long talk at home, after the gala.” 

“It does feel like it rather went on forever,” Amy agreed. “But it had a good ending.”

“I certainly stand by it,” Laurie nodded. 

“Do not start flirting on camera again,” Jo warned them suddenly. “I’ve already been subjected to more than my fair share.” 

“Oh, it’s young love, Jo,” Meg chuckled. “Let them be. It doesn’t last forever.”

“Says the woman in her picture-perfect relationship,” Amy huffed. “You’re proof it can.” 

“Oh, I’ve seen those two fight,” Jo and Beth spoke up simultaneously. 

Amy let out a dramatic sigh. “The things you miss when you  live a continent away.”

“No one told you to choose Paris when Yale was an option,” Beth snorted. “You did that all on your own.”

“Yale?” Marmee interjected, surprised. 

Amy’s eyes, having widened imperceptibly at Beth’s comment, hardened minutely. 

“You got into Yale?” Her mother repeated, before looking towards her father. “Did you know about this?”

Her father silently shook his head in denial. Beth looked suitably abashed by the reaction she’d accidentally elicited. 

“This was almost six years ago,” Amy sighed. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Marmee asked. “How did I miss the mail? We could’ve let Jose-”

“Marmee, can we not?” Amy interjected wearily. “What happened, happened. It’s in the past now. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m settled.”

She turned to glance at Laurie, “I’m happy. So it all worked out, for whatever it’s worth.”

Marmee looked dissatisfied and was about to argue, only to be stopped by Mr. March’s hand and the slight shake of his head. ‘Not now,’ it seemed to imply. 

“Anyway,” Meg interjected in a bright voice that seemed a smidge forced. “Does this mean you two are pushing Peru to the back burner again?” 

Jo shrugged, her eyes shifty as she spoke, “Not my call either way.”  

Laurie couldn’t help but frown, easily seeing through her strained nonchalance.

Amy, for her part, seemed grateful for the change in topic but confused nevertheless. “Why on earth would they postpone Peru? They’ve been planning it since Christmas.”

“I mean,” her sister gesticulated unsurely. “This is all very new, isn’t it. Surely-“

“It’s just a trip Meg,” Amy shook her head resolutely, while Laurie, in turn, tried to decipher her thoughts from her expression as she spoke. “And it’s been in the works for ages. They’d be idiots to put it off again.” 

He simply shrugged in response to Meg’s questioning look at him. 

Having lost its lighthearted momentum with Beth’s gaffe, and hardly buoyed by Meg’s segue, the conversation came to a rather unsurprising conclusion not long after. 

Laurie considered his girlfriend as they quietly lounged on the sofa after the call, and decided to press the matter anyway. 

“Are you sure you really don’t mind Peru?”

“Should I mind Peru?” Amy asked him humorously, an edge to her voice. “The country’s done nothing to offend me.”

“Amy."

“You’re going on holiday with your best friend,” she stated, visibly straining to keep her tone even. “You were always going on this holiday with your best friend. Even before the possibility of this relationship was on the horizon. So, go.” 

“But are you alright with it?”

“We said no talk of this, remember?” Her agitation seemed to be warring with her effort to suppress it. “No talk of making sacrifices to prove something to me. I told you-“

“You wouldn’t be that person,” he finished for her. “And I know that. You aren’t. But-“

“But nothing,” she insisted firmly. “Go.” 

An unsure expression must have still graced his face, Laurie realized belatedly when Amy spoke again, softer this time. “A little bit of faith, right? We said we’d try our best. This is me trying.”

‘as ‘Jo’s first’ in my brain’

‘for you, it was a character trait’

‘incidental to your life with Jo’

Echoes of her accusations from the night of ‘The Conversation’ flooded his brain. Laurie understood right then that the trust he’d all but begged of her a few weeks ago, the trust she’d promised him again not a few days ago - all of it was always going to manifest itself in her reaction to his friendship with Jo. It had been inevitable, really. 

All he had to now, in turn, was figure out how to receive that trust, and honor her faith in him. Not that he had any inclination to fail in that endeavor, but he desperately wanted to do right by her. 

Surely, his was the easier undertaking of the two? 

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Congruence in the Eye of the Beholder

August

In the end, Laurie landed on the rather unsatisfying conclusion that the best way to honor Amy’s trust in him was to probably trust her to know what her feelings were. 

His dissatisfaction with the matter of Peru aside, Laurie had come to realize that much like their revived friendship all those months ago, their relationship germinated slowly, but surely and steadily. And along the way, they managed to gradually unlearn their (now) old and obsolete habits, while picking a few new ones on the side.

The very first and most important thing they had managed to unlearn was the deliberate discretion that ruled much of their lives for the past few months. Another had been the symbolic deletion of dating apps, and Laurie knew it was rather caveman-ish of him but nevertheless, he’d felt impossibly smug and satisfied the evening those apps had been banished from their (read: Amy’s) phones.

In a notable step, they’d managed to take a weekend trip to Nice together. And while it could have been argued that this wasn’t entirely new, their earlier trips together had generally been with friends. Spending time alone together had, back then, simply been a consequence of being friends with couples. Not that it hadn’t worked out well for them, but Laurie had found that going on a romantic getaway together (and it had been romantic. He’d made damn sure of that) had been revelatory. 

Doing things together as a couple intentionally, and not incidentally, Laurie had come to find, generally felt rewarding in its own right. 

And the first time that Laurie came to the realization that they were actually, factually in this together, and for the long haul at that, had been a rather unexpected one. 

It had, rather unsurprisingly in hindsight, had to do with Aunt March’s sapphires. They were a month or so past McLaren’s when Amy had finally gotten around to showing him the whole set, stowed away in a lockbox under her bed, of all places. 

A lockbox that had done little justice to the jewels it stored. Laurie had given the flimsy-looking metal a sceptical look. 

“Hardly fancy, but reliable I was assured.”

“If you say so,” he’d offered unconvincingly. 

Amy had rolled her eyes as she opened the lockbox. “We don’t all get built-in top-of-the-line safes because our apartment was previously owned by a paranoid bugger who was probably a white-collar criminal.” 

“Allegedly. They never could pin anything on the guy. But I suppose I did get a rather good safe out of the whole deal.” 

She’d gingerly passed across the delicately constructed necklace to Laurie. 

“This must literally crawl up your neck and shoulders when you put it on,” he had remarked as he took in the glittering sapphires and diamonds in their elaborate fabrication, naturally trying to imagine Amy wearing it (and admittedly, little else). 

“Now this is the definition of ostentatious,” she’d agreed immediately. “And worth a ridiculous amount of money, to boot.” 

“Ever found an occasion to wear it?” There had been a strained nonchalance to his question.

“Almost too afraid to, before I manage to get the whole set insured,” she’d confessed, oblivious to the thoughts racing in his brain. “Terrified to advertise I own something like this, honestly.” 

“You know,” he offered impulsively as the idea as it came to him in the moment, “If it’s just the security that worries you, you can always just leave it all in the paranoia-induced wall safe at mine instead of this flimsy metal box.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Not like I’m in the laundering business,” he’d shrugged easily at the interested look in her eye. “I don’t need all that space. Besides, you have a key to the place so you can come get it anytime. I can also help you figure out insurance. Surely Grandpa knows people.”

It had been a few hours later, as he’d been taking her through operating the safe in his apartment, when the implied assurance of the permanence of their relationship in their actions (and wasn’t that a mouthful) really hit him. Laurie had known right then that there was little chance that he was going to wake up one day in the near future and find it all coming to a crumbling end. 

And he’d be damned if that hadn’t been a strangely wonderful realization. 

——

September 

Everything was going well. More than, actually. Everything was going more than well and Laurie was thrilled. The only hiccup, in his opinion, had to do with his own doubts when it came to his ability to manage his very different relationships with the two March sisters integral to his life.

It was a conundrum that only seemed to exist in his head. Jo, for her part, had been very encouraging and fully supportive of their relationship ever since she’d found out, their past hardly affecting the present for all intents and purposes. And Amy, well Amy had insisted that she was working past her own insecurities and rather obstinately refused to elucidate upon where she thought the lines ought to be drawn. 

And so, Laurie was left to find a comfortable balance all on his own. Determining what that was when his best friend and his girlfriend were sisters, and when the trio had a significant shared history together, remained his biggest point of consternation. His only point of consternation, really. 

It came to a head as September came about. Summer had been a blissful affair, but unlike their college years, it wasn’t like real life and responsibilities had gone on pause for the holidays. For them, it had meant that their big family mystery had taken a brief backseat to actual responsibilities. For him, it had meant that it had been business as usual at work. For Amy, that had meant her networking at McLaren’s had paid off and she’d come rather close to landing some investors. 

“You are not going to believe this,” Amy gushed in greeting as she bounded up to him, where he was waiting by the entrance to her workplace in the museum one evening (the tradition of catching up after work for a spot of dinner had remained, blessedly, unchanged).

“That you weren’t fifteen minutes late leaving work today?” He teased her gently as he responded with a quick kiss and a hug. “I’m definitely surprised. But I’ll just bet you my morning muffin Aurelia’s still upstairs.” 

Amy shook her head, excited as she barely seemed to be able to contain her words. “Latham got back to us. They’re willing to make a significant investment but they want us to go bigger!”

“Bigger? How much bigger?” 

“Like three times or so?” She offered up an exuberant grin as they started walking towards a regular haunt of theirs nearby. “We get to make our pitch to their board. On the spot decision.”

“That’s huge for you guys! Amy, that’s brilliant!” 

Laurie was thrilled for her. It had been a tireless summer of late hours, countless meetings and endless pitches for Amy and Aurelia both. 

“How long do you have?” 

Amy shrugged, more excited than concerned as she confessed, “It’s going to be a little tight. We’re going to have to hustle, but just enough time that we don’t turn up with bullshit, I think. We’re pitching the first Friday of October, so almost three weeks?” 

“First Friday?” He mumbled to himself as they pushed into the eatery, ordering their usual before they grabbed a table. 

“Would you like for me to stay?” He asked her finally, interrupting her monologue that he’d briefly tuned out of. 

Amy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she quieted at his interruption. “Stay?” 

“I fly out on Thursday,” he reminded her, tensing as he spoke. 

“Oh,” her expression cleared up as she seemed to put the dates together in her head. “Peru.” 

He nodded silently. 

“Do you expect me to plan my weeks around important meetings that might come up for you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “No, Laurie. And I don’t expect it either. Work’s work. Something will always be happening with it.” 

Laurie frowned, unconvinced. “But this could be such a big deal! We’re talking seven figures here!” 

“It’s just an investor pitch,” she shrugged lightly, almost too nonchalantly. “Might not even go well.”

“All the more reason to stick around,” he pointed out reasonably. 

She shook her head firmly. “You’ve been planning this for almost a year now. Years, really; that old bucket list from high school is practically in tatters. I’ve seen it. Don’t you dare cancel on my account.” 

“But…” Laurie went to argue but stopped himself. He didn’t really know what the answer was here either so he saw no point in making a vague argument. 

“Alright,” he exhaled finally, garnering a grateful if tired smile in return. He decided to lighten the mood as best he could instead. 

“I guess I get to see a properly workaholic Amy again for the next few weeks, then? Am I going to be pulling you and Aurelia out of twelve-hour binges or just bringing you sustenance?” 

“I mean, we need to rally our current investors, alter the scope, and change our timelines entirely. We also need to redo our pitch deck and finalize that bloody name, among other things.”

And yet, as Amy continued talking, something continued to nag at Laurie. He wasn’t quite sure what, but something about it just didn’t sit well with him. At all.

——

The incongruity of it all continued to weigh on Laurie as the days passed, even if Amy seemed to consider the matter resolved and Jo remained ignorant to it entirely. It was in a rather unexpected phone call with Beth and Meg that he found his resolution. Well, he found a resolution and he hoped that it was the one he’d been looking for, all this while. 

Calls with Meg and Beth when either of their other two siblings wasn’t around were rare, in Laurie’s experience. Any relationship he had with the two Marches was generally sustained by text conversations and catching up if they happened to be around when he was. 

‘Incidental,’ Amy’s words sometimes echoed in his brain, much to his discomfiture.

And so, his surprise wasn’t entirely unwarranted one Tuesday afternoon, when his phone lit up with Beth’s name and interrupted his quiet, working lunch. 

Working Lunch. Ha. Laurie was amazed by where he was in life sometimes. 

He answered his phone anyway, reasoning that he could afford a few minutes of leisure. 

“Beth,” he smiled when the call connected. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

“Laurie,” Meg greeted when she came to stand by her sister.

“Meg,” he nodded, before skipping a beat. “Are we waiting on more people?”

“You’ll have to be content with just us, I’m afraid,” Beth smirked in response.

“Have we caught you at a good time?” Meg asked. 

“We tried to time it for lunch.” 

“You timed it well,” Laurie nodded at the sisters. “I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?”

The sisters spoke over each other.

“Well, we were thinking-“

“Especially after that call a few months ago-“

“Amy’s 25^th is coming up and-“

“We’ve missed so many of her birthdays-“

“I think it’s been almost if not more than five years-“

“And we thought we could try to do something special, this year.” 

“Especially because you’re in Paris to help with logistics now.”

“And you’re obligated to, as her boyfriend anyway,” Beth teased. 

“Birthday planning?” Laurie was surprised. “It’s barely September.” 

Meg huffed. “Planning can take a while. Especially when we’re dealing with distance.” 

“Besides, we want to make it special,” Beth emphasized. “After that conversation we had a few months ago…”

“We missed out on so much and somehow, we didn’t even realize it until years later.”

“I think that was her intention,” Laurie tried consoling the sisters. 

“And with her half a world away, we just keep missing more,” Beth continued anyway, speaking over his half-hearted attempt. “She’s barely over for the winter holidays some years. And it’s just not the same over FaceTime.”

“We just thought that maybe this year could be different,” Meg shrugged. 

“Alright,” Laurie acquiesced easily. “Far be it for me to make Amy’s birthday less special. What were you thinking? And where’s the rest of the family for this planning session?” 

“You know Jo’s terrible at this stuff,” Beth snorted.

“I think we’ve established Jo can keep secrets,” Laurie spoke rather drily. 

Meg shook her head. “We didn’t want to bring it up with the rest of the family unless we actually had a workable idea.”

“And I’m definitely the ideas man,” he deadpanned, amused.

“Well, no. But you’re our man on the inside,” Beth shrugged.

“Not Anette?”

“Anette’s an acquaintance,” Meg pointed out. “You’re practically family.” 

“And it’ll become literal soon enough, I’m sure,” Beth joked.

Laurie was certain his face only mildly tinged red.

Meg muffled a chuckle. “Give them a while before you start badgering him. It’s a baby relationship, that.” 

“Marmee and dad brought it up when they told them!” 

“So what were you thinking?” Laurie tried asking, desperate to change the course of the conversation. He was loathe to let the Marches get as comfortable with the marriage jokes as they all seemed to be getting. At least, this soon. “About Amy’s 25^th. Any ideas?” 

“Just…special,” Meg said with a frown. 

“Like five years' worth of birthdays in one,” Beth added. 

An idea sparked at him, at the implied free range for indulgence. 

“You said planning’s an issue where there is distance to consider?”

Meg made a noise of affirmation. 

“What if there wasn’t?”

“Laurie-“

“Would Marmee be amenable to an early Thanksgiving this year, you think?”

Beth gasped.”You’d really-“

“If we were able to coordinate with everyone,” Laurie cut her off. “I could get Aurelia to help me out with Amy’s schedule.” 

He considered his plans for a minute. “Well, potentially. I can confirm in a week and a half or so if that’s tenable.” 

“We’ll need the time too,” Meg nodded, considering. “But I bet Marmee would jump at the chance to have the whole family for Thanksgiving though. Early or not. It has been years.”

“And it frees up the holiday for fun plans,” Beth mused. “We’ll see how we go.” 

“Me too,” Laurie nodded. He knew that realistically, his plan would ultimately hinge on the outcome of Amy’s pitch meeting. 

He gave a sigh of frustration when the pitch meeting came to mind. “If only everything were this simple,” he grumbled to himself. 

The sisters heard him anyway. The Marches all seemed to come with sharp ears, even if only some were further granted the sharp tongue as a complimentary feature. 

“What’s wrong?” Beth asked him. 

Laurie only briefly had to consider whether it was worth seeking counsel with the sisters before he started spilling. Maybe they’d have the answer he was looking for given that it was their siblings, he reasoned to himself. 

“What do you want?” Meg asked him with a considering expression, once they’d been made privy to the facts.

“But she would hate that.” 

“Who would hate that?” Beth probed. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “Either. Both.” 

“Laurie,” Meg sighed. “Neither of them’s going to insist that you do something you don’t want to.” 

“But they aren’t going to believe me when I say I want to do what I want to do!”

“Where’s the trust, my guy?” Beth joked lightly. 

Laurie shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t trust them. I do. Honestly, I do. But Amy’s almost too obstinate when it comes to insisting I don’t break plans with Jo."

“Only then?” Meg mumbled under her breath.

“And Jo’s almost sickly sweet and supportive about the whole thing. As though one wrong move and she’s going to muck up my entire relationship with Amy.” 

“You think they’re both trying too hard,” Meg surmised. 

“But the onus of finding parity has been thrust upon you,” Beth nodded. “So what’s the compromise you’ve found?”

“Compromise?” Laurie burrowed his eyebrows in confusion. How did one compromise when it came to two separate events taking place in entirely different countries at the same bloody time. 

“It’s not always going to be one or the other, Laurie,” Meg told him sympathetically. “Sometimes it’s just a readjustment. A compromise, if you will.”  

“It’s not just about how they feel,” Beth nodded. “You’re the one stuck in the middle. Also, keep an eye on how you feel.” 

“There are three people in this equation,” Meg agreed. “Don’t discount the third because you’re so focused on the other two.” 

Laurie gave them a grateful smile as the hint of a third option seemed to dawn upon their words. Maybe that was the answer…

“You Marches are truly remarkable creatures if I haven’t mentioned it before.” 

“You have, but we’ll take the compliment,” Beth grinned. 

“Just ensure that you keep any physical show of appreciation to the March you’re currently dating,” Meg warned him, chuckling.

“But the rest of us are partial to good gin in lieu. Just saying…” 

——

First Friday, October 

If he’d stuck to his original plans, Laurie would have been on a flight right about then. Or more accurately, he would have been on a layover in-between two flights, most likely exhausted and half-asleep. 

Instead, he was sitting at a cafe outside a building twenty stories high, wired and holding on to a sweaty bottle of champagne as he kept an eye trained at the entrance, waiting for the love of his life to emerge. The girls would, he knew, right about then be finding out if Latham was going to help them realize their dreams or…not. 

It had been a busy two weeks coming up to Amy’s investor pitch, and he hadn’t actually gotten around to telling her of the change in his plans. Instead, he’d used the little time they got together to ensure that she wasn’t wasting away in her efforts as their prep for Latham went into high gear. There had been at least a few nights when he’d rocked up to her workplace, only to find Amy and Aurelia absorbed in their work to the point they’d completely lost track of time. He’d started erring on the side of caution from his second visit, bringing them food every time he dropped by, be it lunch or dinner or even fucking afternoon tea. 

“Laurie!” 

Amy’s surprised voice brought him out of his reverie. She was standing in front of him, wearing a power suit that, in his humble opinion, made him want to worship her. It was a good thing, he mused silently, that he hadn’t seen her before her meeting that day. Aurelia was next to her, a victorious grin gracing her expression.

“How’d it go?” He asked immediately, in greeting. 

“Take a guess,” she suggested, a triumphant countenance taking over as she spoke. It left him with little doubt.

“Congratulations!” 

He pulled her in for a victory kiss she was more than happy to indulge in, amped by their accomplishments as she was. It took Aurelia’s subtle clearing of her throat for them to break apart.

“Congratulations to you too,” he told her warmly. 

“Thank you,” she nodded, “for that and for feeding us these past few weeks.” 

“Happy to help,” he shrugged it off. It helped to have Aurelia on his good side, given the plans he had brewing. 

“How’d it really go, though? Give me the play-by-play.” 

“We started off nervous, even before the meeting,” Aurelia grinned. “A near-disaster. I almost spilt coffee on my outfit.”

“But once it started, it went rather smoothly I think,” Amy added. “No glitches or slip-ups. Awkward stops. None of that. Barely a flub or two.” 

“The hour of questioning was intense,” Aurelia shrugged. “I felt like I was in an interrogation room. And like I was guilty!”

“I mean, this is by no means a paltry investment,” Laurie mused. “So that’s really unsurprising.” 

“You handled it like a boss though,” Amy assured her. “You were composed the whole time. Assured. Steady.” 

“I still think it was your shark-like expression that sold it,” her colleague shook her head. 

“An Aunt March classic,” she told Laurie when he raised an eyebrow. “Always a winner, really.” 

Aunt March’s presence in their lives really seemed omnipotent at this point, by every measure Laurie could think of. 

“Of course,” he chuckled, mildly humming ‘Every Breath You Take’.

“Police? Really?” Amy cracked a chuckle at that, before considering him with a frown. “Speaking of people who aren’t here, why are you? Aren’t you supposed to be uncomfortably tossing around on an airplane right now?”

He gestured to the bag he was holding on to. “I’m fairly certain I owe you a bottle of cold champagne.” 

“Laurie-“

He cut her off, feeling assured in his decisions. “Amy, this might be one of the biggest meetings of your career. This is your baby.”

He paused, before turning to Aurelia, who was watching the whole thing play out. “Yours too, of course. You two have been working on this for so long.” 

He turned back towards Amy, pulling her into a hug. “I wanted to be here. I told you, remember? I’ll always be waiting to see you shine. Champagne and all. ”

“Right back at you. But tell me you didn’t cancel your trip for this?” Her muffled voice questioned him against his shirt. 

“And face your wrath?” He teased her as she lightly shoved at him. “Of course not. Just moved some things around, pushed it back by a day or two so that we could celebrate. Or absolute worst case, commiserate. I fly out tomorrow.” 

“Good,” Amy mumbled at him before gracing him with a seraphic smile that had him feeling like he was on cloud nine. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Couldn’t imagine being anywhere else,” he promised her easily. 

“I love you,” she breathed out in awe, divulging it to herself more than she was to him, “God help me but I do.”

“I am ridiculously in love with you, Amy Curtis March. I doubt that’ll change to my dying breath.” 

Amy snorted. “You’d try to one-up a declaration of love.” 

Laurie sniggered in return. “Was that a declaration or a note-to-self?” 

Aurelia simply watched on, seemingly entertained by their conversation. 

“What say I treat you two to a celebratory lunch?” He offered, changing tracks when he caught her amused expression and remembered they had an audience. 

“Oh no. I couldn’t intrude,” Aurelia shook her head immediately. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Nonsense,” Laurie shook his head.

“Come with,” Amy instead. “This is our win. We celebrate together.” 

“Just lunch,” Aurelia caved easily, feeling just as celebratory as Amy was.

“And a drink. We earned it,” Amy bargained as they began walking, her focus entirely on Aurelia even as she leaned into the hand Laurie had snuck around her waist.

Establishing the equilibrium he craved to the best of his abilities, Laurie thought to himself as they debated restaurants, felt nice. It felt like the weight pressing down upon him had begun withering away. 

Balance in general, he concluded, felt nice when it felt right. And oh boy, did it feel right. 

——

Getting to Cusco, Peru from Paris was a long, tiring journey. By the time he got there, Laurie was simply happy to have reached the hotel, where he could grab a shower and a nap before Jo’s estimated arrival. They were due to catch a train together from Poroy the next day and visit the sanctuary the day after. 

He took a moment to text Amy, Jo, and his grandfather of his arrival before he blissfully passed out on the bed in front of him

A rumbling stomach woke him up late afternoon, when most others were presumably enjoying their siestas. He reluctantly decided that he required coffee and some sustenance, in that exact order. That had him making his way to the cafe he’d spotted next to the hotel as he’d arrived. 

Laurie ordered the most basic of the sanguches they offered, alongside a healthy serving of some Peruvian coffee before he situated himself on the empty veranda full of tables and idly thumbed through his phone. 

When he got to Amy’s responses, he did some quick math before deciding that nine in the night was a perfectly reasonable time for a phone call. 

“Hello,” Amy’s voice filtered through his speakers.

“Hi,” he smiled in response, even if it was a voice call and she could see nothing. 

“I suppose you’re still alive and kicking then?” She chuckled lightly. 

“Elevation sickness hasn’t gotten to me yet,” he snorted. “Check back in tomorrow.”

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure that between you and Jo, there’s at least one sensible brain cell to share,” Amy teased before her voice went soft. “Just come back to me alive and in one piece.”

“We’ll be fine,” he chuckled. “You know we will.”

“I mean, as long as you don’t fixate on stupid photographs that end up with you falling off a cliff.”

“Because Jo would definitely humor me if I wanted to take stupid photographs and not simply throw my camera off the cliff,” he deadpanned in turn. 

“Depends on how much you dig your heels in.” He could imagine her shrugging as she spoke. “You can be a very obstinate person, you know.” 

“Takes one to know one,” he snarked.

“Hey, you know perfectly well I appreciate a good photo,” she defended herself. “Just not to the point of death is all.” 

“And I do?”

“Who here contemplated trying to scale down a building from the third-floor balcony because it seemed ‘totally doable’ last month?”

“That was intoxicated me,” Laurie protested. “And I didn’t do it.” 

“Because Will distracted you with a game of poker.” 

“Because I do have a healthy appreciation for life. A good one, that’s hale and hearty.” 

“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she chortled lightly, no doubt mentally recalling his many, many stupid, intoxicated decisions.

“I fought to keep you in it, didn’t I?”

“Laurie,” Amy sighed (fondly, he hoped). “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” he responded instinctively. 

“So come back in one piece and I’ll show you my appreciation for a good life with you, in person” she bargained with a chuckle. 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he promised her gleefully. 

“And I’m going to rather thoroughly examine you for bruises and cuts when you return because I am not a fan.”

“Unless you’re their maker,” he teased. “In very specific circumstances, of course.” 

She audibly sniffed at his comment. 

“No comeback?” 

“That’s entirely different,” she asserted. 

“And always welcome,” he clarified easily. “Did you and Aurelia celebrate well over the weekend then?” 

“Just over dinner and a bottle of wine last night. Oh god, Laurie, we have so much to do. What were we thinking? Accepting that big an investment! We might have to find an office space and start hiring people and-”

“Hey,” he interrupted her spiralling. “You guys are going to do great. You’ve been working on this forever. I’ve seen you both consumed by it. I bet you’ve already thought that through too. It’s on some crumpled paper somewhere in that room you call your office. There’s no way you’re going to fail now.” 

“It does feel like forever, doesn’t it? We weren’t even together when this all started.” 

“I mean,” Laurie refuted cheerily, “We weren’t not together either. I distinctly remember we were-“

“Laurie,” Amy grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he chuckled, “And I’m rather grateful we’ve managed to get our shit together since then.”

“Amen.” 

Laurie briefly looked up as he was served, nodding in thanks. 

“You better not already be a workaholic trainwreck when I get back home on Friday,” he cautioned Amy lightly, attention back on his conversation. “You and Aurelia are equally terrible when it comes to that.”

“But there’s so much to do and-“

“And you’ve both earned an easy week before you get you’re nose to the grind,” he insisted sternly. “Work yourself to the bone when I’m around to pull you back for a rest every now and then, please?”

“We’ll do our best,” Amy promised unconvincingly. 

“I will set Will on you,” he warned her. “Or actually, Anette and Sophie. Try outlasting that two punch.”

She gasped in outrage. “Laurie, don’t you dare.”

“Watch me.”

“I will have my retribution.” 

“That’s a cross I’m willing to bear. I love you, you know.”

“Ugh, you sap,” a voice interrupted from behind him. “Am I going to be subjected to this in person for the next week?” 

“Is that Jo?” Amy asked him over the phone, as he turned around.

“Jo,” he greeted her. “You’re here…and eavesdropping.” 

“Walking up to the table where you’re loudly conversing is not eavesdropping,” Jo snorted. 

“Let her know I said hello,” Amy instructed him. 

“Amy says hello,” he repeated dutifully. 

“Amy,” Jo greeted, raising her voice so that her sister could hear her clearly. “I’ll ensure your man’s back in Paris in one piece by the end of the week!”

“That’s all I ask,” Amy spoke into his ear. 

“I thought we shared one sensible brain cell!” 

“It’s obviously housed inside her right now,” Amy chuckled. “Alright. I’ll leave you two to it then. Stay safe. Love you.” 

“I love you too. Remember, take it easy this week. Sleep well. Good Night!”

Jo made a gagging noise as he ended the call. 

“What?”

“Really?” She made a face. “It’s been a while since I’ve been subjected to sappy Teddy.”

Laurie snorted. “Oh please. Like you weren’t on the phone with Fritz before you came searching for me.”

“I’ll have you know I just sent him a text,” Jo sniffed. “Well, a few texts, but my point remains.” 

“Does it though?”

She petulantly stole a half of his sandwich instead of responding. 

“I’m starving,” she eventually muttered in between bites, as Laurie stared at her while sipping his coffee. 

“Jo-“ he started. 

“Adjustment period,” she blurted out, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What?” Laurie was confused. 

“I just need an adjustment period,” she repeated. 

“For what?”

“For…this.” She waved at him vaguely.

He was only slightly annoyed. “Jo, you’ve known about this for almost half a year now. Hell, you encouraged it.”

“I know. But it’s weird seeing it in person,” she frowned. 

“You were here for two sentences of our conversation, and you only heard one side of it!”

Jo went red at the accusation, admitting lowly, “I may…have been here a bit longer.” 

Laurie raised an eyebrow. 

“When you started talking about death-defying photographs,” she muttered reluctantly. 

“Jo-“

“You’ve never taken this long to realize I was in the room before,” she defended herself immediately. “You always just seem to know instinctively, somehow. I wanted to see how long you’d last.” 

“Jo,” he sighed. 

“I just need to get used to seeing it in person,” she ground out again. “Intellectually, I’ve digested the facts but I didn’t realize things would change this much, somehow.”

“Change how?” Laurie was positively bewildered. “I don’t think anything’s really changed as far as you and I are concerned.” 

“Teddy, you changed our entire itinerary for relationship reasons at the last minute. You didn’t realize when I entered the room, which is a first for you,” she cocked her eyebrow. “And I hear we’re likely having an early Thanksgiving now, because of you?” 

Laurie gave her a long look. 

“Some things were always going to change when I got into a relationship,” he said finally. “Just like things shifted when Fritz became a permanent fixture in your life. If I recall correctly, you cancelled our trip to Indonesia for similar reasons once.” 

“I know,” she nodded. “Factually, intellectually, I know. But despite everything, I’ve come first in your life in so many ways for almost twenty years now…” 

She trailed off, shrugging helplessly. 

“Is it that I’m with someone at all or is it that it’s Amy?” 

“You’ve never had a relationship last this long, so I really can’t say,” Jo argued insistently. Only, Laurie was uncertain as to who she was trying to convince. 

“Alright, so we figure out how to accelerate this adjustment period then,” Laurie nodded decisively. “We did it once before, with your relationship. I don’t see why we can’t do it with mine.”

“If this is going to involve more talking, I’m not doing this sober.”

“Oh, neither am I,” Laurie agreed as he drained his coffee. “I figure we pick up a bottle of Pisco and head back to my room. There’s a veranda with a decent enough view and room service. We’ll deal.” 

Jo nodded sharply, getting up as she brushed breadcrumbs off her fingers. 

It wasn’t long before they settled down in his surprisingly spacious veranda, pairing their acquired alcohol with some cola, and upending a packet of crisps into a bowl that had found a home on the table in-between the two provided chairs. 

“My getting into a relationship was always going to change things, you know” he reiterated softly before taking a long sip of his drink. “No matter whom I’d have ended up with.”

“I know,” she stressed. “And I also know that it wouldn’t have been fair to demand otherwise. Especially when I did the same exact thing; only, earlier.”

“And this doesn’t mean that you somehow stop being one of my closest friends on this planet,” he added. 

“One of?” Jo made a face.

Laurie snickered. “Fair warning, Sophie’s waiting in the wings to swoop in while you and Will go full gladiator on each other.”  

“Ha,” Jo barked. “Like we’d let that happen. I bet even Will would turn against his girlfriend then.” 

“I doubt I’ll ever measure up to his girlfriend,” he snorted. “That’s a different ballgame entirely.” 

“Like it is for you and Amy,” Jo uttered softly.

“And you and Fritz,” he finished pointedly. “You understand how it’s different, don’t you?”

“Fritz is like the breath of fresh air I need when the inspiration around me has gone stale,” Jo admitted easily. “I don’t think I could function without him, sometimes.”

Laurie made a noise of disagreement. “You could. You definitely could. But it feels like a half-life in comparison. Duller and muted without them.”

“You need to experience it to understand what you’ll be losing,” Jo nodded in understanding.

“And there’s nothing else like it. No measure of comparison,” Laurie shook his head, admitting without reservation. “I think she’s my person, Jo.”

Jo made a noise of surprise. 

“I know,” he spoke up, defending himself. “I know it feels like it’s too soon. And that none of my relationships has lasted this long. And that I have a reputation, but-“ 

“But you appreciate her enough in your life to have fought for her,” Jo finished, echoing parts of his conversation that she’d overheard earlier. 

“She makes everything brighter in ways I never thought possible,” Laurie shrugged. 

“I suppose I should be glad you aren’t simply leading my baby sister on,” Jo mused. 

Laurie snorted. 

“I will get used to it,” she promised him. “You know I will.” 

“I know,” he nodded, before adding. “But you do know that getting used to it doesn’t mean having to be overly supportive or cautious, right? There is such a thing as being so supportive that it rings false.” 

She flushed lightly. 

“You’re hardly subtle,” he answered her unasked question. “There’s going to be some push and pull, but I’d much rather we redraw these new boundaries of ours with trial and error.” 

“I…I don’t want to complicate things for you two,” Jo frowned. “That’s exactly why we drop contact in bursts when you begin dating, isn’t it? Because my presence complicates things for you. And this time it’s you and my sister and-“

“Jo-“

She shook her head. “Our moronic decisions drove Amy to Paris. Our friendship has ended so many potential relationships for you before they even had the chance. And this time…this time I could be hurting two people that I love. I was actually ready to cancel this trip too. But then your stubborn girlfriend called me up, all huffy, and shot down the idea in no uncertain terms because apparently, I was the dumb one.” 

Jo snorted lightly. 

“Remind me to thank your baby sister the next time I see her,” Laurie chuckled. “Avoidance isn’t the primer that aids your adjustment period. If anything, it just makes it obsolete.”

“Teddy-“

“Our friendship and my relationship with Amy isn’t mutually exclusive, you know. There’s going to be some restructuring on both sides, but if my relationship with her can’t weather my friendship with you, that’s on us, not you. Not unless you decided to interfere and make it worse. And if our friendship can’t survive my relationship, that’s not on her either. Not unless she’s the negative impetus. ”

He looked her directly in the eye when he spoke next. “And I think neither of you are the obstacle you think yourselves to be.”

Jo sighed. “You’ve certainly gone through your rounds of therapy with this, haven’t you?” 

Laurie shook his head slightly. “It was actually a conversation with Meg and Beth that led me to where I’m at. I owe them big. And gin, I was instructed.”

“They are the wisest of us sisters. Maybe I should ask to be therapized.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a word. Also, that’s giving them far too much ammunition and you know it.” 

“Perils of being a sister,” Jo agreed with mock solemnity. 

“It’s in the contract,” Laurie joked. 

“I really should have read it before I signed it, huh?” 

“Next time,” he suggested humorously. 

“Next time,” she agreed as she stood up to refill her drink. “Think you’re ready for room service yet? That paltry half sandwich did nothing for me.”

And just like that, he knew that their appetite for an emotional heart-to-heart had passed for the night, if not the entire trip.

“You did steal half my meal,” he agreed amiably. “I could do with something starchy. Do they have potato wedges here you think?”

“Teddy, I think they have potato wedges everywhere in the world. It’s practically a universal offering.”

They spent the rest of their vacation ticking Machu Picchu off their bucket list exactly as they’d envisioned and planned to back in high school.

“We should definitely do The Lost City next,” Laurie remarked idly as they sat on a cliffside and simply took in the ruins of the Incan citadel. “There’s something just utterly magnificent about places like this, isn’t there?”

“I suppose it is called a wonder of the world for a reason,” Jo snarked, even as she nodded her head. “Maybe we ask along Amy next time too.” 

“Pretty sure Amy assured me she’d become a murderer if she ever travelled with us two,” he snorted. “But I see Fritz has been excused from that list.”

“I think excusing him from any trips that include incessant hiking will be in our wedding vows, if we ever got married.” 

“Will you?” 

She shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I like to think I will,” he felt assured in his words as he spoke them out loud. “I really do think I’m going to marry your sister one day. Consider this fair warning, I suppose.” 

Jo snorted. “Noted. Not that I expected anything less but noted, and understood. I’ll start preparing my Best Man speech imminently.” 

“I might just let you and Will duke that one out between yourselves.” 

“You don’t know the consequences you’re setting yourself up for.” 

“I’ll take my chances. It doesn’t fail me all that often.” 

“Oh just you wait, Teddy. Just you wait.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Rhapsody in the Eye of the Beholder

October

The closer to November they got, the more common it was for Laurie to spend a not insignificant amount of time surreptitiously texting and emailing the March sisters, coordinating plans for their ‘early Thanksgiving’. Well, an early Thanksgiving dinner did actually feature in their plans, but the codename had made Laurie snort nevertheless. 

Keeping it from Amy would have been a lot more difficult, he mused as he browsed flight tickets one Saturday morning, if she hadn’t been entirely wrapped up in her work with the Launchpad. 

He scrambled to hide his browser tabs when he, rather unexpectedly, heard the front door open. It was as if the devil himself had heard Laurie’s thoughts. 

Amy had spent the night at her apartment, and her now almost-aggressive workaholic tendencies had led him to presume that he’d simply have to drag her away from work for lunch in the afternoon if he wanted to see her that weekend at all. 

But apparently, he’d been proven wrong. 

“Good Morning,” he greeted his girlfriend, closing his Mac as she walked into the room, pastry box and coffee tray in hand. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I bought breakfast,” she grinned, wiggling the box at him as he moved to join her. 

“And here I thought I’d been abandoned for  your favorite office chair this weekend.” 

“You’re worth way more than an office chair and I know you know that,” she gave him a quick, sheepish smile. “And Aurelia had some stuff to get to, so we decided we could both use the weekend off to catch up on our personal lives."

Laurie gasped facetiously as they reached the kitchen counter. “Reasonable decisions without external persuasion. Why, Amy! I might start feeling obsolete.” 

“I have stuff to get done too,” she huffed as she dropped off her bag and the coffee, before she turned around to pull him in towards her. 

“I’m downgraded to stuff now?” he murmured with a teasing grin as he followed her pull, aware of her desires and more than willing to indulge in them. 

“Good Morning,” she murmured in response, as they broke apart. “Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

“It’s been two days,” he chuckled, “and I didn’t decide we needed girls night with Anette. That was all you.” 

“It really was,” she admitted easily, without argument. “It was long overdue.”

“I was just glad you weren’t staying late at work. Again. I wouldn’t be surprised if I find an inflatable bed in your office next time I stop by. ” 

“We’ve been getting a lot better about that!”

“Only because Annie and I corral you two like the mother hens you’ve officially converted us into.” 

“And that’s why I bought you breakfast from that place around the corner as a thank you?”

Laurie snorted at her hopeful, slightly strained grin. 

He didn’t believe her for a second. 

“I do enjoy a good Danish,” he agreed anyway, as he perused the selection in the box. “I suppose the pain au chocolat is all yours?”

“We can share the almond croissant and leave the rest for an evening snack?” 

“You got yourself a deal.” 

“And I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Amy gave him a brighter smile as she set out plates and grabbed her coffee from the tray. 

“You do know me well,” he agreed as he savored the first sip of his coffee, made just the way he liked it. Hidden machinations or not, his girlfriend sure knew him inside out.

It took about fifteen minutes before Amy tried to usher in what he presumed was the real topic she’d been meaning to get around to. 

“So…what are your thoughts on apartment-hunting?” 

Laurie couldn’t help but chuckle internally as he responded, equally nonchalant, “Sophie’s favorite sport.”

Amy only barely seemed to be able to restrain herself from scrunching her nose up in frustration as she set her empty coffee cup down. “No. Seriously.” 

“I quite like our current apartment, I must say. Why do you ask?” 

“You know our lease is ending in December. Anette and I-“ Amy had begun talking before she blanched mid-sentence. “…Our. Did you say our? You said our. I definitely heard-”

“Our.” 

He gave her a challenging look. 

“Last I checked, my name is not on this lease,” she sputtered. 

“I mean,” he shrugged dramatically, “I don’t exactly have a lease but I can look into putting it on the deed if you want?” 

“Laurie!” 

“What?” He put his hands up in defense as she tried to smack his shoulder, trying his best not to laugh out loud even if he couldn’t quite hide the gleeful expression on his face. “You moved in ages ago. Not my fault you never realized it.” 

Amy shook her head in stubborn denial. “I didn’t- This is your pla- Laurie!”

Laurie chuckled. “You picked the color of our bedroom walls and our sheets. You reorganized the closet to suit your needs back in April. Your favorite coffee mug’s been here since June. You picked these barstools. We went throw-pillow shopping together!  Throw-pillow shopping. Amy, c’mon.”

“But-“

“Amy, you’ve called your apartment an oversized closet for your things more than once.” 

“But you never asked me to move in with you,” she huffed. “I was clearly joking about that.” 

“Why would I ask for something that has already happened? I just figured you’d let the lease run out so that you didn’t blindside Annie and that was that.” 

To his credit, Laurie really had thought that.  

“You asked me to be your girlfriend,” she pointed out, recalling his assertion back then that they’d already been dating.

“That was a special circumstance and you know it,” he sniffed in his own defense.  

“You don’t just move into apartments without an invitation, Laurie. That’s just presumptuous,” she shook her head, before a horrific thought seemed to hit her. “And I haven’t been contributing to utilities! Or groceries or-“

“You pretend like I’d have expected you to,” he snorted. “But, by your own standards, you haven’t moved in unless you’ve been invited to, right? So you didn’t owe me for any bills.”

Amy groaned as she banged her head against the counter. “This is not how I planned on this conversation going,” she mumbled. 

“How exactly was it going to go in your head then?” 

“Suss out your thoughts and decide if we were mutually in a good place to discuss the  pros and cons of living together - it’s only been four months.” Amy was quick with her response, unsurprisingly prepared. 

“Four months on a foundation of how many years?” He challenged. 

“Laurie, c’mon. Be serious.” 

“I’m perfectly serious. We were in a relationship before we accepted we were in a relationship. We basically live together but we haven’t formally decided we’d live together. It’s all the same, isn’t it? I’m still going to ask you to marry me one day. What does it matter whether we move in together today or in six months or whenever.”

“Marry? Laurie…” Amy trailed off, the fight in her snuffing out as she heard him speak.

“Alright, you want official? I can do official,” Laurie nodded decisively, not giving her time to fester on his comments, before getting up to go stand in front of her, pulling her to mirror him. “Amy Curtis March, will you officially move in with me?” 

He quirked his eyebrow, his delight undeniable as he continued, “We can mark the occasion by updating the address fields on all your bills and accounts…Because there really is little else left to do.” 

“Laurie!” Amy seemed to want to chide him but couldn’t seem to help the sudden chuckle that overcame her. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No I’m not,” he denied instantly. “And that’s not an answer.” 

“No, you’re not,” she agreed with a soft smile. “Yes, I will move in with you.” 

“Great,” he clapped his hands together. “Officially move in whenever. You’ve until December, right? Let me know when you need help closing up shop at your oversized closet. And…you already have the keys.” 

“I already have the keys,” she parroted his words with a soft smile. “I guess that’s a no on the apartment hunting after all.”

“For the moment,” he supplemented. It was hardly realistic to presume they’d stay in that apartment forever. Not if their future together would be anything like he envisioned from time to time. But it would do, for now. 

“For the moment,” she nodded easily.  

“Don’t you even think about brining up the notion of rent,” he warned her lightly as he impulsively pulled her into a celebratory kiss. He didn’t need the excuse, but in his defense, it was technically news worth celebrating. 

“Don’t think I’d win that. Marriage though,” she breathed, when they’d briefly parted to take a breath. “Laurie you know it’s too-“

“Definitely too soon for that,” he murmured against her skin in agreement, as he began moving down her jaw, only briefly succeeding before Amy wrested control from him. “One day though.”

“One day,” she sighed in assent as she began her earnest exploration of his neck in turn, focused on her task as her hands steadily moved further south. “I have missed you.” 

“It’s been two days,” he gasped in response as her nimble fingers found their way under his shirt. “But if I’m going to get a welcome like this every single time work keeps you away, maybe I’ll begin protesting lesser.” 

“Such a shame we’re moving in together.”

Laurie managed a grin despite himself. “An absolute travesty indeed.” 

——

It was another week before Laurie was able to surreptitiously confirm the dates & itinerary for Amy’s birthday trip home with both Aurelia and the March cohort. And then, the only person left to bring into the loop was the birthday girl herself. 

“So,” he brought up one night, straining for nonchalance as they settled in bed, “Plans for your birthday. Go.”

Amy snorted. “Dinner maybe. Drinks? A night out, perhaps. Nothing fancy.” 

“But it’s your 25^th!” 

“It’s just another birthday.” She shrugged, unconcerned. 

“It’s a big birthday,” he corrected her gently.

“And just what did you do for yours?” 

Laurie grinned in response. “Grabbed Will, Sophie and a few others. Went to Portugal. Got our AFF license and went skydiving. It was brilliant.”

Amy sounded rueful in her defeat. “You wouldn’t be happy with a tandem jump.” 

“Nothing compared to doing it on your own,” he agreed. “Now, wildest birthday plans. Go.”

She squinted at him. “You just want me to let you do something, don’t you?”

“Well…” 

“You’ve already planned it,” she guessed with a suspicious look. 

“Technically, it wasn’t just me?” He gave her a sheepish smile, fully determined to spread the blame appropriately. 

“Are we talking Annette-extravagant or March-crazy?” 

“Absolutely March-crazy,” Laurie declared without compunction. “We’re flying home for a birthday slash early Thanksgiving in two weeks. Already discussed the dates with Aurelia so nothing pressing is scheduled for that week at work.” 

Amy looked at him in disbelief, almost as if she was waiting for him to yell out, “Just kidding!”

“The girls felt horrible about having missed the last eight odd birthdays and you know I hate seeing a March unhappy!” Laurie defended himself. “Besides, you’ve been working yourself to the bone. You deserve the break.” 

“But- But,” she sputtered, “I can’t just leave Aurelia to deal with everything for a whole five-“

“Five days,” Laurie interrupted with an arched eyebrow. “You’re taking five days off. Trust me, I coordinated with Aurelia to ensure that nothing she couldn’t handle would occur in those five days. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same for her?”

Amy huffed in response, refusing to deny his statement but also denying him his triumph. 

“You’ll only be a phone call a way,” he tried cajoling her. “Besides, Marmee was almost ridiculously excited to have the whole family present for Thanksgiving.” 

“Early Thanksgiving,” she snorted. “It’s not even really Thanksgiving.”

“What festival isn’t a man-made construct? Besides, it’s not really about the day is it? It’s just about gathering together, as family. Even Grandpa’s going to be there.” 

“Fine. Fine. You don’t need to slip in emotional blackmail.” She grumbled even as a small smile graced her face. “It would be nice to spend a birthday back in Concord after so long.”

“Wonderful!” Laurie clapped his hands in delight. 

“Only after I sit down and have a chat with Aurelia myself though,” she warned him. 

“Whatever makes you happy,” he conceded immediately, eliciting a chuckle from her. 

“How on earth did you convince Annette to give up birthday planning rights? She was more excited than I was about it.” 

“Oh, she’s still planning a pre-birthday bash. You were never escaping that. It’s your 25^th after all. No way she was letting that go.”

“So what you’re saying is that the only thing I really won’t be getting this birthday is…birthday sex?” She smirked in question. 

“Well…I’m always happy to add that to our pre and post-trip celebrations,” Laurie offered graciously, rolling over to bracket Amy in the process. 

“In fact, I’m happy to begin right now.”

——

November

Laurie fiddled with the manila envelope in his hand, attempting to hide his nerves and miserably failing, as he leaned against the bedroom door and watched Amy frown at the open suitcase she had in front of her. An open suitcase that he was relatively certain they’d definitively closed and locked, when he’d seen it last night. 

“I thought we were done packing?” His voice was light, straining to hide the tension. 

She shook her head nonchalantly. “I picked up some boots from my place on my way back home.” 

Home. That definitely still continued to delighted him on the inside even if it had been a few weeks.

“We’re going away for a week,” he deadpanned.    

“And I’d like at least two options when it comes to footwear,” she sniffed lightly.  “You’ve got it easy. What’s your sneaker collection in Concord like?”

Laurie shrugged, unsure but also unconcerned.  He knew he had a few pairs, and was certain that would tide him over. 

“Thought so.” 

“Anyway…”

She looked up as he trailed off, inquiring as she met caught his eyes. He moved towards her. 

“Before we go-”

She spotted the envelope before he could bring it up.

“Laurie, you’re already over-indulging with my birthday. Please don’t tell me there’s more.”

“I was given free-range to overdo it!”

“By my sisters!”

“This one is not just a gift though. But it’s also the gift I’d have decided on, Concord plans or not.” 

“Laurie-“

“Open it. Please,” he implored, as mildly as he could.

Laurie felt apprehensive as he handed her the unmarked envelope - the sturdy, thick paper holding its own against his tensely clenched hands.

He supposed his quiet pleading won her over.

“Fine. But this better be the last one.” 

“It is,” he assured her before rethinking his words.  “From me, anyway.” 

She took it from him, and undid the string. The first things to fall into her hands were the flight tickets. 

She looked up the second she glanced at them, confused. “I thought our tickets were in my bag downstairs-“

He shook his head, motioning at the envelope.

She flipped past the flight tickets to land on the…

Amy’s eyes went wide. 

“They say it is the most comprehensive exhibition of his works in decades,” Laurie volunteered tentatively. “I figured we could go opening night. Make a weekend of it in London. We’ve got the townhouse there anyway. And April’s doable for us…”

Her mouth had fallen slightly open but no words came out.

“Or not,” He corrected himself hastily. “I don’t have to come with you. You can make it a girls trip with Annette maybe. Or whoever you want. It’s yours to do with as you wish. Tickets and townhouse and all. I just-”

“Don’t you dare.” 

Laurie stopped short at her vehement interruption. 

“You owe me this date, Theodore. You don’t get to back out on me a second time.”

He let out a relieved bark of laughter. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Amy laughed along with him, looking incredulous as she shook the tickets at him. 

“You actually got me tickets to Raphael.”

“I know this doesn’t make up for everyth-“

“Shut up. This is perfect. It’s more than perfect. It’s- It’s- I love it.”

She pulled him towards her, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, her face mushed against his shoulder.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he responded, easily pulling back to meet her in the middle for a lazy kiss. 

“Now, need some help closing the suitcase that’s now overstuffed?”

“You, Mr. Laurence, just read my mind.”

——

November

Laurie chuckled as he looked around his childhood home, only a smidge bitter that his girlfriend had promptly been whisked away by her sisters the moment they arrived. 

He walked around, re-exploring his old haunts as the nostalgia hit him full force. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was sentimental because he was back in Concord desperately in love with and all but engaged to a March sister - exactly what he’d dreamt of as a teenager but also nothing like he’d ever envisioned back then. 

Out of pure impulse, he opened a cabinet near the television that had once housed all his favorite DVDs, only to find a dusty plaster boot leaning against an equally dusty stack of the Pirates of the Caribbean series.

“I told you I still had it, Amy March,” he chuckled out loud, only to be startled by his grandfather in return. 

“Talking to ghosts, my boy?”

“Grandpa!” Laurie turned around hastily. “I just…it’s nothing.” 

“What are we doing, wandering around this old place all alone? I thought you’d be with your young Miss March.” 

“Her sisters whisked her away the minute they saw her,” he shrugged, “and given that this whole thing was prompted by the fact that they missed her and felt bad about it, I left them to it.” 

His grandfather nodded in easy acceptance. “Want to spare your old man some of your time instead? It has been a few months.” 

He smiled at him, unable to hide the fondness as he spoke, "You know I’d never say no to that, Grandpa.”

“You’d never say no to my personal whisky collection, you mean,” his grandfather corrected him jovially as they began making their way towards his study. 

“That too,” Laurie agreed unrepentantly. “That too.” 

“I take it you and Amy are doing well?” 

“I’ve no complaints.”

“Does she?” his grandfather ribbed him lightly.

A shrewd look had him shrugging easily. “Not that I’ve been made aware of. And you know Amy.”

“She’s not one to keep quiet.” He was met with easy agreement. 

“Despite all the marriage jokes that come our way, I really am certain I’m going to marry her one day.” 

“That’s a…strong conviction.”

“No stronger than my conviction that grass is green and that water is wet,” he responded, immediately defensive.  

“I’m not questioning you, my boy. Lord knows I know when a Laurence sets his mind on something, there’s little that’ll deter them.” 

“Dad?” Laurie asked lightly, explaining further on his grandfather’s enquiring look. “Amy’s parents told us how he and Mom met because of Aunt March. And how convincing Mom to marry him took some effort.” 

“Bull-headedness is definitely a Laurence feature. Until we bite the dust or get what we want, we persist. And Edward was nothing if not a proper Laurence. As are you. And as was I. But that’s a story for another time.”

He pushed a glass towards Laurie before he paused. “That does remind me however, I believe I owed you a few photo albums.” 

He started ruffling through his drawers, distracted. “I know I left the keys somewhere here…”

Laurie felt a sudden burst of strong affection pass through him as he watched his grandfather earnestly pull open shelves and drawers that probably hadn’t been opened in years, if not decades. 

“You don’t have to find it right now, Grandpa. I didn’t come here for that. I’m happy just talking to you for the moment.”

He was willing to let ghosts lie for the moment. They’d waited this long, after all. 

“I’ll leave them by your bedside as soon as I find them,” Laurie was promised in return. 

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Now, how’s London been treating you?” 

“Gets a little lonely,” his grandfather joked, “but that happens when your grandson absconds to Paris for a beautiful woman.”

“Grandpa-“

“I’m kidding, my boy. You leaving has actually been great for my social calendar.” 

“Grandpa,” he groaned in response, as his grandfather chortled. 

“I’m an old man, Theodore. Not much changes in my life anymore. Although it certainly seems like you’re on track to give me a daughter-in-law to spoil in the near future.” 

“Like you don’t already spoil the March sisters every time you see them,” he snorted. “I hardly need to marry Amy to give you an excuse.”

“Fair enough,” his grandfather agreed easily. “But seeing you happy and settled, makes an old man rest easy at night, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I am happy,” Laurie agreed wholeheartedly. “Happier than I ever thought I’d be, last year this time.”

“Life tends to surprise us when we’re least expecting it.” 

“Now you’re just beginning to sound like a fortune cookie.” 

His grandfather rolled his eyes, smirking as he responded, “It’s the whisky. Just let me know when you’re ready for a trip to the family vaults.” 

Taken aback, he stammered, “F-family vaults?”

“Figured that it would be a natural consequence of your certitude, but if I’m mistaken…” 

“No! No…I’ll keep that in mind.” He assured his grandfather hastily. 

“Your mother’s ring is in Concord, not London,” he was informed offhandedly. “So if that’s the one you’re after…”

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen her ring,” Laurie pondered out loud, “None of the photos I have of her were really focused on her hands.”

“An excursion to the vaults it is then,” his grandfather declared. “It’s always better to inspect jewelry in person.” 

“Why is it here, though? Didn’t they…why isn’t it in London?”

“Things always tend to have a habit of ending up where they’re meant to be. Best not to overthink it, I say.” 

——

Walking into the March house on the heel of multiple conversations where he’d pretty much announced his intentions to marry into the family only felt a little bit weird. A warm gust of familiarity welcomed him, overshadowing it almost instantly.

He was almost immediately greeted by Marmee. “Laurie!” 

“Marmee,” he greeted her with a hug. “It’s always great to see you, even if I am interrupting your dinner prep.” 

“It’s hardly an interruption until you begin attempting to help,” she joked in return. 

“For shame, Marmee!” He gave an exaggerated gasp. “I’ll have you know I haven’t burnt a single pot or pan in years. I deserve at least a measure of credit for that.”

“But you’ve burnt three too many in my kitchen,” Marmee shot back with a chuckle. “So you’ll never be allowed to do more than set the table in this house.” 

“It gets you out of the more tedious chores. I don’t see why you’re complaining,” a third voice interrupted them as familiar footsteps made their way into the kitchen. 

“Beth,” he greeted the first of the March sisters with a smile before automatically making his way to the other, “Amy.” 

“Laurie,” Amy greeted him with a quick kiss. “Miss me already? It’s only been half a day.” 

“My eyes!” Beth hollered in mock outrage. “Must we really be subjected to this? You’re practically my baby siblings!” 

“I’m older than you,” Laurie muttered in protest while Amy simultaneously threw her hands up in frustration. “What’s with my sisters downgrading me to ‘practically a sibling’ every single time?” 

“Beth,” Marmee chided, barely suppressing her own chuckle at Amy’s outburst. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Beth announced graciously. “That’s just my cross to bear, as the  only tragically single March sister.” 

“Drama queen,” Amy mumbled under her breath. “There’s nothing tragic about your single life and you know it.”

"What was that?” Marmee, who hadn’t heard Amy, looked at her suspiciously. 

“Nothing!” Beth interjected with a tight smile as Laurie muffled his laughter with little success. “Amy’s just trying her hand at stand-up.” 

“Trying to land punchlines,” Amy agreed with a sickeningly sweet smile, “But they’re too niche for most audiences.” 

“Anyway, need some help Marmee?” Beth redirected her mother’s attention, making a face at Amy as she walked past her.  “Meg said John will be here with the kids soon. They’re about twenty minutes out.” 

“The cucumbers need to be chopped,” Marmee directed her, as the rest of the March siblings walked in, along with their patriarch. 

“Laurie!” He was greeted fondly by Mr. March. 

“Mr. March! It has been an age.”

“And a day,” Mr. March joked as he pulled him in for a short, single-handed hug. “Paris been treating you better than London?” 

“Only one of the two cities has Amy, so that’s really a non-question,” Jo smirked, responding in his stead, leaving him to pat down his flaming face. “Hi Teddy.”

“Don’t embarrass the poor guy in front of Dad,” Meg chuckled as she watched him bury his face in Amy’s shoulder and muffling a groan. 

“It’s a right of passage in this household. Like you went any easier on Fritz,” Jo challenged cheerfully. “Hell, you saw us put John through the hoops.” 

“The difference being that I’ve always been here, helping with the process,” Laurie tried to defend himself. “Since middle school even! Doesn’t that not merit consideration?” 

“So what you’re saying is that you have experience with the hot seat, so we should change tactics,” Beth chimed in. 

“I-Wha- No!” he sputtered, looking at Amy in betrayal as she chuckled along with her sisters. 

“Alright, alright,” Amy laughed as she threw in her two cents to defend him. “I don’t think you get to put him in the hot seat when you were in the backseat, encouraging this relationship the whole time.” 

“Hey!” Meg protested, before the sisters delved into a chaotic defense that was suitably distracted by the arrival of John and the twins, and put to bed when dinner was set on the table, alongside their plans to tease Laurie. Or so he dearly hoped, anyway. 

——

Amy had dragged Laurie along with her under the guise of ‘a walk’ as soon as they were able to escape dinner in polite fashion. She was clearly a powder keg ready to explode and she did, in typical Amy fashion, as soon as they were a few streets over. 

“My sisters are acting weird,” she whined in frustration. “They apologized to me?”

“And?” Laurie asked, unsurprised. 

“You tell me!” She threw her hands up, annoyed. “Apparently they didn’t appreciate me enough growing up or something, but that’s not even true. When have I not demanded the attention I deserve?” 

“They just feel guilty Amy,” he reasoned. “Remember when I realized I’d been a bad friend?”

“What does this have to do with that?”

He sighed lightly. “Amy, you demand attention yes, but that’s also the point. You used to demand it, so you could focus it on things that really didn’t matter as much the things that should have. When things mattered, you never let yourself be in focus. And we let you do that when you never let us do that! Of course they feel guilty, I felt guilty too.” 

She snorted in reluctant defeat. “So its misplaced guilt again then?” 

“It’s not entirely misplaced,” he argued back anyway. “Not for them. Not for me. Yes, I’ve made my peace with it now, but it’s still there.” 

“You literally just said I never let myself be in focus. So you know that’s on me right? If there is fault, it’s all mine.”

“Maybe partially but, look at it from our perspective,” he challenged. “You were always there, ready to listen or help. You were by Beth’s side throughout her chemo. You were there for all of our college applications. You were there when we opened our acceptance letters. And our rejection letters. You threw every ‘going-away’ party when we left the coop one after the other. And Amy, we didn’t even see you off at the airport when you left for Paris, let alone throw you a party. We didn’t know what colleges you applied to, how many rejection letters had you tearing up, or even how many acceptances had you feeling good.”

He held his hand up to stop her when she made to object. “And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have flaunted a sheaf of acceptance letters at us, because that was just such an Amy thing we’d have loved to see you do and we never even realized it didn’t happen. To us, it just feels like we were all so mired in our lives that the milestones you were around to celebrate for us, we barely remembered when it came to be your turn. I can understand why they feel bad about it.”

“I take it you all discussed this during one of your group phone calls I was uninvited to,” she snorted.