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lovelylaurie · 4 years

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The Pickwick Club

Laurie x Reader Words: 4.3k Request:

Hi! You're awesome! Could you write something where Laurie has a relationship with y/n similar to his and Jo's ( with a happy ending of course!) Thanks, lovey!

a/n: Sorry this took so long to get to, anon. I sincerely hope you find and enjoy it. (Writing for Little Women has me talking like I’m from the 19th century...)

Hems and haws, humbles and grumbles, and the sounds of stomping feet rang out from you and your sisters above Meg’s determined cries of “Order!” at this week’s meeting of the Pickwick Club. You glanced between yourselves in silent agreement that you would do no such thing any time soon. Having been dreamed up by Jo and Meg during a particularly boring string of hopelessly rainy days earlier this spring, the club was now one of the brightest highlights of your week. You’d raided attic chests of old clothes and donned trousers and men’s shirts, balanced glasses and spectacles on your noses, placed out of fashion top hats from yesteryear upon your heads and stuck various wooden pipes in your hands and between your teeth. It was truly marvelous fun.

“Order!” Meg insisted once again, and your racket was soon quieted. She held before her the most recent edition of the Pickwick Portfolio and read aloud, “A new play written by Ms. Jo March shall appear at the Barnville Theater in the course of the next few weeks that will surpass anything ever seen before on the American stage.” Jo cut in with a pointed flick of her pipe, “Starring the greatest actress from here to the Mississippi river, Ms. Meg March.” A modest round of applause along with cries of “Bravo!” and a bow from Meg followed. Then she went on, “I would like to report, Meg– good, Jo– bad,” Jo nodded proudly, “y/n– acceptable, Beth– very good, and Amy– sort of middling.” “Very well done!” Amy proclaimed, seeming perfectly fine with that evaluation. You joined in with the chorus of agreement, giggling slightly as Amy and Beth clinked their pipes together in a sort of congratulations, it was quite a silly sight. Meg moved to sit back down, and you jumped to your feet, knowing now would be the perfect time to put into motion the plan you’d hatched earlier with Laurie. “Mr. President and gentleman, I wish to propose the admission of a new member.” Skeptical looks passed over your sisters, but you barreled on regardless, “One who highly deserves the honor, would be deeply, deeply grateful for it, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club. I propose… Mr. Theodore Laurence!” “Absolutely not,” Amy refused, removing her pipe and losing the gentlemanly caricature. “What, no! Please?” you begged, likewise dropping the act and deflating slightly from the admonishment of your plan. Jo leaned in, her eager airs contrasting with your sisters’ expressions of scorn, “Come now, let’s have him!” “He’s a real boy,” Amy insisted pointedly. “We don’t want any boys,” Meg continued. “This is a club for ladies.” You stomped your foot in frustration, but then Beth bowed her head and stared at her fingers. “I think we should have him,” she mumbled, reigniting your excitement by granting you the majority you needed to pass the edict. But, seeing as these were your sisters, you’d rather wanted the vote to be unanimous. “What, why?” Amy whined. Beth placed a sympathetic hand on her arm to quiet and comfort her, “Even if we are afraid of it, I think we should do it!” “But why?” Amy insisted. Beth stuttered before coming to the inevitable conclusion, “It’s Laurie!” Jo laughed and clapped her hands, pleased that Amy was disgruntled and the admission of Laurie so regardlessly imminent. You puffed up your chest slightly with anticipation, breaking through the continuing arguments. “Alright, I call the vote!” “Aye!” Cried Jo, throwing her hand in the air to join your own. Beth raised hers and looked expectantly at Amy to do the same. “C’mon, c’mon, say aye!” Jo said to Meg, determinedly trying to pull her hand up. Meg made some small argument in opposition, but then rolled her eyes and didn’t bring her hand down. “Fine, aye!” Amy gave in. “Wonderful!” you exclaimed, far too excited at what was to come to sit back down. “And, as there is no time like the present–” Laurie burst out from behind a clothing rack and tumbled to the floor before you amid shrieks of surprise and glee. You laughed uproariously, and Jo joined in, throwing both her hands into the air in excitement. “Ladies, ladies!” Laurie addressed the group with the voice of a gruff and withered gentleman, quickly fulfilling your promise that he would add to the club’s spirit. You had to lean against a chair to avoid falling over in laughter. “Please, please, this is my stratagem, I deserve the blame! Y/n only gave into it after lots of teasing!” This was almost entirely a lie. Laurie had wondered not long ago where you all ran off to on rainy days, and you’d told him readily, only to suddenly and simultaneously come to the conclusion that it would be loads more fun if he could join the club, too. And a plan was hatched. There was lots of teasing involved, though, that part was true. Laurie stumbled over his words a few moments later, losing the accent to mumble incoherently, inciting another round of shrieks and giggles. The meeting proceeded with an entirely new influx of humor and energy. You couldn’t help but stare at him, in amazement, as he handed out the keys to the new postbox and took a seat. Then a discussion began as to the uses and rules of this box and the distribution of the keys. Laurie’s curls bobbed with each nod and shake of his head, and you found yourself swelling with admiration for him, your best of friends. You’d only met the previous fall, but since then, he’d become the closest thing you had to a brother and yet somehow so much more than that. Laurie stayed the entire rest of the day, only leaving once the sun had sunk past the edge of the horizon. The day was drawing to a close, and though neither you nor Laurie saw this as any reason for the fun to end, everyone else, especially Meg and Marmie, disagreed. You regretted watching him go, but knew that your mother and sisters were right. Laurie would be there tomorrow, that was certain, and you couldn’t wait for your adventures to continue. But once the door closed and you ran off to join Beth by the piano or Amy on the couch, Laurie found himself turning back to watch. Through the window, he could see you smiling and laughing and his heart ached to run back in there. You looked splendid, heavenly, the nearby fireplace casting a warm glow across your happy face. He couldn’t help but linger, he was in love. Ardently and passionately, he was in love. But he would have to wait, until you were older, until you caught up and understood, until he found the confidence to tell you. For now, he turned and walked home, hoping that there would come a day that he’d never have to be without you.

It was early the following summer and you were feeling bored and restless. Laurie’s grandfather had conscripted him on a two-week trip to New York to meet some academic colleagues of his and visit the deans of a number of schools. They had left the previous afternoon, and though it was only now the next morning, you were already grumbling with displeasure. You slouched back in your chair and crossed your arms, munching your toast slowly and angrily. “Perk up, y/n, it’s only two weeks, and I can think of a thousand things to do in the meantime,” Meg offered, casting a sympathetic gaze your way before returning to her breakfast. “None of them will be any fun without Laurie,” you muttered, determined to wallow in your displeasure. “How about I write you a play?” Jo gasped excitedly, jumping to the edge of her seat, clearly already brimming with ideas. She slammed her hands down on the table and a creative glint in her eye told you she was about to begin storytelling. “It’ll be about two companions, torn asunder by the dark and conniving forces of evil. Though separated, they must remain strong and hold fast to their trust in each other. But as they quest and their twin goals of reunification draw nearer, dark magic eats at their souls, consuming them and withering them away. They reach each other just as evil strikes its final blow and they collapse, dead, but together at long last.” She sprinted from the table to grab a book and pen and jot down everything she could. “I want a happy play!” Amy complained, screwing her face up into a frown. “This isn’t about you, Amy!” Jo called back “Well then what is it about?” She asked pedantically as Jo returned, plopping down in her seat and placing her well-worn journal on one knee. “It’s about y/n and Laurie and their tragic separation for these two weeks,” she explained while beginning to scribble. Amy didn’t look any less confused, “How is a sad play going to help, then? Shouldn’t you write something happy, to cheer her up?” “Sad people like to wallow,” Jo stated matter-of-factly, not even pausing to look up. You nodded in agreement and took another bite from your toast. “Just give me something nice to play, I don’t see why I have to be sad, too,” Amy instructed. “You can play the evil witch,” Jo murmured with a smirk, and the look that came over Amy’s face at her words had you snickering. “What?!” she stood up suddenly and stomped towards Jo, peering over her shoulder and gasping as Jo muttered under her breath the words she was writing. “Amy March, the evil witch, is hideously ugly and covered in warts and boils-” Amy lunged for her pen, screaming, “No, stop it! I’ll burn all of your books, Jo!” Jo whipped around and clutched her journal to her chest, “You wouldn’t! That’s positively evil!” “I will!” Amy screamed, scrambling for the offending text still held firmly in Jo’s hands. Meg stood, too, and rushed over, pulling Amy away from Jo. “Stop! Stop, please! It’s no use fighting, Amy, she’ll only make your character more horrible.” “Fine!” Amy stomped her foot. “But I won’t speak to her until she fixes it.” Meg sighed, knowing that wouldn’t happen any time soon. She took a deep breath and put on her nicest smile, “How about you go check the postbox? See if Laurie’s left anything for us.” Amy turned without another word and stormed off, snatching her key from the mantle as she went. She returned several minutes later, bursting through the door and barreling into the room with a crisp, white envelope clutched in her hands. “He did! He did! He left us a letter!” Amy cried, voice cracking with excitement. You sat up straight in your chair, your entire demeanor suddenly shifting. Whatever it was, word from Laurie would brighten your day. “Here, Amy, let’s see,” Meg spoke calmly, holding out her hand. “No, no! Let me!” you implored, throwing yours out across the table, reaching for the letter still held by Amy. She looked perplexed for a moment before slowly handing it off to you. You snatched it from her grip, sitting back down after realizing you’d stood up in your haste and insistence. Your sisters crowded around you as you picked up a clean butter knife to open the envelope and pulled out the letter. Jo read it aloud.

Dearest protectors of Fort March, Today my companions and I set out on our grand journey, unfortunately leaving you to venture south to lands heretofore unknown by any such as us. We intrepid explorers risk life and limb to bring you back tales of such things as the fabled universities and academic circles of yore. We, myself especially, find it hard to leave you for the two endless weeks that stretch before us like a python slowly constricting ‘round our necks. Even so, our morale is high, our health good, and our spirits buoyed by the prospect of hearing from you soon. Enclosed is the address of our faraway outpost at which we can be reached.

The Grande Hotel Triomphe 56 East Orchard Avenue New York, NY

An additional note of the greatest importance: Convey my highest regards and deepest regrets to y/n for leaving at a time like this, with the weather so good and not yet too hot and when the possibility for glorious fun is so high. It is my great wish to hear from her especially, as such a correspondence would certainly ensure that I remain focused enough to complete our expedition with the utmost haste.

Sincerely, Colonel Theodore Laurence

P.S. I gave Brooke an additional key to the postbox through which he will deliver my letters and collect yours. When I return, we may demand the relinquishment of his key and give it a proper ceremonious sendoff via Viking ship burial. Ensure that the necessary preparations are ready for the night of my return.

You smiled when Jo finished reading, glad to hear something from him, and eager to write back so you could have more. “Oh, how nice of him!” Meg cooed “I think it’s capital!” Jo exclaimed. Meg tried to admonish her for using slang, but she soldiered on, “Laurie’s always been the best at letters.” “It was very sweet, to think of us missing him,” Beth agreed. You stood back up, letter still in hand, proclaiming that you’d write him back immediately. There was no time to waste.

Colonel Theodore Laurence, Distinguished First Officer (y/n, that is) of Fort March writing to tell you your letter was warmly received and all is well. Officer March (I am referring to Jo. Henceforth, all officers will be called to by first name to avoid confusion) has elected to write a play to commemorate your expedition and to lament the unfortunate necessity of its separating us. Due to some imprudence at breakfast today, Amy has been cast as the horrendously ugly evil villain and has been acting incredibly sour and resentful all afternoon. The situation has yet to be rectified. Captain Marmee (the inner workings of the military fail me, Laurie, so forgive my mistakes in the proper uses of these titles) will no doubt step in once she returns from the Hummels’, which should be soon. She continues to guide and lead us with exceptionally considerate skill and grace. We are all thankful, myself especially, for her support in these trying times. I firmly believe we would not be doing so well without your letter and the promise of frequent future correspondence. Your loss was felt most acutely by myself, but as that has been significantly lessened by hearing from you, we shall never speak of it again.

Awaiting your response, First Officer y/n March

Laurie wrote back quickly, and you were soon sending letters as often as you possibly could. Your sisters loved to hear what he wrote, but you only read them the first halves of his letters. The second halves were distinctly reserved for you.

Fort March, The weather is good and sunny, and days long. Morale has been dampened slightly by the inability to enjoy this due to the unfortunate nature of the environment we are exploring– it is all indoors. Tell young Amy that her performance in the coming play will be exceptional no matter what part she plays in it. Every soldier faces battles that at first seem unwinnable and insurmountable. These are merely challenges that can and will be overcome (I’m sure of it). Tell Jo to be easier on Amy, it can be fun to be mean but she will regret it later. All of you are given orders to go out and enjoy yourselves as we here cannot.

Sincerely, Colonel Theodore Laurence

Y/n– I wanted to write to you especially. We have recently received some truly horrible news. One of Grandfather’s colleagues is delayed in returning from work overseas and it may extend our stay here. I was more than displeased upon hearing this, as I’m sure you are as well, two weeks is enough separation from you to last me a lifetime. Grandfather says this has made me sullen and grumpy and that I’m making a poor impression on the officials of these universities. He’s even threatened to force me to meet them again so I may have a chance to ‘conduct myself with more controlled and exemplary manners.’ He fails to see how this would only worsen my mood. For your sake, I will try to contain myself.

Yours, Laurie

Without Laurie right beside you every day, you had only your thoughts of him and his letters to fill his space. You spent much more time with your sisters, yes, but you quite often found your thoughts drifting to him. And when your family was busy, it was immensely difficult for you to focus on anything without your mind immediately turning to Laurie. You wondered what he was doing at precisely that moment. You wondered what you would be doing together if he hadn’t had to leave. You wondered what it would be like when he got back. You were waiting, rather impatiently, for the day of his return. It should be soon, but there were some delays and they tormented you. Was he as excited as you were? Was he as impatient? His grandfather had sent a couple of letters in the course of the past week and a half, which Marmee had read out to the family. Laurie was purportedly becoming increasingly irritable and sullen, which was reflected in some of his own communications. You simply had to pass the time until he returned, reading and rereading his letters and writing back as often as possible. Your sisters teased you occasionally after they noticed the parts of his letters addressed only to you. You didn’t understand why, at first. It made sense, as Laurie was special to you, arguably more than he was to your sisters. He was practically a member of the family, and this was most clear when he was around you. Jo thought these parts of his letters were funny but didn’t fully understand the implications either. Beth thought they were sweet. But Amy and Meg understood. Meg spelled it out for you one night after dinner. You’d spent most of the evening and the meal itself thinking about this, about what they could mean with the teasing, and you’d formed some suspicions that had you feeling uneasy. Meg said that his writing to and asking to hear back from you in particular suggested that his feelings had developed beyond just close friendship. A knot that had been forming in the pit of your stomach all night tightened and rolled. You were nervous and afraid of this change, and most of all, scared to find that you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea. But you tucked away those feelings, for now, trying to suppress the flutter of your heart when you thought of him feeling those things for you, and you ignored how similar that flutter was to how you felt every time you saw him. Time pressed on. Day had bled into night, casting a shadow over the sky and blanketing the entirety of your world in darkness. Stars had already come out, first peeking their twinkling eyes over the edge of the horizon, and then flying out one after another across the sky. Meg was trying to coax Amy upstairs and into bed as Jo prodded at a dying fireplace. You sat by Beth on her piano bench as she played a sweet and calming tune. Laurie was supposed to return tomorrow, which had you ready and eager to go to bed early so as to best pass the time until morning. The warm glow of the room faded as Jo continued her work. Amy finally caved, getting up to turn off the remaining lamps when the front door flew open. Beth’s playing came to a discordant halt and you jumped from the bench to find Laurie grinning and beaming in the entryway. “Good evening, Ladies!” his voice chimed, ringing and resonating through your ears. “I trust it’s not too late for-” You cut him off with an overjoyed embrace. It should be improper for girls in their nightgowns and with their hair let down to meet with, or embrace, boys late at night, but you couldn’t care less what should or shouldn't be proper. Your heart was beating almost out of your chest, you were sure Laurie could feel it. If he did, he made no such indication, wrapping his arms around you to reciprocate your outpour of emotion. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and took a deep breath. He was solid and real and warm, having just come in from the balmy summer night. You could hear gasps and cries of “Laurie’s back!” from behind you, and so you finally pulled away to find him flushed and smiling tenderly. “Laurie!” Amy cried, barreling into him with an enthusiastic hug. Jo, Meg, and Beth followed after. Meg smiled and said something polite, Beth spoke quietly that she was glad he was back, and Jo gave a proper military salute and demanded a sitrep, which was given after an equally serious salute back and cry of “Sir, yes, sir!” You didn’t care to pay much attention, though, you were more than happy that Laurie was back. Two weeks was enough separation from him to last you the rest of your life, so you were soaking up every moment of his presence, taking in his lively energy and vivid smile as if you were meeting him for the first time all over again. “Anyways,” he spoke, finally returning to his original point, “should we retrieve Brooke’s key?” “Yes, immediately!” you agreed and assured him the necessary preparations had been made. Jo had helped you weave a small boat while Beth and Amy collected flowers to fill it and Meg stitched a small blanket from scrap fabric to lay the key on. You ensured that it would float in a small tub of water before leaving it in a protected glen of your front garden. “Oh, how wonderful! We didn’t expect you until tomorrow, Laurie,” you heard from the stairs behind you. It was Marmee, drawn by her good instincts to the growing commotion. “Yes, I convinced Grandfather to leave this morning by arguing that we shouldn’t travel through the night,” he seemed rather proud of his machinations. “Clever reasoning,” Jo remarked. “Well, I’m glad for it,” you smiled, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s good to have you back, Laurie.” “Yes, very much so, everyone’s been restless with you gone, y/n especially,” Marmee smirked. You blushed and dropped your hand as Laurie perked up. Then Marmee noticed your sisters putting on their shoes. “But- are you planning on going out? It’s too late.” “No such thing,” you countered, leaning down to pick up your shoes as well and to hide your face from Laurie’s prying gaze. “Just to get Brooke’s key,” Jo explained confidently. “We’ll be very good, I promise, and then we’ll come right back,” Meg assured her. “I’ll go get the boat!” Amy called, running out the door. “The boat?!” Marmee looked understandably concerned. “It’s for the key,” Laurie said, grabbing your hand and following after Amy. Jo skipped and Meg shuffled, closing the door sheepishly behind her. Laurie put an arm around your shoulder as you walked together, pulling you close to him. “I missed you,” he murmured, finally speaking aloud what you had both felt and understood. “I missed you too,” you hummed. Your words to each other were simple but true, and deeply felt. You could hear the ache in his voice, knowing how long he’d been waiting to say that to you, and keenly aware of what he was leaving unspoken. Your heartbeat quickened and stopped up your words, allowing for a compassionate and understanding silence to fill the air between you. Laurie’s grandfather wasn’t expecting five girls to show up at his doorstep at such a late hour but wasn't entirely surprised either. Brooke, on the other hand, was decidedly scandalized. Once the key had been successfully procured from him, though, it was on to the lake for a proper send-off. Amy and Beth kneeled by the water’s edge, with the boat held gently between them. Meg handed the matches to Jo. You were grateful she’d had the presence of mind to remember them. Laurie pulled the key from his coat pocket and it glistened in the starlight. “This key!” he cried. “Was gifted by the Pickwick club to John Brooke for limited use during the dispersion of its members. With the club reunified, it has been rendered useless. It and its master served us well, facilitating connection and correspondence. Its continued existence, however, would prove to be a liability to the club’s trusted communication methods. We thank this key for its service and honor its sacrifice by Viking ship burial.” Laurie offered the key to you, “Would you care to do the honors, y/n?” “With the utmost veneration,” you replied, trying not to let out a giggle. You took the key from him and placed it on the boat. Amy and Beth lowered the craft into the water. Jo lit a match and placed it at the helm. The boat was pushed away. Laurie wrapped his arms around you from behind and you leaned back to rest your head against the crook of his neck. He was incredible and intoxicating and smelled of books and warmth, distinctly of himself and of home. The tiny ship’s beacon drifted further and further away and its glow illuminated delicate, lacy ripples on the water’s surface. You wondered, quietly, if you loved Laurie. The joy you feel upon seeing him, your heart’s jolt at his touch, was too familiar to be new. It had been like this as long as you’d known him. Laurie had always been and would forever be your favorite feeling. He was always and forever yours. He held you and your soul hummed.

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