Chapter Text
Jo did take pride in the fact they did more than holiday now, although that was partially out of necessity. Laurie still played piano almost exclusively as an amateur. While it did not result in a direct salary, it, in combination with the Laurence name, resulted in greater amounts and extensions of invitations to homes across the continent. Jo fought his way to be alone once in a while to scribble enough for the occasional short story to be published. Although, these funds were sent directly from his publishers to his family, his pseudonym on the envelope. If they were ever to argue, then he could point out it was they who had a permanent address, not he.
This appearance of productivity, career prospects, and cultural enrichment did give them further excuse to stay on the continent indefinitely and for Mr. Laurence to contently send them a generous allowance with a sound mind and nary a finger wag. In his letters to Jo, he always thanked him for being like Amy, for keeping Laurie out of trouble in a land of temptation. Jo would respond please, not to mention it.
And so Jo sat before the roaring fire one chill night, fancies of ghouls and clammy, grasping hands spurring him to write a story. He frowned before could properly start, though. Friedrich’s criticisms of such sensationalism came back to him.
Laurie, sitting in the chair beside him and toasting bread over the fire, waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, he said that, did he?”
“I think he had a point. Do you disagree that such things are not below me?”
“Why do they have to be below anyone? I wouldn’t say that thrill without substance is a sin. But if it bothers you so much, go on and take the time to write thrill with substance.” He looked over at him meaningfully. "It does occur in real life… So of course it’s possible to make it up, and make it up well if you’re the one to do it.”
Jo leaned back in his chair. He had meant his last question to both be teasing and deflective; it was terrible to feel guilty when he wrote and guilty when he did not. Then, Laurie had returned with this! “Well, I believe you have both praised me and, dare I say, challenged me.”
Although he could not see Laurie’s face, Jo could hear the smile in his words: ”So, you’ve noticed! Well, what do you say?”
“...That I suppose I have no choice but to get to work.”
The fire chose that moment to explosively pop, with them (and Laurie’s unfortunate toast) both jumping into the air with it. They both stayed quiet for a moment, and then laughed.
“Well, after all, it is the perfect atmosphere to write a penny dreadful.”