study buddies——VOL ii
O59. this little family of three
i heard a SCREAM !!!
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ROSIE HAS TO ADMIT, SHE REALLY LOVES her little family of three. It's not like she doesn't miss her mom, because she does, every day; and she wishes things could be different. And maybe, in another life, it would have been nice to know her father — for him to know her, to have all those touching daddy/daughter moments shown in television shows and movies (perhaps that's Hollywood's idea of a cheesy exaggeration, though. It's not like she knows anything about fathers in the first place). So, yeah, maybe those things would have been nice. But she loves what she has now, and she wouldn't trade it for anything.
She loves telling Pepper that she can do better than Tony, purposely within his earshot, smiling at him when he makes some melodramatic remark about how she's wounded him, paired with the placing of his hand over his heart. And she loves she and Tony's banter, arguing back and forth about the most insignificant things and ending it with a hug to let each other know that yes, they do love each other. This is just their unique way of showing it. Most of all, she loves when Pepper kisses her on the head and tells her how proud she is of her, of how she's growing up to be an incredible young woman (a woman just like Pepper, if Rosie is lucky).
This little family is everything to her, and it has been for a while now. It's not a picture perfect poster child for the perfect American family — it's a blended mess of chaos and love and an overwhelming feeling of warmth whenever they tell each other "I love you" or reunite during Rosie's breaks from school. This little family is not the most normal thing in the world, she knows, but she loves it for that. She loves her aunt and uncle and she's eternally grateful for the fact that she has them.
They're in the kitchen now, just the three of them. Pepper had wanted to have a family breakfast with her little family of three, so Rosie had asked Selena and Indy and Finn if they'd mind giving them some time alone. Finn was the one to give her the go ahead, and the other two agreed. Besides, they're probably having more fun without her, anyways — last she'd heard, they were going to be the three judges of a fist fight between Nat and Clint in the training room (it had apparently been Clint's idea, though, which is absolutely crazy to Rosie; she supposes he likes the idea of getting his ass handed to him in front of an audience).
Rosie had been making the breakfast (pancakes with fresh fruit and a side of scrambled eggs, because it's the easiest thing she could think of making and she didn't have the patience for much else) while Pepper sat at the kitchen table and asked her niece about how school had been going. Tony was on the phone with Rhodey during this — "tell him I miss him and that I still like him more than I like you," Rosie remembers saying to her uncle, who'd tossed a crumpled up paper ball at her in response.
They're sitting at the kitchen table now, in the middle of conversations about everything and nothing all at the same time while enjoying their breakfast. Rosie keeps nudging her eggs to the other side of the plate with her fork because she really hates for her food to touch. Peppers asks Tony to pass the salt. Tony compliments his niece on her cooking. Rosie smiles. It's moments like these — seemingly meaningless ones, shared with her family and friends — that she likes to remember.
"So, have you and your friends been having fun?" Pepper asks, just before popping a grape into her mouth. Rosie nods.
"Yeah, honestly, it's been great so far." She smiles at her aunt, absentmindedly chasing her fruit around the plate with her fork. "I know we haven't been here very long, but I know they've been having a lot of fun."
It's true, her friends have been enjoying themselves immensely over the past couple of days — this, of course, doesn't really come as much of a surprise to Rosie. They had been talking about it every day ever since they'd found out this is where they'd be spending their winter break, and she had already known it'd be a fun experience for them. And, yeah, maybe the Avengers have had a tiny bit to do with it.
"They're probably just excited to be in the presence of Iron Man," Tony says, his tone casual, as he pulls his shoulders into a shrug.
Pepper and Rosie can't help but roll their eyes at this.
"Oh, brother," the blonde teen mumbles under her breath. Then, louder, "Don't get a big head, dude."
Rosie feels incredibly proud of her aunt when she snaps back with, "Too late for that," while grinning at her husband.
There's a clatter of silverware against glass as Tony melodramatically drops his fork onto his plate, crossing his arms over his chest directly after. "Why do you two love to hurt me?" he asks through a sigh.
"In our defense," Rosie starts, "you walk right into them."
She shares a look with Pepper, who bites her lip to repress a smile. The elder of the Potts women takes a sip of her water before she leans her head in Tony's direction.
"She's got a point, hon."
This time, it's Tony who rolls his eyes.
"Okay, I see how it is."
This. This is what Rosie loves. From the conversations at the dining table over how wonderful or stressful or both their days have been to the playful banter of insulting her uncle with her aunt's help and watching as he fakes a forlorn expression. These moments are everything to her, the ones she'll always remember and will never get tired of. Because this is how they express their affection and it honestly makes her really happy.
After a moment's silence — the comfortable kind, the kind where you don't need to talk because you're perfectly fine just enjoying the company of the people in your presence — Pepper looks at Rosie again. "How was bowling?" she asks with a smile, one that Rosie reciprocates.
"It was fun, actually," she explains. Flashbacks of Indy and Ned making a secret handshake whenever their team won and Peter almost getting kicked out of the arcade following his loud scream of frustration when he died in Pac-Man dance through her head and she bites back a laugh. "I still suck at it, of course, but I actually did have a pretty good time."
Cutting off a piece of his pancake, Tony mumbles, "I think Peter might have had something to do with that," and Rosie chokes on her juice.
Here's the thing: he's right. Because if it weren't for Peter cheering her on louder than he probably should have when she finally got a strike or hugging her almost as tightly as he did that first day of winter break when she helped him win Skee-ball or telling her she's the best when she used her tickets she'd won from the arcade games to get him a bracelet with some dumb science pun she'd barely understood, she probably wouldn't have had half as much as she did. But, obviously, that's the last thing she wants to admit. So, she doesn't — but she's pretty sure the reddening of her cheeks betray her stubborn and unnecessary attempt at denial.
She can't think of any half assed lie about how that's totally not true that they would be naïve enough to believe, so instead she decides on, "You're such a baby."
Okay, here's the other thing: Rosie has said this to her uncle many times before. From the time he'd gone to the store to buy groceries and had come back with three kids' science toys to the multiple instances where he'd responded to one of her playful insults with "I know you are, but what am I," calling him a baby is nothing new for her. Like, this is supposed to be fairly routine — but it's not. Because, out of everything that could have possibly happened, Rosie is unbelievably unprepared for what comes next.
"I won't be the only one for long," is what he says.
She looks at him, abruptly, with her brows furrowing above curious eyes. Her nose scrunches in confusion as she says, "What does that mean?"
Pepper is the one who speaks next.
"Well," she starts, not being able to contain the smile that breaks out on her face. Rosie looks at her now, not pulling away when her aunt gently touches her hand. Pepper steals a quick glance at Tony before her eyes go back to Rosie's. "There's something we have to tell you."
At this point, Rosie doesn't know what to think. Her mind is racing at a million miles a minute and she can feel it. There's a thousand and one questions lingering on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't know what to say. It's almost as if she can't produce any words. So — instead of asking one of those thousand and one questions — she looks at Tony, who just wiggles his eyebrows, his lips tugging up at the corners into a grin.
Rosie looks at Pepper again — the very first thing she notices is the way her aunt's hand rests on her stomach. Slowly, those thousand and one questions of hers are starting to be answered.
Still, she looks into Pepper's eyes once more, her own blue ones reflecting a silent question (one she thinks she might already know the answer to, mind you). Pepper nods.
There's a scream of excitement that Rosie doesn't realize is her own until Tony jumps.
She's abandoned her seat now, running over to the other side of the table until she's standing between Pepper and Tony's chairs. Throwing her arms around them, she notices the way a single tear cascades down her cheek — a tear of happiness, she realizes. Pepper's laughter rings through her ears and she catches Tony grinning at her in the periphery of her vision.
Like she'd said, she's called Tony a baby a million times before, so she'd pretty much learned to expect a certain response from him. Usually something along the lines of him sticking his tongue out or shrugging because he honestly doesn't give a fuck.
But the revelation that hey, Pepper's pregnant, is not something she had expected to come next. Like, ever.
Not that she's complaining.
"Oh my god, you guys!" she coos, leaning her head against Pepper's and closing her eyes in contentment. "I'm so happy for you both. And for me. Because I'm gonna be the best cousin."
They laugh, though Tony gives her a semi-serious look.
"You better not teach my kid to bully me, Rosemary," he says before raising his eyebrows at her. She smiles, pulling her shoulders into a shrug.
"No promises, Anthony."
Before he has a chance to respond — no doubt with some more of that classic melodramatic banter they seem to love engaging in — someone rushes into the kitchen. It's Nat, her black hair disheveled (from her fight with Clint, Rosie assumes) and her eyes wide. She's also holding a knife, which amuses Rosie... and worries her a bit, if she's to be honest. The blonde quirks an eyebrow in response.
Nat looks from her knife and back to Rosie again, saying, "I heard a scream."
Rosie smiles at that.
"It was a good scream, Nat."
And it was.
Because yeah, Rosie loves her little family of three. She loves being told she's Pepper Potts Jr. and she loves all that times Tony jokes that she gets her smarts from him, despite the fact that they're not even biologically related. Everything about this dynamic, this family, makes Rosie realize she'll be eternally thankful that the universe stuck her with these two incredible people.
And Rosie loves her little family of three, but she knows she'll love this, too.
author's note: you're welcome for this <3 for months i've been so mad at myself for not including morgan in this, so i was finally like okay you know what!!! let's bring her in!!! anyways i felt like you guys deserved something happy after that one shot i wrote (p.s. pls read it if you haven't already uwu it's the bonus chapter and the next story part after this one) so i wrote this really quickly. it sucks but i had inspiration so i really didn't wanna stop. so yeah everyone say yay for morgan stark!!!