Author's Note: Written for beccgallanter on Tumblr, who prompted me to write anything Marco/Rosie. This little piece of future fluff is what came out.
Rosie folded the dough together and separated it back out again, kneading it and feeling the plush texture of the dough roll beneath her fingers. She could massage it and tease it, form it into what she wanted it to become: in this case, a pastry. A bun.
Marco should be home soon.
She formed the dough into the small lump that would become her pastry; she took the edge of a knife and drew a straight line and two loops on the top, before putting it in the oven.
Marco should be home soon.
It couldn't be soon enough, if you asked her.
She propped her feet up on the chair next to her, pulled out her celebrity gossip magazine, and began to read - Jules Baxter had released the newest pictures of her baby, and she looked as radiant as ever. Plus the baby was a little cutie.
She flipped non-chalantly through the pages, tapping her feet against each other and watching the timer on the oven count down - eight and a half minutes left.
"Rosie?" he called out as he walked into the kitchen.
"I didn't hear you come in." She folded the magazine down on the table and stood up. Her arms looped around his waist, and she looked up at the smile - that infectious, wonderful smile - that crossed his face as he gazed at her. "I - I was going to have this big surprise for you when you got home, but you were early, and now -"
"Traffic was good and business was light. I thought you were feeling sick? That's why you had someone else take over for you today."
"Yeah, uh, about that -"
"Is something wrong?"
"Well, if you had been about five minutes slower, I'd have a visual aid for this."
"Wing it, then. I know you're good at improv. Mr. Henderson's English class, junior year, you forgot your script, and you had to wing half of Blanche's lines."
"Don't remind me. Anyway -" She held her hands out in an exasperated flourish. "I - I guess I have a bun in the oven."
"Yeah, and it'll be ready in about five minutes. Things you already told me."
"No, silly. I have a bun in the oven. I was going to sing you 'Pat-a-Cake' and then show you the little bun with a B carved in the top, and - but you ruined it -"
"You mean -" His eyes misted over with tears, and his voice became choked up. "We're going to have a baby?" She could hear a tinge of sadness in his voice, mixed in with the pure elation of her news. No matter what happened between them, whatever happiness they earned would always taste faintly bittersweet.
"Yes. I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby." She grinned, and moved aside the magazine to reveal a twin set of pregnancy tests: one with a little smiley face, and the other with the word "positive" written across it. "We are going to have a baby." Repeating the words served to make it more real; the meanings the words held were finally sinking in. They were going to be parents.
He whooped, and lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around; the sounds of their laughter were the only sounds they could hear. "I love you," he whispered, as he set her back steady on her feet and kissed her softly. "And I'm going to love this baby."
"...and mark it with a B, and put it in the oven for baby and me."