Hi! I was wondering if you would possibly do a rosiexreader fic inspired by the short piece you posted the other day, I can’t get the idea of Rosie coming to Thorpe abbotts only to see you with Egan and realize he needed you all along out of my head 😭
oh. my. god. are you kidding me?? yes because I felt like a genius when I came up with that concept. I kinda got carried away with all of this so there will be another part or maybe even 2.
“Ro!” You shouted, your small legs struggling to keep up with the speed you were running at.
The older boy turned at the sound of your frantic shouts, eyes quickly taking notice of the two other boys chasing you down the street.
“Ro.” You panted once you finally caught him, “They chased me all the way here! I—“
“Stupid good for nothing brat.” One of the boys spat, “You busted my nose!”
You had in fact done so. The boy sported an already purpleish eye with crusted blood under his nose that looked a little too red and a little too crooked.
“Easy, guys.” Rosie raised his hands, “What’s going on here?”
The other boy, the one without the busted nose, said, “What’s going on here is that she broke Tommy’s nose!”
“And why did she do that?” Rosie inquired. The two boys looked befuddled by this.
“You seriously need a reason? Step aside —“
Your eyes cut to Rosie as he stood in front of you protectively. The way he always believed you without cause made your heart flutter.
“They took my lunch money.” You muttered from behind him.
He said nothing but instead nodded slightly, letting you know he had heard you.
“She’s lying.” The boy with the busted nose immediately said.
“No, I don’t think she is.” Rosie shrugged, “So I suggest you get the hell out of here while you still can.”
The boys hesitated. Did they really want to take on a girl they knew could bust them upside the head with her school bag and a boy with a reputation for defending said girl?
No. They didn’t. So, they turned tail and ran.
“Thanks, Ro.” You sighed with relief.
Rosie blinked as the memory faded away and Thorpe Abbotts came into view. That had been more than 10 years ago. You, all of thirteen, and him just fifteen. It had been months since your last letter — but he knew you were here, at Thorpe Abbotts.
Rosie couldn’t wait to see you again.
After he had successfully landed the plane and the crew had cleared out of it, Rosie being the last one down, his blue eyes scanned the premises. Secretly hoping to run into you on the tarmac, he ignored the disappointment he felt blooming in his chest.
You had no idea Rosie was coming here. He didn’t tell you out of want to surprise you.
Rosie had spent the better part of the rest of his day wandering around Thorpe Abbotts while the rest of his pals got settled in. He dropped his things off at his bunker, and took a stroll hoping to run into you.
Two days passed since he arrived, and still no sign of you. Finally, with the encouragement from his co-pilot Pappy, he asked the head doctor where you were.
“Oh, Lieutenant [Name]?” The doctor glanced up from his paperwork, “She’s on a weekend pass. She’s due back tomorrow.”
Rosie nodded, feeling a weight lifted off of his shoulders, “She’ll be here, then?”
“No, no,” The doctor shook his head, “Its still her day off.”
Rosie opened his mouth to ask where he would be able to find you but the doctor continued before he could, “I bet she’ll be at the big celebration tomorrow, though.”
“To celebrate Captain Dye’s 25th Mission.” The doctor said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “If he makes it.”
Rosie ignored the depressing add-on at the end, opting to say thank you and taking his cue to leave.
He’d see you tomorrow night.
Tomorrow night came so slowly it almost hurt.
He was almost late because he was fussing over his uniform and making sure his hair was perfect for his impression on you.
(Not like you hadn’t seen him look disheveled before, especially all of the summers spent swimming in the nearby river.)
Rosie genuinely couldn’t name the feeling that had plagued him since he realized he’d be seeing you again.
After all, you were only his best friend.
Rosie took a deep breath before walking into the officer’s club, the loud music from the band drowning out his anxious thoughts.
Speas noticed him first, “Well! Look who it is.”
“Watch out fellas, here comes twinkle toes.” Nash called out, and Rosie played it up, dancing around rather awkwardly.
But you knew how bad of a dancer he could be.
Pappy nearly choked on his dessert as he chuckled at the awful display Rosie was putting on.
Speas was laughing and hyping him up while Nash was saying, “Don’t encourage him, he’ll scare off all the ladies.”
Good. The only lady Rosie cared to be in the presence of was you, anyhow.
Rosie enthusiastically shook Speas’ hand, “Gentlemen! What have I missed?”
“I’m eyeing broads while Pappy here’s trying to dour the mood.” Nash gestured to Rosie’s co-pilot. “In other words, nothing.”
“Sour.” Rosie corrected while Pappy shook his head at Nash’s words, “Sour the mood, you mean.”
“No no.” Pappy interjected, “All I said was it’s not a good sign for us. One crew making it merits a blowout bash?”
Nash ignored him as his gaze turned back to table of women he had his eyes on earlier.
“You know they’re on to you, right?” Speas questioned.
“I hope they are.” Nash bit off the olive on the end of the toothpick in his hand.
Rosie turned his gaze to follow what Nash was staring at.
His eyes lit up and Pappy immediately noticed, “That her?”
“Is that who?” Nash questioned. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me your mystery girl is the broad I’ve been eyeing.”
You looked up then, noticing Rosie yourself. You grinned.
Nash said, “Oh thank you Lord.”
Nash had been eyeing a dark haired woman who you had been conversing with fondly.
“Fellas!” Major John Egan came into view then, with Major Gale Cleven in tow.
“Gentlemen.” Major Cleven greeted.
Rosie nodded politely, his gaze torn from you as it was blocked by Major Egan, “Major Egan.”
“Major Cleven.” Nash greeted in awe.
John Egan pointed at Rosie, “Rosenthal,”
Nash nodded, “That’s right.”
Gale Cleven said, “Co-pilots uh.. Spaatz and Lewis?”
Speas pointed at himself, “Speas. Sir.”
Gale nodded, crossing his arms.
“Lewis, sir.” Pappy nodded, “But people call me Pappy!”
“You boys uh,” John cut in, “You were pilots before the war?”
“Lawyer,” Rosie corrected him, just as you came into his view again. It nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Well, hello stranger.” Your voice was as sweet as he remembered.
Hey? Really? That’s all he could manage?
His friends eyed him suspiciously, waiting to see what you or him did next.
It was Major Egan who moved next, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in to plant a kiss on top of your head.
“Fellas,” The Major spoke, “This here is my girl.”
Rosie felt his heart sink.
Wait, why did his heart sink?
“Oh, Rosie and I go way back.” You smiled, “I had no idea you’d be coming here!”
“This must be the famous Ro I’ve heard so much about.”
As much respect as Robert Rosenthal had for John Egan, he could have beat the shit out of him right then and there.
Ro was your nickname for Rosie. Not anyone else’s.
Seriously, what was wrong with him?
“Sure is! My hero growing up.” You laughed lightly.
Rosie wanted to throw up.
The realization that he was jealous hit him like a ton of bricks.
“So you were a lawyer?” Gale cut in, “Where’d you learn to fly a B-17?”
“Laredo.” Rosie nodded, “Nine months. Twelve hours a day. Lieutenant Nash, too.”
“You boys, you come with a helluva reputation.” Egan waved his hand around, “I’ll tell you that.”
And for some reason, Rosie said the worst thing he could have possibly thought of, “You talkin’ about us flyin’ in our skivvies, sir?”
The martini in your hand nearly went down the wrong pipe as a laugh worked its way out at the same time you were taking a sip.
“I’m not following.” John’s laugh was awkward. Yours was genuine.
You knew this story all too well.
Because Rosie had written you all about it.
Nash was the one who spoke next, “Well, we were known for flying in our underwear.”
You were silently shaking with laughter at the awkward pained looks on the four men’s faces. You didn’t even bother looking at John or Gale’s. You knew if you had, it would have had you in hysterics.
“All of you?” John pointed at them, and they nodded. “That’s what the kids are doing these days?”
“In Texas, those forts get so hot, you could fry an egg on the instrument panel.” Rosie grinned.
“We hadn’t heard about the - the underwear but we uh, we heard you’re outstanding pilots.” Gale clarified.
You snorted into your glass as you took another sip.
“We’re happy to be in the war, sir.” Rosie was genuine with his words, and you knew they were true, “Been requesting a combat position for months.”
Rosie glanced down at you, at the arm around your waist, and continued, “And now that we’re here, it feels like we’re actually gonna do something.”
John didn’t miss the way Rosie’s eyes lingered at his hand placement, or the longing behind them, “You’ll do something, alright.”
Then John led you away and you called out over your shoulder, “I’ll come find you later, Ro!”
“Enjoy yourselves.” Gale bid them goodbye, and a chorus of farewells followed.
“What am I thinkin’, talkin’ about my skivvies in front of them?” Rosie said, embarrassed.
“You’re fine, you’re fine.” Speas assured him.
Watching Major Egan lead you back into the crowd with one hand settled low at your waist, like he knew you there. Like he knew the shape of you beneath his palm. Like he had earned the right to touch you in front of a room full of people and not wonder if anyone would stop him.
And his mind nearly exploded with his thoughts.
It wasn’t fair that Egan got to hold you like that. That Egan got to bend his head close to your ear and make you laugh in a way that warmed your whole face. It wasn’t fair that he knew what made you blush now, what made you lean in, what made your hand curl at the front of his jacket when he pulled you too close.
Those were things Rosie should have known.
Why hadn’t he realized it until he saw you in the arms of another man?
Egan had touched you where Rosie had only looked. Egan had kissed you where Rosie had only done once before. Egan had said the things Rosie had swallowed for years until they turned sharp in his chest.
Across the room, Egan spun you once, then caught you against him. Your laugh spilled out, startled and sweet, and Rosie felt it like a bruise.
Pappy followed his gaze and sighed quietly. “Rosie. Don’t tell me you’re in love with her.”
Egan’s mouth brushed your ear. You smiled at whatever he said, but then he turned his face and kissed you.
The kiss wasn’t polite. It wasn’t the kind of kiss a man gave a woman in public when he meant to behave. It was slow enough to make people notice, bold enough to make your fingers clutch at his uniform, familiar enough to make Rosie feel like he had walked in on something private.
Something that already belonged to someone else.
Heat crawled up Rosie’s neck.
You pulled back first, cheeks flushed. “John.”
Egan only grinned, thumb brushing beneath your chin like he knew exactly how your skin felt there. Like he knew the small sounds you made when you were kissed too deeply. Like he knew whether you liked his hand at your waist or your neck or tangled in your hair.
Rosie knew your middle name. Your favorite color. The way you took your coffee. He knew how you used to sleep with your window cracked in July because you said the night air made the room feel less lonely. He knew you cried when you were angry and got quiet when you were scared. He knew every version of the girl you had been.
But Egan knew the woman you’d become.
And Rosie had no one to blame but himself for not realizing how he felt sooner.
“Well,” Nash said suddenly, clearing his throat like the room had gotten too uncomfortable even for him. He nodded toward your friend across the room, then handed his cup to Speas. “Pray for me, gents.”
Speas took it without looking away from Rosie. “Yeah. Sure.”
Because you were looking at him now.
Over Egan’s shoulder, your eyes found his, and your smile faded.
Rosie wondered if you saw it on him. The jealousy. The hurt. The years of letters he had read too many times. The realization that Rosie had truly only ever loved you and he had been a fool to not see it sooner.
He had thought he might find you alone. Might take you aside. Might finally tell you that every time you had called him Ro, it had done something terrible to his heart. That he had loved you before he knew what love was supposed to feel like.
Rosie spent the rest of the night at a table, mostly alone, wallowing in self-pity.
He had worked up the nerve to approach Major Egan and Major Cleven again by the time the party had slowly dwindled down, and only a few couples remained on the dance floor.
Nash was dancing with your friend, and Rosie gave him a thumbs up as he passed by them.
“Major Egan,” Rosie nodded in his direction and then in Gale’s, “Major Cleven.”
You eyed him as you pet Meatball, immediately tuning Ev Blakely out, who was telling you some story about a girl who tried to take a ride in his airplane — with terribly phrased metaphors.
“I uh, I heard you were already on twenty missions.” Rosie said.
Gale took a deep breath and John looked over at him, “Around there.”
John said, “Well, he’s at twenty-one.”
Rosie tried his hardest not to look at you, your gaze had turned to full on staring at him, “Any advice?”
Gale nodded slowly, “Try to stay alive.”
John looked down for a brief moment, then back up as he said, “For at least eleven missions.”
You could have smacked John up the head.
“Yes, sir,” Rosie’s voice was low. He finally allowed himself to look at you for a moment, “What uh — what happens after that?”
“You beat the odds.” You cut in, finally joining their conversation.
John’s jaw ticked and then he said, “Or you didn’t.” He shrugged, clapping his hands together lightly.
“John.” You said in a warning tone. “Seriously.”
Rosie’s disappointed face made your heart hurt. God, if only he would have told you he was coming.
You could have at least warned him.
“Thank you Major.” Rosie accepted the answer, taking that as a cue to leave.
John’s tone was less than enthusiastic, but Rosie replied, “You, too.”
He didn’t even spare you another glance as he turned and walked away.
“Are you kidding me?” You slapped John’s arm and Gale sighed.
“What?” John was annoyed now, “Guy comes in here acting like he can drool all over my girl and he wants to be the next hotshot pilot!”
“Grow up, John, he’s from home.”
“Come on, baby,” John ran a hand through his hair, “Let’s not fight.”
“No, I think we should fight.” Gale was rubbing his hand down his face at your words, but he knew you were right.
“No, don’t ‘baby’ me,” You shoved a finger into his chest. The rest of the guys you had come to love and formed friendships with were pretending (very badly) like they weren’t listening, “My childhood best friend shows up and you turn all territorial and possessive, not even letting me speak to him, and then try to psych him out! You jerk.”
“Fine!” John threw up his hands, “You want to chase after him so badly, be my guest. Just get out of my hair.”
You stared at him in disbelief. Blakely led a low whistle that meant, ‘you fucked up, Bucky’, and you grabbed your coat from the bar stool in anger.
“You can be a real asshole, you know that?” You rolled your eyes at his pathetic face, his eyes empty of any remorse at his words. You scoffed and turned, leaving the men in shock at your retreating form.
