Something More Than Attraction

Scott had seen the tension writ all over Hope’s face for a million reasons. She was clearly cataloging each and every place that things could go wrong with Darren’s security upgrades, but there had been something else there too. Something unspoken, something she hadn’t wanted to share with Hank or him. Even as they’d mulled over the details with Luis, Dave and Kurt. There was something lingering there. Something she was dreading and hiding behind banter and flirtation. 

It was plain in the way she gathered her things, diligent about not leaving behind anything that could incriminate their plans after their surprise visit from Darren and leaving in a hurry, almost managing to pull it off unnoticed until he’d stopped her. 

The way she’d been was just one of the thoughts that crossed his mind as he laid in bed, scanning over the floor plans one last time before it was go-time tomorrow. And it was one of the reasons he also decided to throw on the suit and sneak out like the teenager he wasn’t.

Sure, if you asked him why he chose to sneak out to specifically follow her, the answer would have been entirely self-serving. The way she’d looked at him had excited him, and had borne resemblance to an invitation of some sort.

If “get some sleep, Scott,” with that coquettish little glance over her shoulder hadn’t been somewhat of an invitation, he didn’t know what was anymore. 

He’d been picking up on these little underlying moments more and more recently, with the way the tension felt thick in a way it never had. 

It was true that he wasn’t blind. She was— wow. The first thought in his head when he’d woken up in their home had been, why was this gorgeous woman standing at the foot of the bed and looking like she wanted to eat me alive in the worst way possible and why would I let her? 

And no, he was neither blind or harboring a death wish, which is why he hadn’t dared to flirt with her or communicate his own basic physical attraction to her prior to tonight. But after hearing that he’d done good and witnessing the way she stared back at him with some fledgling of interest, a more rakish version of the ways he’d already seen her subtly checking him out during training, he’d raked his eyes over her right back and hadn’t even gotten her to threaten him with those daggers of hers. If anything, she’d mercilessly held his eye contact with those hooded eyes up until Darren the asshole had snuck his way into the house.

He could play ball with this. 

Using his stakeout skills after a quick visit to Cassie on the way, he’d tracked her hurried dash back to her apartment, finding her living in some swanky place that was definitely reminiscent of the Pym/van Dyne family dime. He’d whistled to himself, half-tempted to joke about asking if she needed a roommate who could pitch in a sub-fraction of the rent sometime. Shacking up here would have been ten times better compared to the dump he and “the wombats” were sharing, for a lot of reasons, a lot of really good reasons, but they couldn’t all be winners. 

He reached behind his seat and tugged a wig Kurt had left in the van (he really did not know why the guy had an affinity for wigs, but he was thankful for it), and all of a sudden he was no longer wanted Scott Lang. He was a California blonde. He picked at the hairline a bit, adjusting it and surprised to find it looking pretty real. 

He was really going to have to ask Kurt about this. 

Nonchalantly, he strode up to the front door, hanging back against the wall until someone came out. Naturally it was just he could hold the door open for them and make his way in. He had always been good at blending into his surroundings. He didn’t find himself particularly memorable to people when he wasn’t cracking a fantastic dad joke. 

When he got to the elevator, he realized there was definitely a flaw in his plan. They’d definitely not had a discussion about what floor and what apartment she lived in because he was still operating on a hunch that she wouldn’t have minded him following her at all. That maybe she even wanted him too. 

Scott felt in his pocket for the suit again. He had an idea.

[OoOoOoO] 

Many many minutes later, he managed to travel the vent system and deduce what floor she had to have been on. He heard a lot of unnecessary conversations, a lot of evening news watchers and even a few cases of voracious sex that he really could have done without (and was very thankful none of those applied to Hope, specifically the latter).

Slipping into one of the utility closets, he quickly undressed and put the suit away, adjusting his wig all over again. With an air of confidence in absolutely not fitting in somewhere, he stepped out, glanced around and figured he was safe. When he’d peaked through the vents, he’d eventually found one that had appeared to be Hope’s. 

But now that he was in the hall, he was trying to reorient himself and remember which one it must be. He’d been going over other floor plans and water main layouts ad nauseam, and it was really all blending together. And, of course, every single door in this hall was the exact same drab color, size and style. He didn’t think this was the kind of place that hung up seasonal wreathes on the door to denote tacky friendliness. 

He pressed his lips together tersely and sighed, starting a door-to-door search. He couldn’t exactly knock on each one and ask who lived there, because not only would that be a little weird but also probably disruptive if she ever actually spoke to her neighbors. 

Again, he scoured through snippets of everyone’s lives or dead silence. He’d made it through most of the hall without any indicator before he paused, hearing a raised voice that stood out. He pressed against the wall, turning his head to listen closer. A deep voice, something guttural and passionate. And then a placating female voice. He pressed his ear flush against the door, brow furrowed. Fortunately, despite the place being upscale, it was still a cheap, thin apartment door. 

“I just want him to see me for what I really am!” Came the booming voice right next to the door and Scott jerked back, startled. That was Darren. No wonder she’d been in a rush to get back. 

He grimaced, trying to think on his feet and wonder how he could break this up. He could pose as someone, probably. Unlike his apartment complex, where trash would sit outside the doors for days on end sometimes, he couldn’t exactly grab an empty pizza box and pose as a pizza guy. He was shit out of luck for props.

Well, here goes nothing, Scott told himself as he raised a fist and rapped his knuckles on the door in a few gentle taps, the sound interrupting the raised voice on the other side. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, realizing there was a pair of cheap sunglasses in his pockets, which he quickly poked the frames out of and slipped on, readjusting quickly. 

The door swung open and there he was Darren, intruding and broad and agitated. If Scott was right, he could get a whiff of some heavy cologne and a little lingering booze. Yikes. This guy was a nightmare. 

“Can I help you?” He barked, unkind about having his conversation interrupted.

Hope began weaseling her way to the front, eyes fixed on Darren in her own aggravation. Scott could just tell she was teetering between decking the guy and kicking his ass out the door. “Darren, I can-“ But her words fell short, her brows slowly furrowing. He stared at her fiercely, urging her to play along, even with his ridiculous wig and glasses. “Hi.” She said, straightening her shoulders. 

Already choosing what accent to rely on (his favorite: valley dude), he spoke with exaggerated San Francisco energy. “Uh, hey dudes. I’ve got some bad news about your pizzas,” he started, ad-libbing in a way that felt entirely disjointed and a little reminiscent of Luis’ story-telling skills. “See, I was heading down Lombard, which is so topsy turvy with those hilly hairpins, like what?” He made sure to stare at Darren the entire time, trying to regale him with the story. “I wound up taking some sharp curves, like really sharp, and the pizzas just went-“ And Darren cut him off, which was bothersome because he really felt he was drifting into, in his mind, a wonderful physically interpretation of pizzas splatting into a windshield. 

“We didn’t order any pizzas.” Darren said flatly, unimpressed by his performance. 

“You didn’t?” Scott asked unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure? I could have sworn this was, like, the right apartment number.” 

He was trying not to look too hard at Hope, because he could tell he was on the verge of breaking character and the amusement in her eyes was infectious. In just a short period of time, her confusion at what he was doing here had morphed into something almost satisfied, and it made him realize he really needed to get Darren out of here. 

Scott stared long and hard at her apartment number, and suddenly let out a loud and abrupt, “Oh!” He traced the letters with a finger and released a slow, casual laugh. “You’re 1201. Not 1102. Damn! Well, 1102 is going to be disappointed as hell about their pizzas, huh?” 

“Yeah, sure. Is that all?” Darren asked, fixating a glare on him. Clearly Mr. Cross here was used to getting his way with baritone demands and an imposing figure. Noted.

“Actually,” Hope interrupted, eyeing Darren cautiously. “I’m really really tired. Would you maybe be able to show this man to 1201? Tomorrow’s a big day.” She tried to emphasize in excitement, plastering a fake, toothy smile on her face. “I need to get some sleep.”

While Darren seemed disappointed, he nodded slowly and then side-eyed Scott. “Do you need help?” 

“Oh, absolutely. This building is so big compared to my beach shack.” Scott insisted with complete seriousness, nodding vigorously. “So many halls.” 

Darren looked a little bewildered at the idea of him living in a ‘shack’ but looked at Hope again. If he was doing this, it was because she suggested it very clearly. He definitely wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Asshole, Scott thought. 

“Right. Well, thank you for letting me come over. And I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to change everything,” he promised with a vehemence that made Scott’s skin crawl and he quickly leant forward to steal a kiss on her cheek, one that he could tell Hope had to physically not back away from. 

He could tell he was staring at it a little too long when Darren shot him an aggravated look and Scott quickly backed up, nodding toward Hope. “Like thanks for your help, ma’am! Have a good one.” The longer he was talking, the more he felt like Shaggy from Scooby Doo without the dog and penchant for doobies. Come to think of it, that would have been a fun touch. 

Darren didn’t waste time, striding past him quickly and heading in the direction of the elevators. When Scott quickly glanced to Hope, she mouthed a ‘thank you’ and shut her door, as he sped walk to keep pace with Darren’s longer legs. This guy was built like a damn linebacker- and he walked like a track star. Even with all the training lately Scott felt a little winded. Christ, he was getting old. 

When he finally stood next to him, hands stuffed back in his pockets as he glanced and saw he’d already hit the button, he knew he had to make his escape.

“Is, uh, 1102 just one floor down?” He asked without glancing at him. He missed the look he shot at him like he was idiot, which was probably better yet considering he would have wanted to deck him for that, too. 

“Yeah.” Darren confirmed tersely, a hint of arrogance so strong Scott definitely still wanted to deck him. 

“Well, I think I’ll take the stairs then.” He grinned. “Could use the exercise!” He patted him on the shoulder, just to aggravate him, before pressing in on the stairway door and letting it slam shut, his back sinking against the wall. Just a few minutes was all he needed. 

When he reappeared at Hope’s door, it took only a brief knock before he heard the lock turn instantly and the door swung open. His lips parted to say hello, but her back was already turned and walking away, so he took it as a wordless invitation to come in. 

“Interesting wig,” She remarked over her shoulder. 

“It’s not mine,” he felt he needed to clarify pretty quickly. 

“What was that voice, exactly?” She asked suddenly, stopping and staring at him with amusement. “Your best rendition of the Californians?” 

He went to reply to that, because of course, but he was momentarily struck by the fact she even knew what that was. She didn’t strike him as the type to watch Saturday Night Live. She struck him as someone who watched National Geographic and documentaries on war-torn nations in her spare time, when she wasn’t tearing anyone a new asshole.

“Thought I’d try to do Fred Armisen proud.” He eventually said. 

The edge of her lip started to curve upward and he knew he’d gotten somewhere. It was incredible. Making her have any kind of reaction at all to his humor made him feel like a top tier comedian. She was one tough nut.

“I didn’t realize acting was on your dossier too.” 

“Getting a master’s in mechanical engineering didn’t rule me out of some improv on the side.”

He heard her scoff and tried, again, to not grin too broadly.

“Are you watching me, now?” Hope quizzed, turning her back on him and striding into her kitchen, palms eventually propping against her pristine quartz countertops. Scott didn’t bother acting like he wasn’t sweeping her place in complete awe, because he was, even if the way that it all screamed impersonal and borderline medical didn’t go unnoticed.

“You seemed on edge for a couple reasons back there,” he told her plainly, eyes slowly stopping their scan to fall on her. “And you were in an awful hurry to get back here. Thought I’d check in.”

She looked right back at him, unfazed and not in the least bit defensive about her role in the game. “It’s my job to keep him close.”

“Then you’ve definitely got the harder job,” he remarked with a grimace, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Because pretending to like that guy has gotta be a challenge.”

Despite herself she smirked, dropping her tense hold on the counter and turning to open her fridge, retrieving a water of bottle for herself. She uncapped it, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Do you want something?” 

“Do you have any chocolate milk?” He asked with an earnestness that left her dumbfounded, raising her eyebrows. “Uh, old prison habits. Had to fight tooth and nail to make sure you beat out the other guys for the few chocolate cartons or you’d get stuck with skim. Kind of got me hooked on it in a ‘I won the lottery’ type of way.” He grimaced at the memory, realizing his story hadn’t helped him. “A water’s okay, yeah.”

She reached in to grab another, tossing it to him effortlessly, which he caught and uncapped, nearing the island that separated them. His eyes didn’t leave her, even as he tipped his head back for a hearty swallow. There was something predatory in his eyes, something he wasn’t intentionally trying to do. He had to disregard the thought for a moment.

“Dasani,” he pointed out after the swallow, lifting the bottle in impressed acknowledgment. “Fancy.”

She scoffed a bit, but rounded the island with a few casual clacks of her heels, coming to stand beside him, her arms folding. “Would you prefer the generic brand?” 

“Are you kidding? With that alkaline after taste? No way.” He shook his head vigorously, gesturing in a pleased way to the Dasani bottle again. 

She was amused enough by that, he could tell. He’d been cracking her down lately, weaseling his way beneath that hardass exterior. He’d made it a game for himself, feeling all too smug when he was actually able to get a smile out of her these days. Even if nine times out of ten it was more of a halfway grimace, it still counted to him. Better than her fixating that icy stare of hers on him instead. 

“Why’re you really here?” She asked bluntly, tilting a hip against the counter. She wasn’t one to mince words and he knew that, even if the question still caught him a little off-guard. He had to stumble to come up with an appropriate answer.

“Just checking in, making sure old Dare Bear plays nice.” He said with a feigned casualness. 

“I can take care of myself.” She almost bit out, but his lip only curved up knowingly. 

“I know. But you’ve had my back. Someone can have yours, too.” 

Her eyes searched him them, an appraising quality to them. It was like she was trying to parse out an ulterior motive, some inauthenticity to what he was saying. He meant every word. Even with his eyes flitting to fixate on her lips every few seconds, unequivocally aware of the way they were just sort of unconsciously gravitating to each other.

He couldn’t say the idea of Darren touching her at all didn’t bug him in some way, in the way it bugged anyone to see anyone else going after someone you were attracted to with that weird element of animal magnetism. He wasn’t the fondest of how one-dimensional that was, especially when he knew it was primal and a little cringey, but it still crossed his mind. The way Darren had leant in to kiss her cheek had made him want to slug him for some carnal reason that could only be tied to that fire in her eyes he’d seen her aim his way a few times. He’d just been relieved to never see her aim that look at Darren so far. 

He tried not to think too hard on it. He’d already whittled all of this down to the fact he’d been surrounded by men for a good chunk of the last few years and he certainly hadn’t had the time in the past few days to consummate his freedom. His priorities had been elsewhere, safe to say. So the attractive, fiery woman he’d been working with closely and had wrapped her legs around his head more times than he had fingers was an obvious fall on, right? He wasn’t crazy. This was attraction. And he wasn’t alone in it. 

Scott lifted the bottle to his lips again, throat working as he loudly swallowed away the brewing silence, eyes transfixed on the way she stared back without a shred of hesitation. It was only when he made a move to set the bottle aside that all of a sudden she was there, crowding him in a way that made his eyes widen only slightly, bringing a hand up to clasp the back of his neck and drag his lips over hers. 

It was startling and on her own terms, but he wasn’t kidding about being deprived. The fire it lit was instantaneous and he didn’t waste time in floundering, hands catching onto her waist and tugging her close. Her lips made quick work of his, parting them and slipping her tongue inside, using her own grip on his neck to steer him in the way she wanted, backing them up until her own back hit the wall with a grunt that reverberated against his lips deliciously. 

Jesus, she’s a minx, he thought as he tasted her, hands roaming upward deftly, appreciating toned, delicate curves that hadn’t gone without notice while they were sparring, when she was wearing those tight performance tops and he would have had to have been a real idiot to not take notice of. Everything about her sizzled like a fire cracker, the telltale sign that her body fat percentage had to be microscopic. She was all kinds of wow, in a way he didn’t even know how to dictate, especially when she started to gnaw on his bottom lip and pull an almost embarrassing groan out of him.

When he started pressing into her, making use of that wall, she flipped them abruptly, his back smacking against the wall with a louder thud as she pressed against him. It was an assertion of dominance and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fight her for it, even if he ultimately knew he’d lose. She was made for this game. He’d long realized that when she’d had him on his back or between her legs over and over and over again in the past few days.

His wandering hands started to inch beneath that stiff, black blazer of hers, toying with the edge of her jeans when she abruptly pulled away from his lips, pressing a hand to his chest that was gonna keep him pinned there if he knew what was good for him. 

Her green eyes were sizzling with interest, half-lidded with an almost catlike satisfaction, steady and unyielding. He would have chased her lips if not for her hand, the remnants of how hot this was buzzing on his skin like a live wire. 

“We don’t talk about this tomorrow,” she told him rather than asked, fingertips increasing the pressure of their hold on his chest on emphasis. “Seriously, this has to work tomorrow and this,” she gestured between them with just one hand, “Is not worth failure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fell from his lips automatically, almost like she’d trained him in more ways than how to take someone down with his thighs alone. He knew his own expression was an echo of hers, both serious but still wanting. He probably would have said and done a lot of things to reassure her in that moment. He was an ant in her trap and he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been so attracted to a woman, couldn’t remember the last time anyone’s mere presence had made him physically throb like this.

“Good,” she murmured with a smooth confirmation before she surged forward and captured his lips again, taking away his ability to say anything stupid enough to fuck this up for the rest of the night. 

When Scott awoke the next morning, he was keenly aware of where he was, having not been rattled into confusion with liquor or any other crutch. Just fancy water, a sexy woman and a sizzling attraction that had finally came to a head in a way that made him say wow several times over. 

His head tipped to the side, watching her, cataloging the lack of tension on her face. Her expression was slack, relaxed. All a pleasant change of pace from her usual scowl. Her usually pristine hair as mussed, lips parting with little tired breaths, eyes scrunched shut a bit in a battle with the pricks of dawn beginning to stream in from the gaps in her shades. 

His eyes followed the line of her sheets, stretched across her chest tautly. Sure, it was high enough to hide everything he’d gotten an eyeful (and multiple handfuls) of the night before, but was also not entirely deceptive. He had to avert his eyes or he was going to get excited again and dive right into trying to get seconds of what they’d gotten into. Because, again, wow.

He wasn’t confident about what lottery he struck to get here, but he was feeling pretty good about it regardless. He’d call this a lot more than ‘almost liking him.’

When she started to stir, her nose scrunching in a cute way he’d never seen from her before, the thud of his heart was stupid loud in his ears and it made him come to one steadfast realization: there was no way he was letting this remain just one night. 

Because he really really needed to see her do that again. 

[OoOoOoO] 

Hope’s arrival with his own was scattered, in a way. He came thudding down the stairs after slipping back in through his window and swapping into a fresh change of clothes, while she’d stepped in through the front door, prim and proper, as put together as always. Despite a glance between them and a little shared half-smirk, mostly from him, he’d say they were doing a pretty good job keeping things low key. No mention of all the - other stuff - they’d been up to all night. And a little in the morning with a little coaxing from him. 

He knew he was throwing her off at least a little bit. She was wearing the same shirt he’d pulled from her body last night and it was exciting. It was hard to look at her without remembering it, acutely, intimately. If things were a little less dire, he wouldn’t have felt bad about his focus twittering about, but come on. He was only a man. 

It was why when she’d stepped into the kitchen, leaving Hank downstairs to go over the plans, he’d followed her up like he was some sort of undercover lost puppy. He didn’t want to bring the tension downstairs, especially when it very well could have been all on his end. Down there it was all business. But he was feeling an odd giddiness that he needed to put away and that was easier to accomplish with her than without her. 

Her back was turned to him, focused on watching the coffee pot slowly brew in a fashion that had to be agonizing.  

“Can I get one of those, too?” He announced, catching those cat eyes straying over her shoulder again. Admittedly with less heat and promise (she wasn’t as unprofessional as he was), but still amused. 

“Didn’t sleep well?” She fired back, swiveling gracefully to lean against the counter instead, arms folding. If he looked closely, he could see the hint of a smirk. In his mind, that was definitely progress.

“Oh, I slept great. Really getting used to that bed in the guest room finally. I just think I could use another pick me up.” 

Her little scoff is poorly disguised, eyebrows knitting together. Her gaze shot to the pot again over her shoulder, tracking its consistently slow progress, before finding him in front of her suddenly— the tables turned from last night. Brazen, a little arrogant. He couldn’t help it. He’d left feeling a bit like a livewire and hadn’t stopped feeling like one since she’d put her hands on him the night before. 

Christ, he didn’t know what he was turning into but one kiss had him like putty in her hands and he was going to be damned if he was going to pull back now.

He really didn’t know why they were talking like anyone was listening. Hank had his cameras, but he was sure as hell not monitoring them now. He barely did when he wasn’t setting people up to steal his life’s work, apparently. And the boys were all still passed out in the living room, completely undisturbed. He and Hope were doing fine. 

“I said no talking about last night,” she reaffirmed sternly in a hushed voice, even if he was watching the way her gaze managed to slip just once down to his lips, a hint of her own distraction. 

Good, this wasn’t one-sided. 

“Who said we had to talk?” 

And maybe he coaxed her anyway, hands slipping over her hips in a way that was too practiced already and she found the rhythm, circling her arms around his neck to kiss him. It was all in good fun, all innocent. Sort of. Her tongue wasn’t very innocent and his wandering hands were wandering a little low. 

The coffee was long forgotten in several heated minutes, the pitter patter of the drops of liquid a backdrop to the loud pants, heady and flowing into his ear, that he was getting from her as he worked at her neck in a way that had her craning. 

“No marks,” she hissed, something he was actually going to adhere to. This was fun and all, but he was pretty sure his ass was going to be kicked out if Hank actually caught him feeling his daughter up in the kitchen.

He laughed almost wolfishly against her skin and her nails dug lightly into the skin of his forearms, a warning. It was why he retreated back to her lips, returning fierce, open-mouthed kisses like he meant it. And so did she. The way she grappled back onto him, sliding her hands over his shoulders and clutching at the sides of his neck had him really wishing they didn’t have a heist to pull off later today.

No, this wasn’t going to distract him. Not really. And he knew she had the confidence that it wasn’t going to or else she wouldn’t have done this. He knew there was absolutely nothing she would have done to jeopardize this mission. Too much work, too much at stake. And he’d seen the way she’d stared in detest, in fear at Darren during his impromptu visit— even when he’d walked out her apartment door. The last thing she was going to do was sacrifice success for a little fun. 

He’d just managed to finally let her let him grab lower than her waist, her nails threading low on his scalp and into the hairs on the nape of his neck when too close shoe squeaking caught them off guard. They sprung apart like they were on fire, Hope’s eyes averting while his immediately shot to the source of the problem. 

His thudding, panicked heart slowed down just a little bit when he realized it was Luis, a safe bet. His shoulders went slack, the tension ebbing away as he sighed.

“Sorry, Scotty! Sorry— ma’am.” Luis eyed her in that same nervous way Scott found slightly amusing, if not for the circumstances. 

“Uh, hey Luis.” He glanced with a frown when he noted the direction he came from, looking between it and him few times in confusion. “Weren’t you just sleeping in there?”

“No way. You know what sleeping upright like that will do my neck.” Luis grinned a little. “I went looking for you last night and I figured out which room you’ve been staying in because it was the one that was super messy. I thought we could room like we were cellmates again, you know? Kurt snores really badly and Dave sometimes talks to himself in his sleep, so not really the best environment to get some shut eye. But I didn’t see you there and I didn’t see you in the bathroom and I didn’t see you in any of the other rooms I checked and your bed was just covered in floor plans, so I pushed all of the plans on the floor and slept in your bed. I hope that’s okay.” 

Scott blinked a bit at the long response and glanced Hope’s way, finding her turned around and facing the counter, suddenly deeply re-focused on the much fuller coffee pot that was nearing the end of its dripping. When he looked back at Luis, the man was grinning at him even wider, suggestively and looking between the two of them like he’d won the lottery. Scott just kept staring back at him fiercely, a set to his jaw, a look on his face that hopefully communicated ‘do not say a single word about it to anyone or I will die before we even attempt to pull off what we’re going to do tonight.’ 

Luckily, Luis seemed to have gotten the memo and nodded just the once, making himself scarce. “I’ll go wake the guys,” he called. 

When he was up and gone, Scott relaxed fully, craning his head back and eyeing the ceiling with a gratitude he didn’t usually feel. 

“Well, that could have been bad,” he commented mostly to himself, a little bit of a relieved laugh on his lips. 

Hope ignored him fervently, the tension in her back still very much there. 

“Hey,” he called to her gently. 

Finally, she did glance back at him, an embarrassed tinge to her eyes.

“You think I could get that cup of coffee now?”

[OoOoOoO]

When she offered to walk him out, he was a bit relieved. Talking about all of this serious stuff, about this mythical quantum realm, felt like they were backpedaling on the absolute win they’d achieved. They’d done it, they’d pulled it off, and Scott was damn happy about it. 

He was also, if he was all too honest, a little too aware of how close Hope had been to him the entire time. Almost atomically aware. 

Sure, their little games had really come to a firm halt after the morning. They’d both been all business. Aside from being a little startled by Luis calling her ‘his girlfriend’ which he clearly inaccurately deduced from witnessing their little moment in the kitchen. It’d been such an overestimation that Scott had been more exasperated than anything, and Hope had shot Luis a look that said ‘shut the fuck up’ but Hank had been none the wiser and so they’d scraped out just fine. 

So fine, that Scott had thought it was safe to try and flirt with her just a little now that they were out of earshot of her father. Because this was too fun to stop and he really was running on 100% after pulling everything off and getting exactly what he needed out of this.

“Are you off to go see Cassie?” Hope asked conversationally, folding her arms. He knew what that meant, felt like he could sort of read her — at least more than he used to be able to — after training so closely with her the past few weeks. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna spread the good news. Maybe take her out for some ice cream. At least four scoops.” 

Her lip quirked in a bemused instinct. “Four scoops? Isn’t she a little young for that?”

“Oh yeah, she’s 10. The four scoops are for me, Hope.” He eyed her like she was crazy for assuming otherwise. 

Whereas he would have gotten a blank stare from her before, this time he did get a laugh and that adorable little glance down that she’d been doing lately. Almost like she had to sort herself a little, readjust the ice queen mask. The giddiness she’d implanted in him completely unintentionally was coming roaring back, a small smile playing at his own lips. 

He just kept staring at her, willing her to say something. 

“So just like that we’re done, huh?” He decided to stay instead, remaining rooted to the ground, even if he found himself desperately wanting to kiss her lips when he watched her teeth sink into her bottom one. “With, you know, the heist.” He clarified quickly, not wanting to give her any opportunity to pass over what ‘this’ was. 

She nodded quickly, tightened her grip a bit on the hinge of her elbows. “Yeah. But I guess that was the easy part. Now we’re just going to do some more research and see what we can come up with.” 

“If you need any—“

“We might need you—“ 

They both started at the same time, awkward upturned lips following. It was when he could tell he was going to start getting the brush off that he decided to throw caution to the wind and lean forward to kiss her. 

It wasn’t like the other kisses they’d exchanged, hungry or passionate. It wasn’t even like the post-coital kisses that were equal parts sated and lazy. This was just sweet and slow. Cautious, even. It made him lift his hands to gently but firmly encircle her upper arms with his fingers, wanting to keep her there, wanting to kindle this spark between them. 

But then Hank had to go interrupting them just as he felt her getting a little more pliable mid-kiss, making her retreat into that embarrassed shell of hers. And of course, it had to come just as he was having an epiphany that this really wasn’t just a distraction or a one-off, because he was beginning to grow fond of that twinkle in her hazel eyes and that hard-to-come-by smile of hers. 

It stuck in his head even after he trumpeted down the stairs, brushing off what they’d been doing with the intent of avoiding Hank like the plague. Technically the guy still had the power to ruin him— he really didn’t want to give him any reason to work with that. 

On the way out he’d had a fleeting thought about what it would look like, feel like for her to meet Cassie and his mind sort of hyper focused on that image. Her smile, Cassie’s smile. And then he’d shaken his head like he was clearing an etch-a-sketch, realizing he had to be pretty sex-addled to run with something like that after just a few weeks. 

He’d see her again, he was sure. 

Well, he hoped.