Kang.
Kang. Kang. Kang. Kang. Kang.
He’d been on Scott’s mind for days on end, lingering like the infection he was. Is. Was? Scott didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. Not after experiencing time travel and multiple universes and practically re-writing his own DNA with several lengthy trips to the Quantum Realm.
When he looked back on what his life used to be, even just ten years when he’d first gotten out of jail, the leap he’d taken over the course of the years was so drastically different that he sometimes had a hard time tangibly grasping it. Being Ant-Man had changed the entire scope of his life, and at the same time, had nearly made him lose it several instances over.
But when he really looked back on it, and he had, over and over again, he wouldn’t go back and change a thing.
Even if their latest trip to the Quantum Realm was taking the hardest toll on his body that anything had in quite some time and at his age, he was really cursing the slow healing process. It was part of why he’d been able to mull over his experience so many times. He had seemingly endless amounts of time spent bed-ridden while his ribs healed and while he had company sometimes, there was still enough isolation for his thoughts to run wild.
Kang, well, he’d nearly done a number on the universe, but he’d done a number on Scott’s body too in ways that were far more than just physical. It was just one of the things he’d forever loathe him for, with the list growing and getting far more traumatic. He doubted he’d ever be able to watch King Kong again, or even go to Burger King. The names were just too similar. He’d probably drop the latter once he was craving a Whopper, but oh well.
Deflective comedic internal monologue aside, he was just doing his level best to slip back into the happy-go-lucky version of himself he’d been before this disaster, basking in a life he couldn’t ever quite believe he had.
And so far, he just still hadn’t been able to let anything lie.
That’s why he was ambling his way out of the elevator on the top floor of PymvanDyne Foundation headquarters, using a cane (doctor prescribed, not age prescribed) to prevent a fall from re-breaking his ribs. He was hopped up on some mighty fine pain killers, that he took on the hour to keep himself in a zone where he wasn’t hissing after every breath, but knew he was completely rational with what he was about to do. He’d never been surer of anything.
“Mr. Lang?” Came the concerned chirp of her PA, rising from his desk slowly and staring at Scott with wide eyes. Oscar was a sweet kid, attentive and somehow able to read Hope’s mind just like Scott could. Hope sung his praises up and down, and he was a real one. Because when Scott wanted to surprise Hope with silly flower arrangements that embarrassed her or get a sneak peek at her schedule when he felt like popping in to surprise her but without bothering her, Oscar had his back. Oscar deserved an astronomical raise.
But Oscar also needed to really not draw extra attention to Scott right now. He was on a mission.
He waved with his cane, which was a bad idea as he stumbled a bit, but righted himself in the end (the meds had made the mistake just a slight, passable ache) but continued striding on, feeling like a cross between Speedy Gonzalez and Old Man Jenkins.
“Good to see you, Oscar!”
Somehow the greeting did nothing to assuage the other man’s horror. “Mr. Lang, she’s—“
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” He told him, absolutely not allowing anything to stand in his way. He was going to see Hope one way or the other.
“Sir! She really is—“
But Scott gripped the closed door of her office and swung it open anyway, not bothering to peer through the glass of her window or knock or anything. Everyone knew who he was and could expect his visits on a frequent basis. Before shit had hit the fan (again), he’d had a habit of visiting every week (even several times a week). It might have been a little lovesick and nauseating, but everyone had gotten used to it.
“You went back,” he announced abruptly, vocalizing something that had been on his mind ever since it had clicked in the Quantum Realm. Yet another piece of the experience that had stuck with him, unfurling in his mind and playing on repeat.
Of course, his timing was impeccable and as he became slightly more aware of what was going on, he realized he’d really flubbed this one.
She was currently sitting at her desk, staring at him in surprise with all of her monitors facing her, with little boxes on each screen filled with faces, all looking like a gigantic, very official Zoom call. She was even wearing her glasses. His face, once determined, slackened in realization and he leaned heavily on his cane, suddenly feeling out of place.
But Hope, ever-so-diplomatic, switched on her professional mask and turned toward the steady stream of faces. “I’ll check back in next week with all of you. Then I can get some updates on those east coast developments we were talking about earlier and we can finally, hopefully, nail down some benefactors for the upcoming gala.” She physically crossed her fingers, eliciting muted murmurs of agreement. “Good to see you all. Take care.” There were only a few passing goodbye before she exited the group call and shut down her monitors, whirling toward him and giving him her full attention, her professional mask slipping and instead being quickly replaced with concern.
“What are you doing out of the house?” She demanded, slipping off her glasses and standing. “Your ribs have just started healing, Scott!” She chastised, arms already extending in a worry that was not very necessary. This is what she’d become in the aftermath of everything: a little bit of a hoverer. And he relished in it a little bit, liking the extra attention, being a bit of a glutton about it. It’d get her to roll her eyes and usher promises about how she was going to stop buying into his game, but he knew something about nearly losing him because of a physical beatdown this time around had really knocked around in her head too.
His determination came roaring back loudly, searching for her eyes fiercely. “You came back,” he repeated, this time not so loudly, but still just as intensely.
“I came back for what?” She asked, shaking her head at him and glancing around her office with a frown to her lips. “Oscar!” She called, looking around Scott’s shoulder. “Would you mind bringing me another chair? One with some really good support on the back, please?” The exercise ball she usually used, or even worse, when she opted to stand and work wasn’t going to cut it, he figured, but he really didn’t want to sit or stand or anything. He just wanted her to pay attention to what he had to say and had mulled over on his whole trip over.
Ever so efficient, Oscar came rolling in with one of the really good chairs. In particular, the one that Scott usually tried to steal when he was keeping her company on a late night. Hope, for the life of her, had not put a couch in her office, something about it taking up space and being too much of a casual gathering space when she really only wanted to communicate outside the four walls around her. She’d given some spiel about how it felt too corporate and bureaucratic when really all he’d been focused on was how disappointing it was to not have a comfortable, consistent place for his ass. Not that it had ever put him off from visiting her.
“Thank you so much,” she told him with a brief smile, rolling it over to her desk.
“Hope,” Scott said with a sigh.
Her head shot back to him, daggers in her eyes. “Sit.”
That was her no argument tone. He really wasn’t going to press his luck with that one, shifting his weight uncomfortably and trying to move in a way where he could drop down into the seat without flexing his stomach too much and failing. How tall was this person, he asked himself as his muscles clenched in a way that squeezed his ribs and made him huff, immediately regretting the decision.
Hope held out arms to stop him, her face twisted in worry. “No, stop. I’ll get you a pillow to—“
“Hope,” he repeated again, hand clenched around the handle of the cane.
“Oscar!” She shouted again. “Do we have any throw pillows around?”
He finally shot out a hand and grabbed her forearm with a serious grip. Nothing to hurt, but something to grab her attention. His own frustration was brewing. “You came back for me in the Quantum Realm when you shouldn’t have, and I—“
She waved a finger to her lips in gesture for him to speak quieter. They hadn’t exactly broadcast their recent adventure to the world, even if they’d shared some of it with the Avengers just to keep everyone in the loop. The interconnectedness of the different segments around the country, around the galaxy, was astronomical. After a threat like Thanos had been situated in such a way that could have affected the whole history of existence, everyone was really trying not to let it get that far out of control now. And they’d had a lucky trip this go around. Their time in the Quantum Realm had only been for about a week in real time instead of five years. It helped when no one had gotten properly lost this time around.
“And you shouldn’t have.” He repeated in a whisper, his jaw tensing.
His own fervor was instantly met with her own stubbornness. “And you shouldn’t have tried to play sacrificial lamb by being the last one out. I saw the way you pushed—“ But Oscar rushing in with a selection of pillows piled in his arms shut her up and she quickly straightened up, scanning them quickly and making a decision on the one that looked like it had the most ass support. He really was starting to feel like he was Hank’s age with all of this fuss. “Thank you again, Oscar.” She told him, shooting him an appreciative glance.
Oscar frowned at her and glanced between both her and Scott, hesitating. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I’m fine,” Scott shot back immediately.
“He’s fine,” Hope said at the same time.
Oscar looked a little startled, especially when the couple exchanged a fierce glance between them again, but backed out of the room fairly quickly.
She shifted to lean around Scott, situating the pillow where she wanted it deliberately and gesturing for him to finally sit down. Despite his insistence that he hadn’t wanted a seat, didn’t need a seat to say what he wanted to say— he was thankful to have the seat when the drop down was shorter with the fluffy, firm pillow in place and he sank down, feeling a bit of the strain lift from his ribs. That pain medication was starting to wear off, unfortunately.
When Hope was sure he was well and fine, her posture sagged in exhaustion and she shot Scott an accusatory glance. “You limped your way up here in the middle of the day to chew me out for going back in after you?” She asked incredulously, unable to believe him.
“You have a thing for always trying to save my ass and it puts you in harm’s way!” He shot back, frowning.
“I didn’t know how much longer the portal was going to last, Scott. I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“I would have been fine.”
“You might have been trapped and we wouldn’t have been able to get to you. We don’t have some unlimited supply of access points to the Quantum Realm.”
“So you willingly signed off on a possible eternity of being stuck in the Quantum Realm with me just like that?” He deduced with a similar level of incredulousness, eyes following her as she gave up watching him and looped around him to go to shut the door.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she muttered in awe, hand dropping to her door knob and turning toward him as she hung on it, pointing very seriously with her other hand. “You know I would literally follow you anywhere-“
“I know that-“
“-I have followed you anywhere-”
“I know that!”
“-I was also there when you saved the world from Thanos, you know. Very specifically because I was asked to go because of you, okay?”
“I know!” He said for a third time, his voice loud and heady.
“Then I don’t get it,” she laughed in pure confusion, her head tipping at him. “We’re partners, we have each other’s back. Of course I was going to go back for you and—“
“Marry me!” He blurted in a sudden shout, finally voicing the thought that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days.
Abruptly, her face slackened in shock and when Scott looked over her shoulder, at the doorway that was still open as she hung on the door, he saw the turned heads of a good few rows of PymvanDyne employees all silently watching the interaction like an entranced peanut gallery. After several long seconds, she seemed to shake herself out of it, glancing over her shoulder at her employees and quickly moving to shut the door fully, leaning against it in a heavy way, her head tipping back and staring at the ceiling.
“Scott,” she started in a tone he didn’t like.
“Hope, I mean it,” he uttered so solemnly he didn’t think he’d ever been so serious in his life.
She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, shaking her head. “We just got back from all of that. You’re not thinking rationally. You’re acting on pure emotion and—“
“Of course I’m acting on pure emotion. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for basically years, Hope.” Scott reasoned fiercely.
Her brow flattened against her eyes. “I know that.”
“Then why is it so outrageous that I ask you to marry me?”
“Because we just got back from a near-death experience.”
“We’re always getting back from near-death experiences.”
“That doesn’t make it any less impulsive and unreasonable.”
“But my point!” His grip on his cane tightened and he surged up suddenly, regretting it with the way the dull pain turned into a sharp pain that raced up and down his body so fiercely he had to grunt and sink his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress a cry.
Hope immediately pushed off of the door and instinctively moved to slide an arm around his waist, giving him stability even while they were heavily debating his spontaneous proposal.
“Be careful!” She hissed, eyeing him with those daggers again.
“Marry me,” he repeated stubbornly with daggers of his own.
She went quiet then, lips pressing together tersely as she watched him at close range, her arm unmoving from around his torso, even if she was careful not to press her fingers anywhere that might hurt him. He leant into it, even if he wasn’t relinquishing his hold on the cane, rooted in remaining standing to emphasize his point and how serious of an offer it was.
Gradually, both of their eyes softened and it became less of a confrontation. Something in her was hesitant, he could tell, and for the life of him he didn’t understand why. It’s not like Hank and Janet were divorced or unhappily married. If anything, they were the happiest example of marriage that he’d ever seen in an older couple. They were affectionate and practiced and very much in love, in ways that would have almost been nauseating at times if he hadn’t been such a hopeless romantic. And they really had pined after each other for years, which Scott had found himself doing in a few shorter instances for Hope, but all the same it had very much happened.
“I’m comfortable with what we are,” Hope told him gently, meeting his eyes.
“I’m not saying I’m not,” he reasoned right back, sighing, because he really wasn’t saying that. The day he’d been lucky enough to be let back into her life as both her partner and boyfriend had been in the top five best days of his life. Getting to have her in both of the most significant aspects of his life felt amazing. After Thanos, they’d fallen into this wonderful, effortless step where they’d turned into this patchwork family of Langs, van Dynes and Pym. Despite the fact the timeline of their relationship was fuzzy and strange and impossible to explain to anyone (believe him, he’d tried to walk Maggie through it a couple of times), with the weird label-less part of their relationship and the break-up after Germany and then finding Janet and the Blip and everything else, it just— fit.
It’d always been so seamless, and he knew that was why he must have hurt her so badly before because it was like when they’d clicked in those few months after he’d first met them, it was like he was on cloud nine.
Him and Maggie had been good at the very beginning of their relationship, sure. It was why they’d gotten married in the first place, young and optimistic and in love. They’d both been a little rebellious and prone to throwing caution to the wind so it’d worked. But even all of that had just been one brilliant, elusive infatuation. He’d loved Maggie, he was sure of it, but if he would have taken his blinders off, he would have realized they were a mistake waiting to happen.
With Hope, while they’d started undefinable and really, really physical, he’d always felt a draw to her. There were some parts of himself that he’d never had to explain to her, she’d just understood them. And she’d been such a natural with Cassie, in ways he’d never expected, and Maggie and Paxton had actually really liked her from the start (even before they’d officially met and Maggie was demanding to know who the gorgeous woman in the nice car who kept dropping him off at the house was) and it was all just as it should have been.
Or at least how he thought it should have been. He thought it should feel that good, that right, all the time. Hell, it’d felt so right that even after being a part for two years, it’d only taken a couple days to get back to where they were, with the tension and the giddiness and the rightness. He’d nearly swallowed his heart when she’d told him he would never have been caught in Germany if he would have asked her and she’d been there. The fact she even would have said something like that to him, to allude to what could have been, instead of maliciously telling him she would have left his ass in the dust to be hauled off to the Raft while she’d made a getaway with her wings and quick-thinking, had spoken volumes.
By the end of it, after the dust had settled and Janet was back and Ava was on her way to getting the help she needed and he finally had his time with Cassie, they’d had a conversation about Germany, sure, but the transition back into partners and lovers had been seamless.
Everything about her, with her, had been seamless. Well, except for all the times she’d beat him up in her dad’s basement, but now she beat him up for fun in their sparring sessions (and sometimes the beat down was even mutual). But all and all, it’d been good.
It was why, after yet another moment where they could have lost each other or been trapped in some crazy other dimension together for god knows how long, he didn’t want to waste any more time. He wanted her to be his always and forever. And it wasn’t an ownership thing or even a last name taking thing (because he’d joked once that Scott van Dyne had a killer ring to it), he just really wanted to be able to take her hands in his and vow in front of some officiant that he would, again, always love and cherish her as long as they both should live, which for some reason seemed to be a factor they just couldn’t pin down or know for sure.
He didn’t know how to explain to her the sheer breadth of his feelings, how far it went down, because telling her she was his whole world felt ridiculous after they’d known people who’d demolished entire worlds with the snap of a finger, but the snap had stolen her from him and even when he’d borne that loss for a fraction of the time that so many others had, it’d been so unbearable that he’d done everything in his power to reverse it and get her back.
To get his world back.
And yes, especially Cassie, and Hank and Janet and Maggie and Paxton and Luis and Kurt and Dave were all parts of his world too. Big parts. When Kang had threatened Cassie’s life, he’d seen red.
But what he felt for Cassie was so different from what he felt for Hope. It was such a different kind of love. He could never and would never compare the feelings he had for the two women in his life because that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them.
He just needed Hope, needed her in a way he’d never needed another human being in his life, down to the marrow in his bones and the atoms that kept him held together in anatomical existence. He would always need her and he was trying to do it by getting her to participate in the longest-held example of that in the history of human beings walking the Earth.
He damn well wanted to marry her.
And Scott really really hoped that some of those thoughts were translating into the way he was looking at her because he really wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to verbalize any of that. It all felt too Shakespearean and dramatic. He really wasn’t sure if she’d go for it. So he just kept looking at her and hoping to god that she had some semblance of where he was coming from.
Like clockwork, she did seem to get some of it in the way their eyes searched each other and Hope raised the hand not wrapped around his body to cup his cheek, which still wore the remnants of bruising and scratches from their otherworldly visit, and she grazed her thumb over his skin.
“We’ve never talked about this before,” she told him.
He laughed lightly, a weak sound in his chest. “When did we have the time? In-between my trip to the Quantum Realm or ours?”
Her lips pressed together again thinly, growing pensive in that way she did when she was really thinking about something and giving him absolutely no indication as to what was going through her head. Normally, it was a fun little guessing game he liked to play until she finally burst with answers, but now it was painstaking.
The longer her silence stretched on, the lower his stomach dropped and an anxious feeling nipped at the hairs on the back of his neck. His hopeful expression was fading and he exhaled, long and slow. “You really don’t want to get married?” He asked, unable to hide his disappointment, but feeling like he was coming to an obvious conclusion here.
“No,” she said instantly, startling him with the depth of her tone. “I don’t not want to get married.”
“Then what?” He asked, unable to hold back his impatience too.
Her brow furrowed almost insecurely. “I don’t want a marriage to just be some impulsive mistake we make because we nearly died.”
In translation: she didn’t want to be some mistake he was just holding onto too tightly, only to grow tired of her later. He knew her and knew where this was coming from. He wasn’t arrogant enough to be offended because he just knew. He knew that she had a plethora of long-held abandonment issues stemming from everything with her childhood and Hank and Janet’s 30-year disappearance and all of the rejections she’d experienced in her life. It was why he’d been the one to push things along somewhat, getting her to come out and unfold and let him in after a lot of hard work.
In the early days, she’d operated in a way that told him she was viewing everything as temporary. She was always waiting for the shoe to drop for every good thing in her life. Everything had an expiration date, a termination point, a period.
But with them that’d just never been true. Never. Not even a fleeting existence could separate them, because he’d damn well tear the world apart to get her back, and she’d traverse realms to get him back. Not even death could force them into a corner.
He finally relinquished his hold on the cane, letting it drop to the ground as he went to grab either sides of her face instead, feeling the way her other arm dropped to circle him very carefully, knowing where to apply pressure to not hurt him but knowing where the best spots were to offer him support, and the gesture in itself brought a smile to his face. It just proved his point. There was nothing impulsive about this. And it would certainly never be a mistake.
He could even tell she knew why he was grinning because she started smiling back at him.
“There’s nothing impulsive or mistaken about me wanting to marry you, Hope,” he told her softly. “You’re just—“ He searched for the right word, turning his head away from her to think fiercely.
“I’m just,” she repeated for him, lifting her brows. “A great partner? Extremely diplomatic? A better fighter than you?” She teasingly added to fill in the blanks, tearing away at some of the tension.
“It.” He said suddenly, looking at her again. “It. You’re just— it for me, you know? I think I’ve always known that.”
Scott searched her face then, watching the way her eyes glistened and the unshed tears that were sitting there as she did the same to him. Even if he was honest with himself, because he was an easy crier, his eyes were starting to do the same just by looking at her.
“Cassie would be okay with this, right?” She asked suddenly, her voice having the audacity to wobble some.
He laughed louder than he intended, a gleeful little sound of pure joy. “Are you kidding? She’d kick my ass for not doing this sooner.”
Hope laughed with him, and they stood there giggling and holding each other, worse for wear physically in so many ways, but so full in others.
“Okay,” she finally told him, nodding her head several time after a lengthy exhale.
“Okay?” He repeatedly tentatively, dipping his chin down to stare more intensely at her, wanting to make sure he was believing what he was hearing.
“Okay,” she nodded again. “Just— you’re not going to pull a ring out, are you? Or get down on one knee. Because you really don’t have to do any of—“
“While I’d love to give you the ‘ole razzle dazzle, I don’t think I could manage that. You’re the only thing holding me up right now.” He told her with a pained breath.
Hope’s face flashed in concern briefly, before she swallowed and straightened her shoulders, looking him in the eye again. “Okay.” She said again. “Let’s get married.”
“Oh thank God,” he finally heaved out and surged forward to kiss her in a bruising, excited, over the moon passionate press of his lips to hers that did, in fact, steal the rest of his breath away.