"Scott," Hope breathed. "I'll walk you out."

Scott nodded and turned back to Hank, "Get some rest," he said, giving the old man a brief smile as he stood to face Hope.

She was just rubbing the nape of her neck to soothe its many weeks of stress, and his eyes locked on her hands as they brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her thin, probably cold, fingers smoothed over and massaged her aching neck.

Her skin looks unbelievably soft.

She caught him staring in that split second and tried not to make a show of it to save Scott's dignity. Though a tiny knit in her brow and the smallest smirk had Hope quickly turning her back to him to march straight towards the door (and she hoped he didn't notice, to save her dignity). She allowed Scott through to the hall first, but when she closed the door behind her, he hadn't continued walking down to the front door. In fact, Hope nearly body slammed into him when she turned around had he not braced himself for the impact. "Christ, Scott," she muttered and hid behind her hands as he held her and tried to examine her face. She blushed and stared at the floor as he dodged his head around in attempt to look past her closed fingers.

"Whoa, sorry for scaring ya," he chuckled, his hands still on her shoulders. He instinctively began rubbing tiny circles there, as if trying to help out with all of her sore muscles. Hope felt like he was the one that deserved the massage, but didn't stop him. "You okay?"

Hope lowered her hands and crossed her arms, noting, but not dismissing, his hands remaining on her after she nodded. Her legs did begin to feel wobbly at that moment — perhaps she needed his support. She flashed a smile knowing that Scott could spot it as forced a million miles away. "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, thank you..." she trailed off.

Scott raised an eyebrow, knowing that her tone meant she wanted to say more. He unknowingly began to grip her shoulders a little tighter. Hope didn't notice either.

She chewed her lip and sighed. "Just...thank you, for a ton of things," she shook her head and chuckled. "While I might've wanted to do all that myself, you sacrificed a lot to help Dad and me," she smiled, remembering their exchange in her car those weeks ago. She stood a little straighter, confidence reaffirmed. "So, Scott, don't think of yourself as expendable anymore, please."

He tilted his head slightly at her last comment. He offered her his signature smirk. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Ms. Van Dyne?" He studied her face.

The blush she suppressed began to crawl back up Hope's neck and she bit her lip, knowing where Scott was headed. He called her Ms. Van Dyne...Cool it, Hope. "Well, we discussed it before, Dad wants you to keep — "

"No, no," He interjected, pulling her closer, his face dangerously close to hers. Scott might have seemed like a dumbfounded and awkward dork before, but he seemed to be getting bolder with every glance that he and Hope exchanged. Scott whispered, "What do you mean by that, Hope?"

Hope eyed him through her bangs. She gulped and tried to avoid his gaze once more before making a hesitant sound. Scott's eyes were the most delicate shade of green mixed with a flecked crown of amber. Hope so desperately wanted to stare longer as his face came closer, but her eyes had already fallen shut. In the several breaths standing between them, when the tip of his nose just barely grazed hers, and they were so close, it was as if the two of them still considered that maybe it wasn't the best idea. Scott was afraid of disappointing her. Hope was afraid of losing him. Both of them standing between loving and losing the best thing they had.

But she pushed herself up on her toes in the slightest and he met her halfway, smiling into a kiss that released butterflies in his stomach like cheesy a highschool romance. He played the main character who had a crush on her from the beginning, and it felt scandalous that her father sat just on the other side of that wall. While he sat uneasy with the idea seconds ago, he now loved it.

In an instant, Scott knew he badly wanted whatever this was to last; that he and Hope would share moments together worth more than what this job and this hero thing ever promised. She tugged at him to bring her closer and her — yes, very cold — fingers brought up goosebumps when they graced the back of his neck, entwining with his hair. He angled his head and breathed in the scent of her perfume; slightly masked by the smell of this morning's coffee, she smelled of vanilla laced with traces of lavender and stung with the sweetness of lemon. He hoped the smell would be freshly stuck on him by the time they were done.

Scott nearly began to laugh, and Hope was glad he felt just as happy as she did in this moment. She sighed as she pulled at his shirt collar, imagining what her answer to his question would have been had he given her the chance to say it. What did she mean by that?

She had only known Scott just shy of three months leading up to this moment. For about half of that time she told herself she couldn't stand him. He wasn't right for Ant-Man; he was sassy, a prankster, and a literal burglar. She once seethed with the assumption that her own father believed Scott to be best fit for the job over her. When Scott got into her car that one afternoon, he showed her that it wasn't his fault Hank chose him, nor was it his fault that Hank was so secretive in the first place. She had luckily resolved those tensions with Hank, and Scott proved himself worthy far quicker than Hope would have imagined after said resolution. Rather than the cheeky bastard she once made him out to be, she looked at him like he was the simple, lighthearted, and misguided man who needed that direction. Gradually, Scott began to show her that she was his direction.

His fingers would lightly graze hers when handing her mugs of tea. His shoulder would almost purposefully brush hers when he leaned over blueprints. His hands would grip a second too long whenever she helped him up after sparring. Hope understood the comfort he felt around her and she would be lying if she didn't crave his touch also. She asked him about prison. He asked her about boarding school. They spent every late night together and it was difficult to avoid getting attached to someone whose life now orbited around your own. Hope knew it was wrong to catch feelings. All of this...it was strictly for work. Losing Janet ultimately ended Hank's career as Ant-Man, why would she ask that of Scott?

There was something about the glimmer in Scott's eyes every time she walked into Hank's after work. She became so familiar with his ridiculous smirk as he nonchalantly asked her variants of how work was with 'Dare-bear'. She'd sarcastically laugh, he'd trade her coat for her gym bag, and it was back to training. Back to 'hero stuff'. Yet it remained so telling that he wasn't doing all of this just for himself, or for Cassie. He had learned (and accepted) the burden of being a hero and juggled that with the duty of being human. He knew the risks and Hope sensed it was only fair she take them too. Scott's mission to destroy the Yellowjacket suit soon became their mission, and she knew deep down Scott already believed her to be as much of a partner as she did him. That they needed each other to do this thing. Scott had her back, and he made her feel safe. He was her partner.

"I'm really hoping you mean the 'dating' type of partner. 'Cause if this is sparring right now, I don't think the next bad guy's going to let me get this close."

Hope's mouth fell open upon realizing she said that last thing out loud. She flushed and swat his shoulder, peeking at him through hair that he affectionately tucked behind her ear. "You asked what I meant by that," she lightly kicked his foot. "I'm hoping my chapstick told you," She flirted back.

Scott pulled his head back in confusion. "Sorry, I uh...I might've missed it," He pouted and raised his brows, begging for another kiss. Of course he would. "Mind showing me again?"

Hope rolled her eyes and offered him a soft peck. One that he graciously accepted, stepping closer and sighing. There was a sincerity in how pure her kiss was.

Then, the door.

Hank Pym stood holding it open as his daughter and Scott pulled apart, caught red-handed. His eyes shifted between Scott's amused expression and Hope's half grimace. He pursed his lips and squinted. "When did this happen?"

Hope wrinkled her nose and avoided his gaze, her nose practically pointing the ceiling as she winced. "Nothing's happening!" she responded eagerly, as if her being held in Scott's arms wasn't a hint at all.

The younger of the two men looked at Hope with a look of betrayal masked by shock. He spoke up discontedly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on — " Scott shook his head, "something's kind of happening."

"Well if that's the case," Hank exhaled, throwing Scott his signature scowl, "shoot me again."

Scott let it roll off his back, whatever shame Hank tried to give him handed over to Hope. He frowned at her. "Yeah, I don't know what you were doing grabbing me and kissing me like that, I was a little surprised myself. I have to get somewhere....I'll see you later, Hank," He feigned offense. "Really, Hope."

Hope tapped her foot with an exasperated expression at Scott's antics. She knew Hank was a man of few words, and would likely get over himself about whatever she and Scott had, but she wasn't very pleased he found out about their budding relationship the second the seed was even planted.

Hank called out as Scott descended the staircase. "Scott?"

"Yeah?" he responded.

"You're full of shit."

"Oh yeah!"

Hope eyed her father. He scoffed at her bored expression. "What, you want to go after him? Be my guest," he shrugged.

Her back was already turned to him as she followed to the front entrance where Scott retrieved his coat. He saw her approach him and he smiled half-heartedly while she smoothed his collar out and left her hands on his shoulders. She exhaled. "He'll come through," she assured, though her voice might have revealed she didn't believe herself either.

Scott thought of the sensation of Hank's eyes burning into the back of his neck. "You know he really won't, though, right?" He recoiled.

Hope took his hand and led him out the door. The pair paid no mind to how soon they had become affectionate, and their entwined hands swung between them as they walked to Luis' van. She observed the peeling paint at its fenders and the matted fur seat covers in a distasteful shade of beige. She chuckled. "I don't know how Luis let's you take this thing from him all day," she lightly kicked the tire. "I'd say it's a pretty sweet ride."

Scott dismissed the comment and dropped her hand. " Welllll," He got into some sort of storytelling stance, waving his hands around while imitating Luis' voice, "there's this smokin' hot girl on the bus, and she smiles at him every day on the 616 route and offers him a crossword puzzle and he swears one of the clues one day will be her phone number and while he doesn't know her name he knows she always leaves him at Valparaiso Street and — "

"Scott," Hope placed a hand on his chest, stifling a laugh at his seemingly spot-on impression. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

He fished his keys out of his pocket and swung the van's door open. He climbed into the driver's seat and leaned out of its open window. "Oh really?" he prompted in Luis' voice. "You don't think you could ask a little nicer?"

The woman before him crossed her arms. "If you're asking for another kiss, Scott, you better quit that voice because I'm not in the mood to smooch Luis at the moment."

His voice wavered as she leaned forward. "At the moment?"

She pressed her lips to his and giggled, ignoring the question. Stepping back as he started the car, she caught his wink as he pulled out the driveway and towards Maggie's place. Hope watched as the van disappeared beyond the horizon, and her fingers touched her now chapped lips.

She smiled.