scott x hope oneshots

death by a thousand cuts

Hope Van Dyne feels like she's sleepwalking through the streets of San Francisco, which really isn't ideal when she's flying a hundred feet above the ground during one of her first trial runs as the Wasp. Her thoughts are a little too slow, her blinks a little too long.

She hasn't slept through the entire night since she woke to an armed raid of her apartment by the FBI seven months ago for aiding and assisting Scott Lang in his breaching of the Sokovia Accords, only escaping because that night she'd happened to take the Wasp suit home with her to work on.

She never feels safe anymore, Hope has concluded, and so constant fear and relentless insomnia have become her best friends. There are always too many security feeds to be monitoring and doors to be watching and shoulders to look over.

Focus, Hope. She has to focus.

The mission.

Shit. The mission. Implementing spyware (or rather antware) so Hope and her father can record every movement of each and every threat to them, the most obvious and immediate threat being Scott Lang, the only person other than Hank to have ever worn the Ant-Man suit.

Said mission didn't actually require Hope at all, as Hank Pym had pointed out, as all she would be doing was placing ants in Scott's townhouse when the ants in question could fly themselves there alone.

Hope had hesitated before telling him that she wanted to go, which in itself was a lie. It wasn't that she had wanted to go but that she needed to, hoping that maybe closure was what she needed to sleep at night.

It was hard to get closure on a relationship that wasn't technically a relationship and that never technically ended. They hadn't fought or screamed or yelled, there had been no weeks of pining and unwritten texts and regret, it was more that one day Scott and Hope had been together and the next Scott had been in a maximum security prison in the ocean and Hope had been on the run from the same people that put him there. The song hadn't ended, it had been paused and never played again. Silence was something she'd had to become accustomed to rather than chosen.

She hadn't said any of that aloud though and Hank hadn't pushed her to. Hope's love life was a battleground both were happy to avoid for the rest of their lives, too fraught with ghosts of arguments never had because that would have had to involve Hank showing an actual interest in Hope's life.

As much as their relationship had improved in the last few years, as being on the run together tends to do to anybody, she doesn't think they'll ever be at a place where they can openly discuss Hope being with anyone, and it doesn't help that at the mention of Scott her father is prone to breaking the first thing he sees.

What would she even say, anyway?

Dad, I'm scared to sleep because I dream of kissing in hallways and movie nights and laughing, and I wake up aching.

Dad, I was finally starting to trust someone for maybe the first time in my life and then he went to Germany and fucked it all up.

Dad, I think I'm still in lo-

She doesn't let herself finish that thought, as usual, and instead her mind wanders to the voicemails she sent Scott, one when she first saw him on the news and one after the armed raid.