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Their first date is a food truck outside the offices of the Pym company lawyers, who are having a field day fighting with the insurance company over who is paying for a building that exploded itself into some kind of quantum singularity. Scott had to do a lot of fast talking to get Hope to leave the building long enough for lunch, and only managed it by showing her the truck’s four-star Yelp rating and a writeup of it on an actual review site that calls the food “sublime.”
The chef is Luis’ cousin, so they get the food for free. That is the only way Scott can afford to take Hope on a date at all, at this particular moment. Luis and his family are a godsend and a treasure.
“This is amazing,” Hope mumbles around her ceviche. “This is heavenly. Oh my god.”
“I know the owner’s cousin,” Scott says.
She smiles at him and shakes her head. “That’s much less impressive-sounding than you think it is.”
“He was my cellmate.”
“Rapidly lowering the impressiveness.”
“Eh, you win some, you lose some.” He picks at his own food, too busy watching her to really eat it. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a real date. He and Maggie didn’t even go on many date-dates. They just kind of… clicked. They fell together. Very similarly to how they eventually fell apart.
“You look like you’re thinking about something important,” Hope says.
“My ex-wife,” Scott answers, because he’s really not very good at this at all.
Hope doesn’t seem to mind, though. “How is she? And Cassie? And the cop? Do they need any help with getting their homeowner’s insurance to cover the damage, because I can get the firm to assign someone…”
“Actually, apparently there is kind of an insurance controversy going on about whether or not superhero and villain related damage counts under the act of god clause or not.” Scott shrugs. “There’s going to be a whole… thing.”
She wipes her mouth carefully and re-folds the napkin. God, she’s terrifying. And hot. But terrifying. “Yes, the outcome of that is going to affect our case as well.”
“I’m bad at dates, sorry.”
She smiles at him. “It’s fine.”
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Wipe your mouth without smearing your lipstick?”
Her smile gets wider. “You’re more impressive when it’s an accident. I like that.”
“Thanks.” He hesitates. “But seriously, come on, tell me. I have to know.”
She steps away and tosses her plate and napkin into a trash can. “It’s very expensive lipstick.”
“That’s it? That’s the secret?”
“Yeah.” She checks her phone and sighs. “I have to get back in there. Next time I’ll tell you about eye makeup. It’s going to blow your mind.”
**
He doesn’t actually get to hear about eye makeup, because their next date is at a very fancy restaurant a few blocks from the law firm in the opposite direction. It’s a lunch date, at which he has to sign a lot of paperwork so he can officially be on the books as an employee of the Janet Van Dyne Memorial Foundation, which was created that very morning in a conference room at the firm.
“The company is going to be tied up in insurance litigation forever,” Hope says, turning a page and pointing at another place he needs to sign. “We can’t just sit around doing nothing, so Hank’s going to swing his research into a charitable direction. At least on paper. Initial at the bottom, too.”
“I still don’t get what my role at the foundation is.”
“You are an executive director. Sign here and here.”
“Does that come with health insurance?”
“Very, very good insurance. And initial at that X. Good. Almost done.”
He scrawls SL for the hundredth time and puts his pen down to grab a bite of his salad. “Is there any way you could get Luis on the books, too? And maybe Dave and Kurt? None of them are insured and, you know, sometimes life just happens when you’re not looking, and I’d hate if anything happened to those guys, they were really there for me.”
“It’ll be taken care of by tomorrow.” She points at the pen. “You’re not done.”
“I’m eating. When is the actual food going to get here? Did you tell them no main course until I’m done signing? Because I’m starting to think I will never be done signing.”
“Scott.” She looks at the pen again. “One we’re done with this we can enjoy our lunch. We can talk about fun things.”
“Like what?”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t have to sound so suspicious.”
“I’m not! I just, you know, your idea of fun was punching me in the face, for a while there. I’m not sure if we’re on the same page or not.”
She settles back in her chair with a smirk. “I did enjoy that. Thanks for reminding me.”
“Great. That’s just great.” He makes a face at her and picks up the pen again, initialing a few more places.
“Do you want to spar again sometime?” she says, and there’s a wistful note in her voice that makes him look up. “I liked it. It’s been a long time since I worked on it informally.”
“That was informally?”
“I mean outside of the dojo. I like the structure and the ritual, but sometimes it’s good just to let loose.” She looks away and reaches for her wineglass.
He signs another line and realizes that it is, in fact, the last one. “You mean you want to kick some ass.”
“Maybe.”
“So you’ll be ready to go out and beat up some bad guys.”
She glances at him, and there’s a mixture of eagerness and fear in her eyes that he recognizes from his own, when he was learning what the suit could do. “Maybe.”
“Okay.” He carefully stacks the papers back together. “You’re on. We can spar whenever you want. I don’t have anything else to do. Until the executive director duties really get up and running, I guess.”
“That’s not a joke, actually.” She slips the papers back into her briefcase. Her perfect polished surface is in place again, all wavering eliminated. “You will have some fairly important responsibilities in terms of oversight.”
“Awesome.” He gives her his best wide-eyed look. “Can we eat first?”
“Oh, you’re waiting for me to flag down a waiter or punch in a secret code or something?”
“I assume you’ve got the kitchen on speed-dial. Waiting breathlessly for your word. On edge.” He widens his eyes even more. “You’re the boss-lady.”
This time her smile is distinctly scary. Oh shit. “You’re damn right I am, Lang.”
**
Scott isn’t sure if sparring counts as a date or not. On the one hand, it’s just the two of them, having quality time together. On the other hand, he keeps getting hit in the face, or kicked in the ribs, or ending up with her legs wrapped around his head while she tries to strangle him. Not in a fun way.
“Ow,” he says, lying on his back on the mats. “I think you bruised my pancreas.”
“Get up.”
“No. I’m tapping out. I’m done for today.”
“Always go one more round than you think you can. The bad guys don’t stop when you’re tired.”
He props himself up on his elbows and looks at her. “You’re thinking ahead to when you get to put on that suit.”
She brushes sweat-heavy hair off her face and shrugs. “Of course.”
“Isn’t it a little soon for that? I thought it was still in prototype.”
“You should always be thinking ahead.” She turns away from him and opens a water bottle, draining half of it in a series of long swallows. “Besides, I’m not going to give Hank any room to change his mind. The minute the suit is done, I’m going to be out there.”
He’s quiet for a minute, watching the lines of her shoulders and back. They hold a new tension, and he realizes it’s because she’s waiting for his reaction. She’s waiting for him to say the wrong thing.
“You’re going to be amazing out there,” he says, and he means it. When she turns around and looks at him, it must show on his face how much he means it, because she smiles and puts the water bottle down.
“One more round,” she says. “Then let’s get out of here.”
**
They go back to her place and end up with her legs wrapped around his face in the fun way. Oh god.
**
He’s stopped numbering their dates, but this one is at a really nice restaurant that Luis recommended for its wine list and the art in the bathrooms. Scott doesn’t know enough about art to appreciate them, but he obediently sends Luis pictures from his phone and pretends he understands the excited replies.
Maybe he should buy Luis some art. Except he’d pick out the wrong stuff, because he doesn’t get it. Maybe he should tell Luis to buy himself some art on Scott’s credit card.
“You’re a million miles away,” Hope says, stealing a bit of asparagus off his plate.
Usually he’s the one saying that, while she sneaks looks at her phone under the table. The high-powered in-charge-of-things lifestyle is something he still doesn’t quite get. “I’m thinking about Luis.”
She cocks her head, chewing slowly. “On a date with me?”
“He’s a great guy.”
“He is. That’s true. I’m sorry I was awful about him in the beginning.”
“None of us really got introduced in the best way.” He turns his attention back to his plate. “So this is really good. Whatever it is.”
“Lamb osso buco.”
“Oh wow.” He takes another bite. “So how’s the suit?”
“Good. We’re getting there. Hank is very excited.”
“No second thoughts?”
“If he has them, he’s been smart enough not to tell me.” She sips her wine. “I think I’ll be ready for a test run by next week.”
“Do you want me there for that?”
Hope smiles, and Scott’s stomach dips and twists. She’s so beautiful, and so… sharp. He can’t get over it. “If you want to be.”
“Seeing you do your thing in the Wasp suit is going to be amazing in a very confusing way to me.”
“Confusing how?”
“Think about it.” He puts his fork down and gestures. “You know?”
“No. I don’t know.”
He leans across the table and whispers. “Insect sex.”
“Scott.”
“I mean, I don’t actually know how ants or wasps have sex, but… is that something we could try? Do you think? We’d have to take the suits off. Can we take the suits off when we’re small and stay small? Or… I mean, the logistics of this are really… I guess we could try it tonight, if you wanted? I could get small and, like… um.” He stutters to a halt. “Crawl, um…”
“Stop. Right there.” She refills her wineglass to the brim and takes a very long drink. “There will be none of that, I can promise you.”
“Okay.”
“Jesus, Scott.”
“Sorry.” He picks his fork up again, then puts it down, staring past her at the windows overlooking the city.
She waits a minute, then sighs and takes her phone out of her purse. “You want to look up ant sex, don’t you.”
He nods. “And wasp sex. Sorry.”
“Go ahead. I’ll do some work while you do that.”
He gets his own phone out and they sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at their respective screens. Finally Scott turns his off, places it face-down on the table, and clears his throat.
She glances up at him. “Well?”
“Yeah, none of that. Sorry.”
“You’re good with regular human sex for now?”
“Probably forever.”
“I thought that might be the case.”
“We should order dessert or something, too. It’s gonna be a while before I can get those pictures out of my head enough to…”
She starts to laugh. “Oh, Scott. Don’t change, okay?”
“You are actually the only woman to ever tell me that, including my mother.”
“And Cassie.”
“No, she once or twice has told me ‘Daddy, stop being so dumb.’”
“She doesn’t mean it.” She reaches across the table and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.
“I know.” He watches her skin against his. “I’m too good at being dumb to give it up.”
“It’s a good kind of dumb.”
“I hope so.”
She releases his hand slowly and finishes her wine. “You sure you can’t get those pictures out of your head? Maybe if you really tried?”
“My mind is a blank slate,” he says promptly. “Let’s get out of here.”
**
Hope’s first run in the Wasp suit isn’t exactly a date. They have a whole plan, to go out to a big park and find a quiet area where nobody will notice them changing sizes, sparring, or summoning and dispersing clouds of bugs. Scott can remember a time when none of that was something he worried about, but, well. That’s life.
She’s wearing the suit already when he picks her up at Hank’s house, and she’s so clearly excited that he doesn’t even think of teasing her about it.
“You look good,” he says instead. She blushes anyway, looking down at herself and shrugging.
“This is it, you know? I finally get to do something in my mom’s memory other than be angry or cry.”
“She would be proud of you.” He means it. Hank’s made enough sideways references to Janet while they’ve worked together that Scott can build a picture of her in his head. The woman he’s slowly putting together would admire the hell out of her daughter and everything she’s done with her life. Going Wasp is just icing on the cake.
He doesn’t say all that, though, because what would that sound like, telling Hope about her own mom?
She smiles at him a little, her eyes sad, then looks away. “Let’s get going.”
“Aye-aye, captain.” He puts the car in gear. “Let’s do this.”
Hope has been changing size in the lab for days, but this is her first field test. Scott stays full-sized at first, watching her zip around the meadow-y area they chose, with a little playground in the center. There are millions of ants in this field, and he kind of wants to get them all line-dancing in celebration. It’s so cool to watch Hope fly.
She comes to ground and changes size again, back to her regular state, and laughs as she pulls off her helmet. “I love it. I just love it. You’ve really got to get him to add some wings to your suit, Scott. It’s the best thing.”
“Are you kidding? Give up Antony 2, my noble steed?” Scott claps his hand over his heart. “I could never.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She catches his wrists and pulls him in close; he expects a kiss but instead she wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Hey,” he says softly, holding her like she’s made of glass instead of being the toughest person he knows. “You okay?”
“Don’t ever try to stop Cassie from flying,” she says. “Even if you change your mind eventually, the part where you tell her she can’t, that’s... it’ll never go away.”
He nods, knowing she’ll feel it. “That’s a metaphor. I know. She can be anything she wants to be.”
Hope laughs and shakes her head. “That, too. But seriously. If she comes up with a suit and you don’t let her fly, I’ll kick your ass, Lang. Don’t think I won’t.”
Scott steps back enough to cup her face in his hands and waits until she meets his eyes. “I’m not Hank,” he says. “I’m going to screw up in a million ways that I invent all on my own, but I’m not him.”
For a moment tears stand in her eyes, but she blinks hard and they’re gone. She kisses him quickly, then steps back and settles her helmet again.
“Well thank god for that,” she says, gesturing for him to finish suiting up, too. “Or what we’re going to do tonight would just be weird.”
“Dinner at the food truck? That’s not weird, Van Dyne, if you think that’s weird—”
“Race you to the jungle gym, Lang.”
The particles dance, and they’re both gone.