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authoressskr · 5 years

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Write Into My Arms [2]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in last two chapters), Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here) :: Word Count: 9491 :: Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note for this chapter: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 1]

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Natasha’s interview is probably the most paced, filled with shocking details about the Red Room, where she was trained to be the Black Widow and her various roles in SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers - all while she throws knives at a target in the gun range. Intimidating.

She then takes you up to the gym, showing you how to throw someone twice your size over your shoulder and then you retreat to her room where lets you try out her fancy electric bracelet/glove thingies. Natasha talks about her relationship with Clint as she settles against her forest green velvet headboard - how he was the one to pull her out of that life...to give her a new start to help clear “the red in her ledger”.

“What changed? For you to take his help?”

“I was obedient. A perfect student. But I didn’t like what I did. I did it for the results they sought. I always accomplished my goal. I was broken. Broken and remade, broken and remade until I was what they desired.” She gives a harsh bark of laughter. “But Clint showed me there was another way. I have a skill set, he wasn’t asking me to live a lie - to go live a “normal” life. He was giving me a chance to save people instead of being a slave to ones who would never be concerned with me. The ones who had others to take my place should I ever fail.”

“So, you aren’t the only Black Widow Russia had?” You try to suppress a shudder at the horrible train of thought that brings forth merciless Black Widows and unstoppable Winter Soldiers.

“Oh no,” Natasha’s smile sends a chill down your spine and the terror, you realize, lies in the fact that everything she’s known before is death, pain, and the intricate ways in which to bring out about both. “I am the only Black Widow.” You nod jerkily before her smile softens and she reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

The sudden change in her demeanor is what causes your own to shift so rapidly. It sets forth a stunning revelation for you - she’s always wearing a mask. And that hurts.

It’s not like Tony, who has Pepper - who has known childhood and just feels things too deeply - so he wears a mask to protect himself...gives himself over to the persona he’s carefully crafted of lofty indifference.

It’s not Bucky, who had a regular childhood - as normal as one can have during the Depression, you suppose - who didn’t want to fight but went to war anyway. Who was torn and broken and wiped to be a weapon and now wears a mask to protect himself from everyone who sees him as the villain. But even he can always fall back on his normal upbringing for the first twenty-something years of his life.

Natasha had none of that. Absolutely none.

The sudden sadness comes from somewhere unknown but you feel it settle in your chest, a tightness that grabs hold of your lungs and heart, nearly stealing your breath away. What sort of people could do that to a child? Who could damage a person in so many ways for their own gain? Making them a weapon with the threat of always being offed if you failed. Everything feels heavy now and so you do the only thing you can; you turn your palm up and squeeze back in reassurance.

Natasha is amazingly open after that, suggesting a walk in the zen garden for you to finish up your fluff questions.

“I’m gonna take December. Santa Baby references all the way.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Depends on the day. Some days I need a venti caramel latte with three extra shots. Sometimes you just need a strong black coffee with a little room for some cream and sugar. Some days call for tea,” She shrugs as she finishes. “Just depends.”

Natasha is doing a rundown of the things in Russian she’d taught while you pack up your things from the cushioned bench, patience leaking from her very pores at your continued mix-ups. When she suggests testing them out on Bucky, you just shake your head - any nearly drop the recorder before shuffling your laptop from one arm to the other.

“I think Sergeant Barnes is a tough nut to crack. A solemn, mostly silent, tough nut.”

“Clint is a nut. Tony, an armor encrusted nut. Steve, a nut with the inability to long-term date. Bucky is not a nut. He is mostly silent, but that’s just part of who he is. A little solemn-seeming around new people. But Sam and him? Goofballs with a penchant for insulting and pranking each other. Give him some time.”

“That’s great, by the time I leave he’ll actually warm up to me.” A sigh escapes you, shifting your closed laptop from one arm to the other once again as Natasha and yourself make your way back to the living room from the very tranquil zen garden. You’ll need some more pictures of there for sure.

“Barnes is a softie at heart.”

“Is that so?” You jump at his voice, although Natasha doesn’t, which doesn’t surprise you with what you know about her. You’re sure little surprises her.

“Yep. See you later, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you, Natasha.” You stand awkwardly in front of Bucky, wondering why you get nervous every time he looks at you - not a bad nervous, but a strong tingle in your belly and chest that seemed to put you off-center.

“Ready?” You ask, plastering on a big smile.

“Come on,” He gestures with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to join him. You close the few feet and he begins down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“The woods.” He pauses when he reaches the patio, “Will the woods have too much noise?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” You step off the patio and onto the grass. “You coming?” Bucky rewards you with a smile, a wide one that showed off his teeth with little lines crinkling by the corners of his storm blue eyes.

Once you reach the tree line, Bucky takes the lead, leading you to a little clearing and you smile when you see more sunflowers growing on the other side of the space. There is a couple of wrought iron chairs with plush black cushions and a little upside-down wooden milk crate sitting beside one of them. The chairs are set to the side in the shade and you take a moment to appreciate the serenity.

“It’s beautiful, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” He corrects, shuffling from one foot to the other before gesturing you forward. Settling down in the chair beside the milk crate you set your laptop flat on your thighs, sitting the recorder on top of it.

“So, just to go over how it’ll work - I’ll ask you questions, you answer however you like. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you don’t like something I’ve asked, please don’t hesitate to let me know you don’t like it. Is there anything you don’t want to talk about, Bucky?”

“You can ask me whatever you like.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

“Every other news agency, pretty much, has already written the ugliest and vile lies and truths about who I was, about what I’ve done...From what I read in your articles, from what I’ve seen from the others you’ve already talked to, I know you won’t do that. Ask me whatever you like.” After taking a deep breath, you give a reassuring smile and click the recorder on.

“Are you an animal lover?”

“Yeah. Steve and me keep trying to convince Tony to get a dog.”

“He won’t let you?”

“He just asked who was gonna take care of it when we’re on a mission for weeks on end, ya know? He had a point.”

“But you aren’t all on a mission at the same time, right? Someone here could take care of it.”

“Good counterpoint. We told him that too. He said he’d think about it. Still thinking apparently. Maybe just got lost in all those thoughts he has.” You hold out the recorder, wiggling it until he held out his flesh hand. You place it gently in his outstretched hand, reaching into your pocket for your little notebook and pen. You can feel his gaze as you scribble ‘Bucky/Steve need a dog. Mention to Stark. Repeatedly if necessary.’ A chuckle escapes his lips as he had leaned forward to see what you wrote, leaning back in the chair like before.

“Favorite guilty pleasure?” You set the notebook and pen on the milk crate as you smile brightly.

“Junk food. The serum speeds up metabolism, so we can’t get drunk unless we have some of that Asgardian stuff, so I can lay on the couch and eat all I want and then a couple of hours later do it all over again.”

“And that also bothers Sam, I venture to guess?”

“Yeah,” He’s smiling wide again, looking at the grass at his feet. “Mostly cause it’s his.”

“You steal his junk food?”

“He hides it bad!” Bucky defends with a laugh.

“Favorite weather?”

“Spring or Fall. I don’t care too much for the extra cold days we get in the winter here, but I like the familiarity of Brooklyn and New York, even if they aren’t my Brooklyn or New York. What about you?”

“I got heatstroke when I was in high school, so I’m wary of being in the sun for too long now. Otherwise, I’m good with just about anything. But I gotta admit I don’t care for the extra cold days either. And the ice! I hate ice.”

“Taken a fall, I gather?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely wasn’t pretty. Bruise all up my thigh and butt from how hard I fell and slipped a foot or so down the patch of ice. Limped back through the snow with my butt soaking wet and a nice wind blowing to add to the chill.” He’s trying hard not to laugh, flesh hand pressed hard against his knee while those little crinkles showed themselves again. “Go ahead and laugh. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Bucky laughs out finally, nodding in agreement while you admire the carefree laughter he’s engaging in.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“I usually just get it black after our morning runs...the menus just look so complicated now.”

“They really aren’t, you just gotta know your baseline.”

“Like?”

“Well, like lattes, iced coffee and most specialty drinks all start the same way - espresso. Espresso, plus whatever milk you want then you just add the flavorings you like. Experiment until you refine what you like and voila! Done.”

“And all that isn’t complicated?” Doubt is heavy in his voice, a smile still plastered on his too-handsome face.

“I’ve had years to perfect this narrowing down strategy, good sir. Coffee became a big thing right before I got into high school, so that’s the system I’ve been working with. When I was a barista in college, we would experiment with flavorings and shots and milk types, so that helped too. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes,” It’s almost a groan like you’d just brought out a decadent looking dessert.

“Does Stark have an espresso machine here?”

“Yeah. Big shiny silver thing on a counter next to Clint’s giant ass coffee cup.”

“Okay, when we get done here, I’ll make you what I like and we’ll see how you like that.” That seems to get his attention, his large frame leaning forward, the silver recorder looking small balanced in his palm.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Humm, well if I want it hot, then I can go a couple of ways - white chocolate mocha with a pump of milk chocolate and a pump of caramel or I just get a mocha with hazelnut, vanilla, and caramel. Iced? It depends on the mood I’m in. Sometimes I just order tea. Sometimes I don’t want coffee, so I do a frappuccino or something like that with flavoring but no coffee. Depends on the day.”

“All of that sounded like a cavity.”

“Makes you want it all the more, huh?” You tease as he lets out a little groan.

“Yeah, it does.” You smirk, self-satisfaction written all over your face at his admission.

“Do you have a hobby?” He rubs his vibranium knuckles along his very sharp jawline before giving a little sigh.

“No. My therapist says I should get one but I haven’t found one I like yet.”

“Does it bother you when people call you the Winter Soldier?” It’s like he senses the change in questioning before you even open your mouth, his eyes falling back to the yellowing grass of the clearing.

“Sometimes. I know I was him. I know I was a tool. But now I know I’ll always be Bucky first, so it doesn’t bother me as much. The Winter Soldier is a part of me - a part resigned to the darkest shadows of my mind, locked away where he won’t see the light of day again - but he’s always there. I know they made me do all those things. And I remember doing them…” Your hand falls naturally over his, giving the metal hand a little squeeze and a soft smile. His eyes go from your face to where your hand rests on his vibranium one, a perplexed look before his shoulders drop a little and relax at the gesture.

“Anyone who knows what they did, can’t honestly blame you for what they made you do. And I’m sorry some people are uninformed assholes.” You take back your hand as he thanks you softly. “Do you think the Raft could hold him?”

“Maybe. Ross designed it to hold the Hulk but I’m sure given enough time he could.”

“This whole facility is full of geniuses,” You laugh out as he shakes his head.

“I’m not a genius.”

“Didn’t the Soldier shoot through a wall, several walls, to get to Nick Fury? That takes some serious calculations to be able to do that.”

“I was a sniper before…”

“Snipers have a clear line of sight. He didn’t have that. Now, that may have been him, but I don’t think so. You can’t brainwash someone over and over and over again and have them retain difficult mathematics in order to shoot through things with no clear sightlines. You’re a whole lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” A pink creeps onto his cheeks before he looks across the clearing. After a few seconds, his intense blue gaze returns to you, nodding his head ever so slightly to the right. You follow where he’d tilted towards, taking in the sight of two big bucks easing into the clearing. You’re cursing the fact you’ve left your camera...wait, where did you leave it?

“There is a camera under the milk crate,” His voice is so soft you barely catch it, slowly nodding before sitting your laptop on the ground against your leg and drop the notebook and pen beside it, leaning over to lift the milk crate extra slowly. Withdrawing the bag, you ease the zipper open and withdraw a very expensive looking camera. You click it on and raise it, snapping a few shots of the deer eating before they both look up at the pair of you. Seemingly unafraid they come a little closer, Bucky rises, handing the recorder back to you before he takes slow and measured steps towards them. The bucks aren’t disturbed by him and allow him to come close, his flesh hand slipping into his pocket before offering whatever it was to the male with the darker coat, repeating the same thing with the lighter coat buck. You snap the pictures greedily, nearly laughing as you realize there are actually three bucks in the clearing. He must have heard you soft breathy laugh since he turns towards you and cocks an eyebrow. You point to the deer, then him and hold up three fingers.

The eye crinkles return as he shakes his head with a grin. The deer both decide he doesn’t have anything more to give and return to their grazing on the edge of the clearing, and you snap a picture of Bucky walking towards you and when he realizes it, he scowls at you which just makes you click the button yet again with a big grin on your face.

“What was in your pocket?”

“Sugar cubes.”

“Ahh, buttering them up for a while I see.”

“You know it, doll.”

“Wanna continue, Mr. Disney Princess?”

“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Damn,” You sigh out the curse before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine. I guess we go back to questions.” Waiting for him to settle back in his seat, you carefully zip the camera back up and are about to tuck it back in under the milk crate when he speaks.

“I’ll take that.” You’re about to hand it over when you pull it back.

“Promise you won’t delete the pictures I took of you.” His storm blue eyes stare at you intently, looking for something before he gives a little huff.

“Fine.”

“Any of the pictures of you, Mr. Barnes.”

Another huff. “Fine.” Handing over the camera bag, you hold the recorder aloft as you try to remember the line of questioning you had planned for Bucky.

“Do you miss the 40s? Did you want a normal life after the war was over?”

Bucky shrugs, sitting the camera bag beside his leg. “I miss my family. I missed getting to come home to them. I...I don’t know what would’ve happened when I came home from the war. I know I was different from it - even before Zola’s experiments. I wasn’t the guy who had a different girl on my arm every week anymore...and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that anymore either. I was different. Steve was different. The world was gonna be different when it all ended. I don’t know what would have happened...I guess I would have dated, found a woman I liked and had a kid or two...but I don’t know, maybe I would’ve decided to go off to be alone for a long while after the war.”

“Is Wakanda as beautiful as they say?”

“Even more. Maybe I’m just partial ‘cause I got left alone for big swaths of time, so I could sit by a little lake and just watch. Sunrise is beautiful, but the sunset...wow.”

“If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go - and you can’t say Wakanda.”

Bucky chuckles as you blurt out the Wakanda bit before running his flesh hand through his hair. “I guess I’d like to go to some little island with all the amenities but no one else.”

“No one? Not even Steve? What about Sam? How will you get your junk food if not from Sam?”

“Definitely not Sam, but I’ll be sure to make a list of the food I want beforehand. Maybe Steve, but he’ll have to sit downwind since he’ll have to be smothered with sunblock. I can think of a few people I might let on my private island, but they gotta bring something to offer me.”

“Like payment?” A good-natured smile is on your lips as you shake your head.

“Yes. Silence and beautiful scenery come at a cost.”

“And what exactly would one need to bring you to gain access to this island paradise?”

“What would you like to bring me?” There’s a glint in his eyes, something flirting on his lips as he waits for your reaction.

“Coffee. And you’d have to take it however I decided to make it that day.”

“Deal. You’ll be allowed on my island,” He gives a nod as he grants his permission, making you press a hand to your chest with a mildly shocked expression which doesn’t last long as you giggle.

“Soooo kind of you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?”

“Why would he do a calendar? Wear for it?” You withdraw your phone from your pocket and do the same thing you’d done for Steve; You show him the Australian firefighter calendar with each one holding or posing with baby animals for reference. “Oh.” Pink suddenly graces his cheeks and his throat as you smile at him, enjoying his obvious flustered state.

“As another example: Sam’s wearing the tightest red shirt he owns and jeans but could be ‘persuaded’ to dress in a nice suit and tie. He chose August. Steve chose -”

“Steve?” Bucky snorts out his best friend’s name. “Okay. Lemme hear it.”

“Steve chose May with a nice suit and tie with flowers in the pocket instead of a pocket square. But I convinced him to change it to him in just a tee-shirt and jeans, sitting sideways and painting a field of flowers in front of him. He liked that better.” Bucky’s shaking of his shaggy brown hair makes you think it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d heard about his friend.

“Always an artist, I guess.” Bucky bites his bottom lip, gazing off to where the deer had been. “October.” He says after a long pause. “What would you suggest I wear?”

You know it’s an innocent question, but your heart kicks up a little when he asks it. Especially after all the banter you’ve been through with him.

“What would you be comfortable in?”

“A hoodie and jeans probably.”

“I’d have you go out of your comfort zone then...maybe a gray velvet blazer with black jeans and a black shirt...maybe pull your hair back like when you were in the gym yesterday morning, maybe a blue silver shirt to bring out your eyes...no, the black. It’s October. Maybe tuck a Halloween handkerchief into your jacket pocket.” His gaze is intense and it’s your turn to look away. “Just a thought.”

“I like it. If you were to do the calendar thing, what month would you choose and what would you be wearing?”

“Oh, um...Probably October. I love the fall. I think I’d either want to wear a black skater skirt with black striped stockings and a mauve shirt with a cute Halloween saying on it while I’m surrounded by leaves and pumpkins or I’d dress like Velma from Scooby-Doo.”

“Scooby-Doo is the one with the great dane who talks, right? Velma is the one in the purple?”

“No! Velma is the one in the orange and burgundy with the glasses! Educate yourself, Bucky!” He holds his hands up at your hostile tone.

“Sorry. Sorry!”

“Now, back to the hard questions...what is some 40s slang you’d like to see come back into use?” He shakes his head again, flashing those pearly white teeth as those too cute crinkles show themselves again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You hadn’t realized you had spent so much time with Bucky...not until Clint had come to get the both of you for lunch.

Bucky had mumbled an apology to which you brush off.

“I enjoyed it! And it helps me to build the picture I wanna paint for you guys. No biggie at all! I’m pretty glad you felt comfortable enough with me to talk that long.” He had walked beside you the whole way back, listening to you rattle off about work and how you wanted to set up the release of each interview with patience and a very kind smile that showed in those handsome blue eyes.

After lunch, you were handed over to the Wakandans who take you to a formal room that looked like it was only used for taking pictures with expensive friends and foreign dignitaries.

Holy shit. Down the fancy rabbit hole again...

T’Challa begins the interview with the opening of Wakanda to the world.

“Wakandan technology is far above the rest of the world,” He nods seriously at your beginning statement. “And you’ve made examples of people who have tried to steal your vibranium in the past - does this mean that you won’t be integrating even the most basics of Wakandan tech to the outside world? Or do you think we’re still too greedy to be trusted with that?”

“It can be seen that way. Wakanda has thrived because even though our tribes are different, we work together. Vibranium is ours. We, however, would help anyone who requested it. Shuri and the technology department have already helped a great deal with Nakia acting as an ambassador. We will continue to do so.”

“The suit you currently wear as the Black Panther absorbs energy, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So could you absorb Thor’s lightning and redirect it? And the same with Carol Danver’s abilities?”

“Yes, theoretically.”

“So the shield that Cap has, could also - in theory, do the same?”

“No,” Shuri interrupts. “Because his shield was not made the same way as the Black Panther suit, thus could not hold the energy long enough to redistribute it in any way.”

“Howard didn’t have your imagination. Or the abilities Wakandans have to spin it into fabric. Does it take a long time?”

“No, we have refined the technique for so long it is very easy.” T’Challa takes back over, Shuri giving a little huff at her brother.

“I’ve heard that Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world. Mr. Barnes seems to agree. You three would be biased, but I’m going to ask anyway. Is it the most beautiful sunset in the world?”

“Yes,” All three say at the same time, each one has this shining look in their eyes, seeing it in their minds like it’s happening right before them.

“The way you all said it - the way you all look right now, it must be truly magical.” You wiggle a little in the chair as all three exchange glances, pen trailing down the notebook to see your next question.

“Sergeant Barnes was taken to Wakanda after the Sokovia Accords bullshit,” T’Challa’s eyebrow raises but he says nothing as you continue. “Why did you allow this? If anyone learned you were harboring the most wanted fugitive in the world at the time, there could have been serious repercussions for you all.”

“What could they do to a poor, third-world country that most people didn’t know even existed?” Okoye cross-questioned, her eyes so sharp you know why she was chosen to be a leader. She’s got a scary strength in her.

“Excellent observation. No one would look there. Is that why you let Steve in also?”

“I think by then we figured, we have one broken white boy, why not add another?” Shuri pipes up with a big smug grin. “But Steve didn’t get half the treatment that Bucky did. Bucky had to have family dinners with us. My mother insisted that if he was to remain safe once he got better, he would need some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“We, for all purposes, adopted him into the royal family,” T’Challa confirms and honestly, if you had a drink, you’re about 90% sure you would have spewed it all over your notebook and yourself.

“I’m sorry, wh-what??”

“He was given titles so that he has all the same immunities that we share as royalty and as the Dora Milaje receives as bodyguards to the royal family. That way General Ross could not have him arrested for any of his past crimes nor any new ones he could dream up to put on the White Wolf.” T’Challa smiles at you. “I guess he did not tell you that.”

“No. I honestly didn’t have a clue about that.”

“He probably wanted it that way. He said they are just words on his passport and papers. Bucky is very thankful for them and for all he has received, yet he has asked me to remove them when we feel that it’s safer to do so...He thinks he is undeserving. He has had to die many times for his country, for the world, so I feel the least I can do is give him those words.” Okoye nods at her king’s words as you try to fight back the watering your eyes seem to want to do.

“May I ask why do you call him that?”

“The children who lived nearby began calling him that - said his hair was shaggy like a wolf, eyes sharp like a wolf. Thus that was what they called him.” Okoye answers as Shuri taps at her phone while nodding absentmindedly along with Okoye’s words.

“So, I want to ask, should I break all these women’s hearts who are going to read this by telling them you’re off the market, T’Challa?” He chuckles, eyes downcast but mirth evident in them as he rubs a hand over his beard.

“I am. Nakia will be my queen one day.”

“Gonna woo her like a regular guy? Breakfast in bed? Flowers? Or do you have like Wakandan rituals you have to do before you can get engaged? Similar to the British? Like she’ll need to meet the Queen and get her approval and adhere to the royal duties and ceremonies...like that? Or does she already know about that since her father is the head of another tribe in Wakanda? Does she want to deal with Shuri all the time?”

“Oooh - fighting words!” Shuri grins out at you before sticking out her tongue, which you return with childish glee.

“He freezes half the time he sees her.”

“Aww, really Okoye? That’s adorable T’Challa! You must really adore her for your brain to sort of blank like that. I think that’s wonderful. Everybody deserves someone to sort of freeze up and just stare at them like they’re that important.”

“Thank you. I wish that for you as well, Y/N.” He must take in your startled expression since his smile kicks up a few notches before his phone rings. “Excuse me.”

“Of course, your highness.” T’Challa scowls at you before leaving to answer the call.

“I need to go,” Shuri whispers, eyes darting at the door her brother just exited through.

You can see the cogs turning in her mind. You honestly hope it doesn’t involve more deer. “Book it!” You whisper back, watching her dart out the door. You turn to Okoye. “So, how do those bead things work?”

Okoye begins going over the basics when Shuri walks back in, dragging her feet before looking at you with the biggest grin while T’Challa comes in right after her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Mother is not happy you managed to prank M’Baku from this distance.”

“She should be concerned, our future is in both of your hands,” Okoye sniffs before shooting you a smile, the smile disappearing into what you’ve been referring to in your head as her “business face”.

Shuri retakes her seat, before ignoring both of the adults and tapping on her bracelet. “You asked how these works?” An enthusiastic nod is all it takes for her to show you how their bracelets work before she overtakes the interview, showing you just as many memes as Peter did, and even leading the discussion on the school system differences between Wakanda and everywhere else. She talks about her lab, T’Challa putting on a show of yawning as she goes on, and you ask her about how she developed the Black Panther suit to store, and then use, the energy wielded against them.

“What about potentially dating? Would they need to be as smart as you? Would they need to be Wakandan?”

“If I had to wait for someone as smart as me, I would die of old age. That’s not important to me right now, nor, I think, anytime in the immediate future. T’Challa is King and when he gets married, he can make all the heirs and I can be in my lab showing them all the embarrassing photos and videos I have of him.” T’Challa and Okoye both look on with matching expressions of relief/humor. And honestly, you can’t blame them. If she’s pranking someone from halfway across the world is any indication, they all have every right to be worried.

Okoye has said little the whole interview, but each word is as measured and weighed as the words you submit for the blog. She knows her value and you have to sort of stare in awe of her for that. A fearsome general who would die to protect her king, her country and the world. She explains her tattoos, briefly, and what she doesn’t add - Shuri is more than happy to fill in while T’Challa corrects her.

“And that’s how her husband got imprisoned…” Shuri adds as if this is the least important bit about the closed-off Okoye.

“You’re married?”

“My husband asked me to choose between him and Wakanda. It was not a difficult choice.”

The epitome of He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me.

“You went straight up Olenna Tyrell on him, didn’t you?”

“If a man ever asks you a similar question, think of myself and Olenna.”

“That’s life advice if I’ve ever heard it, Okoye.” You agree immediately with the general. “We should have t-shirts made!”

Shuri is typing furiously on her phone. “They’ll be ready in two hours.” Your mouth is open. Wide.

Again.

The power of a genius teenager with seemingly unlimited funds…

“You must be careful what you say to her…” T’Challa voices as he rises from his chair. “And for the record, I would not do Tony’s fake calendar.”

“He would. He would like to be February.”

“Shuri!”

“It makes it all the more real, you know - moments like this… What do you think he’ll wear?”

“Probably traditional Wakandan clothes. But if you had Nakia on your side, you could get him to wear just about anything…” Okoye shares a devious smile with you as she stands from her seat, brushing an invisible (to you) piece of lint from her skirt.

“Have a good rest of your evening. We will see you at dinner, Miss Y/N,” T’Challa gives you a brief hug, his spicy scent reassuring in a way you didn’t understand and didn’t care to think too much about since it was comforting. Okoye giving a bright smile before trailing after her king, heeled boots clicking from the room with authority.

It’s the most dynamic interview so far since there are three strong people who all love their country with very strong ideals.

“You and the White Wolf seem to be getting along better…” She has a sly smile painted on her lips, making you give her a little side-eye as you finish gathering your things, closing the door firmly behind you before heading with her down the hallway back to the hub of the house.

“I would assume so. Bucky is a lot…,” You search for the right word. “Softer than he lets on.”

“Oooh, its Bucky now, is it?” She gasps dramatically, a smile stretched like a Cheshire cat.

“Princess, I have something to tell you -” You turn toward her with the most serious expression you have mustered since you set foot in the compound. “I don’t think you are ready to do spy or fieldwork. Your subtlety needs some work. Like, a lot of work.” Okoye snorts ahead of you, standing by the entryway, making your own smile widen as Shuri scowls at you.

“Got time for me tonight?” Tony calls out from farther down the hall headed towards the kitchen.

“Sure do!”

“Perfect! Right after dinner, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” You shout back, watching him give a thumbs up before disappearing back down the hall.

“So, what did you and Bucky talk about? Did he tell you about his goats?”

“He did. Also mentioned a nosy princess who helped him too.” You walk past where they stop in the living room, headed to the patio where Sam, Steve, and Peter are all standing, T'Challa heading towards the men as they watch Shuri stick her tongue out at you as you go to your room to start downloading the interviews and adding to your notes.

“Just a few days and she already has your number, sister.” T’Challa chortles, Sam’s laughter echoing alongside.

“Shut up, brother.”

It’s the last thing you hear as you hurry to your room with a big smile stretched on your face.

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“Interviewing Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man and the face of Stark Industries. Now, Tony, would you like to start with the fluff questions or get straight down to it?”

“Let’s save the fluff for the end, huh?” You swallow hard at his words, a tight smile dancing across his lips before disappearing. Settling a bit more into the dark brown leather chair of his office, you nod before glancing down at your list of questions.

“What was your ultimate reason behind pushing for the Accords?”

“I know we needed to be checked...held accountable if things went bad. I felt we could always go in and amend it later, but I saw what Ultron did, first hand and without Fury and SHIELD...who was gonna be able to hold us accountable?”

“But what led to the Accords was Sokovia, but the catalyst was Zemo posing as Bucky for the bombing, correct?”

“Essentially, yes. But even SHIELD answered to a higher authority.”

“And look what happened to SHIELD,” You counter, eyes just as sharp as Tony’s in the well-lit office. He sighs and you can see him working out where this is going, what question is next. “I don’t think that people who hide their faces should be trusted with the security of the world’s fate. But I don’t think you were wrong when you said you see a shield of iron protecting the world, but I think you need to see that the Avengers, the Guardians of the Galaxy...these are that suit of armor you wanted. People who have power but have never had to work for it -- sacrifice for it -- see others die because of it -- they honestly have no right to tell you if you’re in the wrong. You guys are the only ones who can.” Tony drags his fingers along his desktop before reaching for his amber drink. “I’ve seen your building acquirement. I know you spearhead the cleanups. I know you have bought buildings that have been damaged by not just the Avengers, but by HYDRA, the mafia, insurgents in the Middle East, and Yakuza. I’ve read other interviews with you - before and after your kidnapping. What happened to you in that cave and what happened to you when you pushed that nuke through that hole in the sky, they changed you, Tony. For the better, I believe.”

“You sound so...convinced.”

“And you aren’t? I’m as convinced you are a truly wonderful person, superhero, husband and father as you are convinced that Spider-Man is going to be the very best version of the Avengers you know he can be.”

“That’s a lot,” You can hear the emotion in Tony’s voice and you give him a watery smile in return.

“Do you think people should know about the existence of the Raft?”

“Look, that-it-it all boils down to secrecy. It boils down to some Area 51-esque shit. Should the nice lady working the night shift at the diner know? What would it change for her? Not a lot. It would just give people another reason to argue - give politicians another crusade to go after that will never have to produce actual fucking results and keeps everyone from going after the real problems we’re facing.” The frown he’s sporting makes you think you should have skipped that question, but the quickness with which he’s answering makes you think he isn’t exactly the Raft’s biggest fan either. “So, I’ll have to simply say that: Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit. But right now, the chickenshit is needed. Especially after the Snap, the Blip, whatever the fuck they call it...normalcy is what everyone is craving and it’s what they should have right now.”

“What sort of jelly do you use on yours and Morgan’s pb and js?”

“Strawberry preserves usually.” The tenseness seems to seep away a little, but you see you need to coax his mind to slow down a little more.

“Bowling or mini-golf?”

“Mini-golf.”

“Bubble bath or shower?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a bubble bath to relax. Showers are for getting clean.”

“So what do you do to relax?”

“Not a whole damn lot to be honest. I-I can’t seem to shut it off most days.” His fingers dance around the rim of his almost empty tumbler. “Mostly I push things aside to deal with them later so I can be in the moment as much as possible with Morgan and Pepper.”

“Craziest thing she’d done so far?”

“Pep and I went out for a date night. Left her at the Tower with Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Bucky, and Peter. Come home and a) she’s still awake and b) she’s hanging from the damn ceiling with Peter while Bucky shoots Nerf darts at the both of them while Steve cleans up all the scattered toys and was shouting that she needs to get to bed not be more riled up when we get home.” The softest smile is dancing on his lips, his eyes full of love and you know it’s not just for Morgan. “Morgan was squealing with joy, so I couldn’t really get angry. Especially when I saw Peter had layered his web fluid so if they fell or slipped, there was webbing about every two feet as a precaution. Plus they had the mats from the gym on the living room floor and Clint was sitting on the countertop, using those eagle-eyed peepers.”

“Craziest thing before that?”

“Last Christmas when Steve took her sledding down one of the hills in the compound, which turned into sled racing when Rocket and Thor got involved. Pep didn’t care for that. We built some bumps to be like a brake system the next morning. She still didn’t like it too much.”

You learn Morgan also likes it when Thor makes her hair stand on end and Groot gives her flowers.

“She’s with Pep’s mom and dad in California for a couple of weeks since they just got back from a cruise and haven’t seen her in a while. I miss her. Facetiming every day just doesn’t cut it.”

“Starting to get a little itchy - ready for her to get home. I get that. I adore my cousin’s children. Been around them nearly every day of their lives the first year. Then she moved to Idaho for a job and I didn’t get to see them again until they were almost two. She visits more often now, I’ve seen them every two weeks for the last four months. It’s hectic - but I love it when there are toys, crayons, and blankets scattered everywhere in my living room. When they leave, man, I swear I sleep for a whole day then just sort of sit around looking at the cleanliness with a little bit of disdain.”

“Luckily I have you lot to make a mess, so it doesn’t seem so bad right now.”

“Well,” you laugh, “That’s certainly one way to look at it. Okay, ready for more of the fluff?”

“Bring it.”

“How do you handle a bad hair day?”

“I’ve never had one in my life. Next question.”

“Okay, if you were to do a superhero calendar, which month would you be and what would you be wearing for it?” Tony shakes a finger at you, grinning.

“See, Rhodey told me about this question, so I’ve had some time to think about it...I’d say I would like to be June or July, what did Cap choose?”

“May.”

“July then. AC/DC shirt with a jacket and jeans, holding on of the older Iron Man masks under one arm. Fireworks in the background, maybe holding the shield. Really sell it, ya know.”

“If it was just you, no showing off...just something nice for Pepper.”

“September. It’s when we got married. What about you?”

“October.”

“Costume or regular clothes?”

“Depends on the photographer and how I’m feeling, I guess. Ideally, both. The favorite as the big picture and the other in the bottom corner or something.”

“You’ve had time to figure out your answer too, huh?”

“Sixteen interviews.”

“Sixteen? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Sam, Clint, Wanda, Bruce, Hope, Scott, Steve, Vision, Peter, and Rhodey. Natasha, Bucky, Shuri, T’Challa, Okoye, and you. Sixteen.”

“In four days. Like speed dating for a writer.”

“That’s what I told Sam!”

Tony walks you back to your room, discussing his favorite snacks, telling you what Monte Carlo is actually like before suggesting you go there on vacation with the dirtiest smirk you have ever witnessed first-hand. He then offers to let you try out a suit when Steve goes for his run tomorrow morning, which you feel a flutter of hope that you actually do get to do something like that.

He gives you a tender pat on your forearm when he says goodnight, leaving while whistling what you’re sure is ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ by Billie Holiday.

You stay up for a few hours over what you should, furiously typing up your interview with Tony when Amelina finally texts you the gif of Kermit on the typewriter with the words “GO TO SLEEP!” immediately under it. You sigh, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, but you do as she bids, texting her first that she needs to get her ass to bed too. You finish it up with “Stalker” with the eyeball emoji. Shuffling into your pajamas and letting the plush bedding swallow and comfort you, mind still thinking of all the things you need to add to the interview piece.

And that’s how you drift off, thinking of a shield of Iron Man armor drifting around the Earth.

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Someone is in your room far too early for your liking, poking you awake then ordering you into the bathroom. You sleepily realize it’s Tony before stumbling to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and managing to hop/change into a pair of black leggings with constellations all over and a dark gray t-shirt before returning to the bedroom.

“Don’t give me the glare pout. I brought coffee.” Tony has socks and shoes laid out for you and when you raise an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs then taps his wrist where a watch would be. Slipping into the shoes and socks as quickly as possible, he hands you a tall ceramic mug, bidding you to follow him quickly and quietly down the hallway towards his workshop.

When you get in, you see one of the earlier suits standing in the middle of the room and the butterflies in your stomach turn to little stones that sink and pile up when realizing what you’re about to do. The sweet coffee doesn’t help now that reality settles in. Are you really gonna do this?!

“Scared?” You can’t even manage words right now, so you just nod. “Good. Healthy. Smart, even.” He touches it, the suit open beneath his fingertips like a mechanical flower. “Come on,” He eggs. “FRIDAY and I are here to keep you safe.” You nod again, nerves or not eating breakfast - you aren’t sure which it is - is making you feel the first tendrils of nausea. “You don’t have to.” Tony offers the out, studying you carefully.

“No, I want to.” He helps you into the suit and just as it closes you hear him ask if you’re claustrophobic.

“Maybe you should have led with that Tony!” Thankfully, though, you aren’t - well not with this you don’t seem to be. It is close around your body, but it’s not a crushing, tight sort of feeling you would associate with claustrophobia.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes. Did you just hear me yell at you?”

“Yes, but I ignored it.” You can see him move to stand directly before you. “Perfect. Wanna try walking first. Careful steps first so you don’t damage my floors.”

“If I eat shit in this suit?”

“Just gently push yourself up and get up like normal.” You do pretty well and Tony is smiling, watching like a proud parent. “Okay, let’s try hovering.”

“Hovering?!”

“Yeah. FRIDAY give her a little lift.”

“Yes, Boss.” Sounds in your ears softly before you hear a soft hum and feel the suit lift you from the ground.

“Holy shit,” You murmur, leaning forward and then backward to test the feeling of floating.

And just about that time when Steve comes in with Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey all in tow.

“Tony, do you know where -” He pauses, seeing Tony on the ground and the suit hovering a handful of feet off the ground. “Tell me she isn’t in there.”

“Okay. She isn’t in there.”

“Tony!”

“Steve!”

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do they always argue like an old married couple?”

“Yes, Miss, they do.”

“Get her out of that thing!”

“She’s hovering off the ground Steve! Not being sent out to tackle an arms dealer!”

“Can you set me down, FRIDAY? I can see the vein in Cap’s forehead throbbing.” The boosters die down, FRIDAY setting you down gently before the helmet flips up. “Let me out please, FRIDAY.” The rest of the suit opens and Tony offers an outstretched hand with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Listen, I don’t want to be the person to give Captain America an aneurysm, so we’re all going to the kitchen to have breakfast.” You start past Tony and when you get to Steve you reach out, patting his chest twice. “And pull the stick out a little, Cap.” Bucky snorts before following, Sam shaking his head with a big smile before following.

“You know, every day I like her more.” Rhodey chuckles out. “Come on you two, you heard the lady. Breakfast. Bucky’s probably volunteering to cook as we speak.” Both Avengers give each other a look before mumbling out half-assed apologies and all three men then headed for the kitchen and the sound of multiple peels of laughter.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bucky and Wanda make omelets as big as the freaking plates while Sam makes bacon and sausage, all of it is delicious - not to mention highly entertaining as Scott did a few magic tricks, making Dr. Strange arch an eyebrow when he pulled cards from his mouth. Dr. Strange and Wong lead you to the zen garden afterwards, Wong leading in a small meditation set before you begin the interview.

Wong is nearly as closed off as Okoye, giving you just shy of not much, so you chalk it up to the fact that secrets seem to go hand-in-hand with mysticism. He does tell you about Tibet and how Stephen got him to listen to Beyonce. He is also a devotee of Adele and Boston.

“Like to keep that one name thing alive, huh, Wong?” He just chortles, taking a sip of his strawberry hibiscus tea.

Dr. Strange goes over his life before the accident and about not returning to medicine.

“I thought that was important, being the asshole surgeon who was the best at everything, the smartest at everything. The accident took everything from me and I was willing to do whatever to get that back. To return to being me. The Ancient One showed me that there was so much more than me to see.”

Twenty minutes later and you and Wong are fighting back laughter. “He thought Dr. Strange was my ‘made-up name’ and not my actual given name.”

“To be fair, the doctor part was an add on. And he’s sort of fair in assuming that’s a made-up name...I mean he’s already met Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch, and Ant-Man. Dr. Strange isn’t that much of a leap after that.” But honestly, you can see Peter doing that, and that’s why you’re still fighting back the giggles.

After a couple of hours with the magic-wielding pair, you have FRIDAY lead you to Pepper. She’s in her office, a white-walled space with homey pictures scattered on them while several vases of flowers adorn the top of a small antique-looking half-table painted in a dark blue. She’s in a soft pink button-up blouse with a pair of charcoal lounge pants, her hair up in a messy ponytail as she looks up from her laptop.

Pepper is the most comfortable with the questions by far, both serious and fluff, and navigates them both with wonderful tact and subtle humor.

She talks about Stark Industries, about the Avengers, about her suit - Rescue. But you enjoy it most when she talks about Tony and Morgan. Her whole demeanor changes; her body seems to relax, her voice softens and her bright eyes get all the brighter.

“It seems like that’s the only time Tony is really, truly happy. And after I got him back...living our lives, being with each other and having a family - the simpler life...that’s all that mattered. I know Tony and I know he has a hard time shutting his brain off, but those five years while everyone else was struggling,” Pepper sighs, looking guilty. “I was having a life I dreamed about. It wasn’t complete - we had so many taken from us but we had each other. He was alive. That’s all I could have asked for. And then Morgan came along and I thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe Tony won’t feel so guilty anymore. Maybe he’ll get some rest,” She smiles ruefully. “When people tell you about kids, they say you won’t be getting much sleep. But I was hoping she’d wear him out enough to sleep.”

She nearly brings you to tears when she talks about the fight with Thanos - how she almost lost Tony again - before she clutched onto his shoulder, Rhodey’s armored hand clinging to her’s, Clint’s hand gripping onto Rhodey’s shoulder and Carol holding onto his. Steve is on Tony’s other shoulder with Thor’s hand heavy on Steve’s shoulder while Sam and Bucky are holding onto each other’s hands while Peter grips Thor’s free shoulder hard and Natasha squeezes Peter’s hand reassuringly. All of the Avengers forming around Tony in the gauntlet, shouldering the sheer force of the stones so they all walk away together this time.

“And it worked,” Pepper’s voice breaks a little, the emotion, even three years later is high. “I got to keep Tony, Morgan got to keep her dad...the world got to keep it’s Iron Man. Natasha was brought back, everyone from the Snap was back - it was more than we could have hoped for. Tony, Bruce, and Shuri rebuilt Vision a little while after we rebuilt the compound. I - I just couldn’t have asked for more.”

The words seem to break you the second time around, sitting in your room, sobbing on the floor as the interview stops playing through your headphones.

You don’t hear the soft knock at the door. You don’t hear Bucky and Peter enter but you feel Peter pull you into a hug while Bucky strokes your hair, making you cry all the harder. When you’re all cried out, Peter lifts you from the plush carpet as Bucky saves and closes your laptop, setting it carefully on the desk as Peter tucks you into bed.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re all here. We’re all okay.” You’re nodding against your pillow, not knowing how he knew what you were sobbing over, these five days finally hitting you.

“I got her, kid. Go grab some water and some aspirin for her from the kitchen. Get an apple or banana too, she’ll need something on her stomach when she gets up.” Peter nods eagerly before squeezing your hand twice and disappearing from the room. “Want me to stay?” You manage a nod as he kicks off his boots and settles against the headboard. You turn to face him, reaching out for his metal hand, watching a sad smile flit across his face. “Get some rest, doll. I’m gonna stay right here.” He brings your hand to his lips, gentle and soft on the back of your hand. “Not going anywhere.”

An hour later, when Steve and Shuri are looking for Bucky, they find him sleeping slouched to one side but still mostly upright, with your hand wrapped firmly around his vibranium one.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

[PART 3]

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

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bevioletskies · 6 years

Text

let’s stay together

summary: For all his missteps and mishaps, Scott has been on pretty good terms with the Pym-Van Dyne family lately. That is, until Cassie started calling Hank "Grandpa".

a/n: Fic title is from the song Let's Stay Together by Al Green because I've yet to figure out how to title Scott/Hope fics. Takes place post-Ant-Man and the Wasp, with the optimistic assumption that they at least had a month to relax before that post-credits scene.

word count: 3.9k | ao3

The first time it happened, Scott was reasonably certain that the universe had momentarily ceased to exist, or at least, that’s what it felt like. All the air had been sucked out of the room, everything went mind-numbingly silent, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Hank turning an alarmingly violent shade of red. Well, THAT can’t be good, he thought.

“Oh!” Janet finally said after a minute too long. Hank was now purple.

So, Scott did what any reasonable person would do (that’s what he told himself, anyway) and promptly stood, hauled his daughter up by the armpits before she could finish her bite of mashed potatoes, and practically carried her to the front door. “This-was-great-we-should-really-do-this-again-sometime-okay-bye!” he blurted out, tripping over his own feet in his attempt to pull on his shoes and jacket at the same time.

“Scott?” Hope was half-skeptical, half-concerned, as she often was when it came to Scott’s...Scott-ness, but before she could get up and follow him, the door slammed shut. She glanced over at Hank; his knuckles were white. “...did Cassie just call you ‘grandpa’?”

“Don’t,” Hank grouched. The color in his face was slowly returning to normal, but he was still clutching his steak knife with a worryingly vice-like grip. Janet patted his hand consolingly before resuming her dinner like nothing had happened.

Hope texted Scott the moment dinner was over, reassuring him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought - Hank had only ranted for three minutes about being anyone’s grandfather, then Janet interrupted to remind him of his age - but Scott’s reply was an uncharacteristically curt response about arriving late at the laboratory tomorrow morning. It was only because of Hope’s good memory that she remembered that it was because Maggie and Paxton were picking up Cassie from Scott’s place, and not that Scott decided to preemptively berate himself at home before joining them to work on the latest iteration of suits.

Janet, who was still getting used to an adult daughter and not the child she’d unintentionally left behind, hovered in worry, fretting over Hope’s shoulder at Scott’s message. “Seriously, Mom, it’s okay,” Hope repeated for the fifth time while she put her jacket on, preparing to leave for the night. “I’m not seven or sixteen, remember? Nothing to worry about. Scott’s just a little...excitable.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hank grumbled from the sitting room. Despite her best efforts, Hope couldn’t help but roll her eyes like a child.

“Bye, Dad,” she called, kissing Janet briefly on the cheek before walking out the door.

The next morning, Scott arrived even later than he said he was going to be, looking just as agitated as he’d sounded last night. “Hope, I swear, I didn’t say anything about - ”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said calmly. “Besides, he’s probably forgotten all about it.”

“I haven’t.” Hank emerged from behind one of the enormous machines, startling Scott. “Did you - ”

“Nope!” Scott said a little too quickly. “Hank, I would never - ”

“Does she call her anything?” Hank wildly brandished his pen in Hope’s direction. She fixed him with a stern expression in return, plucking the pen from his hand and neatly tucking it into the breast pocket of his sweater vest.

“Henry,” Janet called from across the room.

“I already told you she doesn’t,” Hope said exasperatedly. “Can we focus, please?”

“Grandpa,” Hank muttered under his breath as he returned to his workbench, where Janet gave him a playful poke for his troubles.

“For the record, I think Mom was secretly thrilled,” Hope whispered to Scott. He snickered in relief.

After the day’s work was done, Scott and Hope said their goodbyes to a cheerful Janet and a temperamental Hank (though really, when were either of them anything else) and got into Hope’s car, promptly shrinking down to a more...elusive size. It was a new routine for them after Scott had completed the terms of his house arrest, and although there was still a search out for Hope and her parents, it wasn’t too difficult for them to evade the authorities now that they had everything and every one in one place. Scott spent his weekdays working at X-Con Security and Pym Tech, while he and Hope, sometimes Cassie, spent their weekends at his place. Hope had grown quite attached to Scott’s house, finding it far more inviting than her own apartment, and of course, she’d adored Cassie the moment they met. After everything she and her father had been through ever since the Sokovia Accords had come into play, it was nice to have some normalcy in her life.

Scott drummed his fingers restlessly against the window. “Where do you think this whole ‘grandpa’ thing started?”

Hope groaned. “I thought we were going to drop this, Scott. Besides, you and Cassie have been coming to dinner for several weeks now and Dad’s the right age to be her grandpa, so it just...came out. Not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but what if it means something?” Hope’s eyes briefly flickered over to his unusually serious expression. “Hank’s never been a big fan of...us.”

“Then it’s good that what he thinks has no impact on our relationship,” Hope said testily, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Scott winced in memory of how angry she’d been when they first met, often at Scott himself for being in her life, but mostly at Hank for everything he’d done - or rather, hadn’t done. “He kept me out of his life long enough. Just because we’re back to being a family, it doesn’t give him the right to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. He suddenly looked very interested in the loose thread on his jacket sleeve, picking at it with a strange fixation. “Look, I just don’t wanna be the reason you guys fight again, alright? And if he doesn’t want me to be part of your family - ”

“Oh, Scott.” Hope briefly let go of the wheel to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. “Dad’s got his hangups about you, but you know him, he’s like that with everyone. Doesn’t mean he wants to cut you out. Besides, Mom adores you, and there’s no way he’ll go against her.”

Scott laughed despite himself, his shoulders finally relaxing as he settled back into his seat. “Your mom’s great. Perceptive, too. It’s almost like she can see inside my head - ”

“That joke was only funny the first time,” Hope interrupted, though there was a smile in her voice as she said it. “Please stop telling people my mom was inside you without context.”

Another week went by - a relatively uneventful one at that, all things considered, in which the only mishap they encountered was a couple of random thieves that tried to break into the lab and received an unpleasant surprise in return for their efforts - before Cassie was at Scott’s house again. On the first morning of her return, she was chatting a mile per minute about her most recent soccer game, the last math test she’d had, and anything else that came to mind. “How come Hope isn’t here?” Cassie asked once she’d taken a second to breathe between her bites of cereal.

“She doesn’t live here, peanut,” Scott reminded her, absent-mindedly thumbing through the newspaper.

“But why not? She stays over all the time, and she drives you places, and - ”

“That doesn’t mean she has to live here,” Scott pointed out. He then sighed in realization, knowing they had to talk about it eventually, and now was as good a time as ever. “Hey, when you called Hank ‘Grandpa’...did you mean to do that?”

“Yes,” Cassie said bluntly. “Hope is kind of like my second mom, so her daddy is kind of like my grandpa.”

“Okay, well, I think you scared him a little,” Scott said gently. “I’m sure Hope loves the idea of being your second mom, but it’s making Hank feel like me and her are getting really serious.”

“Serious?” Cassie furrowed her brow in adorable confusion.

“Like we’re gonna get married.” Scott sat up straight as if he just realized what he’d said. “Which is...I mean, you know...wow.”

“But don’t you wanna marry her, Daddy?” Cassie prompted, in the sort of tone she used when she asked him to help with her science homework, like it was just another topic of conversation. “She’s your partner.”

“That’s not - I - oh.” Scott rubbed his temples, willing the conversation to go away on its own. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea; in fact, the very idea of marrying Hope was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying and very much something he’d like to do. But it was far too early in the morning to be processing anything more complex than the latest episode of Cassie’s favorite morning cartoon. “Finish your breakfast, okay? We gotta head out soon.”

It was only when the two of them got in Scott’s car - a relatively new investment for him, though it was about as rundown as Luis’s van - that he remembered they were picking up Hope on the way to Cassie’s school. Usually, he enjoyed the ten minutes they had together, where he could just sit back and listen to two of his favorite people in the world chat and laugh like they’d known each other forever, but now he was rather paranoid that Cassie was going to do...something.

“Hey, you two,” Hope smiled, radiant, as she got into the passenger’s seat, leaning across to briefly kiss him. “You’re early today.”

“Daddy wanted to finish breakfast super fast,” Cassie shrugged, grinning toothily. “I think he was excited to see you.”

“Is that so?” Hope quirked an eyebrow in his direction before putting her seatbelt on. “Well, better early than late, right?”

“Right,” Cassie chirped. Scott started the engine, crossing his fingers that she wouldn’t bring it up - “Daddy thinks your daddy is scared of him.” - and there she went. Fantastic.

“What?” Hope rounded on him instantly. “Scott.”

“Listen...sometimes, we say things that - ”

“Scott,” Hope repeated. It amazed him that she was capable of saying his name so affectionately some of the time and so authoritatively, well, most of the time.

“Cassie,” Scott said firmly, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Daddy,” Cassie said plaintively, blinking innocently in return. When that didn’t work, she added, “I don’t want anyone to be scared of anyone,” her bottom lip wobbling in the way that they all knew would change anyone’s mind no matter what.

“I didn’t say Hank was scared of me,” Scott finally explained with a sigh, briefly glancing over at an unimpressed Hope. “It’s just what I was saying before. About him and our relationship.”

“Of course you didn’t let this go,” Hope groaned, turning to face the window. “When it was just me and Dad on the run, he had a lot to say about you. But he never said anything about us.” She turned to look at Cassie, whose nose was scrunched up in worry. “No one’s scared of anyone, alright?”

“So...he doesn’t think Daddy’s gonna ask you to marry him?” Cassie asked. Scott felt the gas pedal slip underneath his feet, nearly flinging them all forward in the process. For the second time that week, he felt his chest seize up with one single word blaring through his head like a siren - PANIC.

“What,” Hope said flatly.

“Hey, hey, no distracting the driver,” he said weakly. “Besides, didn’t we say we were gonna talk about the regulator in my suit before we get to the lab, something about the whatchamacallit - ”

“Were you going to ask me to marry you?”

“No, I - ”

“So you don’t want to marry me.”

Scott paused. “Hope, I gotta be honest, I don’t really know what the right answer is.”

Hope merely shook her head, jaw clenched tight, staring straight ahead. “Just drive, Scott.”

Cassie looked at Scott in silent apology once they dropped her off, hugging Hope as she always did before running up the steps to the front door. The rest of the car ride was expectedly uncomfortable, lacking a single word out of either of them. Upon arriving at the laboratory, Hope continued on like nothing was wrong, hanging up her coat and setting down her bag, briefly hugging Hank and Janet with a warm smile. She then settled down at one of the workbenches and promptly got to work on her faulty blasters, her back pointedly turned on everything else.

Scott meandered around for a bit, picking at the wires in his suit’s regulator (“You’ve got some nerve calling this a working suit, Hank!” he’d said pretty much every single day since he first put it on) but entirely unable to concentrate. All he could think about was how he’d managed to mess things up with Hope, again, and he didn’t even have to get arrested this time for it to happen.

“Don’t you look all bothered?” He looked up to see Janet smiling pityingly at him from the other side of his table. “What’s troubling you, Scott?”

“Didn’t sleep great,” he lied. Janet quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s cute how you think you can lie to me,” she said not unkindly, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Is it about the whole ‘grandpa’ thing? Because I can’t tell who’s more hung up about it, you or Henry!”

“I’m embarrassed she said it in the first place,” he admitted, setting his tools down. “Cassie loves being around you guys, and I guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

“It’s okay,” Janet said, squeezing his arm. “Personally, I’d love it if Cassie thought of us as her grandparents, she’s one of the loveliest kids I’ve ever met. Reminds me a lot of Hope...before I left her.” Her smile faltered somewhat. “Is it you and Hope, then?”

“You could say that,” Scott said carefully. He glanced across the room to where she was sitting. She hadn’t looked at him since they got out of the car.

“It’s one day at a time with that one, isn’t it?” Janet hummed, briefly turning on her heel to look at her daughter, too. “Always have to remind myself she’s so much...more now. All the things she wants, all the things she is, I have to get used to that.” She turned back to look at Scott knowingly. “That goes for you, too.”

“I’m gonna fix it, Janet,” he promised. “And...please don’t tell Hank.”

Janet laughed throatily, though Scott wasn’t sure what was so funny. “Oh, honey, what makes you think he didn’t already notice?”

Hank, meanwhile, sidled up to Hope’s side in a way that he thought was subtle enough, but she merely gave him a look that said, “I know exactly what you’re doing, and I don’t like it”. “What?” he barked, embarrassed. “I wanted to check your progress on the - ”

“Dad,” Hope said firmly. “Just spit it out, okay?”

“You’ve been tense,” he observed, pulling up a stool so he could sit beside her. “I wanna know why.”

“Because it’s affecting our work?” she snorted, turning back to her blasters.

“Because you’re my daughter.” Her hands paused in mid-air. “I don’t give a damn about the work right now. You’ve been all wound up lately, and it’s affecting you. So what is it?”

Hope couldn’t help but smile at her dad’s usual gruff tone, how it completely failed to hide his concern. “It just...feels like we’re in between everything right now. We’re sort of on the run but we sort of aren’t, we have Mom back but we’re trying to figure out how to be a family again, not to mention you and Scott being weird about what Cassie said even though we’re all growing closer...I’m a little stressed out, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I promise.”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Someday, those Sokovia Accords are going to be through, and we’ll be free. Respected. And me and your mother, we’re going to make sure you don’t have a single thing to worry about. I’m sure Scott’s on board, too.”

“Surprised to hear you say that,” she admitted. “You really need to stop antagonizing him, okay? I’ve forgiven him for Germany, and I think it’s time you did, too.”

“I thought I already did,” he said, briefly looking to where Scott and Janet were conversing. Janet seemed to be laughing at something that Scott couldn’t quite follow; the very idea that she knew something he didn’t amused Hank greatly. “What, you think I’m working with him and inviting him and his daughter to our house every week because I’m angry ?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes,” she shot back without missing a beat, though her grin was widening regardless. “Be nice, Dad.”

“I’ll...try to say something at our next dinner,” he said through gritted teeth as if the thought of expressing any emotion other than mild annoyance toward Scott was inherently painful. “But I mean it, Hope. Once this Accord nonsense is all over, we’ll get my company back on track, and we’ll be a family. All of us.”

Hope nodded, her eyes shining, and reached out to squeeze her father’s shoulder. “And I won’t vote you out of our company this time.”

Hank chuckled, briefly leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. “That’s my girl.”

Scott and Hope got into Scott’s car several hours later, both still somewhat tense. The rest of their time at the lab had been quiet, with Hank and Janet doing most of the talking. Both of them clearly suspected that there was more to it than they’d discussed, but wisely decided to let it be. Or rather, Janet had caught Hank by the arm every single time he seemed like he was about to open his mouth. “We have to remember she’s an adult, Henry,” she had murmured. “I know we both want her to need our help, but she doesn’t. Not this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said the moment they were on the road.

“You’ve been apologizing a lot lately,” Hope sighed. “What is it for this time?”

“Freaking out, not letting stuff go, and everything that Cassie said this morning,” he replied like a child reciting the alphabet, listing his fingers off on one hand, the other drumming restlessly against the steering wheel. “I almost got over it, you know? But then when we were having breakfast this morning, Cassie said all this stuff about living together, getting married...I started overthinking it.”

She nodded, sinking back into her seat. Her anger had mostly dissipated over the course of the day, evolving into something more akin to contemplation. “I know you, Scott,” she said quietly. “Maybe we haven’t known each other for as long as we think, but I know you. And you know me. You know that I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to tell me or ask me anything. So just...get to the point, and we can move on. For good.”

Scott inhaled, then let out a short huff of an exhale, his fingers still drumming on the steering wheel, though quieter now. “You’re my partner, Hope. In more ways than one. And I...do wanna marry you someday, just not yet. It’s early, and there’s too much going on, and it feels like - ”

“ - like we’re in between?” Hope guessed, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, exactly.” He looked away for a moment to return the smile, his eyes twinkling in the way that made her feel just a little bit more at ease about everything. “So why don’t we get to the ‘in between’ first?”

She paused. “What do you mean?”

“Move in with me. Or, I guess we could get a different place together if you want more space, though I dunno if I can afford a house as big as your parents’, but maybe you could, and - ”

“Okay,” she said, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning as giddily as she felt. “And for the record, I meant it when I said I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to ask.” She paused, letting the smile spread across her face despite herself. “Maybe someday, I’ll ask instead.”

Hank and Janet arrived at the laboratory at precisely nine in the morning, chatting quietly in the elevator ride up to their floor. They hung up their jackets, changed them out for their lab coats and protective equipment, and Hank went about telling his ants their orders for the day. Janet, on the other hand, went to log in on the main computer, only to find someone was already in her seat.

“Hi Grandma,” Cassie said, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Not missing a beat, Janet immediately drew her into a hug, then leaned back to tuck Cassie’s hair behind her ears. “Hey, sweetheart! Never seen you in here before,” she fussed, beaming. “You looking for a science lesson today?”

“Yes, please,” Cassie chorused. “But first, Daddy and Hope wanted to tell you something.”

Janet turned to see Scott and Hope approaching from the other room, looking somewhat sheepish. Instinctively, her eyes flickered to Hope’s stomach, though her daughter’s immediate visceral response told her she was incorrect. Hank then came over to join them, letting out a stifled grunt when Cassie went to hug him as well, though he patted her on the back in return. “What’s this all about?” he asked.

“I’m moving in with Scott,” Hope announced matter-of-factly, holding up a copy of his house keys. “I’ve had it with hiding in my own apartment, what with technically being on the run and all, so this just made sense.”

“Glad I’m the most logical choice,” Scott drawled, nodding her way. “So Hank, Janet...what do you guys think?”

“Oh, we think it’s wonderful! Don’t we, Henry?” Janet exclaimed, briefly turning to narrow her eyes at her husband before clapping her hands together in excitement. “My precious jellybean - ” She swept Hope and Scott into her arms, letting out an overwhelmed sob of elation into her daughter’s shoulder. Hank, whose jaw was clenched but was also not one to be left behind, walked over to awkwardly clap his hand on Scott’s shoulder; Cassie followed, nestling herself in under everyone’s arms.

“Didn’t realize we were gonna have a group hug today.” Still, Scott tried his best to get his arms around everyone, even Hank, who merely squirmed. “If I’d known, I would’ve remembered deodorant - ”

“Scott, I swear to god - ”

“Obviously I’m wearing deodorant, Hank, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hope sighed, withdrawing herself from the mass of bodies. “So Cassie, you ready for my parents to show you the ropes?” She nodded, looking unusually shy, staring up at both Hank and Janet expectantly.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Hank who reached for her first, gently taking her by the shoulder and guiding her over to his workbench. “Let’s set you up with some protective gear. There’ll be no accidents in my lab today.”

“Yes, Doctor Pym,” Cassie said obediently, hoisting herself up onto the bench stool. Hank paused, turning to look at her, to really look at her. Cassie’s eyes were bright, wide, inquisitive, her posture both anticipatory and patient. He looked over at the others, where Janet was standing between Hope and Scott, her hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her pleased smile. Hope’s eyes shone back at him; he barely noticed her fingers intertwined with Scott’s.

Hank turned back to Cassie. “You know what? ‘Grandpa’ is okay, too.”

a/n: I have been talking about writing this fic for at least six months now and I'm sure some far better version of it exists elsewhere, but I finally finished! Still figuring out my characterization of these lovely characters, so bear with me if anything seems particularly OOC, and I'm looking forward to writing even more Scott/Hope in the future and getting better at doing so. Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)

#langdyne #scotthope #hopescott #langdyne fic #scotthope fic #myfic #marvel #not 100% sure if the characterization is accurate but i definitely wanna practice some more with these lovelies

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