the night when i fell off your mind

[flexibility]

( post-civil war, au on ant-man and the wasp. )

Scott's strange behaviour is rather … normal. It's when he's behaving like any other well-adjusted human being that she begins to worry.

It's a good thing she has nothing to worry about, since Scott's acting like himself. Strange. Odd. He's overcompensating for a possible wrong he perceives he's done when it's as simple as him forgetting to leave his suit behind because Cassie wanted an Ant-Man show.

Dad hadn't busted a vein over that.

Hope ignores Scott as he bangs his elbow against the doorframe for the fifth time in the last hour. She ignores the way he tries to explain the reasoning behind a nasty bruise on his upper arm and lower back. She even ignores how he measures out way too much salt. She can be cool; she's not uptight, even though there's no salt in cupcakes and she's had to bite her tongue numerous times from telling him that.

Standing in his kitchen, Hope continues to follow Cassie's neatly written recipe. She's here because she has no social life, and Scott had fed Cassie a very innocent white lie that he knew how to cook her favourite cupcakes even though he's never quite known how to get the icing right — according to Cassie, anyway.

Hope stiffens when he slams a cupboard door a little too hard. Sieving the flour, Hope clears her throat.

"Are you okay?" she asks, amused. Scott Lang, the ultimate con artist, sucks at being in the kitchen. Or maybe he's slipping around and making a mess because he lied to her.

Scott went to Germany without her. It's fine. Nothing's wrong.

Comments

[quantumword]

He winces at the sound of the cupboard door slamming and barely misses getting his fingers stuck in it in the process. He's so incredibly nervous, even though he's trying to play it cool. He went to Germany and then he went to the Raft, which isn't just some urban myth. And then he went to Wakanda and now he's home, but he doesn't actually know for how long. All because he couldn't say no to Captain America.

He knows he should've run it by Hope and Hank first. Technically, the suit isn't his, even if they let him wear it and steal things sometimes. He also stops bad guys like Cross, but this had been his chance to do something important. There hadn't been time to think about it. Or argue about it, which is what Hank seems to do best.

He did the right thing. Or at least he thinks he did. He's just not sure why he feels so bad about it. Oh, right, because if they find out, they might murder him and then shrink down his body and bury it in a matchbox.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, giving her a goofy smile as he grabs the vanilla. "Okay, how much vanilla extract?"