Thank you Florence for beta reading. :)

Hope sighed as she took a look at the paperwork scattered everywhere over her desk. With her elbow supported on the desk's surface and her head propped on her left hand, she flipped through the pages of a report and unconsciously running her fingers through her hair. Hope gently scratched her scalp while she read, the gesture being more of a distracted action than an actual need to scratch an itch. Her eyelids batted heavily and Hope figured she'd need to get a drink to keep herself awake and concentrated.

She rolled her eyes as she read for the millionth time the board of directors and shareholders' concerns about the future of the company. Hope wasn't sure if the fact that they all shared the same concerns was a good thing or a bad one. She was well aware that their CEO had gone insane and died, and that the company's building exploded itself into some kind of quantum singularity, but she didn't have any solution to offer on that. Yet. But, she couldn't say that the company's issues were the most tiring experience she was going through at the moment.

When she wasn't busy with work, she was working on the Wasp suit with Hank, and that was both physically and mentally draining (mostly mentally challenging). On the upside though, she could finally say the suit was hers, synchronized and adjusted to her needs, fitting her perfectly. But for Hank, seeing Hope wearing the suit brought daunting memories of his wife. He saw too much of Janet in their daughter. He kept on telling Hope that she needed to deflate her ego a little bit and not to be so quick on her feet. Obviously Hope took every of her father's concerned words as words of disapproval. Part of the stress and frustration she was feeling was because of that.

In a much farther East city from San Francisco, Scott was dragging his sore body to bed. Every time he needed to go to New York, he'd stay at the Avengers Facility, much to Hank's annoyance. He threatened to take away from Scott the Ant-Man suit if he even thought of joining the Avengers but for now, the whole Ant-Man-might-become-an-Avenger talk was still dead in the water. Hope supported Scott's decision, whatever it turned out to be, and that surprisingly made him feel brave enough to face off Hank if he had to. Superheroes apart, Scott didn't particularly like the fact that staying at the Avengers Facility meant undergoing fitness tests and going through rough exercise sessions. How he missed sparring with Hope…

They'd see each other every now and then when he went to Hank's because of the suit. They'd talk on the phone and text occasionally as well, but for Scott, seeing her every now and then wasn't enough for him, he'd come to realize. Kissing her while still inside Hank's house hadn't been his finest move, but it wasn't one he regretted. She actually kissed him back – yes, he knew it that was an arguable thought as their kiss was cut short by Hank opening the door and catching them red-handed. He still remembered the taste of her in his mouth and how her lips felt on his. He yearned for much more. Scott knew Hope was way out of his league, but he couldn't help it. His stomach twisted every time he saw her and he got a weird tingle in his chest every time she smiled and the tingling felt strangely stronger when he was the one who made her smile. He loved how he could tease her and she'd reply back in the same way. He loved how fast they clicked but at the same time how they were taking the time to slowly get to know each other.

Sore, bored and sleepless, Scott felt around the surface of the bedside table and grabbed his phone. Seeing what time it was, he figured it was too late to call Maggie and talk with Cassie. But it wasn't too late to call Hope.

When her phone vibrated, Hope took a lazy glimpse at it. Every time her phone rang it was work related, and it was so late by now and she had so much work to do that she didn't want to take the call. However, she found herself smiling once she read the caller ID, not sure if she was glad because it wasn't a work call or if it was because it was Scott who was calling her.

"Hey, it's me," he greeted in a perky voice.

"You don't need to tell me that," she said sarcastically in an unflappable tone, flipping through some papers.

He grinned, "I just thought of calling. I'm bored and just needed to talk to someone."

"If you needed to talk to someone, why didn't you call your ex-wife and talked with Cassie? It might have been a more interesting conversation."

Scott sighed, "It's late and she's probably sleeping already."

She tilted her head unconsciously, recognizing it was a fair point.

"So," he crooned, "what're you up to tonight?"

"I'm at home, working -"

"Wow, wait a second there," he stopped her. "Isn't it past 11 over there? Why are you still working? And at home, of all the places."

"Clocking out doesn't mean the work time's over. You'd know that if you had a real job."

"You shouldn't work so much," he said, genuinely worried, ignoring her snarky remark. "You should have a 'treat yourself night' or something. People have serious health problems because of overworking."

Hope smiled shyly and ignored his concerned thoughts. "By the way, isn't it past 1 in the morning over there? What are you still doing up?"

"Like I said, I'm bored. And sore. All in all, I had a crappy day."

"That makes two of us," Hope confessed with a sigh. "But tell me, what happened today? I admit I'm curious. You are not the kind of person who has crap days. Or the kind that cares about them," Hope put the work aside for a while and began to chitchat – what else was she really supposed to do?

"You are such a caring person that I wonder how you're still single."

"I'm single by choice, just so you know."

"Not your choice, though. Just so you know," he added in a lower, taunting tone of voice.

Hope sighed, "You've got ten seconds to tell me about your bad day or I'm hanging up."

"Oh, wow, you are actually concerned about me."

"You called me because you wanted to talk," Hope pointed out, getting up to prepare herself a cup of coffee. "The quicker you tell me about it, the quicker I can go back to work."

"Alright, well, my day was crappy because it involved a heavy dose of exercise for a prolonged and excessive amount of time."

Hope grinned wickedly, "Being Ant-Man means you've got to know how to fight like Ant-Man."

"But it doesn't mean having to workout for three hours nonstop. You go really soft on me compared to these guys. Y' know, I actually miss your homicidal attempts against me." He grinned, "I miss you. Miss our sparring sessions, I mean," he quickly clarified, even though he wasn't exactly lying about missing her.

"Well, since you've seen what specialized and rigorous training is, I guess I can go fiercer on you next time we spar."

"Yeah, sure, cool, I'm totally fine with it, as long as that sparing session doesn't happen tomorrow. Or in the next two weeks," he groaned as turned in bed and lay on his side. "Seriously, my whole body's sore."

Hope chuckled quietly, returning to her seat at the desk with a steamy cup of coffee, "You are a whiny princess, Scott, that's what you are."

"I'm going to ignore that and ask you about your day because you've been taking jabs at me for a long time now so it means your day was total shit. And you're definitively not the kind of person who has shitty days. Or the kind that cares about them."

"You know what, Scott?" she teased before sipping on her drink.

"I know a lot but I don't know about your day."

Hope leaned back on the chair and raised a brow, as if he could see her, "You're sure you really want to hear about my day?"

"You could read me the phone book and I'd still be interested. Go on, shoot, I'm all ears."

She told him about her day, about how tired she was of going around in circles because of the company's problems, about the stress of doing flight tests with the Wasp suit again and again and not being able to do something useful with it yet. Scott listened to her attentively, letting her speak about all the things she had bottled up inside. In a smooth way, he managed to slowly change the course of the conversation, trying to get her mind off everything that was concerning her. He succeeded. They talked for a long time, about everything and nothing. During that time, Hope overlooked the ton of paperwork that lay on her desk and Scott forgot about his sore body. They were just casually talking, teasing each other and sharing a couple of chuckles.

"It's late," Hope stated quite awkwardly. "You should get some sleep and I should focus on working again."

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed in the same awkward tone. "Didn't even notice for how long we've been talking." That was much true.

"You know, I have a meeting in New York after tomorrow and I was wondering if you'd know of a good place to have breakfast."

"Uhm let me see," Scott hummed, "oh, there's this diner at 21st Street, Remy's. Had breakfast there a couple of times. It's pretty decent."

Hope nodded her head and then voiced, "If you're not too busy being sore and whiny, you could join me."

"Uh – I – yeah, sure!" he replied, taken aback by her offer but was, nonetheless, thrilled. "What time do we meet?"

"8:30? If that's good for you."

Even if it wasn't ideal, he'd try to make ends meet. Hope was in town and asked him to have breakfast with her; he had to go.

"8:30 is perfect," he said. "See you there then. G' night."

"Good night," she said with a shy smile.

Scott drifted into a peaceful, deep sleep, no longer feeling – or not even bothering anymore – his body aching, and Hope got back to work, finishing it surprisingly quicker than she expected.

It was 8:30 sharp when Scott entered Remy's and walked to an empty booth at the back of the diner. He was immediately approached by a waitress, Jackie, he read on her name tag, who greeted him and handed him a menu. Once he informed the waitress that he was waiting for someone else, she grinned and nodded, leaving to serve other costumers. He took the time to have a look at the menu. It was a really cheap menu, he realized, when he got to the last page and not even two minutes had gone by. Scott put the menu aside and sighed, resting his forearms on the table top, distractedly tapping his fingers on the back of his hand, eyes focused on the door.

Fifteen minutes went by and Scott was adjusting his sitting position again for the tenth time in thirty seconds. He took another look at the menu – for the fourth time – and then kept his eyes lowered, no longer bothering to look at the door. Just then he found the uneven surface of the table particularly interesting, running his index finger over the small scratches on table top. The diner's metal door squeaked; Scott looked up and his lips gradually drew into a big smile as he saw Hope walking in. He stared her, admiring how gorgeous she was, how her hair was so wildly natural, noticing she wearing so little (or none at all) makeup. His brain wondered for a moment there why was she wearing such casual attire - slightly oversized, long-sleeved light-blue shirt (that had a few feminine details), Indigo skinny jeans, navy-blue cutaway blazer and gray rounded toe, low-heeled pumps, with a faux leather upper on the toe cap – but the thought was gone as quickly as it popped up. Hope's eyes were scurrying through every face in the diner until Scott waved his hand, to let her know where he was sitting.

"I know I'm late, I'm sorry," she said as she took a seat across from him. "Apparently there was an accident a couple of blocks down from here and the cabbie had to take another route."

"Honestly, I thought you weren't coming," Scott confessed.

Hope stripped off her blazer and set it aside next to her on the cushioned seat, "Why wouldn't I come? I was the one who invited you, remember?"

"I know but… you're Hope van Dyne."

"What do you mean with – Oh, good morning," Hope's question was cut short when the waitress approached their booth and offered her the menu.

Scott thought he had dodged a bullet but once the waitress took their orders and walked over to the counter to submit them, Hope was staring him.

"What did you mean with the 'you're Hope van Dyne' thing?"

He sighed, "You're the uptown girl Billy Joel sings about. You can date any man you want and go on fancy dates. The uptown guys are all rich, drive nice cars, make truckloads of money. And I'm just the downtown guy who's careless, snarky and not even well dressed because I'm too lazy to do laundry. Seriously, I'm wearing this shirt for the third time this week because it keeps on passing the sniff test."

Hope pursed her lips together and looked down, failing to suppress a small chuckle.

"At least my misery makes you laugh," Scott's mood hit rock bottom rapidly. "I don't even know why I'm trying. I'm just fooling myself, really."

"I never really felt I was missing out on anything in my life but…"

Scott locked eyes with Hope when she hushed, "But…?" he spurred.

Hope sighed thoroughly and avoided looking at him. He felt like dying. She looked so disappointed and upset… heartbroken even, Scott would dare to add.

"All my life I've lived up to the businesswomen stereotypes," she swallowed hard. "I never had a downtown man so please –"

Their conversation was put on hold again as Jackie returned to serve them their orders.

– don't give up on me, Hope continued in her head. I know I'm complicated and you'll have to break down so many walls but don't give up, please.

Scott forced a grin, patiently waiting for the second the waitress would leave their table. Dammit Jackie, you're such a friendly person and a great worker but couldn't you've waited for two God-freaking-damn minutes more? But thanks for the food, nonetheless, it looks delicious.

Hope carried on even though she didn't even think of finishing what she was saying before they were interrupted, "I just feel that now maybe it's my turn to have some of the regular stuff."

"What do you mean by regular stuff?"

"I don't know," Hope said while taking a bit of scrambled eggs to her mouth, "the usual, predictable stuff. Those things that other women would say it are boring and ordinary. I've never had that. I've never been to the movies with someone, I've never been called for drinks at the downtown bar, have never been to a game in -"

"That's it. Say no more, that's it," he slammed his flat hand on the table top. "I'm going back to San Francisco at the end of this week and I might end up staying around for a while this time," he shook his head, "but that's not the point. What I mean is that the San Francisco Giants are playing at the AT&T Park this Saturday and I'll get us tickets."

"How are you going to get us tickets for this weekend? Isn't it too late?"

"I know a guy," Scott said.

"Did you by any chance meet this guy in jail?"

"No."

"Is he one of Luis' many relatives?"

"Maybe," Scott murmured while tilting his head.

Hope shook her head and grinned, "Should have seen it coming."

"Hey, sorry I made friends in jail," he chuckled. "But you gotta admit that Luis and his family are a godsend."

"He's a thief, the dorkiest that there is, by the way. He stole two smoothie machines. And he has that perpetual high-on-drugs look on his face."

"He doesn't even do drugs," Scott pointed out, finishing his bacon. "He's the lovable criminal. Really, who doesn't like Luis?"

"He's still a dork," she said. "By the way, the fact that I've never been to a game also means that I know nothing about it."

"Oh, don't worry. When it comes to baseball I cover all the bases," he smirked. "Did you get the -"

"Yes, I got the pun, Scott."

"Uhm," Scott hummed to get her attention, downing the rest of his coffee in a single gulp, "I know this is probably a stupid question but why are your clothes so casual? I mean you look great and – and – wow, but –" he beamed, gazing at her so sweetly that Hope could swear his eyes lit up a bit as he complimented her.

She felt warmth pooling in her stomach because of his flattering words and the way he looked at her, "I still have time to go back to the hotel and change into my work apparel before going," she told him, finishing her tea. "It's a lunch meeting."

"Oh," he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on her and his lips were slightly parted.

She took time to meet with him for breakfast when she could have used the hours till the meeting to do something else. Why was he being an idiot and thinking she wasn't falling for him as well? He felt so bad now, thinking back at how sad she looked when he sort of announced he was giving up on her. She wanted him to fight for her and that was the moment Scott made his mind: he was going to sweep her off her feet by being his usual self, by taking on the most ordinary and standard dates because she had never had any of that. He was going to –

"Scott!" she called him for the third time, this time louder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

He startled and shook his head, "Uh, yeah? What – what's the matter?"

"Kinda lost you for a moment there. Everything's alright?" she smiled softly.

"Yeah, everything's fine."

"Alright," Hope nodded and looked at her wristwatch. "This was really nice but I need to go. I still have to prepare some things for the meeting," she said while reaching for her blazer.

"Right, sure, sure," he got up and fished his wallet out of his pocket. "It's my treat. I'll just go ahead and pay. Meet you outside, 'kay?"

When he stepped outside, Hope was facing the busy street, arms crossed over her chest. She turned once she heard the door opening behind her.

"I'll hail a cab for you," he awkwardly said, raising his hand.

"I'll make sure I won't schedule anything for Saturday," she said walking over to the cab that had just stopped.

"You better not," Scott teasingly told her. "Wait, wait! Just – just one last thing," he managed to put in before she entered the cab. "Uh, next time you put the suit and fly around, give me a call. It must be amazing to watch you fly."

"Maybe I'll call you when I put on the suit," Hope pursed her lips, feeling a tingle in her chest. "And you maybe you'll come and fly with me, if you're not busy."

"Just give me the call and I'll be there. Promise," he grinned.

Hope felt a sudden wave of heat climbing up her body as Scott's lips were inches away from hers, his breath tickling her lips. She closed her eyes and pecked his lips gently. He seized the moment to the fullest, cupping her face with one hand and the other resting on her waist, pulling her closer against his body, deepening the kiss.

When she let out a soft moan into his mouth, she pulled back and shut her eyes tightly, embarrassed, "Sorry, I don't know what came over me. Sor -"

He put a soft kiss on her forehead, which surprised her and made her raise her head to look at him. Scott put a kiss on the tip of her nose and then kissed her again, stroking her cheek with his thumb. One of Hope's hands went around his neck, her fingers carded through the hair of his nape, and the other one flattened over his chest. As they kissed, hard, fast, hungrily, Hope grasped tightly his shirt collar in her hand.

The kiss then started to soften and they melted away, lazily pecking each other's lips, burning their last bits of oxygen. They both felt their lungs burning, needing air. Once they parted the kiss, Hope cleared her throat and looked down at her hand.

"Sorry," she said, smoothing his shirt collar. "I just wrinkle your shirt."

"It's alright," he chuckled airily. "I did say I've used the shirt three times this week. Now I will wash it, once and for all."

The taxi driver had avoided looking at them but once he saw Hope through the rearview mirror looking back at him, he tapped his wristwatch, warning her about the time she was taking. Hope pursued her lips and her cheeks reddened.

Scott chuckled, "Get in the cab before he charges you an astronomical fare."

Hope nodded and said over her shoulder before climbing onto the backseat, "See you this Saturday."

"See ya."

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