You think I'm a celebrity and you're talking too much for me to explain I am definitely not… that dude. What was his name again? – with Scott Lang (aka 'Tony Stark')

It happened on Moustache November. Like every Moustache November, Scott went wild – Cassie especially loved the year when he had butterfly wings around his lips. Her mother, not so much, but it was for charity, so she couldn't protest. Other people had taken a kick out of it too. This year, however, he had no specific design in mind. He'd just done some random, if symmetrical, shaves, creating a kind of weird circle.

And now he was being accosted in a mall.

Panicking slightly, Scott tried to stay calm. He had on his sunglasses, and people were screaming a name that definitely wasn't his, but he couldn't tell because just- because there were just so many people calling out to him, snapping pictures with cell-phones and throwing themselves at him. They must think I'm someone else, he figured smartly, swallowing as he tried to peer over their heads towards the bouncy castle that Cassie would soon be getting off of. He could see her, bouncing happily, looking over at him only briefly before going back to bouncing. You bounce, girl, don't get off either, he internally thought, before letting out an oomph as a particularly voluptuous teen with clearly-dyed ginger hair threw herself onto his chest, screaming.

"I'm not- I'm not whoever you think I am!" He tried to tell her and everyone else around them, trying and failing to unwrap her arms from around his neck. He'd been in prison, for gods sake! He should be able to get a teenage girl off his chest! "Who do you think I am?!" He questioned her, causing her to let out a squeal – probably for talking to her directly, now he thought about it.

"You're Tony Stark!"

Scott blinked, confused. "No I'm not!" But the girl obviously didn't hear him, or wasn't paying attention – and then she was roughly pulled away from him, two more bodies, one brunette girl and- and a man, trying to attach themselves to him like limpets. "Get off me!" He looked over to Cassie again, but couldn't locate her. Scott's eyes widened. "Cassie? Cassie!" He called, finally managing to push the people off him, punching the one who came nearest – they dropped to the floor with a cry, and everyone backpedalled, a ring forming around him. "Cassie?!"

"Daddy!" Came Cassie's call, before she squirmed from between two men, clicks and snaps immediately sounding as people took hundreds of photos. Scott glared from behind his sunglasses, picking her up as she approached. "Daddy-"

"Cassie, hide your face," he ordered, face blank as she did as she was told, ducking her head into his neck. He could tell she was peeking, but that didn't matter – getting out and away was the most important thing. Cassie's sudden movement made him aware of his moustache.

Oh.

Oh.

As soon as I get home, I'm shaving this off.