In a true demonstration of how odd life could be, Scott found himself at a cookout. This wouldn't have been that weird, except that it was hosted by the rather strange parents of his beloved girlfriend, who he recently and unsuccessfully proposed to, and was attended by his ex-wife and her husband as well as the child he shared with said ex-wife.

Scott stood on the deck and stared out at the backyard. Cassie was having a wonderful time skipping between the adults, Maggie was attempting to talk to Hank and connect in something aside from mutual friends, Janet was in the kitchen looking out at all of them, and Paxton was staring out at the crowd of people he'd once attempted to arrest. It would have made him laugh, except for Hope.

Hope had been off since the morning after he'd proposed and she refused. Admittedly, it was a weird situation. But Scott was okay. Like… he'd meant it and always would, but she was completely right about literally everything she said, which he wasn't just thinking because she was the boss. Partially, but not entirely.

Suddenly, Hope appeared, looping her arm through his, and he couldn't help startling at her random approach when he'd thought she was inside with Janet. "Hey!" he said, reaching over to kiss her forehead.

"Hi," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm great, really. Weather's good, Paxton's almost calm—did you see his face when Hank got out of the car? I thought he was going to have a conniption—and Cassie's… Cassie." Hope laughed, and they both stared at Cassie for a second. Cassie had somehow taught one of the enlarged ants how to play catch, and he winced every time she was almost bitten by the overenthusiastic Antoni II. They kept an entire cupboard of Benadryl in case of bites, but it didn't make him feel much better. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Hope nodded against his shoulder. "Tired. Mom looks worried, and she's looking at you enough that I think she thinks we're both dying."

Scott turned enough to look at her face. She did look tired, but not enough that Janet should be particularly worried. But then, he guessed he had the front row seat to both of their nightmares, and he understood better why they were exhausted. It didn't help that they both had some seriously impressive bruises from the fight the other night. "Want me to go talk to her? I can explain, what with the whole snap and superhumans and proposal—"

"Don't," Hope snapped. As quickly as she'd curled into him, she pulled away. "Please don't, Scott."

Before he could do anything more than attempt a "Hope!" she stepped off the deck and walked toward Cassie. He stared after her a minute, trying to figure out what he'd done aside from show concern for her wellbeing, which honestly was probably enough. Ah. Yeah, that was it.

Time to do exactly what Hope, the dearest and loveliest love of his life, said not to do. He was going to find Janet.

"Scott!" Janet called. He whirled around, somewhat surprised at her voice since he could apparently now summon people with his mind. "Help me with the food, dear."

Maggie patted him on the shoulder as he passed, and Hank looked slightly less frustrated than usual, which could be attributed to watching Hope and Cassie playing with the ant rather than actual less anger with him. He wandered into the house. "Janet?"

Hope's mom was waiting in the kitchen, as she had implied. However, there was no food nearby, showing an immediate lie. "There's a casserole in the oven that needs another ten minutes," Janet said, shrugging off his confusion. "You'll carry it outside when it's done. For now, I asked you in here to find out what's wrong with my daughter."

Scott blinked. This was a new situation. "I have a feeling that if this gets back to Hope, I'll be very dead. And that would make Paxton and Cassie mad."

Janet laughed, motioning toward the kitchen table. Scott sat. "I'll take all the blame, dear."

"Okay, then." He launched into a very brief description of assorted nightmares, how he and Hope were rapidly becoming somewhere between mildly and wildly codependent, and closed with his proposal. "I know that she was right, I promise I do. We hadn't even talked about it, even though I know she's it for me and I haven't pretended to ask Hank."

"Don't ask Henry, love, just let him think you've asked. Hope—"

"—will actually kill me if I ask for permission." He motioned with a finger-gun toward his temple. "I don't even have to ask to know that. So that's that part, and also it's definitely too soon after Thanos and everything. But I think she thinks that I'm more upset about it than I am, which I'm not even disappointed, because she's the boss and it's more of an honor than anything that she lets me nearby—" He ran out of breath and paused to obtain the oxygen. "Help me, Janet. You're my only hope."

Janet smiled, taking his hand and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in a way that would almost be creepy if it were anyone but her. She was the one he needed to ask for permission, come to think of it. "Have you told Hope any of this? How you know she's right in the end? And then you two can actually discuss marriage."

Scott nodded reluctantly. "That would probably be the smart thing to do." He cocked his head at her. "Hope got her brains from you, I think, instead of Hank."

She tapped the side of her nose, standing. "Take the casserole out when the timer goes off, Scott. Don't forget the potholder."

With that, she disappeared into the depths of the house. He stared at the oven timer. 5:06. 5:05. 5:04. Numbers. Looked too much like a bomb timer. He glanced away just in time to see Janet return, peer at the clock, and sit down across from him again. She held a small bag that she pushed across the table to nudge his hand.

He opened the bag (after holding it just long enough to ensure that it didn't have any ants inside; this family has scarred him) and found a large box. Starting to feel like a child on a scavenger hunt, he opened the box and gasped. "Pick whichever one you like," Janet murmured. "I've kept all of the rings in our families, mine and my mother's and Hank's mother's. Hope's seen most of them but I don't think she ever had a favorite. And you need to pick the one that speaks to you, anyway." She pulled a smaller box out of her jacket pocket. "If you want to take one to give my daughter, you have our blessing, Scott."

He glanced up at Janet, who just smiled with tears in her eyes, and Hank, who had miraculously appeared over her shoulder. Hank stepped up to the table to see the action, and his only reaction was a scoff. "The green one was my father's, so not that one. Hope's going to have to get your ring herself, Lang, I'm not giving you that one." Scott dutifully picked out the green one and handed it to his disgruntled mentor, who exited the scene with a clap on his back that sent him reeling into the table.

Five minutes later, his heart was racing as he carried the casserole out to the small table on the deck, and it wasn't just because the oven mitts he grabbed were really thin and he was burning the hell out of his fingers. It was because a ring box was burning its way through his jacket pocket, and when Hope saw him, she walked to him, waited for him to put the dish down, and completely distracted him from his sensitive fingertips with a kiss.

He took a single step into their bedroom that night before stopping dead in his tracks. Hope was in bed, reading a book, and her hair was literally everywhere. It was magnificent. He'd forgotten how almost curly it could get sometimes with the humidity. "Don't laugh," she muttered. She was magnificent.

"I wouldn't dare," he said, hands in the air as he finished the trek to the bed. He tried to remember what he'd decided to say earlier while he pretended to watch Netflix while she was in the shower and decided to jump straight in. "You know that you were right about everything the other night, right?"

"What?" she asked warily, pressing a bookmark into her novel and setting it aside. She didn't quite meet his eyes.

He sat down, wishing he'd taken his jacket off first. "About how it's too soon after Thanos and the snap, and how we haven't even talked about getting married, and I didn't even have a ring? And especially how the world's so different now and we haven't even figured out how to be people in it yet? You're right about all of it."

Hope took a shaky breath and turned enough that her eyes met his. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I love you so much, Hope, and I'm not going to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable." He leaned forward and kissed her quickly.

She pulled away almost immediately. "I'm not uncomfortable, Scott," that pseudo-offended tone he loved so much entering her voice.

"So you're okay with us maybe getting married eventually? Because I'm definitely gonna ask again if you are. If you're not, I won't, but I think I can do it better."

Hope leaned back against her pillow, staring at him. But finally, a smile teased around her lips. "There's a fairly good chance I might, so you might as well try someday. Sooner rather than later, I imagine." She leaned forward, kissed him again, let it linger a little longer, and pulled away to scoot down under the blankets.

Scott grinned and stood, stretched. He winced at the number of joints that popped. "Better be sooner that you say yes, I'm getting old." He walked toward the doorway as she laughed, barely more than a breath, but it definitely counted as the fifth laugh in the past few months. It caused a spring in his step that made him turn around again almost immediately, hand reaching for his jacket pocket and mouth opening. Before he could say anything, she interrupted.

"If you dare take that ring box out and toss it at me and say 'is now too soon?' I will get out of this bed and murder you. We will be done. And you'll be dead."

He pouted with the box in his hand but didn't throw it at her. He did have some level of self-respect. Also he was too scared of what would happen if Janet found out that he'd thrown her mother's diamond-and-ruby ring across the room. Probably nothing, but what if. "Wanna get hitched?"

"Scott Edward Harris Lang."

"I will take that as a 'get out of my face now, you moron.' A command which I shall obey." He tucked the box back in his pocket, taking a moment to relish the grin that she wasn't quite able to hold back. He turned away toward his chest of drawers because pajamas, but almost immediately whirled back to glare at her. "How do you know my most guarded secret? Not even Cassie knows that I have two middle names!"

Hope only smiled. And he fell more in love with her than ever. But honestly? That happened every day.