|vαи dyиє (punches) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2018-05-25 21:28:00
|There were still stray boxes in the corner of the very pristine (probably the most pristine Scott had seen in awhile) apartment, but thankfully between Hope and he, they didn’t have a lot. Well. He didn’t. |
She’d wasted no time sprucing it up and making it their own. He didn’t have a problem with that. Scott didn’t get to see this side of Hope until more recently, so if she was happy and enjoyed the freedom of making something hers and having a project that wasn’t punching or getting revenge.
Only now she was given the task of trying to help stark find oddities on the molecular level. Of course Scott was going to help her. Which is why they were on their fifth pot of tea, hoovered over the several work tables Scott had put together in what should have been a dining room—but the kitchen had a bar, so—for both of them to work on. Initially, it was more or less his home base for his freelance projects, but those were finished and put to the side, his computer, magnifying glasses, notes, tea, and of course ants, were running along the table to try and help them.
Scott was trying to study the molecules in a dish in comparison to how they were before..the network blew up. There was definitely a shift. And the ants? They were actually a big help. “Poor guys,” he said as he opened up their tank to let them go into homes to get some rest. “I think they’re legitimately scared.”
“They sense something,” Hope replied, sitting at the table with her hands over her face - she slid her fingers back and through her hair, causing a tug on her scalp, and it helped somewhat with the ache that was threatening to mash her temples into pulp. “The chemical signals - they omit a trail for other ants off their antennae, it’s telling them to relocate the hoard. And the setae - “ The hairs on their legs, the ones that detected vibrations, “...they definitely sense something.”
Ants didn’t necessarily feel anything, in terms of emotions - they communicated solely via the clumps of ganglia which provided neuronal feedback from external receptors, so a complex brain wasn’t really a thing like it was with humans (even that seemed debatable sometimes). But observing the patterns in their behavior - what one might deem suddenly ‘skittish’ - tended to provide useful hints.
“I just wish I knew more about what we were dealing with - or had a helpful prophetic dream,” she continued, looking back down at the reading that had been generated by her spectrometer - it was pocket-sized, and good for single-molecule imaging on a large surface area. She could compare and contrast, but it also meant doing a lot of that. Getting up, she returned to the balcony to switch on the reader and take a few more samples - even to her, the air felt electric for some reason.
Like a gathering storm. They could take their cues from many types of insects and animals, it seemed. Of course, she would rather be unpacking boxes - their apartment had a distinct Victorian feel, with intricate patterns and luxe velvets but still modern pieces here and there - only not when the end of the world or whatever was occuring.
“Don’t you find it odd that we’re more or less..the only ones who haven’t experienced anything weird?” Scott asked bluntly, as he did, watching her get up to move as he closed the hatch on the ants’ home to let them be in peace.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he had tried to piece together everything that was openly said on the network by the other Avengers and space...Avengers? Bad dreams. End of time--or half the universe...by a vaguely descriptive bad guy. And Scott could understand the vague-ness, he wouldn’t be able to understand everything anyone was going through, he just wish he could help them better.
It was just a shit show of Thor’s missing brother, Thunder God tantrums, and freak outs.
But they had to stay level somewhere. “The molecules have shifted, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Molecules are always changing. Matter is always moving. Maybe this timeline is just...getting shaken up by whatever else is happening in the other one, trying to figure out how to adjust.” Hopefully it would. He and Hope wore helmets and suits to prevent their own molecules from exploding when they were changing.
The timeline, the world, didn’t have the luxury of a protective suit.
Hope actually did find that weird - it felt like she was missing the punchline, or the point of everything had flown over her head. “At least it’s not just you - it’s both of us, so we can be lost together,” she smirked tiredly, finally giving up with the spectrometer after it spat out the latest batch of numbers.
“No, you’re right, it’s just - “ She powered the device down and tossed it on one of the tables, where it landed amidst the other sheer amount of mess that was her and Scott’s research. “Molecules are changing rapidly - more so than usual, which would suggest that the universe is getting ready to do...another time-split thing?” she frowned. In that case, Dr. Strange would be the one to know what the hell was going on. Or maybe Jane had a breakthrough or two, checking out the happenings in space.
She went over to Scott, leaning in so that her forehead pressed against his chest. “Tony was talking about genocide - I mean, legit genocide. How can we possibly prepare for something like that?” she asked rhetorically. Especially when she felt like she just wasn’t getting this - though she’d keep helping, of course. If there was something to be done, she would pitch in and give it her all.
Man, this was exhausting. Even more frustrating that they couldn’t really help as much because they knew the least. At least that wouldn’t stop either of them from trying.
“Nah, he would have said something. I just don’t get that if he--well nevermind. This timeline thing was a mistake. I could see why he wouldn’t wanna mess with it again. Poor guy.” It was times like these Scott appreciated that he was just a ‘tictac’ in the scheme of things like magic or having the ability to alter reality. He’d fuck that up in a hot minute.
Scott blinked out of his musings to pull Hope into a gentle embrace, rubbing her back gently. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when a bunch of super powered people want to start doing good. There’s always something to balance out the equation. Always. Like a battery...even if it sucks in the large scheme of things.” Scott’s analogy probably didn’t help. He just wasn’t surprised, not after what Strange had explained to him, or seeing how many strong beings there were. If he were a bad guy? He’d want to take them out too. How else would go about doing...genocide things.
“Hey,” Lang took her shoulders gently so he could meet her eyes, “What do you care about the threat? You’ll just punch it in the face. Works every time. Besides. This is an alternate reality for a reason, we’re here for a reason. Everyone is getting an idea of the ‘soon to be’ so we can stop it. Look at everyone springing into action.” That’s what he hoped, anyways.
“You look tired, and you don’t have that ‘fuck this megalomaniac I’ll shrink into his nose and explode him from the inside out’ look in your eyes anymore. Maybe you should try to get some sleep.” It was always a bad sign when Hope was being skeptical. Even if rhetoric.
“Are you saying I look like shit?” Hope asked, because that infamous you look tired phrase usually was a ‘nice’ way of saying just that. She was mostly teasing, however, sliding her arms around Scott and going for a grab of the ass - his reaction would likely be amusing. For a guy who spent time in prison, amongst hardened criminals, he was surprisingly sweet and gentlemanly. “I guess sleep might be necessary - because if genocide is coming, then we want to be well-rested for it. Sounds like potentially one hell of a battle.”
Besides, if she was exhausted she couldn’t be of any help to anyone at all - and there was only so many readings she could take before she basically just hit a brick wall. So, she fired off a few messages to Tony with their findings and an explanation of what she thought it all meant (a shift in the universe and general, what with the changes in molecules and the literal scurrying ants - like they were trying to relocate themselves before someone else relocated them).
There, tablet put down. “Planning to come to bed with me, princess?”
“What? No. That’s the exact opposite of what I sa--ah!.” Scott liked to think he was pretty frank. So much in fact it got him in trouble and ruined a lot of moments. He didn’t have time to ponder it before jumping when she grabbed his ass. He was happy to say his personality and amazingly ‘tact’ had kept him from the wrong end of prison. It was just like real life, with smaller cliques. He had the benefit of knowing how to make sure he was in with the right kind.
The kind that didn’t make you someone’s bitch.
“Not that tired, huh?” He swatted her hip playfully in return. He made sure to exit her grasp before she could get anymore hits in. He was recording a few more sequences of molecules before the next set moved again. “I think we need to stop thinking about it like that. All the worry over everything might direct our attention in the wrong way. Leaving more room for error...Well, I should. I don’t think I can sleep but..” He sighed, running a hand over his mess of black hair and face. “At this point it’s like watching snow melt. And I’m fresh out of ideas. Short of messaging Strange to see if we can’t all just hunker down in the mirror realm.”
Not thinking of the upcoming fustercluck as the result of a genocidal space maniac? Yeah, Hope was on board with that. She was basically just going by what Tony said - and what he said kind of broke her brain a little. “I’m sure there’s some time limit on the mirror realm or something,” she said, in regards to hunkering down there. “Like the quantum realm - spend too much time there and you go insane.”
Like what potentially happened with her mother - it was a pang of worry that sometimes jabbed at Hope. If they did manage to rescue Janet at some point, would she even still be the same? Neither Hope nor Hank had any answers when it came to that.
“We know some sort of shift is coming, we just don’t know what kind - it’s frustrating. But the others are aware that we’re on board for whatever missions are required,” she said, fingers curling in the fabric of Scott’s shirt and pulling herself in close. Right before she kissed him - their bed was sounding better and better, even if the room still remained half-unpacked and half ‘people just moved in.’ The second bedroom in this vintage-inspired apartment was small, and meant for Cassie to decorate however she wanted. “If you can’t sleep yet, want me to tire you out?”
She was good at that. It may or may not involve squeezing him in between her thighs in some capacity.
Scott went off to ponder that thought in his mind about the quantum realm. Did time really pass? At a molecular rate so tiny and ever changing, was time even a thing? He could barely keep conscious while inside, much less remember his time in there but he got flashback memories. He may have passed out for some time during the shock but when he came back to Cassie it was like time hadn’t passed at all…
Again, he came back to with her contact and affections, which he returned happily in a daze. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Maybe we can call your dad tomorrow and get his insight on it.”
Scott scoffed, resting his arm over Hope’s shoulders and leading her back to their room. Laying in bed did sound much better than conceptualizing changes in molecular structure and how that affected the present time. And how that related to a murdering enemy thing. “Wow, Hope. All this danger heading our way and your head is in the gutter. Seriously.”
He of course was teasing, as he had to. It helped lighten the mood anyways. He flopped down on the plush bed and tugged her along with him, stretching out with a slight yawn. “I was actually thinking of hearing all about your time in boarding school and then I could tell you about time in prison. You know, like counting sheep, but more informational.” Because those stories would definitely put him to sleep. And tease her.
“I’ll drag you into the gutter with me, Lang,” Hope teased right back, gladly going along with his grand idea - which was to flop onto the mattress and get comfortable. And she did, sliding a leg over and shifting so that she was straddling him. It would probably look sexier if she was wearing lingerie and not a pair of yoga pants and a workout tank top, but oh well.
Her hair was longer now, than it had been when they first met - she leaned forward and brushed her nose against his, dark brown locks falling into his face. “You had to clean up after the other girls in boarding school,” she said, kissing along his jawline - when he had facial scruff (the prison look, when you had to sign out razors in like fifteen minute increments), there was some salt and pepper there. It was actually really, really sexy. “Do you know how many times I had to get butter stains off of common room couch cushions, from where girls dropped their morning toast?”
Felt like toast was all she ate sometimes - for some reason, it was a staple in boarding schools, and she’d been in enough of them. From right after her mom vanished, up to her teenage years. “One time, me and my friends stole the remaining bottles of wine that were meant for parents during a house soiree,” she said, pushing her hands up his shirt. “My father didn’t come, of course. So he didn’t notice I was wine drunk at two in the morning and had to be up in five hours for an Economics class - it wasn’t pretty.”
It was sexy, but Scott was something of a goofball, so chucked all the same at her tactics. Sometimes it was a little hard to believe Hope in this situation. Just so long as she wasn’t squeezing his neck in a death hold.
“Hmm, what made you in charge of janitorial duties?” He hummed at her little affections and turning his face to steal a kiss to her temple.
For hands that could easily crack his jaw (which he was sure she’d done once or twice during sparring) they were way more gentle and appealing now, Scott almost couldn’t focus on what she was saying, eyes closing at her touch. But he could focus surprisingly well for lacking the good common sense. “Wine drunk.” He huffed, running his hands up her back and massaging the muscles along her sides. “You rebel, well, that explains all the butter cleaning. But you should have known better. Economics is hard enough without being drunk.” He fake chided.
She let out a chuff of air, one Hope was distinctly trying to not let become a giggle - but that was just because Scott was teetering close to ticklish spots, like her ribcage. Damnit. Even ice cold, stone-faced bitches who ousted their own father from the company he founded tended to be ticklish.
“Everyone had janitorial duty,” she laughed, sliding halfway off of him - but she still was touching, feeling out the contours of ab muscle and also attempting to get in a little ticklish revenge as well. “It was part of boarding school, learning to be in charge of chores rather than having someone come in and clean, and learning to share space and all of that.” Sometimes there was sneaking out, wine drunkenness, and strict matrons that enforced the rules - but most of the time it was just hard work. No wonder she resented her father for sending her there.
Still, she thought they’d turned out okay in the end. “I love you,” she told Scott, then poked him in the side. “Don’t ruin the moment and say something stupid.” Because wasn’t the world going to end or something? Yeah, may as well experience a mushy moment or two before that.
That was asking a lot out of Scott. Especially right then. Ruining the moment was kind of his thing. And this wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting out of her. Probably due to all the crazy shit about to go down.
But he did respect her wishes so Scott curled his lips inward so he wouldn’t say anything at all. And he also had something of a pitiful look on his face after she’d tickled him which didn’t help at all. It almost looked like he was going to laugh at what she said. But he didn’t.
“Don’t say stuff like that just because you’re getting tired and think the world is going to implode.” He poked her back, but instead of withdrawing his hand he looped his arm around her waist snugly and pulled her against him, giving her a very tender kiss, similar to when he’d grabbed her in the hallway (yes Hank, that was him, she sure as hell wasn't going to make the first move). “I love you too. And everything is going to be fine. I don’t believe in coincidence and I know you don’t believe in losing. So I’d say our chances are pretty strong.”
“They’re pretty strong,” Hope agreed, kissing him in return - she sure as hell had not made the first move, but now that there had been moves shared between them, she’d gladly participate and felt like she had free reign to do so.
And since Scott pulled her closer, she suctioned herself to his side there in bed with her head tucked under his chin. It was rare that she let herself feel protected, and safe and secure, but with him she actually did. That was what everyone wanted, right? Safety. Security. Especially in the face of genocidal space Hitler.
What a world, what a world.