#scott lang reader insert

From the noises issuing from his phone speaker prior to his pressing end, it sounded as though he also had a dying girlfriend.

"What? [Name]'s dying?" Luis asked after Scott announced this to the group at large.

"Not literally," Scott said. "She's got a real bad cold, though, maybe a sinus infection."

"Oh." Luis took a moment to digest this information. "That's not an emergency. What are you doing, using your personal cell phone during work hours for something like that?"

Scott could find no immediate response that seemed fitting. Luis continued to insist on relegating him to the card table "desk" assigned to him when X-Con first opened its doors. All Scott had room for was his personal cell phone since Kurt wouldn't allow them to share landlines. Assuming his blank gaze said enough, Scott bent over to retrieve his keys from their spot on the floor.

Luis was staring at him when he resurfaced. "Where you going, buddy?"

"To [Name]'s place. She asked if I could pick up her medicine for her."

"Don't you think you'd better ask your boss if you want to knock off early?"

"Seriously?" Scott looked to Dave and Kurt for support.

"Hey, he made me ask permission to leave to see my mom last week, and she was in the hospital," said Dave.

"Guys, come on. You know [Name]. She wouldn't ask me to do this if she could do it herself."

Luis leaned back in chair—the nicest one in the office, of course—and crossed his arms over his chest. "How do I know you're not making this whole thing up so you can sneak over for some midday nooky?"

"Because I wouldn't do that," Scott protested, then added, "Not to mention, you're not really my boss. We're both the bosses here."

Only for so long could Luis keep up his serious expression without cracking up. He gestured toward the door between giggles. "I'm kidding, man. Go see your girl. She's clearly got you wrapped around her finger."

"I think that is called here 'pussy whipped,'" Kurt said.

"Yeah, thanks, Kurt," said Scott.

If he waited much longer, Luis might change his mind and send Scott off on a call or launch into a long and complicated story about the time his cousin's uncle's brother's son's girlfriend nearly did die of a cold. Then you might actually die before Scott could escape to deliver your prescription. So he booked it toward the hallway, not bothering to pull the door shut behind him as he bustled for the stairs.

"Don't forget to tell [Name] to get well soon from all of us!" Luis called to the general agreement of Kurt and Dave.

Scott waved to show he heard as he made a break in the direction of the building's first floor.

Outside at last, he blinked in the dazzling afternoon sun. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside while the sun was still up. Sign-ups for X-Con services went through the roof after their last adventure; all four men had been working long hours to try to keep up with the sudden demand.

He snapped out of his daze to squint at the screen on his phone. Something else Scott had forgotten: how difficult it could be to read anything there when it was so bright outside. How did Cassie manage the transition so easily all the time? It took him multiple attempts to manage a legible text message:

'Luis let me go. I'll be over with your medicine ASAP. If you see the light before I get there, don't walk into it!'

A moment later, you sent a single zombie emoji in answer.

'If you do turn completely by then, I promise to only mention your rotting lips whenever we kiss.'

His phone went into his pocket after the quick exchange. You needed rest; Scott had a mission; and besides, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and trying to read his phone would probably land him in urgent care, or at least give him premature wrinkles. The nearest MUNI looked ready to leave anyway. He caught it in the nick of time and rode it to the stop closest to the pharmacy you used. The text he sent in transit—'Do you need anything else while I'm out?'—went unread. Hopefully that meant you had gone to bed, not drowned in your own snot or some equally undignified way to die.

Despite the ribbing the guys and Hope often gave him over his burgeoning relationship with you, he'd miss you terribly if you passed away now. This was, obviously, ignoring the no small amount of guilt he'd feel for having failed to rescue you before it was too late. Letting you die on him would really put a crimp in his saving-people's-lives record.

Unfortunately, Scott's arrival at the pharmacy could not have been timed more poorly. The line to the counter snaked around multiple aisles inside the store. Well, 'tis the season, Scott thought as he resigned himself to his place at the very end. What choice did he have but to wait and wade through the bins of clearance Christmas decorations? At least the speakers above his head were playing something other than carols this deep into January.

To distract himself from the upcoming deluge of pink and red and hearts, Scott pulled out his cell phone once again. Still no reply from you. He sucked at the inside of cheek, wondering who would be available to chat. Hope was on a long-awaited vacation with her parents and certainly wouldn't react kindly to being interrupted for something so unimportant; Luis would just make fun of him some more; Cassie ought to be in school still.

So that left...Paxton and Maggie. And while the four of them got along much better those days, Scott didn't think he was so desperate for distant company as to contact them. They needed their rest, too. Cassie had had her own bout with the common cold last week. You'd probably caught yours from her, come to think of it.

Thinking of it more, Scott recalled Maggie asking him to pick up some things from the store for their daughter one evening. And suddenly he had a brilliant idea.

The Valentine section couldn't help him much, but soon he turned a corner into a more appropriate aisle. He wracked his brains for the items on Maggie's list as the line continued to inch along. VapoRub, check. Vitamin C booster, check. Assorted over-the-counter medicines for cold and flu symptoms, check.

All these items Scott dumped unceremoniously on the counter when his turn came at last. "Can I pay for all of this here?" he asked. The sullen-looking cashier nodded wordlessly, paving the way for Scott to launch into all the information required to obtain your prescription. He left the store ten minutes later with a paper bag filled with his purchases.

Still no answer from you when he checked his phone again. Scott deliberated for a second before rattling off an uneven, 'Headed your way now.' It wasn't until he made it to your front door that he looked again—and what he saw there took his worry up a notch.

'Can you just use your key to get in? I don't want to have to crawl to the door.'

Wow. Maybe Luis hadn't been too far off about you literally dying. You never asked Scott to simply waltz into your space. One of the unyielding rules of your relationship was that he always ring the doorbell and wait for you to answer. It begged the question of why you'd given him a copy of the key to begin with—but he'd rather not walk in on something you didn't want him seeing. So used to this standard was he that he half-expected the door to explode when he pushed it forward nervously, or you to burst into tears once he hesitantly stepped inside.

Neither occurred. In fact, nothing occurred. Nothing so much as moved as he looked around the cozy home.

"[Name]?" he called. "It's me, Scott! Which you probably already figured out, but I don't want you overexerting yourself because you think I'm a burglar. Well, I am a burglar. I'm here to leave you something today, though. Sort of the opposite of burgling. Not that I'd ever burgle you anyway. Or that I still commit burglaries of any kind!"

He had to clench his teeth together to stop himself from rambling. The quiet snap seemed to echo in the stillness. A very long pause followed his announcement until a series of coughs shattered the silence.

"I'm here," you croaked from a distant room.

The continued miserable sniffling led him easily to your bedroom. You'd left the door ajar—or perhaps a real burglar had. And what kind of boyfriend would he be to stand by and let you get burgled in the next room over?

Taking only the time necessary to fish a Pym Particle Disc from his pocket, Scott kicked the door further open, leaped into the room brandishing the disc, and yelled:

"Freeze, criminal! Hands where I can see them!"

Another coughing fit ensued. When he glanced in the direction of the noise, he found you lying in bed, propped up by what appeared to every pillow in the place.

"What are you doing?" you finally managed to ask him.

But Scott found himself unable to speak. He was thunderstruck. You'd been dating for months, but now he found himself faced with such a sight without any time whatsoever to mentally prepare.

"God, you look horrible," he blurted.

You colored as much as you could, which wasn't much, and Scott realized at once that he'd really put his foot in his mouth this time. There might even have been something glittering in the corners of your eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no." He stumbled forward, tossing his bag to the foot of the bed as he sat down by your knees.

"I just...didn't think I could sit up long enough to do my makeup again," you said throatily—from unshed tears or unblown snot, he could not say.

"[Name], that's not what I—"

"I had only just taken everything off from going to the doctor, and I feel like crap, and now I look like crap, and I let you see me like this, and—"

Scott interrupted by picking up the hand you had resting nearest to him on the comforter. This he lifted to his lips in a swift kiss. Thankfully, this expression of concern worked more successfully than his last.

"You look like someone who doesn't feel their best. That's all I meant. Ah!"

"What?" you asked as Scott scrambled for the discarded bag.

"I brought your medicine. The sooner you take it, the sooner you'll start to feel better." All this he said while he rummaged through his things. He pulled the prescription bottle out of the mess with a vague noise of triumph. "Let me go get you something to drink it with."

He left the room in a hurry, more to give you time to compose yourself than any actual rush on his part. Already you had allowed him to see you without your makeup on for the very first time. The difference was striking enough without adding weeping to the mix—not upsetting, just obvious. Scott never asked why you preferred to be seen with your face fully "on," as you put it. But he knew it meant something that you'd let him see you so vulnerable that afternoon. Maybe it only meant that you felt terrible, but that was still something.

It took him a few minutes to find everything he needed in your kitchen. He grabbed an insulated cup with a lid from one cabinet, some fruit juice from the fridge, and filled the former with the latter. When he returned to your bedroom, he found you'd taken the opportunity, as expected, to clean up. Now you were pulling items one by one out of the paper bag.

"Is this all for me?" you asked.

Putting a coaster down on your bedside table and struggling with the childproofing on your medicine kept him too busy to reply for a bit. Then he looked up to see you staring at him, waiting for his answer.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I tried to remember everything Maggie asked me to grab for Cassie. I figured it might help since you probably caught your bug from her when we took her out for dinner after her soccer match."

You eyed the VapoRub in your palm speculatively. "Thank you."

"Anything for the world's most beautiful woman, even when she's sick. But I know you'd rather get back to using lipstick sooner rather than later, so why don't you take your pill?"

He held out the cup and the medicine bottle. You rolled your eyes, smiling. After trading him the container of VapoRub for the drink, you gulped down some cold juice and knocked back a capsule.

"You know," Scott said as you swallowed, "I'd be a disaster at applying your eye shadow, but I could help you apply this if you wanted."

Was the noise you made in response because you inhaled juice or you stifled a laughed? "Scott, if you get any closer to me than you already have, you'll probably end up as sick as I am. You might already have caught it."

"So? Honestly, I could use the time off. You have no idea how much PTO I've accrued lately. Luis can be real taskmaster."

"He just wants X-Con to be successful." 

“He says get well soon, by the way. So do Dave and Kurt. Are you sure you want me to go back to them instead of staying here with you?”

He smiled sheepishly as you lifted your head to regard him down your noise. Then you finally relented: "I could use the company. But no doing my makeup for me! And I'll apply my own VapoRub, thank you very much." You plucked the container right from his hand before he could protest. Not that he intended to protest when he had a better idea.

"We can watch a movie together and order takeout. My treat."

"Mr. Moneybags over here," you said.

But you scooted over so that he could climb onto the bed and stretch out next to you. While he used the remove to scroll through options to find something you'd both enjoy, you snuggled up close to him.

"Scott," you murmured sleepily about twenty minutes into the film.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for coming to my rescue today."

"Anytime, [Name]. Anytime. Kind of the in the job description, right?"

"Superhero or boyfriend?"

"Both."

Your blush faded slightly, quickly replaced by a frown as your utterly oblivious boyfriend sang the lyrics off key and far too loudly.

“Please don’t talk about love tonight, please don’t talk about sweet love, please don’t talk about being true, and all the trouble we’ve been through.”

You could see Natasha’s amused expression falling quickly into a frown that matched your own. With a quick glance from the man who was still in his own little world, dancing along to the song he was singing, she turned to you with a sympathetic look in her gaze. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no,’” she sighed sadly, seemingly breaking the spell that Scott had found himself under.

He stopped mid word, arms still in odd positions from his erratic movements as he looked to the two of you with a confused expression. You weren’t smiling, weren’t laughing at his actions, and you certainly weren’t joining in. He had thought, upon hearing the single word, that breaking into a song and dance, quite literally, might lift your spirits after what he assumed would be yet another grueling workout with your best friend, but from the expressions he was met with he instantly realised he had read the room entirely incorrectly.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nat offered you a small reassuring smile, a hand on your shoulder as she passed to give you the room.

“Babe? Everything alright?” Scott asked with a deep frown as he looked from the redhead who had managed to glare at him the entire way out of the room to your sullen features. But your expression didn’t last long, a mental shake had a soft smile forced onto your lips, not wanting to give away your thoughts and fears to him just yet.

“Of course,” you offered, placing one hand against his cheek as he came closer, a quick peck to his other cheek before moving away to put away the equipment you had used.

“Oh, no. I’m not falling for that. Last time a girl- woman- said that I found myself being served with divorce papers in prison,” he shook his head, hoping to lighten the mood slightly as he pushed for the truth.

The corners of your lips curled upwards as you gave him a slight laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We’ve been dating for two months, Scott. I’m not going to divorce you.”

You had meant to help lighten the mood, to play on his words and ease the situation more so, edging away from the awkwardness he had unintentionally caused, but judging on the conflicted expressions of bemusement and worry on his face you weren’t so confident it had worked. A small smile in response, he moved towards you, hand wrapping around your forearm to pull you back to him. “Y/N,” he spoke slowly this time, no jesting or teasing in his tone. “You are a great many things, but a good liar is not one of them.”

“Excuse you?” you scoffed back a laugh. “I’m a great liar!”

“Not with me, you’re not,” he countered quickly. He had a point. On any mission you could play your part perfectly, but something about his goofy, sarcastic nature that was so simply him had you unable to pretend or hold back. He had cut through your defences without even trying to, making you laugh when you had meant to be serious, helping you relax when you thought you never could again. It was a big part of what had pulled you together in the first place.

“Alright, maybe not with you. But I won’t have you dissing my undercover skills thank you!”

“You’re good under the covers, huh?” he replied before having even a chance to think. Laughter spilled from his lips at the slip, his eyes shining with mirth as his other hand went to your other arm. He expected a witty retort, your usual playful responses to his seemingly endless slew of innuendos. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’ or ‘Say the word and you’ll find out’. What he didn’t expect was to feel you instantly tense at the words, pulling away from his touch as your frown returned at full force.

His laughter quickly faded as he took in your displeased features once more. “Wait, is this because I interrupted you and Nat? I thought it would make you laugh, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I can go get her back if you want…” he rambled, awkwardly pointing over his shoulders towards the doorway he had entered and Natasha had promptly left out of.

“It’s not that, Scott,” you sighed, knowing there was no way of truly getting out of this. Perhaps it was best that you did talk about it, after all, silence certainly wasn’t helping the situation, and you were getting so desperate and worried that you had genuinely considered simply turning up at his door in only a dressing gown and lingerie. But talking about it meant coming to an actual conclusion, learning what he was thinking, finding out why on earth things were going so slowly. You weren’t entirely certain you wanted that.

What if he wasn’t attracted to you physically? What if he was still in love with Hope? What if you were reading far too much into his dates and flirtations and he was simply looking for someone to have fun mucking around with?

“Hey,” he spoke softly, using that reassuring tone you had only ever heard him use with Cassie before. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be alright, you know that, right?”

With a sigh, you rubbed at your arm where his hand had just been, somehow both missing the touch and incredibly thankful that you didn’t have to feel it as your guilt crept up on you. “You just, you caught us in the middle of an awkward conversation, that’s all.”

“About disco songs?” he questioned with a furrowed brow, his mind going back to what he had walked in on. You could practically see his mind whirling as he struggled to remember what had even prompted his raucous entry, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction as he finally caught the word that had prompted him. “Wait, no, action, like on the field? Are you going on a mission? Is everything ok? Do you want me to come with you?”

A small smile broke through you at his train of thought, touched by the worry even though he was still miles from the actual topic at hand. “Not that kind of action, Scotty.”

“Wha-oh, OH! Oh you mean, like, you and- I mean- you know- with the-” Scott began to scramble for words, drawing your smile upwards despite the seriousness of the conversation at hand.

“It’s ok, Scott, really. It doesn’t matter, we were just, you know, having girl talk, I guess,” you spoke in what you hoped was a reassuring tone, not wanting to completely freak him out as he seemed on the edge already.

“But we haven’t- wait, how can you talk about, you know, getting any action, if we haven’t-” he trailed off once more, completely oblivious to your attempts to sooth the situation.

“Actually, that’s kind of what we were saying… Nat commented about me needing to get some and well, yeah, that’s where you walked in, pretty much,” you explained, your cheeks darkening yet again; a state you were starting to think might be permanent soon if this went on much longer.

Scott’s brows furrowed deeply at that, clearly in deep thought as he considered your words carefully. “I’m screwing things up, aren’t I?” he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear it. His tone was defeated, as if he had suddenly realised everything he thought was going so well was in fact falling apart at his feet.

“What? No of course not!” you reassured quickly. “I just- It’s been months and, you know, I just didn’t really picture you as the type to go slow with this kind of stuff, I guess.”

“I’m not,” he huffed a laugh, his tone still down as he glanced up at you briefly. “I mean, usually I’m not. I- I rush things, and then they go to hell and I just figured. I didn’t want this to go like that, I figured I’d try and be more patient, more like Cap, you know?”

“Wait, so you were holding off to be like Steve?” you repeated incredulously, any fears you had instantly replaced by utter bemusement at the very thought. Sure, you knew Scott admired the captain, hell, who didn’t? But they were so different, and as classically handsome and kind as Steve was, he wasn’t the one who made you smile when you were down, he wasn’t the one who showed time and again how much love and care he held within him, and he certainly wasn’t the one who had made you snort with laughter on more than one occasion. “Scott, if I wanted someone like Steve I’d bloody ask him out, not you!”

“So, you’re saying I don’t need to be holding back on this stuff?” he spoke slowly, a mixture of excitement and irritation at himself pulling at his features in an amusing show of emotions.

“Hell no!”

As the camera quickly panned across the couch, you recognized each heroic guest before the yellow Today Show banner even ran across the bottom of your television screen. Captain America was sitting up straight at one end of the couch. He was the closest to the two TV hosts. He looked very serious, even with his head to toe red, white and blue garb. Next to him was a man who’d only recently become an Avenger, The Winter Solider. Up until a few months ago it was suspected that the man behind the metallic arm, was responsible for the bombing of the UN’s Sokovian Accords summit. With the help of Captain America and a handful of other Avengers, the Winter Solider was able to clear his name and take his rightful place among the heroes.

Seated next to the Winter Solider was Falcon, easily identified by his flight suit and goggles, ready to take flight at a moment’s notice. The Scarlet Witch and Hawkeye were the last two on the couch, they whispered to each other as the camera panned past them. You nearly spit out your cereal milk when you spotted the final Avenger sitting on the arm of the couch. Scott Lang, your high school crush.

You couldn’t believe it was him, but at the same time you knew it could be only Scott Lang lounging in that chair. The way he smiled, like he was hiding the world’s biggest secret, the way he managed to look totally comfortable no matter where he was, it was Scott no question. You were totally engrossed in the TV now, your breakfast cereal forgotten. You wanted to know every detail about how and why Scott Lang had made his way onto the Avengers.

Unfortunately, the two hosts weren’t asking how he’d come to be Antman. Instead, they were asking silly fluff questions like, “What’s your favorite pizza topping?” and “Who was your High School crush?” Questions that were designed to make the viewers think “The Avengers are just like us!” A statement that couldn’t be further from the truth. Still you caught yourself leaning forward in your seat as the microphone was passed to Scott.

“Now Scott, this might be an easy question for you, but what our twitter followers wanted to know the most, and this is an overwhelming majority of them, mind you.” Matt Lauer explained excitedly before looking down at the index card in his hand. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“Have I?” Scott pointed at himself and then shook his head. “I can’t imagine why they’d want to know that. Old Iron Arm over there,” He pointed at Bucky Barnes, “gets asked if he’s ever crushed a man’s skull, and you guys want to know it I’ve ever been in love before? C’mon!” He made a disapproving face into the camera and sighed. “No, um yeah. I’d say yes. I’d been in love twice.” Scott seemed to grip the microphone tighter. He scratched at the side of his head nervously. You smirked. It was funny how people kept the same nervous ticks through their life.

“There was my ex-wife, Maggie, of course. And, Uh, this is going to sound so stupid.” He snorted. “There was this girl I knew, back in High School. I doubt she even remembers who I am. I was in the Young Engineers Program in school, super cool I know.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Anyway, this girl, she was the captain of the Debate Team, which met right across the hall from our club. And I’ve ah, always kind of wondered what would have happened if I’d asked her on a date.”