scott x hope oneshots

if i could fly

The moment that Scott and Hope met was...memorable, to say the least - Scott practically fell right through the doors of the lecture hall, stumbled over his own feet, and stubbed his toe on the back row of seats. Every last person turned to look at him, because on top of everything else, he was ten minutes late (he blamed Luis for convincing him that he "didn't need an alarm, man!").

He sheepishly made his way down the stairs, scanning every row for an empty seat, his heart sinking when he realized the entire hall was at full capacity, save for one seat at the very front. He felt decidedly more optimistic once he laid eyes on the girl who would be sitting next to him. "Sorry," he whispered, sliding past her to sit down. She merely huffed and waved him off. Good start, Scott, he internally berated himself, and cracked open his textbook, quietly wondering if she already thought he was a completely hopeless case. Everyone went back to their own books and laptops, but he could still feel the professor's eyes trained on him, judging him in stone-faced silence.

It wasn't until they took a short break between lecture slides that Scott decided to try for a second first impression; if nothing else, he knew it would help to find an accountability partner for each of his classes (and not one who told him he didn't need to set an alarm, Luis). "Hey, I'm Scott," he offered.

The girl turned to look at him, allowing for a far better look at her face - mid-length dark hair, inquisitive brows, and a piercing gaze, her eyes similar in their shade of hazel-green to his. "Hope," she said shortly, turning back to her screen. "Dr. Pym hates latecomers."

"Yeah, I figured," he chuckled sheepishly. "You've taken a class with him before?"

An odd smirk formed on her face, a quirk in the corner of her mouth that only intrigued him further. "Sure."

"I read some pretty bad reviews of him, but he's the only one who teaches some of the 300-level stuff I need. Wanted to get onto his good side early, but now it might be outta the question," he continued, undeterred. "Any suggestions?"

"I know it's bioengineering, but it's not rocket science. Show up on time, do the readings, study for thirty hours a day. You just might scrape by," she drawled.

"Well, when you put it like that," Scott said, leaning back in his seat with a grin. "And while you're giving advice, where's the best place to study on campus?"

Hope finally looked at him again, her eyes flickering briefly across his face; he felt like he was being evaluated for something, but what, he couldn't be quite sure. "Main library, third floor, by the windows. I'm usually there on Sunday mornings by ten, since everyone else is still sleeping."

He met her gaze, his smile spreading. "Good to know."

Once class was over, Hope remained in her seat until the entire room was empty, save for Dr. Pym at the front, packing up his things. "Any potential takers, or were you too busy batting your eyelashes at the boy sitting beside you?"

Hope rolled her eyes, shutting her laptop with a snap. "Don't patronize me, Dad, I can have a life outside of your recruitment program. Why don't you offer internships like every other CEO-slash-professor?"

"Because I'm not like other CEOs-slash-professors," Hank insisted; Hope had to choke back her laugh at how absurd he sounded. "What, you think I'm going to stick just any random intern in the Ant-Man suit? No!"

She clicked her tongue dismissively, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, and began making her way up the stairs to the exit. "If you ask me, Scott seems like the best choice."

"For me, or for you?" he called. All he got in response was the loud clunk of the doors swinging shut.

Hope was not one to be told what to do, and never had been. She'd been a stubborn child, a stubborn teenager, and despite her parents' best efforts, became a stubborn young adult. Despite Hope's best efforts, however, she ended up following in their footsteps anyway, contrary to her bouts of teenage rebellion. She'd gone through her phases of wanting to be a veterinarian, a writer, a martial arts instructor, but ultimately found herself right back in the sciences under the loving tutelage of her genius parents. Still, now that she was in college, or more specifically, the college her parents taught at, she refused to tell people they were related. She had no intention of letting people immediately form opinions of her that she didn't have control of. It didn't help that Hank was constantly hovering over her shoulder like he didn't already keep tabs on her phone's GPS or put sensors in her car (which he didn't know that she knew about).