“Oh. Hi. Hi, is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport in Germany. I got really big. I had my mask on. You wouldn’t recognize me.”
“EDITH is this an old message?” Natasha asks breathlessly, watching as the man on the screen bangs on the front door once more.
“Ant-Man. Ant-Man. I know you know that.”
“It’s the front door of the compound Natasha, a live feed” EDITH replies calmly.
“I really need to talk to you guys,” Scott shouts, waving at the cameras, and Natasha can’t stop the wet laugh that bursts out, vision blurring with tears.
“Shall I wake James?” EDITH asks politely and Natasha grins, wiping under her eyes, something like hope igniting in her chest.
He looks up and Tony is leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hands between his legs, loose and relaxed, sweater sleeves pushed up so Steve can see his muscular forearms. They flex as Tony’s fingers twitch and he tears his eyes away reluctantly to meet his burnt sugar gaze.
Tony’s lips curl slowly and Steve feels it like those lips are on his skin, soft and warm and he shivers, swallowing hard.
“I’m glad you came,” Tony murmurs, voice low and honest and a little raw with emotion.
i… look, i’m not the crying kind, steve. i didn’t cry at my own father’s funeral. but right then and there i realized that in this crazy business we’re in, there’s no one i’d miss more than you.
