Steve Rogers | Tony Stark
Practically a barbecue, sure. It looked like one completely to Tony, who had (beyond a meeting with Janet Van Dyne who was most certainly his new best friend) been laying very low the past day. He'd found some more water and a house that had been empty (like most things seemed to be) and bunked down to maybe catch up with the bone deep tired feeling that had been sitting on his back for days on end now.
Sleeping hadn't seemed like a good choice when he'd been drifting in space, worried he'd run out of air. Tony had been adamant that he wasn't going to die in his sleep if he was going to die at all.
So. He'd slept here.
Food though, he hadn't really had time for after the water had made him feel sickeningly full. But now? Now he smelled it, and from his window he could see the fire, the silhouetted shoulders of someone so familiar that it'd nearly made his heart stop.
He left the house he'd not-quite claimed and wandered over, uncertain but not willing to show it. "I see you found a grocery store." Those didn't exist here, but it didn't matter because from close up, Tony knew his eyes hadn't tricked him. Those shoulders were more than familiar. Steve was achingly, hauntingly familiar.