Steve Rogers | Tony Stark
It didn't take long for the meat to get going, juices dripped onto coals and the smell traveled through the town. There was a garden and some things growing, fruit trees as well if you looked hard enough, but a hot meal smelled a certain way. Steve had found some plates and cutlery in one of the empty houses and set that up on a table, so it was rustic, but not too rustic. Leftovers wouldn't keep and Steve hoped people would come and share, or at least take later what he'd leave.
He heard someone coming and he'd been about to turn, about to greet them when they spoke. There were some voices that stuck, stayed with you forever no matter how long it had been and that there was one of them. Steve froze facing the fire for a beat and then another, like he wasn't quite sure. It seemed too impossible, perhaps he'd been alone too long and had descended into madness.
But he turned and there was madness looking just as uncertain as he felt.
"I forgot milk, mind picking some up later?" Steve asked when he found his voice.
Of all the people he'd expected Tony Stark was not even on the list of possibilities. It had been a quiet and introspective couple of days so to be suddenly confronted with him was a lot, close to too much. "Hungry?"