Tony leans against his sports car, parked outside the Avengers Tower, his patience thinning as he checks his watch and glances up at the sky. He was relieved to have arrived first but 10 more minutes of this and he's going to assume you want him to lose your number.

It'll be a cold day in hell before he's stood up.

Granted, he didn't really expect you to consider the date he alluded to the last time you two saw each other. The one scheduled to happen after the tug of war with Feilong over Stark Industries blew over. It was a cocky suggestion, sure. In his defense, he was only partly serious.

But this isn't a date. Not unless you want it to be. Excuse him if this whole thing's been undefined; he doesn't like to label.

He hasn't seen you, a certain someone who's seen him arguably at his lowest, in, what, two—three years? He figured offering to be your tour guide, as he jokingly put it, could be his way of tacitly implying that he...well, he missed—

His train of thought is cut off by your appearance, as you float down before him with eyes seeming to momentarily hold the cosmos within them. It only took you a swift hand motion to expertly close the portal.

Show off.

"You're late," Tony chides, but there's no bite behind it. You were stuck in a different universe for a good stretch of time until you fell from grace, literally, and into Prime-Earth New York. It'd be cruel of him not to cut you some slack.

A couple hours into catching up and he's already getting a glimpse of the toll life back on an alternate universe took on you.

"And so I say to Stane, believe me, the only thing that's hard right now is this suit of—woah." Tony's hand reaches out for your arm, pulling you back before you could cross the red light. "That's what it's like? Universe-hopping? Red means yes, green means no?" he asks, noting Shawarma Palace up ahead.

"Ever tried shawarma?" He flashes a million-dollar-grin, guiding you passed his Audi R8 and towards a small, unassuming shawarma joint. "It's a family favorite," he quips.