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Tony can’t help the way a disappointed breath wooshes out of him when the intervening train finally clears the station and the gorgeous stranger is gone. It’s ridiculous—he doesn’t know anything about the man. He was beautiful, sure, but Tony has known (and slept with) far more than his share of beautiful people. A pretty face isn’t enough to take his breath away, not anymore. But for some reason, when Tony’s gaze had met the stranger’s he’d felt something. A connection. Tony had never believed in past lives, and still didn’t, but for the first time he thought he understood why some people did.
And now the stranger is gone and something inside Tony feels hollow.
He turns away from the now-empty space across the tracks and actually yelps in shock to find the stranger standing next to him. “How the hell did you get over here?” Tony demands. He glances around, but there’s no direct passage between platforms and the train hadn’t been long enough for the stranger to descend the stairs, take the tunnel under the platform, and come up on Tony’s side.
The stranger smirks. “Magic.”
Tony’s gaze narrows. “I’m going to figure it out.”
“I invite you to try,” the stranger says. “Over drinks, perhaps?” His smirk softens into a smile and he holds out his hand. “Stephen Strange.”
“Tony Stark,” Tony responds. When he takes Stephen’s hand in his, that something he’d felt before echoes between them. He can see it in Stephen’s eyes, too. “Drinks sound good.”