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Tony tends to pass out.
A lot. It’s probably not healthy.
But he’s only human, and he’s got literally a million things he needs to do, most of which are time-sensitive and could literally be life-or-death. Tony always thought that once he handed the reins over to Pepper, who was always much more capable of a CEO than he ever was, he’d have more free time to do what he enjoyed.
Like creating. And blowing things up for fun.
The former, he can’t currently do thanks to his packed schedule, and the latter of which he can’t really do anymore even if he had the chance if he’s being honest.
Both Pepper and Rhodey frown on his need to casually endanger his life which is a real hoot considering that Tony’s constant lack of consciousness isn’t even because he’s out there bringing the future into today. Oh no, it’s because he’s out there making sure there’ll even be a future.
Fucking aliens.
The worst part, funny enough, hadn’t even been the aliens. It had been the meeting when it ended because apparently Rogers had some thoughts on how Tony isn’t a team player and felt the need to expound on all of Tony’s excessive deficiencies as a person while he was bleeding through his suit, and literally on the verge of passing out, but not caring because “I’m Captain America, and I am displeased”.
Fucker.
Tony snuffles, burrowing deeper into the comfortable warmth that is the couch.
God, he hopes it’s the couch.
Once, Tony fell asleep on top of the dryer. He didn’t even know he had a dryer in his suite. He really needed to sleep.
“I’ll say…”
His eyes popped open, and he grimaced at the sun gleaming golden from the floor to ceiling window. God. Had the sun been out this whole time? Oh god, wait. What time was it, he still had a video call with the Panthery-Highness. Shit. Shit.
“Whoa, hey, there…” Suddenly he was being gently shushed, a hand brushing through his hair and – oh – oh that feels nice –
He burrowed in deeper, tightening his hold around the pillow and groaning appreciatively. Above him, there was a soft chuckle. “I get – I get,” Tony mumbles, struggling to pull words together when his mouth is drooping with the effort.
“Stark, relax -”
“Nightmares,” he finally manages. “I get ‘em, just in case I spazz out. Just like – leave me, alright? It’ll pass, don’t – don’t tell no one. Don’t want em to worry -” It comes out in a slur.
His companion understands though, when Tony’s answered with a hum and a soft murmur of, “I really hope you don’t freak about this when you’re awake, Stark.”
“We’ll never speak of it,” Tony promised, and just like that, he was out. And Tony’s a man of his word: They do not speak of it.
It’s just something that keeps happening that they continue not to speak about.
Obviously, it’s not intentional.
Except for that one time. Tony held out until Barnes came back from a mission, walked into the living room where Tony had ambushed him, and hustled him into a cuddle puddle made purely from Tony’s need to be warm when he slept, and declared, “Thank god, you’re home.”
Tony still falls asleep in weird places, though.
He can add lying chest first in the kitchen sink onto the list. Even if it had only been about a minute and a half before Barnes appeared, steered him to the couch and did the thing with his hands in Tony’s hair which Magic, Tony’s convinced. He sleeps like a toddler that’s been sufficiently run out of energy just moments before.
It isn’t in any way inaccurate on days when Tony can still fight the sleep off:
“You keep turning, and you’ll roll right off my lap.”
He huffed out a breath petulantly. “I’m trying to get comfortable. I knew your thighs you could crush my head, but seriously – so muscly – not much cushioning at all.”
Barnes sniffed. “I didn’t hear you complaining any other time.”
“Shhh, we do not speak of it,” Tony reminded, finally finding a position, and yeah, they don’t talk about it.
But Pepper knows because when doesn’t she know everything? “And you’re sure it’s…safe?”
Tony hums, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, the last time you two were in the same room alone, you almost came home in a body bag,” she said, tapping her foot impatiently, though she does nothing to hide her obvious concern.
“One, we weren’t alone, Rogers was there. And two, you’re exaggerating about the body bag.” So dramatic, really.
Tony can practically hear her eyes roll. “Forgive me if I don’t like the idea of you around someone who could’ve put you in a body bag.”
“His training kicked in, it was survival instinct,” Tony waves off like it’s no big deal because it isn’t. Tony threw the first punch and Barnes had every right to defend himself. Nothing about that fight in the bunker had been okay, and that’s an unspoken agreement between them, sort of like everything else.
“Tony -”
“And I was never really angry with him.” Pepper’s jaw makes a click sound, and Tony shrugs, giving her a look. “It was just…a shock. If anything, I should’ve punched Rogers and kept at it.”
“Now that I agree with.” After a beat of watching him go through routine maintenance of the Iron Man armor, she asks, “You’re sure though, about this thing between you and Barnes?”
“What thing? It isn’t a thing."
Pepper looks unimpressed, but she doesn’t elaborate. She knows how much better he’s slept with Barnes around which is pretty weird on its own.
In fact, ever since the Rogues returned from their exile, Tony hadn’t slept at all in the Compound for a solid two weeks. Up until the Witch was transferred to the Kamar-Taj after an altercation Tony didn’t want to think about too much on account of how close the Witch was to sending the Hulk on another red-haze-induced temper tantrum in the Compound with Peter, Ned, Harley and the Little Agents in the vicinity.
Thor had looked ready to banish her existence from all nine realms, and they’d had to rely on Loki to talk his brother down. Though that didn’t stop their Valkyrie friend, Brunnhilde, from trying to take the Witch’s head off, and Loki hadn’t tried particularly hard to stop her.
Tony wasn’t alone in his relief of her dispatch.
Outside of the interference of Norse Gods and a pissed Valkyrie, the only person who seemed to frighten the Witch off had been Barnes. Tony didn’t really blame her.
The man radiated Perfect Predator so much that even Tony’s nightmares are scared of the guy. Tony barely gets any visits from them since this whole thing started!
And okay, fine, he knows its weird as hell that he manages to relax let alone sleep with Barnes nearby.
Barnes still killed Tony’s parents, and hyperbole aside, Barnes had done a significant number on the suit. But nothing about Barnes outside of those two incidents frighten Tony in the least.
Not only is Barnes more awkward than scary, Tony’s watched Lila bully him and the rest of the kids into playing Save the Princess with her. In which everyone is a damsel except for Lila, who’s the hero they all need but don’t deserve.
Plus.
Barnes wears thumbhole sweaters. Thumbhole sweaters.
And Tony doesn’t know who’s shopping for Barnes, but the various New Avengers’ merchandise (which consists of everyone but the Rogues) socks, t-shirts and the one occasion, a Spider-Man onesie Peter convinced him into, are absolute goldmines. That Tony had made him a Bucky Bear plushie-counterpart, and given it as a joke – and partly because Stark Industries was launching a toy collection ever since Nate got his chubby little fingers around Tony’s heart, and Tony wanted a second opinion on the design – and Barnes had looked so fucking touched??? That had fucking done it.
And if it hadn’t, it had been the way that Barnes’ expression had forcibly been smoothed to neutral, as if he wasn’t allowed to show that he’d liked something which was absolute bullshit, and Tony was not going to stand for it.
“I’m going to make you so happy,” Tony swore to him in a mumble because that Look had fucking haunted him, and now it’s all he can think about, and –
Barnes, used to his sleepy rambling, only continued to pet his hair and soothe, “You already do.”
“No – no, you don’t – you don’t get it.” Tony tried to bat him away, but only managed to flail around, eyes too heavy to open fully no matter how much Tony tried to force them. “You deserve to be like so happy!”
Huffing out a laugh, Barnes ran his hand distractingly through Tony’s hair, cupping the back of his head and pressing their foreheads briefly together. “I am.”
“But more,” Tony insisted, peevishly. Sure, Barnes didn’t exude as much murder as before, and he actively tried to glower less when the kids were around, but still – he needed to smile – Tony wanted him to –
“I can…try," Bucky allowed.
“What – what’ll help? I wanna help!”
That elusive smile tugs at Barnes’ mouth before admitting, “You’re already most of the reason.”
“But -” Tony's pouting. He knows he is. God, he’s the biggest brat when he’s tired.
“You can call me James,” Barnes compromises.
Tony squints at him. “That sounds…too easy.”
Barnes – James shrugged. “I’m an easy guy to please.”
“Huh…”
James exhaled a quiet ‘oof’ as Tony manhandled him to lie on his side, Tony cuddling, draping himself sleepily until he’s lying on his chest. “I’m gonna make you so happy James.”
His chest rumbles, and absentmindedly, Tony rubs his cheek against the vibration of it. And, it’s probably the sleep deprivation, but Tony’s sure he feels the press of something on his crown as James murmurs back, “You already do, Tony.”