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It's something in his eyes Stephen muses as he makes his way deeper into their living room, closer to the sofa, closer to Tony. The balance between caring and needy is one they're both trying to find, and sometimes it's awkward, but this is one of those times where Stephen is actually almost positive he's right - he prefers not to think about what he'd do if he's wrong. Flee, probably.
The rule they've set in place is doing quite a good job of eliminating the guessing part of this game though, and when Stephen finally reaches the couch, and he's standing right in front of Tony, and Tony doesn't have a choice but to look up, he knows even before the man's face crumbles in pain.
"I'm not ok," Tony admits, a deep, achy sort of pain lacing his voice and lurching Stephen forward before he realizes he's moving at all.
He sits down as close to Tony as he can without being on his lap, and then he's looping one arm in Tony's back and reaching to stroke Tony's face with his free hand, looking down at him as he tries to find any clue as to the how's and why's. He doesn't find any, but that's also not how this works anyway. Stephen gives him a small smile, and then tugs Tony even closer, until their bodies are touching knee to shoulder, and Tony's midsection is twisted so he can hold on to Stephen as well, his head finding the crook of his neck and settling there.
"You take as long as you want," Stephen tells him, making sure his voice is as unwavering as he would want Tony's to be if the tables were turned. "You just rest here, collect yourself, and tell me how much or how little as you want."
Tony nods against his neck. Stephen hikes a hand up to the base of Tony's neck, massaging the tense knots he finds there and screwing his eyes shut when he feels the first silent tears wetting his skin.
"Couldn't sleep last night," Tony starts what could be a lifetime after, or two minutes - time passing is getting increasingly difficult for Stephen to measure, and isn't that ironic for the keeper of the Time Stone.
He nods though, grazing his short nails at the roots of Tony's hair.
"Couldn't sleep at all this week really," Tony finally admits and Stephen barely holds in his exclamation.
He thought Tony'd slept during the the day, caught up on his late work-binges with real sleep in the morning or even afternoon when Stephen couldn't be here. If his arms tighten around Tony then, Stephen can't help it. If his head tilts towards the mess of black hair in his field of vision and he drops a firm kiss to Tony's hairline, well, he's not about to apologize for that either.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Tony says again, hiccupping halfway through the words.
Stephen shushes him gently, "You're doing it now, that's all that matters, alright?"
Tony keeps his arms around Stephen's waist when he draws back to meet his gaze, the sight of his big brown doe eyes filled with tears positively killing Stephen a little bit.
"Alright?" Stephen prompts again.
Tony nods.
"Good," Stephen does the same, "then what do you say, we get rid of all this," he waves at their clothes - he didn't have time to get out of his robes before he saw very evidently Tony needed him, "and climb into bed together?"
"Nap or night?"
"Whatever you need," Stephen answers, letting himself gently wipe the tears away from Tony's cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
"Sounds good," Tony nods again, sucking his bottom lip in before he tilts his chin up, his gaze shying away when Stephen meets it, before he gets braver again, and leans up enough to press their lips together. "Thank you," he says simply, but Stephen knows how much more there is in those two words, has used them himself in that same way before.
"Come on, warm, comfortable bed, and cuddling , let's go," Stephen draws back from their hug, pretends to grimace at the word "cuddling" to see some amusement seep back into Tony's features, and then offers him his forearm to use as leverage to get up.
Right before they cross the threshold of their bedroom, Tony pauses, and Stephen imitates him, cocking an eyebrow at him. Tony looks back and forth between the bedroom door and somewhere around the region of Stephen's neck before he takes a deep breath and makes himself taller to kiss him again.
"Mushy time, brace yourself," Tony starts, a little smile that looks already more like him than anything else he's done in the past few days, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, other than Pep and honeybear, and I hope you know that,"
"Tell the people you love you love them when they're here to hear it." It's written in their kitchen now, famous words of the therapist they decided to go see once in a while, for mental check-ups and relationship headchecks.
"Likewise, Anthony, likewise," Stephen brushes their hands together, then tilts his head towards the closed door of their bedroom, "Now to sleep."
"You'll sing me a lullaby?" Tony grins at him, but then he yawns hard enough for his jaw to crack, so Stephen only stares at him until he gets into bed. Then only does he magic his robes away, and roll under the covers until he's laying with his front flush to Tony's back, and buries his nose in his partner's hair.
"Sleep well, love," he says.
It comes as no surprise that Tony's only answer is an unconscious little sigh and the man burrowing even closer against Stephen.
They're fast asleep in no time. It's warm and it's comfortable and so very necessary. And if Cloak joins them somewhere during the nap that turns into the whole night, well it was just the one missing piece of their puzzle that's now complete.