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There isn't that much space on a spaceship, no matter what one might think, it's nothing like the hellicarrier, not that Tony particularly loved staying aboard that thing to begin with. But this is pushing it. Big time.
He's exhausted, the time spent thinking they were stranded in uncharted territory only to discover that their radars had simply decided to go off and give false readings sucked all his energy and now he just wants to sleep. Only that means he has to get into that bed. Where Rogers is already knocked out and snoring.
That's a lie. Steve doesn't snore. But the annoyance remains.
Close quarters. Fucking suck.
He's warm though, Tony has to admit, when he finally decides to get into the bed. He can't exactly sleep on the floor, and all the other quote bedrooms unquote are already spoken for. He's too old to play the Indiana Jones, and has no superserum to compensate being stupid about this. So he slithers into the small bed he and Steve were assigned by Clint — what an asshole — and tries to get comfortable.
He starts off laying on his side while looking at the wall, glaring more likely, but eventually, his chest screams at him to move, this side isn't comfortable for some reason. So he turns around and finds himself facing Steve's sleeping face and now this is unfair.
Tony doesn't want to find Steve pretty when he sleeps. He doesn't want to think about brushing his fingers over the man's perfect, slicing jaw, or the smooth skin of his cheeks. But fuck if he does.
He's holding his breath, he knows, but Tony can't imagine Steve waking up right now, and it's a wonder he hasn't when Tony came into the room already, so minimal movement from now on he decides. Not because he cares. Or because he wants to watch him some more. None of that. Of course not.
But maybe he does, and now is as good a time as any to admit it to himself at least in part.
Tony reaches forward, daring more than he'd thought to allow himself, but before he can touch Steve's shoulder, Steve's hand shoots out from under their blanket and circles his wrist.
"What--" Tony squeaks.
Steve blinks bleary eyes at him, the only light shining in them that of the emergency light above the door, but then he smiles softly, and Tony feels himself blushing. Shit.
"Heard you come in," Steve slurs.
"Did you now?" Tony whispers. Steve has to be feeling how hard his heart is beating, can't not feel it, maybe even hear it.
"Hmm," Steve nods into his pillow, a slow smile drawing on his lips. "Can I hold you?"
Now that's a question Tony didn't think he'd ever hear, it wasn't even part of his realm of possibilities. Not even close either. He finds himself nodding regardless.
"Sleep now, Tony, we can do the talking part tomorrow." Steve murmurs, his eyes opening and closing heavily, and for once, where that statement should have made his bells go off, Tony feels a certain calm wash over him. He nods, right into Steve's chest when Steve's arms close around him.
"Tomorrow."