Work Text:
"Ok guys", Clint announced, "There is the good news and the bad news for the two of you. Bad news first: The second guest-bed we can put up in your room is a rather shitty thing, but I guess it's better than cramming up in the same one. Good news is, we have a whole barne full of straw, so drawing straws is easily prepared." He gave them both a broad grind and started unfolding an indeed rather uncomfortable looking guest bed.
'I for one', Steve thought, 'Wouldn't terribly mind cramming up in that huge bed.' He glanced over at Tony, who sneered upon seeing the so called bed. 'But I guess, I'll better keep this to myself. I'll just be a gentleman about this.' But before he could announce his intentions to offer the good bed to Tony, the billionaire already told Clint: "Don't think we'll need straw. If Mr. Beefcake here", he slightly jabbed Steve's arm, "as much as thinks about lying down on this thing, it will probably break down. So no worries, you take the big bed, Spangles."
Steve wanted to argue, but the concern might even be reasonable and his only argument against it would imply concerns about Tony's back, which would sound kind of condescending or Steve's desire to make everything and anything as pleasurable as possible for Tony, which he didn't want to discuss any further. Eventually he realized that he had opened his mouth to answer and quickly closed it again. He nodded. "Ok. Thanks Tony. I could try it, though."
"Hey really, Capsicle, it's ok", Tony answered. "Thing is, if you give it a try and I turn out to be right, the only possible solution would be to sleep in the same bed and while I could totally understand if that was just what you secretly wish for, I don't think we should go there in a house full of kids." He winked at Steve, who - hopefully subtley enough - gulped.
Clint huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Well, if that's what you're in for, there are not that many kids around and Laura has already tucked them in."
Tony smirked at him. "You don't look exactly 'tucked in' to me, Cupid."
That earned him a sigh. "Whatever", Clint mumbled. "I'll leave you two to whatever you're up to. Promised Cooper to tell him and Lila a bedtime story. If you need one, I can come back here when they're asleep and tell you one, too."
In admiration of the archers unusual flippant comebacks, Tony gave him a grin and let him have the last word on that one. They all said their good nights and Steve and Tony were left to themself. Moments after Steve took a deep breath. He was absolutely ok with Tony being around him and Tony talking and most of the time his banter was as adorable to him as it was annoying to others, but if he wanted to get any sleep tonight, he should somehow prevent the self-designated playboy from firing off one innuendo after another. "Tony?", he started, "Don't wanna cut you off, but I'm pretty tired and you seem to be a bit exhilarated, so it's ok if you go on talking, just... don't expect me to be very enthusiastic, ok?"
"Hey, contrary to popular belief, I actually can shut up and entertain myself for a while", Tony said while walking over to the bed. "Besides, I could use some sleep myself, so ..." - he made a brief pause to pull his shirt over his head - "I guess I'll be out myself soon enough." After getting rid of his pants and socks he stretched and actually yawned, so apparently he was indeed tired. To Steve's relief, the yawning also meant that Tony had probably not seen Steve gaping at him before getting his mimics back on track and his gaze focused on something different. This right now, he decided, was as good a moment as any to start undressing himself.
"So sleep tight, Captain" CRACK! "Ouch." Steve peeked out of his half discarded shirt. Apparently the guest bed couldn't even hold Tony's weight. It looked as if at least three latches had spontaneously cracked, the bed was half folded up and Tony stuck in the resulting gap in a rather uncomfortable looking position. Steve hastily got rid of his shirt, jumped over to the bed and managed to avoid being hit by any of Tony's flailing limbs while he pulled the bed frame open again. With several inarticulate noises and uncoordinated movements, Tony managed to get off the bed again.
"Phew, thanks Cap", he exhaled. "That thing's even more fragile than I would have guessed." He scratched his head. "I don't assume Legolas has any better second options around."
That was it. That was the excuse he had needed. "Um, the bed is quite big", Steve stammered. "Guess we could just make do with sleeping in it together. I mean both of us. In the same bed. Is all I'm saying." He could feel the blood flooding his cheeks and bit his lip. Smooth as a pile of bricks.
But Tony pulled him out of his misery: "Guess same bed it is, then. If you're ok with that, that is. After all, I broke the damn guest bed, so if you're uncomfortable with it, I'll try to find something else."
"No, no", Steve blurted out, probably a bit too fast, "It's fine. I'm fine. Just... yeah, sleeping in that huge bed together will be... fine."
Tony snickered. "God, Steve, promise me something." Steve looked at him in confusion. "Never change. You're adorable." He laughed and plummeted down into the blankets, shifting over to leave enough space for the completely bedazzled looking American idol standing next to the bed.
After blinking a few times, Steve finally got his thoughts back together, managed to say: "Thanks. I, um, good night, Tony." He lay down himself and switched off the lamp on the nightstand.
"Good night, Capsicle", he heard next to him. Only moments later soft snoring arose from there. Steve sighed. He had really nailed down all the ways to make a good impression and carefully avoided them. He closed his eyes and desperately tried, not to think any further of it.
It still took him what felt like hours to fall asleep. He dozed off several times and shortly after snapped back into wakefulness. He wasn't entirely sure that Tony, almost naked, handsome, softly snoring Tony, less than one arm's length away from him, was the reason, but it certainly felt like it. He decided to talk to Tony in the morning. Pining was great, it made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside, but at some point he'd have to ask. And it felt like it was slowly getting out of control, so simply abandoning that stupid little shard of hope and getting the brush-off was probably due.
Minutes later he discarded that plan. He'd never find the guts to speak up about this.
After three iterations of getting back to the plan, carefully laying out words to open up to Tony and tossing it all over board again, Steve realized that the breathing next to him had become irregular and alarmingly fast. He held in his own breath to listen closely. It almost sounded as if Tony was trying to mutter something. Every now and then, Steve believed to hear a 'no' in between incoherent, huffed syllables. Occasionally spasms made the mattress twitch under them.
Steve didn't know all the details of his team member, but he had read the file on Iron Man and knew, that recurring nightmares and flashbacks had been a serious a problem for him for a prolonged time. And these things tended to be persistent. Steve braced himself and extended a hand. Maybe a light touch would pull the man out of his REM phase. Otherwise completely waking him up was most likely better than leaving him to his nightmares. He put his hand on a taut, twitching shoulder and prepared to whisper the engineers name, when his hand was suddenly in a vice-like grip.
He tried to pull back or at least rattle the shoulder gently to get away again when his arm was pulled in even further. 'Well, great job, Rogers', he muttered to himself. 'Now you'll just have to wake him.' While he was still pondering on how to do it without giving Tony a heart attack, his thoughts went into full lockdown, when the mattress shifted a bit and a slightly sweaty, sleep warm body pressed against his chest and stomach.
For a few seconds everything in his head went down into a frenzied blur. He didn't dare to breathe and hastily went through his thoughts to find any clue as to what to do. When the sudden rush started to wear off, he realized something else. The situation wasn't actually uncomfortable. In fact, not at all. If it should come to this, he'd have a very good excuse, why he spent the night huddled together with Tony instead of using the entire huge bed. After all, he was not the one who had trapped his fellow Avenger's arm and curled up against him. He smiled. No, this was not bad at all.
A few moments later he realized, that Tony was not twitching anymore and his breath has was even and calm again. Not that he needed any more reasons to stay exactly where he was, but the thought made the butterflies in his stomach go bonkers. Maybe he'd regret this in the morning, but right now no negative thought in the world could have made him pull back. The slowly heaving and falling chest under his arm and the steady, soft rhythm of a calmly beating heart eventually eased him into sleep.
Tomorrow came. Cap woke up and needed an approximated eternity to realize, where he was and what was going on. He was exactly where he had dozed off last night, his arm still slung around Tony's - Tony's! - chest, his hand caught a calloused grip and his other hand firmly asleep, because his head had rested on his upper arm the entire night.
He forced himself to keep his breathing even and calm and tried to sort his thoughts. He had to get his right arm back to life and his left arm out of Tony's grip. He also should try, not to wake up Tony and last but not least, if not for his numb arm, he'd really prefer to just stay where he was and pretend to sleep for another few hours. Or days, really. Probably at some point Tony would wake up anyway. Then he'd want to know what was going on. Steve would rather be away at that time, but wiggling out of Tony's grip would most likely wake him up. So pretending to be still asleep was probably the most promising chance to avoid awkward questions.
He forced himself to push all his panic aside for a moment. He filled his lungs with a long, deep breath, inhaling Tony's smell, tinged by salty sweat and that never fading hint of machine oil and heated steel
Again that idea slipped into his mind. He should talk to Tony. Not right now, but maybe when he woke up or after breakfast. He should. He wouldn't, but he should. Soon enough he pushed it all away to dwell in the feeling of the warm, muscular back pressed against his chest and strands of soft, lank hair tickling his face.
Somewhere between considering opening up to Tony and taking in as much sensory feedback of the whole situation as he could, something else poked at his attention. Steve had spent remarkable amounts of time throughout the last night listening to Tony's breathing. Apart from the nightmare episode, it had always been the same flat, rhythmic sound, sometimes with a bit of snoring, sometimes almost soundless. Now the rhythm had changed. He searched for other signs. He wondered whether people sniffed while being asleep. Several muscles moved subtly in the back that still rested against his chest. It also pressed a bit closer.
Steve almost went off the rails. Was Tony awake? If so, why was he not getting up and away from Steve? Tony Stark certainly would not be too embarrassed to move, would he? Why the hell had Steve ever thought this to be a good idea? He should have let go of Tony as soon as the nightmares had ended. Was Tony maybe containing his anger and just searching for the right words to tell Steve off? How in all seven hells had he even expected this to end?
Blaming it on movement in the sleep was still an option. Or hoping that Tony was still asleep. Or anything. Whatever he intended to do, Steve had to back away. He counted to ten silently. Then to twelve, because he desperately missed that bravery everyone claimed he had. Eventually he simply tried to turn around. He realized just now that Tony's hand must have gone slack during the night, because the grip was loose and Steve could just slip his own hand out. He wiggled a bit to reposition the pillow. He could try to twitch with the muscles in his leg. People did that during sleep, right? Or maybe he should just combust. That would solve a lot of problems.
He had not thought this through and he didn't know how long he'd pretend to sleep. His sense of time probably was screwed anyway.
An unknown amount of time later, Tony yawned and stretched his back. Steve wasn't sure what he expected to happen, but it was bound to be embarrassing. He forced himself to keep his breathing even and calm. Just the morning person Steve had expected him to be, Tony half climbed half fell out of the bed and put pants and probably a shirt on. Steve didn't dare to turn around and look. The occasional, exaggerated sighs and the almost constant mumbling about the horrors of mornings almost cracked him up, which didn't make playing asleep easier.
Then Tony's movements stopped. He had not left the room so Steve wondered what was going on. His fake sleep state probably wasn't that convincing, so he decided to wake up now. He rubbed his eyes and tried to move slowly and heavily. After a few moments he gave up and figured that he could always blame it on the serum and pretend that this was just how super soldiers looked when waking up. He grinned at Tony, or the zombie who'd probably turn into Tony with added coffee.
"Morning, sunshine!", Steve greeted him and got a low groan for an answer.
"Ugh. Morning people", Tony grumbled. "Fuck you and everything you stand for."
Steve might even have been offended, if not for the amused smile tucking at Tony's lips. He had to do it. He had to talk to him and he should do it now. "Tony?", he asked, wondering how much harder his heart could pound without it being audible from outside.
"Oh, my bad", Tony said, a broad grin forming on his face. "I meant screw. Screw is ok, right?"
When Steve frowned at him, he sighed. "Screw you and everything you stand for?", Tony tried. Upon Steve's 'You've got to be kidding'-look, he threw his hands up in the air, turned around and walked out of the room, while rambling on: "Screwing! Perfectly harmless word. Doing that in my workshop all the time."
Steve found himself staring at the door frame. He fell back onto the pillow and put his arm over his eyes. "Tony!", he groaned. Only audible to himself he added: "I love you, you god damn dork."