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Tony knocks on the door softly–three, consecutive times. "Stephen?" he calls out, "You in there?"
He doesn't hear a response. Instead, there's some faint, soft shuffling that he could barely hear from the other side. Tony hesitates for a moment, standing in front of the door. He considers his choices.
He knows Stephen sometimes seeks solitude in certain moments, but Tony knows more than most about Stephen’s self-isolating tendencies; partly due to their similar coping mechanisms.
One of the things they’ve been slowly building in their relationship is open communication. When things happen–unpleasant things–Tony tends to avoid them as much as he possibly could, and instead drowning himself in distractions, which often leads to him staying up for hours on end and overworking himself until his body collapses on its own accord. Stephen, however, can be abrasive without himself meaning to. He tends to withdraw and push everyone away, craving solitude but knowing it wouldn’t fix anything. He refuses any sort of help, not because he doesn’t want them, but because he knows he doesn’t deserve them. They were both aware of this and their own self-destructive behaviour, and are learning to overcome it together.
So if Stephen just wanted some space, he would’ve told him. Not doing so would mean something is very, very wrong.
He stands in front of the door with these thoughts circling around his head, before his concern overtakes all else, and he lays a hand on the door handle.
"I'm coming in, yeah?" was his only warning before the door clicks open. He hears a faint wince come from under the covers. Light streams in through the crack of the door, into the dark room, and he hears what could only be described as a muffled whine.
"Stephen?" Tony asks, not quite able to hide the concern in his voice, "Is there something wrong?"
Tony takes note of the lights being turned off and the curtains having been pulled closed tightly. He can see Stephen's hand clutch the mattress tighter. He's practically drowning in the blankets.
"Too loud," Stephen whispers croakily, just loud enough that it's faintly audible to Tony, "Too bright."
The cloak above him swipes one of its collars over Stephen's head, and then helps cover Stephen's ears. It somehow manages to pull the blankets up higher over Stephen's form.
"Oh," Tony says softly, and makes sure to keep his voice as low as possible. He closes the door immediately, as softly as he could, making sure not to make too loud of a noise.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"Head hurts," Stephen whispers, voice tight with pain, "Too much."
"What's too much?"
"Everything."
Tony only nods uselessly. His socked feet pad softly on the floorboards as he approaches the bed, crouching down to Stephen's level.
"Do you… need me to leave? Or would it help if I stayed?" he whispers.
Stephen seems to consider it for a moment. His brows are knitted tightly together, eyes opened in the slightest of slits, Tony couldn't tell if it's actually open with the darkness around them.
"Stay," he decides, "I like your smell."
Tony smiles at him softly at that.
"Okay. Do you need proximity? Or just my company?"
Stephen pulls the blankets up to cover himself further, burrowing into it. Tony thinks it's adorable how his black curls–it's definitely curls, fluffy at that; he just puts too much product in it sometimes–with hints of white barely puff out from above.
It's amazing how someone so strong out in the battlefield allows him, of all people, to witness him in a state so vulnerable. Tony feels his chest well up with affection at the thought.
"Need hug."
Tony nearly melts at the request. The cloak wraps itself around its master tighter, almost protectively.
"Little spoon?"
"Little spoon."
Tony obliges, kissing his forehead and receiving an adorable nose scrunch in return before he walks to the other side of the bed and shuffles under the covers–the cloak accommodating him into their space–making sure not to make too much noise as he settles behind Stephen. He wraps his arms gently around the sorcerer's waist, mindful to not jostle them around too much. Tony can feel Stephen almost immediately going lax, the tenseness of his posture melting away in Tony's arms. He leans back into Tony's warmth, and snuggles in further. Tony smiles and kisses the back of his head.
Stephen moves to turn around, wiggles a bit under the covers so that they're the same height, and buries his face in the crook of Tony's neck. Tony never ceases to find it hilariously cute how Stephen always makes himself tinier whenever they're like this.
"Smell good," he mumbles quietly, and Tony tightens his hold around the sorcerer.
No words are exchanged after that, and neither of them know how long they lay there, holding each other under the covers, until Stephen's migraine is at a 'tolerable' enough level for them to get up.