Work Text:
Tony Stark
He hates how little sleep you get, but he also loves how accepting of his affection you are.
Tony hates when you don't get enough sleep. He's no example of a healthy sleep schedule, but you're just barely doing better than he is. It's obvious when it happens. You rub your eyes harshly throughout the day, words seem to escape your thoughts when explaining your latest idea, and you become clumsy.
When well rested you enjoy Tony's company. Always greeting each other with kisses, spending most of the day together, but still managing to do your own things. But when you're tired, you crave his presence. You'll slip in front of him when he tinkers and wrap your arms around him. You'll settle into his space and he'll continue working. It isn't an uncommon sight for you to be straddling his lap, face against his shoulder, while he sits in an office chair.
Right now Tony wants nothing more than to scoop you up and carry you to bed, except he's in important meetings that have already been rescheduled four times.
He kisses you before going into his office to be ready for the video conferences. You pout as he crosses the hall.
Not wanting to go far away, you work on the project you've been thinking over. It's as you're writing down the last portion of your formula that your focus is gone. Frustration builds as you cross out more and more of what you'd just written. Slowly, the lack of sleep catches up to you. You were crashing, and any more coffee was a bad idea. Finally giving in you drop the pen. You unlocked your phone, squinting at the harsh brightness of the screen, and sent Tony a text. You didn't want to interrupt his meetings, but you also knew trying to fall asleep without him would be difficult.
Tony is relieved when the meetings go by faster than he was expecting them to. Once he disconnects from the last video conference, he goes across the hall to the workshop. Surprised by its emptiness, he grabs his phone to call you only to see your text. He smiles, rushing upstairs to the bedroom.
You're curled up in one of his sweatshirts while laying on his side of the bed, face squished against his pillow. He steps out of his shoes while crossing the room. You lift your head as soon as his steps ring through the room.
The moment he sits on the bed to lay down, you move to wrap your arms around his waist with a huff. Tony can't help the fond chuckle that escapes him. He'll pull your hands away for a moment, a quiet whine escaping you, before scooping you into his lap. He'll lay down, shifting you so that his chin is just above your head. His breaths cause you to be gently rocked. Your legs tangle together, and he makes a dramatic gasp when your cold toes press against his ankles.
"Not close enough,” you mumble against the column of his throat.
His responding hum vibrates against your lips. You bury your head further into his neck. Tony's arms slip beneath his hoodie you're wearing and rub your back while holding you tighter to him. The content sigh you release makes him feel more accomplished than any of those meetings did.
He presses his lips against your hair. He doesn't pull away, just enjoying having his lips against you while feeling the warmth of your skin. "You should sleep,” he mumbles against you.
You fight off a yawn before replying, "You should, too.”
"Deal. JARVIS, enter black out mode.”
"Certainly sir,” the robotic voice acknowledges. "Black out mode engaged.”
The lights turn off and the shutters close, plunging the room into darkness. A projection of the stars dimly covers the ceiling. Tony pulls a cover over the both of you.
Bucky Barnes
You sat in the living room, nursing a cup of coffee, and watching the sun rise higher by the hour. Your nightmares were getting worse. You were glad Bucky was on a mission until this afternoon, not wanting to disturb the little sleep he could get. It was a long week, but you could manage. You couldn't help the nightmares that plagued your sleeping mind. They left their mark against you, the dark circles under your eyes anything but subtle.
It was a surprise when you heard the lock in the door. Just as you whipped around to look, the door swung open, revealing Bucky. He dropped his bag as you hurried across the room. In your rush, you tripped over the small rug in your hallway. Bucky's arms were quick to be around you. He picked you up, your legs going around his waist.
"Hi,” you breathed out.
"I've got you,” Bucky kissed you while kicking the door closed. "What are you doing up?”
"Couldn't sleep.”
You felt Bucky's shoulders slump as he gently traced the circles under your eyes. "How many?”
You bit your lip, not wanting to worry him. But you also knew he understood. While you debated, Bucky sat on the couch. The sunlight cast golden beams into the room, making you feel safe.
"It was just eleven…” you trailed off.
Bucky frowned, a small crease appearing between his brows. “Sweetheart, why didn't you let me know you needed me? I would have been here as fast as possible.”
You sagged against him, using his large frame as your personal pillow. “Because I didn't want to worry you, and your mission was important…”
“You're important,” he said disapprovingly.
“I know,” you promise. "But your mission was so short.”
He gave you an unimpressed look. “I was gone four days.”
You sagged against him further, no longer supporting your weight. Bucky sighed as snores came from you.
He hated that you didn't sleep while he was away. Both of you suffered from nightmares. The only solution that kept them away was when the two of you slept beside each other. He knew your nightmares, just as you knew his. He slowly stood up, cradling you against him. Going to the bed, he tucked you in. The small whimper that left you as he moved around the bed made his heart clinch. Even asleep you were reaching out for him. He laid down, pulling your malleable body into his hold. His heart always soared when you were tired, loving how touchy you became. Usually you would wait for him to initiate physical touches, but when you were asleep? All you wanted to do was touch him. The first time he discovered this made his heart melt. Sleeping was when you were most vulnerable, and all you wanted when sleeping was him. The trust you had in him to protect you while slept was the best feeling possible to him.
Loki Laufeyson
Loki's adoration of you grew daily. You were self assured and confident, easily seeming like an immovable force. And you were, but Loki got to see what you were like behind closed doors. Loki witnessed you when the bravado was washed away. Witnessed how dedicated you were to the people in your life. He was lucky enough to be one of those people.
Loki's favorite time was the evening. Getting to relax with you after a long day was perfection to him. Being around you energized him from the tiring tasks of the day. Learning your quirks was an added bonus of spending evenings together.
His favorite was when you were tired. He was used to falling asleep in each other's arms, but what he didn't expect was your nightly request that he speak. Anything from tales of Asgard to having him ramble about seemingly nothing. Each night he looked forward to lulling you to sleep with his stories.
He learned, slowly, that his voice was what allowed you to sleep peacefully. Some nights, when your breathing was evened out, he'd stop talking. It was these nights you would hold onto him tighter, angling your body as if you were trying to shield him from something. He would stroke your hair and begin talking again, and you would relax against him. Instead of your hands clinging to his shirt, they would lay flat against his chest.
He loved the way you would ask him to tell you something. Your eyes would flutter shut, but then you were jerking awake again as if you wanted to avoid sleeping for as long as possible. You would finally give in, resting your forehead against his.
“Tell me something,” you'd whisper.
“What would you like to hear?” He'd brush your hair away from your eyes.
It became a game for him, guessing what your reply would be. If you'd want him to finish a story you fell asleep in the midst of, or to start a new story. Maybe you would want to hear about his thoughts on a book, or request he talk about anything. It didn't matter to him, just as long as you were relaxed. Clinging onto his words more than consciousness was a gift you weren't even aware you were giving him. He relished these moments, committing them to his memory.