Chapter Text
Tony was warm. He felt comfortable and safe. He was in that half-asleep place, where everything was fuzzy but he was strangely calm. He didn't open his eyes; they felt weighed down, like the rest of his body, lethargic.
He just lay there and let the small part of his brain that was awake try to figure out what was going on.
He was lying on a warm surface, but he wasn't on a bed; no. He usually avoided his bed as much as possible, for sleeping. When he tried to actually go to bed, he either didn't sleep, or was plagued by dreams of caves. Of drowning. Of stars. No. He usually just let himself fall asleep on the couch in the common room, in the back seat of one of his cars in the workshop or sometimes even on the floor of the lab.
This didn't feel like any of them. It was very warm, and kind of wrapped around him. Warmth underneath his head, which was turned to the right, his left cheek resting on…whatever… and his chest and right arm, which were lying on whatever it was. Then a band of warmth around his back. And it was ... moving?
Fingers. Warm fingers stroking gently up and down his back. Not threatening, but comforting.
He heard voices, sounding like they were far away, or under water.
"…slept in more than 50 hours…" Banner. Bruce's voice. It was near though, and when he heard it, it was accompanied by a movement underneath his head. Breathing. Bruce's breathing. He was lying on Bruce.
Tony moved his right hand slightly, and felt the scratchy fabric of one of Bruce's horrible shirts underneath his fingers. Ok. Through the fabric he could even feel the crinkly hair of Bruce's ridiculous chest carpet. Hypothesis confirmed.
He let his hand relax. He could relax. They were in the tower; he was sure of it. If there was an emergency, Bruce would wake him. Or else he would find himself napping on the Hulk. A big green angry mattress.
He let out a chuckle as he thought about what the Big Guy would think of being used as a heated mattress.
"…dreaming?" Natasha's voice? Other voices, whispering. Probably the team. He had a vague memory of watching movies in the common room.
He felt the hand that was on his back move up to his hair, gently stroking. That was really nice. Amazing actually. It felt so good that he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed or annoyed that the others were seeing him this way. If they wanted to give him shit for it, he would just have JARVIS turn off all their hot water.
Tony just snuggled closer to the warmth that was Bruce, feeling Bruce's neck against his forehead. He could hear - feel? - the other man's heartbeat. That overactive heartbeat. That strong, angry heart that couldn't be stopped. Would always be there.
Someone in the room was laughing.
"Shut up, Barton," Bruce's voice floated into Tony's consciousness. "...jealous..."
Bruce sounded like he was laughing, joking. He was clearly ok with this.
Tony felt sleep pulling him back down, but it was warm, gentle; there was no danger in the darkness today. Tonight? Who gave a fuck. He was damn tired.
He let himself go.