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They fuck in Tony’s bed. Often. Only Steve doesn’t stay.
They don’t talk about why Tony always wakes up alone. Steve’s glad of that. It’s not that he doesn’t want to stay. There’s nothing he’d like more than to remain snug in Tony’s strong and warm embrace. No, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. It’s that he can’t.
There’s no way Tony can know the reason. It would shatter everything, every preconceived notion that he has about Steve. Steve is strong. Steve is Captain America. Steve does not have nightmares.
Except he does.
It’s not something he wants anyone to know about, especially not Tony. He doesn’t want to acknowledge them himself, even when he wakes up panting, sheets drenched in sweat. As soon as he’s up, adrenaline pumping and leaping out of the bed, he wants to forget it ever happened. He wants to push away the sight of Bucky falling, the feeling of being trapped in ice, the horror of a slow death that never came… He casts it all out like a demon, goes for a long, long run, and changes the sheets when he’s home again.
There’s no way Tony can know. At least that’s the plan, anyway. Call it survival instinct. Just never tell. Never stay. It’ll work.
Until it doesn’t.
*
They’re bone tired and barely manage to change, Steve from his Cap suit and Tony from his t-shirt and slacks, before they’re lying on the bed in one another’s arms. It’s been a long day of fighting monsters, and Steve is out like a light before he can even speak to his exhaustion. Tony smiles as he watches the slow up and down of the other man’s chest. He brushes a thumb over the mild parting of his lips, then slips his hand up to ruffle soft blond hair. He’s never seen Steve sleep before. It’s always been Tony who falls asleep first. Then when he wakes, Steve’s gone.
They don’t talk about it. Tony frowns, his brows crinkling. He’s always got the feeling Steve doesn’t want to talk about it, and that’s okay. They’ve only been together a short time, and while it’s been an amazing time, he’s understanding of Steve’s boundaries. He’s clearly not ready for anything more, and that’s okay.
Tony dims the lights and snuggles under the covers beside Steve and drapes one arm across the other man. It’s warm and comfortable and perfect, and it’s not long before Tony is drifting on the edge of sleep himself.
Then there’s a mumbling. He blinks open his eyes and asks, “Huh?” but there’s no answer. Just more mumbling that soon turns into a clearer, “No!” and that snaps Tony awake.
“Steve?”
Steve is fretful in his sleep, a sheen of sweat shimmering across his bare flesh. He’s tossing and turning as if trying to get away from something. Tony sits up and his hands hover over him, not quite knowing what to do. Wake him up? Will that make it worse?
As seconds tick on it only gets worse, and Tony finds himself petting Steve’s head and murmuring, “You’ll be okay. Wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”
But Steve is deep in it, unable to rouse from whatever is tormenting him. His movements become frantic and by now he’s thrashing, the sheets soaked in sweat, and Tony has to back off before he gets socked in the face by a wild fist.
“Jesus,” he murmurs.
Things come to a head with a resounding, “NO!” and Steve’s suddenly awake, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.
“Hey, hey,” Tony says, catching Steve’s wrists in his hands. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Steve.”
Steve’s breathing is jittering and catching in his throat, and he tries to pull away, but doesn’t seem to have the will. He says nothing, just breathes, and he can’t meet Tony’s eyes.
“It’s okay,” Tony says once more. “It was just a nightmare."
Slowly, Steve comes back to himself, and instead of terrified his expression morphs to something Tony isn’t expecting: embarrassment. His face grows red and he still can’t look at Tony, and he’s trembling.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Steve replies, barely more than a whisper.
“Hey, c’mere,” Tony says, shifting his hands and pulling Steve in for an embrace. Steve once more tries to pull away, but his heart isn’t in it and he allows Tony’s arms to wind around him.
They’re silent for a moment, and the only movement is Tony moving his fingers through Steve’s hair again. Eventually, Steve sighs.
“I never wanted you to see me like this.”
“Why not?” Tony asks. “Everyone has nightmares now and again.”
There’s a prolonged silence that Tony reads into. He pulls back and looks Steve straight in the eye, pulling Steve’s face back to his when the other man tries to look away.
“This isn’t a now and again thing, is it?” he asks.
Sorrowfully, Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
Tony sighs and pulls Steve to him again. Steve buries into his neck.
“This is why you always leave, isn’t it?” Tony asks. He feels Steve’s nod. “Oh, honey, you didn’t need to hide this from me
“I didn’t want you to think less of me,” Steve mumbles, which makes Tony hold him all the more firmly.
“Hush with that. Of course I don’t feel less of you. You don’t need to be the big strong guy all the time. Hell, I’m frequently an emotional wreck. I don’t expect you to be any different.”
“I expect more of myself,” Steve replies.
Tony makes a little huff noise and shakes his head. “Having nightmares is not a weakness.”
“Sure feels like one.”
“Well, it’s not. Listen to an old man who has nightmares more than you realise.”
Steve pulls his face from Tony’s neck, and the look of concern on his face is beautiful.
“You do?”
“Yup. I’ve been through some shit, just like you have. You can’t help where your brain goes sometimes.”
“You’ve always seemed so peaceful when you’re asleep,” Steve says.
Tony grins and reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from Steve’s forehead. “Maybe that’s because you were there with me. You could try that, you know. Staying with me. It might make you feel better.”
“I…” Steve pauses and his throat bobs. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will.”
Tony presses a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “Good plan,” he says. “Good plan.”