Beginning:
Is this what it's like? Love, or whatever they call it in the movies?
Waking up in a cozy nest of a bed to find him, still soundly asleep, his mouth hanging lazily open. The arc reactor glows gently under his white t-shirt, rising and falling with each heavy breath. His legs are splayed out in either direction, one hanging off the bed, the other bent at the knee. One hand is curled next to his face. His pinky finger twitches every few seconds. The other hand is wrapped around Steve's torso, holding the muscular blonde tight to his chest. The bed is huge, but they are pressed together in a small corner, keeping warm. The puffy, white comforter is wound around their waists and legs, their upper bodies exposed. Other than waking up next to Tony, the window the size of a wall overlooking the whole city in Tonys bedroom was Steve's favorite part of sleeping over at the Stark Tower. On this particular Saturday morning, rain trickled down the glass, blurring all the city lights into smudges of color dotting the horizon. It was wonderful. Peaceful. Nothing but the sound of breathing and rain tapping against the roof. Steve inched impossibly closer to Tony.
He had to assume that, yes, this was love.
"You're dead asleep, aren't you?"
No answer.
"If you're offering to do my laundry for the next six months, don't say anything."
Still nothing. Definitely asleep.
Steve stretched his neck up and kissed Tony gently on the jaw.
"I love you," he whispered.
Just before he laid down to go back to sleep, he heard Tony mumble something.
"I'm never doing your laundry, Rogers."
Surprised, the blonde looked up. Tony was still soundly asleep. Steve laughed, and rested his head next to the arc-reactor once again. He felt Tony's grip tighten around him.
"Also, I love you too."