Usually it was Tony who woke up gasping and with a scream on his lips. And he did so, most of the nights, but lately it was T'Challa who woke Tony up more often than not.
He didn't talk about his dreams but Tony saw the tears in his eyes whenever he woke up and T'Challa always reached for him afterwards.
Tony suspected that he dreamt about his father, or failing the kingdom and his people, and he offered up any comfort he could. It seemed to help at least going by the way T'Challa's breath evened out and his rapidly beating heart calmed down, but T'Challa still clung to Tony.
Tony had tried to not pry, just like T'Challa didn't pry about his nightmares, but they didn't get better at all, seemed in fact to get worse, and T'Challa started to look more and more like he would keel over at any moment.
So when T'Challa woke up the next time, breath coming short and immediately reaching out for Tony, Tony decided it was time to ask. He waited until T'Challa had calmed down, pressed right against Tony's side, but then he asked him.
"What are you dreaming about?" he gently questioned and T'Challa burrowed closer into his warmth. "You're not gonna be a bad king," Tony softly told him, just shooting in the dark and T'Challa shook his head.
"Maybe not, but I'm a bad husband," T'Challa answered eventually and Tony stared in surprise.
"Why do you think that?" he asked and T'Challa pushed away from him.
"I left you behind," T'Challa admitted and Tony frowned.
"In Siberia?" he asked and T'Challa nodded.
"You were hurt and the suit was damaged and I left you there, to take care of the people who did that to you."
Tony wanted to deny that, but since it was the truth there wasn't much Tony could do except to say: "You had to. Getting Zemo to safety was more important."
"Why?" T'Challa sharply asked. "He had achieved what he wanted, he reached his goal and he was ready to kill himself. And I saved him, got him out of there, when I should have been fighting with you. Taking care of you."
"I was fine," Tony told him and took his hand. "I was just fine. Friday sent the chopper my way. There was no danger for me."
"You could have died," T'Challa mumbled into the quiet and pulled Tony against his chest. "You could have died. At any point. During that fight, after at Steve's hand, left alone in that cold place. You could have died," T'Challa said and his voiced sounded strangled. "And it would have been my fault," he weakly closed and Tony hugged him and peppered his face with kisses.
"Is that what you dream about? Me dying?" he whispered into T'Challa's skin who shakily nodded.
"That you die like my father and even when I am right there I can't do anything," he admitted and now all the times T'Challa clung to him at night or stayed close to him during the day made more sense.
"I'm right here" Tony reassured him and pressed T'Challa's hand to his chest. "I'm still here," he told him and T'Challa nodded, even though he still looked haunted.
Tony pressed a kiss to his temple and asked: "Movie or cuddling?"
T'Challa chuckled weakly at that and dropped his head to Tony's shoulder. "Both?" he asked and Tony put his hand over T'Challa's neck.
"Of course we can do both," he told him, dropped a quick kiss to his hair and then took his hand when they got up.
Once in the living room Tony took out all the blankets they had and made something resembling a nest on the couch. When he climbed in he wrapped the blankets all around himself and then held out a hand for T'Challa to join him.
T'Challa draped himself all over Tony, half lying on top of him, head pillowed on his chest and Tony chuckled.
"You can't see the movie like that," he admonished and T'Challa sighed.
"No, but this way I can hear your heartbeat."
"Still right here", Tony whispered again and pressed a lingering kiss to T'Challa's head. "Not going anywhere," Tony added and T'Challa squeezed him.
It wasn't long before he fell asleep like that, put at ease by Tony's steady heartbeat and a content look on his face.