It might've been one by one, or nearly simultaneously, but after a few late hours of video games, Steve, Bruce, and Tony had all ended up asleep in a mass on the latter's rather spacious couch. JARVIS had automatically shut down the game system as the three men drifted, and cut the lights in the room. For tens of minutes, all was calm, and quiet, sans the doctor's light snore. At least for awhile.
On the far left side of the luxurious, L-shaped sofa, laid Bruce, on his side, faced inward and slightly curled- the white noise of steady sleep leaving his nose at calm intervals. Tonight, he was at peace, head resting comfortably on the bent inside leg of Tony, who had his other dangling carelessly off the edge of the sofa. Tony lay on his back, arms resting idly across his chest, a serene expression coating his face. Tonight, he too was at peace- after several scattered days of startling nightmares, terrifying scenes which he couldn't shake. Tonight, he was free, at ease, his head cradled in the bend between the Captain's more upright torso as he leaned against the couch, and an outstretched leg, the other of which was bent against the furniture's arm.
View how they're positioned if you need clarification—
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As far as peace went, two out of three wasn't bad at all.
Only one lay disturbed, shaken, unconcious but not at ease. His breathing was unnatural, heavy, patternless; already the collar of his t-shirt was damp with sweat to match his back and forehead. A cold sweat- a more than likely occurance for him each night. It's a reason why he'd already denied himself sleep near others multiple times, either declining invitations or faking it. Not to prevent embarrassment, but to prevent the futile disturbance of the others with his restlessness and because there was rarely a night that passed without him waking at least once.
An arm draped across his face and his head thrown back and to the side, Steve's teeth clenched; a covered expression of panic and pain. The hand was tightened into a fist, skin pulling the knuckles white. The unexpected shaking and disruptive movements of his chest may have been what caused the other's eyelids to flicker; a partially conscious attempt to remain asleep. However, the more Tony heard and felt, the harder it was to prevent the prying open of his eyes, and Tony was forced to blinked several times, adjusting to the dark. From where he was laying, he only had to stare up to define why he was suddenly awake, and he was able to see Steve's other hand, resting above him against the back of the couch, begin to tighten powerfully over the fabric, nails digging in.
"…Steve," His tone wasn't that of a smooth whisper, but halfway between that and a speaking tone, slightly scratchy from non-use and barely audible. He waited for a response for only a few seconds, before he began to raise himself up, with the help of his elbows. Instantly, he realized Bruce was on the other side, using his leg as a perfect pillow. As gently as he could, he slid the limb free- succeeding in keeping the doctor asleep- and turned on the sofa, raising up onto his knees, facing the Captain.
"C'mon, Cap'n, are yo-" He still kept his voice low, because Bruce, but had his brow furrowed in confused concern, reaching forward to grasp Steve's wrist and remove his arm from his face. However, as soon as he made contact, the Captain's other hand, which had been tightly digging into the couch behind Tony, lashed out and clamped the base of the man's neck where it met his shoulder, pushing forward, the rest of him coming to life as well. The result was Steve actually shoving Tony off of the couch and crashing forward with him, landing beside him and immediately removing his hand, eyes wide, bright, startled, staring down as Tony groaned and grimaced, muttering something, before Steve rolled away from him.
"Jesus, Stark, you startled me," Steve uttered quietly, shakily, hands still quaking a bit as he leaned his back against the couch, one knee up and an arm draped over it. His heart was racing, breathing like he'd just come in from a triathalon, running his free hand through disheveled hair which was lightly dampened by perspiration- and then leaving it there as he held his forehead, bent to hide his eyes.
Tony pulled himself up to sit, a hand on the back of his head to rub away the dull pain from the fall which would fade fairly quickly.
"You've got some intense impulses, Cap," He replied, hushed, not as much bitter as it was laced with quiet expectancy, now sure that Steve knew what he'd seen, and was still seeing.
There was silence for several more moments, as the Captain let his arm fall to his side, breathing gradually slowing down, his head tilted up and back against the seat of the couch. Tony said nothing, only waited. He'd instantly felt a pang of empathy, able to predict the general event here. He himself was no stranger to troubled sleep, although his own incidents typically remained solely in his mind.
After a minute or two, Steve turned his head to his comrade, currently unable to mask the weary discomfort in his eyes. Tony's own expression appeared relaxed, and patient, and he simply tilted his chin down a bit, giving him the okay to go on.
"..It's not-…easy to explain…" Steve whispered, a bit of the shakiness still breaking his voice.
"Captain, I've got nothing but time."