Inspired by the song Wicked Way by Ben Taylor..
So he did. Steve told him every good memory he could summon, filtering through the heartache and sorrow, to get to the good stuff. He would catch himself babbling and give a little embarrassed smile as the blush crept up his cheeks, Tony found it endearing. Steve rehashed memories of Bucky, his old teammate and best friend, and all the times he got him out of trouble when Steve wouldn't back down from some bully. His mom, and the look on her face when he surprised her with the birthday cake he made all by himself, which didn't turn out very good, but the surprise was well enough. And anything else that didn't end with somone dying.
Tony had listened, he hung on to every word, laughing when something was funny, gasping when he was suprised at how the story turned in a direction he wasn't expecting, because honestly, Steve was a really good storyteller. They stayed like that for hours, and when Steve ran out of stories to tell, they sat and talked about everything and nothing at all.
"Sir, I've had Mr. Rogers' vehicle moved to the parking garage. At this time of night, people tend to steal things that are left on the side of the road." JARVIS' dulcet tones cut through the bubble Tony and Steve seemed to be enclosed in.
Oh, right. Steve came by just for a visit, hadn't he? What time was it, anyway? and how long had they been sitting here? The feeling in his legs as he stood up told him a very long time, when it hadn't felt that long at all, he could've sworn that only a few hours ago they were testing out the gym. Tony stood as well, not liking the distance the Captain had inadvertently put between them, he looked at his watch then back at Steve with eyes full of feigned fatigue. "Oh, look at that. It's bedtime."
Steve nodded in agreement, it sure felt like bedtime. Tony didn't catch the "Goodnight, Tony" from Steve as he brushed past him muttering something that the blonde couldn't quite catch, but it sounded like, "Night, Steve. Good bedtime story." Then rushed up the stairs.
Steve stood there for a moment, alone in the living room, unsure of what to do. It was late, and he supposed Tony wouldn't mind if he slept here, so he made his way up the stairs to his new room. That bed looked even more inviting than it had this morning, he still couldn't comprehend how he'd been here all day, and all night, chatting it up with Tony Stark. He let out a quiet, disblieving laugh as he stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed.
Oh, oh god, this bed, Steve suddenly felt like he had been transported into a different universe where they crafted beds from the fluffiest, softest clouds in the sky. As he layed there he noticed he felt calmer, and lighter than he'd felt in a long time, it was like a heavy weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. For a moment, he wondered whether it was the bed, gosh it was one heck of a bed, then thought better of it. It was Tony, Tony was the reason he felt this way. He felt there was a need to think about that, or dwell on it, but he was too tired, and this bed was too comfortable.
~o0o~
Steve had gone back to the S.H.I.E.L.D apartment, only to gather what little belongings he has. After saying goodbye to Tony, whose eyes looked too wired and his answering grin too manic, for the man to have had any sleep last night. Oddly, his brief encounter with Tony made him feel more guilty about having a wonderful night's rest than he'd ever been before. He wondered what the genius had opted to do while he was dozing, when he was sure he looked so tired when they departed.
~o0o~
The next morning, Natasha Romanov arrived at the Avengers tower along with Clint, both missions of theirs completed. Bruce had shown up the previous afternoon, searching for Tony to ask him if he could occupy the lab a few floors beneath him, he was met with a gruff mumble and a thumbs up in place of approval. Steve showed later, bags in hand
Naturally, the soldier and scientist met the archer and spy with warning of Tony's work binge, suggesting they keep lab disturbances to a minimum.
~o0o~
He had done something horrible, something almost as bad murdering the sweetest looking puppy in front of a four year old outside of an ice cream shop. God! What the fuck was going on with his subconsious? Huh? What the hell is so unstable inside him for him to have done something like that?
"JARVIS, playback last nights CCTV footage from the third floor again."
"Same time frame as before, sir?"
"Yes."
This would be the fourth- no fifth time he's watched this exact footage. Three windows popped up in front of him, he tapped the first window and watched himself on the video feed, in his pajamas walking down the hallway, towards Steve's room. He tapped the second window, as he was passing the bathroom, towards Steve's room. Finally, he tapped the third window, the screen dark stayed black for a while, the room shrouded in darkness until a sliver of light shone through the opened door. Tony entered his room at 3:42 a.m., the sleepwalking man stepped in and shut the door, the glow from his arc reactor illuminated the room enough so Tony could watch himself, with terrifying clarity, lean down and press his lips against the sleeping figure's own.
He exited the windows, and stood staring at the blank screen for a moment before running a hand through his unkempt hair. He knew the next time he left the tower he'd need to schedule a haircut, when's the next time he has to leave the tower? "JARVIS. What's my schedule for this week?"
"You are expected to appear at the senator's wife's charity gala Saturday evening, sir."
"... and what's today?"
"Thursday, sir."
"Right, I hate the senator's wife. Class A Ball-buster. I'm not going."
"Sorry, sir. That wouldn't be prudent, it's been marked mandatory."
Tony's never been one to so quickly agree with the A.I. unit, but he knew who had marked that schedule, he knew who made that damn schedule in the first place. And he didn't much feel like thinking about her, or mentioning her name, or anything like that, nope, no thanks, next item on the agenda: Blonde hair, blue eyes, recently been violated by yours truly; yep, back on track.
Captain America, the big puppy dog-eyed, super soldier; that Tony had somehow molested during his sleep. First, he'd like to note that Steve's a really deep sleeper. Second, SINCE WHEN THE HELL DID HE START SLEEPWALKING?!
Since Steve stayed the night..
His subconscious offered, an offer that was impetuously ignored. The question he should be worried about is whether to tell him or not, though there could be nothing more embarrassing to go through with, nothing at all. Well... No, that's not important. How do you even tell someone something like that? 'Oh, yeah, hey. By the way, I wandered into your room by accident while you were sleeping and kissed you, on the lips, while you were sleeping, then went back to bed.' No. He can't do that, he wouldn't do that, it's too weird, even for them. Some things are better kept a secret.
This little secret, was going to be hard to keep, assuming that he does it while sleeping in the same building as Steve. Which, if his hearing hasn't worsened in the past 48 hours, would be tonight and every night he went to bed from now on, with three extra pairs of eyes that might witness it. Whatever the hell 'it' was, Goddamn it, Steve!
Tony began to pace.
~o0o~
"Has he eaten anything?"
Steve questioned Bruce, him having permitted access to the lab for resources and whatnot. Bruce was ordered, by the Captain, not Steve, to monitor the playboy as of last night. In that short amount of time, Steve had grown increasingly worried for his teammate's well-being, seeing as Ms. Potts wasn't here to do that particular job at the moment. "No, but there's empty coffee cups on every available surface. I've tried to get him to come out and eat breakfast, but he won't budge. He's watching something important on the monitor, because he won't take his eyes off the screen." Bruce seemed worried too, Steve believed it had something to do with their 'science buddies' thing.
That was it, whatever work he was in the middle of could easily wait, that man needed sustenance and a good nap, and Steve was dead set on making sure that's exactly what he got. He picked up the still steaming plate Clint had saved in hopes Tony might come out and eat, and left the room, calling over his shoulder, "He's gonna eat these pancakes even if I have to shove 'em down his throat."
To be honest, Steve wasn't totally against that idea. He expected a fight, and wasn't that worried about it, if it came to it he would strap him in his seat and feed him forkful after forkful like he was a toddler, though he wouldn't have to force him for very long, Clint is surprisingly a very good cook. He came to the glass door and the shades were drawn, he didn't know the passcode so he would have to knock. He rapped three times, loud and authoritative, waited a moment, then did it again. Five minutes later he still hadn't answered, so Steve unashamedly resorted to a constant, insistent banging, he'd get too irritated to not answer.
"Whaaat?! Whatissoimportant?"
"Breakfast." A little of the smug at his proven theory leaked into the stern look he was trying to hold, his lips quirking into a tiny smirk. Tony grimaced at the plate, then Steve. "Not hungry." He went to shut the door in the taller man's face, annoyed at the way his attention was gained, and at the fact that the Keep-Tony-Healthy crusade has more new members and this one showed up too early. The toe of Steve's boot was preventing it from closing all the way, Tony wanted to see if his toes were as super as the rest of him, but was promptly shoved out of the way and into a chair. He heard the door click behind him, and blue eyes caught his as a plate of pancakes slid towards him, then a fork, then a napkin. "Eat."
Tony laughed, "Wow, great tableside service, Cap! Though, I thought I ordered nothing with a side of coffee instead." The unwavering expression on Steve's face told him he would be eating these pancakes one way or another, and he didn't really have the energy to be arguing, so he picked up the fork, not before grimacing at it dejectedly, and ate his breakfast like a good little boy. Not letting it show in his expression that these were some damn good flapjacks, damn good. But, he really did want coffee.
Steve grinned, feeling accomplished, again he had expected more of a fight, but all the same, accomplished.
"Feel free to wipe that smug look off your face anytime now." Tony muttered as he wiped the syrup from the corners of his mouth, now grateful for the napkin.
"Smug? No, this is a self-satisfied smile."
"Same thing."
Steve didn't know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed, but he couldn't stop the tops of his ears turning red or the blush creeping up his neck either way. "You look tired, you should get some rest. Don't want you collapsing in the middle of a meeting. Come on, up up. Let's go." He yanked him from the chair by the scruff of his shirt and let him dangle there a second before taking hold of his bicep and dragging him in the direction of his room.
"Manhandling! This is manhandling, that's what you're doing right now. You are manhandling me, and I will scream bloody murder if you don't stop this, stop manhandling me!" Tony tried to yank himself from the soldiers grip, probably ending up with a dislocated shoulder as a result. "No one's coming to your rescue, Tony." he mused, trying not to think of how unsettling that must've sounded while pushing the door open. Steve pulled Tony into the room after him, only letting go of his arm once to rifle through his drawers unceremoniously until he found a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Tony didn't stop him, or even point to a certain drawer so his room didn't get trashed, he just stood there, and stared while the blonde went through his belongings. Steve didn't feel like he needed to be as forceful now, so when he guided the shorter man into the bathroom, he placed his hand on the small of his back and handed him the clothes, "Change."
Tony nodded solemnly and shut the door. Sighing, Steve scratched the back of his neck, he hoped this wouldn't be an all-the-time thing, he felt like a mean babysitter. No one should have to babysit a grown man, but by any standard, Tony wasn't considered a grown man. He heard the sink running and moment later Tony reemerged from the bathroom in the pajamas Steve had picked out, looking exhausted and, he could be wrong, a little worried. "Tony, you okay?"
Tony gave a breathy laugh as he plopped down on the bed, "Yeah, just never imagined Captain America tucking me in."
Steve shook his head, making sure he didn't move nearer to the bed, the urge to actually tuck him in to make sure he went to sleep was a very strong urge to ignore. "Just making sure you don't waste away in that lab. Even a genius like you needs his rest." Tony covered up with a blanket and rested his head on the pillow, his eyes following Steve as he left the room, who shot him a pointed look before he was completely out the door.
"Sleep."