There wasn't a time, when anyone checked, that Tony was asleep. During the night, Tony was either in his workshop or on the communal floor, and when he was there he was always drinking coffee.

He always had a mask on his emotions. It was seamless, sure, but all but Thor had pretended to be someone they weren't frequently, and could recognize that there was a mask. But it was a good enough pretence that no one, not even Natasha, could work out what the real emotion was, the one under the mask. JARVIS wouldn't tell them what the real emotion was, either, and they did ask.

The only thing they had was that Tony never pretended to be happy. He mostly just pretended that he was tired (which by his awareness they knew that he wasn't), or he'd put on his press mask, of sincere maturity and responsibility.

They didn't know how much Tony slept. He didn't appear to be any more tired than he was before the constant masks, and Tony had clearly perfected make-up to an art, so without pouring water on his face (which for obvious reasons they were not going to do), they wouldn't know what Tony looked like underneath.

And he still never smiled (the smiling thing had reached Bruce's list the day the pair returned from their vacation).

Everyone was endlessly worried, so they elected Clint to bring it up with him.

So Clint got up at three in the morning and went to the communal kitchen. "Hey Tony." He said, spying the man leaning against the counter.

Tony nodded in greeting, taking a sip from the ever-present mug of coffee in his hands.

"Look, the team put me up to this-" Clint started.

"You're going to preach to me about how I'm not sleeping enough." Tony said, clearly exasperated. "JARVIS does have cameras, you know."

Clint sighed. "When did you last sleep and for how long?"

"Jarv? Nope, never mind, it was seventeen hours, twelve minutes and forty-three seconds ago for one minute and fifty seconds."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "I doubt that you know that Tony, unless you and JARVIS have a mind link or something."

"That's a good idea." Tony said. "And I got paranoid, or my brain did, anyway. Can't stop counting. It makes it hard to sleep." Tony sighed and quirked his mouth in an attempt at a wry smile that looked very forced and rather sad. It didn't really look like a smile at all.

Clint reported back to the group, and all Bruce could do was sigh and add something else to his list.