This time when he wakes he is positive he's in his own bed. The sheets feel right, smooth and silky against his bare skin and the sunlight he can feel warming his shoulder and arm is coming from the right angle for it to be his room. What concerns him is the slight shift he feels in the mattress next to him and the cool hand that presses against his forehead and nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

"Well, you're not feverish, which is a good sign." Says a chillingly familiar voice from just outside his field of vision, "How does your head feel?"

It's then that he realises that's he's hung-over. Again. And while this time he might be in his own bed, he appears to sharing it with Captain America. Great.

"Ugh." He mutters by way of reply to Steve's question, pulling a pillow over his face and using the brief reprieve to do a quick self-inventory. He doesn't feel like he's been having sex, and other than the usual pounding head ache that always accompanied his more spectacular hangovers, he seemed fine. Okay, so, it was unlikely he and Steve had had sex the previous night – and some part of his brain was disappointed at that because hey, Steve was hot, single and right there – so what exactly had happened?

"You were drunk." Steve says, lifting the pillow off Tony's face gently, and only then did Tony realise that he'd said that last bit aloud, "I carried you back here and stayed to keep an eye on you." He shrugged.

Tony felt like rolling his eyes. He'd unknowingly had Steve either in or around his bed last night and hadn't made a move on him.

"Damnit." He mutters crossly, throwing an arm over his face since Steve had taken his pillow.

"What?" Steve asks, and Tony can imagine the expression on the other man's face.

Then, Tony does what he's been waiting to do – wanting to do – for months now, he leans up and kisses Steve squarely on the mouth, ignoring the other's surprised sound just for a moment, in case it was the last time he felt those lips against his.

He pulls back after only a moment, looking up at Steve, curious to see what he'll do. He expects Steve to blush and fumble or to wipe his mouth on his sleeve in disgust and start lecturing Tony on correct behavior. What he doesn't expect is what Steve does next – leans down over him and kisses him back, all rough need and warm lips.
Tony feels like he could spend forever kissing Steve, just to feel the exact shape and pressure of those lips against his and when he presses his tongue against them the warmth and slick of Steve's mouth behind. And the sounds. Tony does his best to memorise the sounds Steve makes, the little gasps that sound almost surprised and when their lips part for a brief moment to draw in more air the soft whisper of "Tony."

Tony knows he would fight against any monster, no matter how horrible, to hear Steve say his name like that even once more. Breathlessly, he tells Steve this and Steve laughs gently and then gasps out Tony's name again, startled and breathless when Tony's teeth find his neck and bite down, gently but with an edge of just the right amount of pain. They don't do too much talking after that.