Steve woke to the sharp clattering of dishes and metallic din of cutlery being shoved into a drawer.

Normally he would reach over to his bedside drawer, pop in a pair of earplugs, and go back to sleep. This time he glanced at the clock and saw it read 3am.

He sighed. Living as a team in Avengers tower had its perks…but it also had its lumps.

3am? What the hell?

With a huff he got out of bed and padded into the kitchen. There he saw Tony, still in his normal day-clothes working diligently to clean the kitchen. Steve softened. He shook his head and smiled.

Tony.

Steve cleared his throat gently and asked "Why are you putting dishes away at 3am?"

Tony jumped slightly and turned around holding two mugs. He looked at Steve, stunned. Then looked at the mugs as if he'd just realized what he was doing. "I thought it was 3pm"he said softly.

So he's not sleeping. "Tony-"

Tony hated that tone. The genuine concern for his well being.

"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping great is all."

"Why haven't you been sleeping?"

Tony looked surprised at the question. Part of him wanted to take the leap and tell Steve the truth, but he looked away and deflected. "Oh, you know. I have a lot on my mind. Being a genius and all."

Steve rolled his eyes and eased himself onto a stool at the kitchen island. His silence said everything, he raised his eyebrows.

Tony tried to ignore him, he continued drying the rack of frying pans in front of him.

Steve inhaled, but before he could speak Tony interrupted him with a question of his own.

"Do you ever...dream about the ice?"

It was Steve's turn to be surprised. Tony was worried that he crossed a line.

"Never-mind, we don't have to talk about it-"

"No, it's fine. I mean, it's been 50 years after all." Neither of them laughed.

Steve sighed and continued. "No. I don't dream about the ice, I wasn't conscious when I was frozen. I do dream about crashing." He looked almost wistful. "The sound of the engine, the deafening sound of the plane hitting the water. And that kind of whooshing sound, you know the sound in a movie when a huge wave crashes?"

Tony nodded, a little perturbed by how normal Steve made it sound.

"In my dreams..." he faltered "...that sound always transitions into the sounds of the battlefield. So when I crash, it's like I'm there. Sprinting towards the nearest foxhole. Then, I usually trip and wake up."

"Oh."

Steve looked at Tony with such sincere concern, it was almost crushing. "What are your dreams about?"

Tony ignored him again. "When did this dream become normal?"

Steve smiled weakly. "It didn't. It's still jarring every time. But it helps to create a routine with it."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever I have this dream, I wake up, walk to the nearest window to group myself. Then I have a glass of water. That's about all you can do."

"Is that why you're in the kitchen now?"

Steve smiled. "No. I'm in the kitchen because you are probably the loudest person in the world when it comes to putting the dishes away."

Tony felt the back of his neck go red. "I guess I'm the same way. Bad dream equals doing chores."

"Let me help." Steve got up and started gently putting the silverware away.

They tidied silently, Steve perfectly calm, Tony's heart racing. After a moment he had to fill the room with something, anything.

"It's rough cleaning up after a family of six" he observed.

Steve nodded. With the clean put away, they could start reloading the dishwasher with dirty. He picked up a few bowls. "It sure is. Haven't I told you guys to rinse out your bowls?"

"There's so much more of a thrill just leaving it on the counter, Steve!"

"I never understood that, why not just rinse it out? Now it has to soak."

"It's fun to break the rules, even practical, completely logical, easy to follow rules."

Steve rolled his eyes, but they had a glint to them. "Maybe I'll give it a try tomorrow after breakfast."

"Oh no, they'll say I'm a bad influence on you. After all, tomorrow is already today. Breakfast is in a few hours." Tony smiled.

Steve closed the dishwasher and rinsed his hands. "We should try to get a few more hours of sleep."

Tony nervously dried his hands with a dish towel, throwing it on the counter when he was done. "That's okay...I might watch tv or something."

Without thinking, Steve gently picked up the dish towel and folded it, returning it to the counter. He looked at Tony with those calm, gentle eyes. "Maybe I'll join you."

"Suit yourself" he tried to say nonchalantly as he made his way to the couch. He sat up straight in the middle and the tv turned itself on.

Steve sat next to Tony, one arm on the armrest of the couch, his other outstretched running the length of it.

Tony tried to ignore how utterly welcoming those arms looked as he channel surfed.

There was nothing on. Of course, it was 3am but Tony also had a feeling Jarvis was messing with him. Or at least trying to get him to sleep. The only things coming up on the tv were calm, quiet, soothing things.

While he surfed he flicked past one of those 40s/50s variety sing-a-long shows they air on public television.

"Wait, go back!" Steve jolted forward, sitting on the edge of the couch.

Tony did as he was told and put the remote down.

Steve was mesmerized. "I remember this." He sat with his elbows on his knees, completely transfixed by the singer on the screen.

The black and white image glittered as the singer crooned.

Sometimes I wonder...why I spend the lonely nights...dreaming of a song. The melody haunts my reverie, and I am once again with you.

Tony missed the closeness of Steve's earlier position, so he shifted closer on the couch.

Steve returned to his earlier position, his arm outstretched behind Tony.

"Wow," Steve said wistfully. "I didn't know they aired this kind of stuff on tv nowadays."

Tony's heart was racing from Steve's closeness. His arms were so inviting, his scent-

"Yeah, they usually show this kind of stuff at 3am" Tony said hastily.

Tony knew Jarvis was tracking his vitals as usual. He noticed how Jarvis subtly dimmed the lights a bit as if to say "Let go, sir. Relax."

Fine. Tony thought.

Steve was still lost in the music.

Beside a garden wall, where stars shine bright you are in my arms. The nightingale tells his fairytale of paradise where roses bloom.

Tony felt his neck and shoulders finally relax for the first time in a long time. His eyelids grew heavy as he let sleep take over. Steve was conveniently there to provide an excellent pillow. Tony gently leaned into Steve, his head on Steve's chest.

Steve smiled and let his arm fall from the back of the couch to gently curve around Tony instead.

Though I dream in vain in my heart it will remain my stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain.