Tony tinkers with his suit. The aim's been slightly off, so he needs to recalibrate that. He also wants to work on one of Barton's bows, give it a few upgrades hopefully without the archer knowing. He's definitely not gonna dare touch any of Romanoff's stuff, though, no matter how much he wants to.

He yawns. He looks out the window at the night sky. Lights can be seen from some of the other buildings, but certainly not all.

It's an ungodly time of night. Pepper's probably gonna yell at him tomorrow. Maybe he should go to sleep, but...

Flashes of light. Stars. Passing by, no sound. Water over his head, in his lungs, choking him, drowning him. Pain and darkness.

He flinches. Okay, no sleep it is.

It's not like this is anything new.

He blinks, looking outside again, but then it reminds him a bit too much of there and he presses the right button to make the wall opaque.

He sighs. Then he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Weak, he thinks. You can't even sleep. What use are you?

He goes back to his suit, switching to some of the code he's been trying to update. Anything to keep him awake. Anything to keep him away from there.

The others probably don't have trouble sleeping. Rogers is Captain goddamn America, and Banner a freaking genius, even if Tony hasn't exactly built up the courage to actually tell him that rather than snipe about his other half. Romanoff is a badass and would fight away the flashbacks before they even start. Barton's probably had a nightmare or two about the whole New York and being mind controlled by Loki thing just a month ago, but at least he's sleeping. And speaking of Loki, Tony has absolutely no idea where Thor is or what he's doing, but he's a damn near indestructible alien guy with lightning powers, so he should be fine.

Tony blinks, yawns again. He reaches out to pick up his mug and brings it to his lips, then frowns when it seems that there's no more coffee in it.

Well, time to get a refill. He stands up, looks around the lab once for...something, he's forgotten. Then he walks languidly towards the door and out into the darkened hallway towards the kitchen.

He trips over a foot.

"What the...?" he mutters after he regains his balance. He looks back to see Rogers leant against the wall, snoring, his head lolling onto his chest, his eyes decidedly closed. He looks peaceful. He also looks like he's gonna have a crick in his neck when he wakes up, but that's certainly not Tony's problem.

"Weird," he says anyways, almost to himself. Does Captain America sleepwalk or something? He snorts. Rhodey won't believe it.

He turns again, continuing down the hallway and coming across yet another person on his trek to the kitchen. It's Romanoff. She's laying on the floor beside the wall, arms pillowing her head in what must be a very uncomfortable makeshift bed. Tony can't deny that he's done the same before, when he's been too dead tired to get to his actual bed, but this is bordering on real fucking weird.

When he tries to tiptoe past her, she stirs, 'cause of course she does. What was Tony thinking, trying to sneak past a Russian spy? (Was he even thinking at all?) Her eyes open to slits. Tony opens his mouth to say anything: greet her, make a snarky comment, ask her what the hell she's doing here. But before he can actually say anything, she mumbles, "Shut up, Stark," and then rolls over to go back to sleep.

Tony jumps when a clang echoes from the ceiling. He looks up to find a vent, and wonders if she happens to be guarding a very savvy raccoon or something. But then snores start coming out, and Tony closes his eyes. Maybe he's hallucinating from sleep deprivation.

All of a sudden, a nearly overwhelming wave of exhaustion hits him from head to toe. He only notices that he's leaning to the side a bit too much when he opens his eyes and realizes the floor should probably not be coming up to meet his head. He reaches out a hand to brace himself against the wall, breathing deeply for a few seconds so he doesn't get a concussion or something. He pinches his arm to wake himself up again (at least, as much as he can), and continues on his journey to the coffee maker, a definitely longer journey than usual.

Banner's in the kitchen.

Tony sighs, looking up at the ceiling as if he can ask God what the fuck is happening. "Hey," he says, trying not to sound unwelcoming, but it is three in the morning...or something like that. He hasn't actually checked.

He's not a team player, he's never been a team player. New York was a one time thing.

Then what's the explanation for this?

"Tony," Banner says quietly, sipping at a cup of what seems to be green tea.

Tony raises his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement and goes towards the coffee maker, groaning when he finds it empty. He reaches up to open the designated coffee grounds cabinet, but finds it devoid of said coffee grounds.

He sighs, turning back towards Banner. Maybe he glares at him, maybe he doesn't. He wants to, but it doesn't feel like he does. The man in question raises a hand in a gesture of innocence, the other still wrapped around his cup. "I didn't do anything."

"Who did?" Tony says. He would probably be growling if he had the energy, but right now it's like his body has given up on him.

About time, probably.

"Think it was Clint," Banner says.

Tony frowns. "I'm gonna-" He pauses. "What is this? What are you guys doing?"

"Absolutely nothing," Rogers says from behind him. Tony turns around and sees the immaculate Captain America rubbing one of his eyes like a little kid, his hair mussed up and not at all combed with military precision. The sight is seriously messing with Tony's head.

"This is definitely something," he says, but it's more of a mumble. His words are starting to slur together. Moving is starting to become harder.

"I get bad dreams too," Steve says quietly, pushing him gently towards the couch. Tony only lets him because Cap has super strength and could probably haul him there with only one finger. That's definitely the only reason. It's not because Tony's eyelids feel so heavy he thinks he could sleep a thousand years.

"Yeah?" Tony mumbles, collapsing gracelessly onto the couch.

"Yeah," Steve says, pushing on his shoulder a little to get him to lay down. Tony complies, but only because Bruce has stepped up and taken the empty mug out of his hands.

"Allow yourself to rest, and maybe you'll actually be able to sleep," Romanoff says with what Tony swears is a roll of her eyes. "We all have things we don't wanna relive, Stark. You're nothing special."

"Gee, thanks," Tony says, shifting a little to find a more comfortable position. "I feel so loved."

Barton jumps down from the ceiling with a whole box of Tony's coffee beans. He's way too tired to figure out how and why and what the hell, so he just closes his eyes. Someone lays a blanket on top of him, and someone else sits by his feet.

He hears the rest of them settle down, too, talking quietly. And maybe they're tired too, maybe they want to go to sleep (maybe they can't sleep, maybe their memories haunt them, too), but they chose to be here. With him.

As he finally drifts off to sleep for the first time in a day or two or three (he's lost track), he thinks that maybe being a part of a team isn't so bad after all.