Steve's POV

I groan into my pillow and punch it into shape, flipping over onto my back again.

Nope.

I roll back over and kick off my blankets.

Still no comfort. It's official; I am not getting any sleep tonight. Or at least none right now.

I untangle myself from the last of my sheets and rub a hand over my face as I glance at the alarm clock.

3:34 am.

I sigh and sit up, stretching and yawning as I run a hand through my hair.

I ultimately decide to make my way down to the kitchen, meaning to grab a glass of warm milk and try and fall asleep on one of the bigger couches.

I do a quick once-over of my appearance, making sure I have pants on and my shirt isn't too stained. I'm not expecting company; Clint and Natasha were on a mission and not due back for another week, Tony was their tech guy, Bruce sleeps okay if Betty's in the Tower, and Thor seldom has nightmares.

Once my feet hit the heated tiles of my destination, however, it quickly becomes apparent that I'm not the only one up.

Taylor's hunched over the kitchen island/bar, a mug in hand, glasses perched on her nose, and a book spread on the countertop beneath her.

I watch her for a second before she sees me. She's in a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, I think they're called. Her mug is filled with a light brown liquid, but I can't smell coffee. That means she must not be trying to stay awake, she just can't do anything else.

"Taylor?"

She makes a startled squealing noise, a bit like a horse's whinny, as she shoves her glasses up on her nose and blinks owlishly at me. "Steve! I didn't hear you come in."

I shrug. "I didn't expect you to be here."

She nods and shifts her position on the couch.

I eye her mug. "What are you drinking?"

"Hot chocolate with whip cream melted in it and a splash of caramel." She blushes. "Kind of a guilty pleasure. Want some?"

I smile shyly. "If it's not too much trouble."

She marks her place in her book and closes it. "No trouble at all."

I watch her as she rummages through the pantry. "Can't sleep?"

"Nah." She puts a box of something on the counter. "I mean, I'm used to my dad being gone, but then I go haunt the vents above Clint's room. But I have no hope of getting a wink of sleep if they're both gone."

"Like now."

"Like now." She nods. "I tried, but I ended up here. You?"

I play with my thumbs. "Just generic insomnia, I guess. Plus I'm always jumpy when one of us leaves the Tower for more than a few days."

She grins at me as she pours milk in a pan on the stove. "Captain's instincts?"

I nod. "Something like that."

She gives me an understanding look as she pours cocoa powder into the pan and begins stirring it slowly.

"How'd you learn to make that?" I motion towards her mug.

She looks thoughtful as she pours the cocoa into a mug. "I watched as my dad made it for me. I think he learned it from his mom. Family recipe or something."

I nod as she pulls the whipped cream out of the fridge and mixes it into the mug. "Reminds me of what my mom used to make. I got cold a lot, with how skinny I was."

She pauses with the caramel sauce bottle hovering over the cup. "I'm not dredging up any bad memories, am I?"

I chuckle quietly. "No, don't worry about it. Hers had more cinnamon, a little less sweet."

She grins, relieved, as she sides me the mug of steaming hot light brown liquid. I take a cautious sip as she returns to the couch. "This is good!"

She blushes slightly. "Thank you, Steve."

"The only time I've seen you blush this much was when Clint was doing that calendar thing." I raise an eyebrow. "Is this a dark secret or something?"

"No," she laughs. "Nothing like that. I've made it for Clint, Bruce, Thor one time…insomniacs." She explains. "It's just…" she stares at her hands. "It's not hard, metal, or covered in oil. It's actually slightly fluffy and sweet. "

"Not what people would expect from you?" I offer.

"Yeah. But I'm proud of it."

I nod. "Everyone's got something like that. I can't speak for anyone else, but…I was going to go to art school."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really."

"I mean, I knew you liked drawing, but I've never seen your work or anything." She shrugs apologetically.

Now I'm the one blushing. "I've been told I'm pretty good."

"And I know you are." She smiles smugly. "And I'm a Stark, I'm always right."

I roll my eyes. "Are you going to sleep anytime soon?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"No."

"The no. Misery loves company and I literally cannot sleep with either my dad or Clint in the tower."

"So you're just not going to sleep for another week?"

"No, Jarvis knows where the sleeping pills are if necessary. But it's only been a few days and I found a new book on aerial dogfights."

"I didn't know Starks knew what books were."

She snorts. "How did you think we learned before computers? Plus, this helps in combat. I love doing aerial tricks in my suits. I've become really good at evasion, if I do say so myself."

"That's good." I shift awkwardly. "So…"

She drains the last of her mug and motions me over, flicking on the TV. "I think they're showing an original version of King Kong. I've always wanted to see what a movie was like without CGI."

"CGI?" I question, coming over to one of the armchairs.

"Computer generated imagery." She says simply. "It's…a computer made movies and video games. I'll explain some other time if you remind me. Now, bigger details; do you want popcorn?"

I nod. "Family recipe?" I tease gently.

"Nope!" she fires back. "Straight from the bag!"

I sigh dramatically. "I suppose you can't have everything."

"Shut up and watch the movie, Steve."

Just a little platonic Steve-Taylor bonding over lack of sleep. Keyword: platonic. And if Taylor seemed OOC, that's a good thing in this piece.