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If Steve had to choose one time of day that he hated, it would probably be night-time; in particular, going to sleep. Sleep was a problem for Steve for several reasons; one, being genetically enhanced meant he didn’t need much sleep, so he only had a few hours per night, and two, every time he fell asleep, he was plagued with nightmares. Friends from the past (especially Peggy and Bucky), Red Skull, the crash into the ice… every night, his mind would flash through them, and he would wake up in a cold sweat, his sheets drenched and his breath ragged. On the nights he slept in Tony’s bed, they eased up a whole lot, and he could quite easily get a good few hours kip in. But tonight, he lay in his bed alone, wishing he were by Tony’s side. Tony was at a gala tonight and had said he didn’t want to wake Steve when he got home, hence why Steve was sat up in his own bed completely wide awake.
Steve knew he should talk to someone about his nightmares. So many doctors and therapists had collared him when he woke up to try and get him to talk – how could a man who had been asleep for 70 years not have nightmares and flashbacks?! – but Steve had pushed them all away and insisted he was ‘okay’, and had opted for Tony’s method of being thrown in at the deep end. Which, sure, had worked for getting used to life again, but it didn’t get rid of the dreams. Steve knew Tony would want to hear about it, Tony loved to help, but Steve was well aware of Tony’s PTSD and his own bad dreams, even if Tony himself had never spoke about it to him.
Steve sighed to himself and looked at the clock on his table, and sighed again when he saw that it was 1.03am. Tony would probably be home now, tucked up in bed and snoring away. That, or he was working downstairs in the lab. Tony’s lack of sleep was more noticeable than Steve’s, and it worried him a hell of a lot when he would emerge from the lab bleary-eyed and confused after 3 days of straight working. He’d gotten tired of hearing his own voice trying to convince Tony to take a break, and one day had thrown his arms up in the air in exasperation and had walked away, spending the rest of the day complaining to Clint about how much of a pain Tony was to deal with.
Steve pushed himself up off the bed and walked to the bathroom, and glared at himself in the mirror. He looked shattered; bags under his eyes, hair stuck up at random angles and to top it off his eyes were completely bloodshot.
“Get a grip, Rogers,” he muttered to himself, and got a drink of water from the tap. He settled back onto his bed, still thinking of Tony.
“JARVIS, is Tony home yet?” Steve called to the ceiling.
‘Mr Stark arrived home precisely 47 minutes ago Captain Rogers. He is currently sleeping in his room,’ JARVIS responded quickly, and Steve smiled to himself, pleased that Tony had gone straight to bed rather than gone to the workshop. Not wanting to wake Tony up, Steve pulled his covers up to his chin and asked JARVIS to turn the light off, closing his eyes gently and wishing for a peaceful sleep.
‘Captain Rogers.’
Steve gasped and sat up quickly, his back cracking loudly. The clock read 2.34am, meaning Steve had only been asleep for around an hour. He glanced quickly around the room, trying to slow his breathing down.
“Huh?” he said, looking for the source of the voice.
‘Captain Rogers,’ the voice repeated, and Steve relaxed slightly knowing it was JARVIS, ‘Your presence is required in Mr Stark’s room. He appears to be having a very vivid nightmare; his breathing is elevated and his heart rate is quite high. I have tried to intervene, but he seems to be shouting your name, Sir.’
Steve threw himself out of bed, not bothering to grab a t-shirt as he ran down the hallway to the elevator in his lounge pants. JARVIS had the door waiting open for him, and took him up quickly to Tony’s floor without instruction.
“JARVIS, how is he doing?” Steve asked urgently, ignoring the worried feeling in his stomach.
‘Sir appears to be having a panic attack in his sleep, Captain.’ JARVIS replied, and Steve could sense the concern in his computerised voice.
JARVIS flung the doors open, and Steve shot down the corridor to Tony’s room, his name flashing through his mind at an alarming rate.
He kicked the door and looked at Tony’s bed, and seeing Tony writhing around in psychological agony tore at Steve’s heartstrings, and in less than a second he was on Tony’s bed.
“Tony, honey, can you hear me?” Steve pleaded, trying to hold Tony’s body close to his, but Tony was twisting with so much force that Steve didn’t want to hurt him by holding him too tightly.
Tony’s face was screwed up in obvious pain, tears falling steadily down his cheeks, and he kept muttering nonsensical words under his breath.
“Tony, I’m here, I’m right here. Can you hear me? It’s Steve, sweetie, you need to relax,” Steve soothed in his ear, ignoring the pounding of his heart. Steve had never seen such a vivid nightmare take hold of someone, not even himself, and it tore him apart to watch Tony suffer.
“Steve, no, not Steve,” Tony sobbed, and that just broke Steve even more, “My Steve, no no no.”
“I’m here Tony, I’m here, I’ll never leave you,” Steve grabbed at Tony’s face lightly and held it still, “Always, Tony.”
Tony screamed again and managed to push Steve off the bed and onto the floor with a crash. Steve scrambled back to his feet and stared at his partner in horror, watching as he threw himself around the bed, and felt completely hopeless.
“JARVIS, I don’t know what to do!” Steve cried, his hands grabbing at his hair.
The AI didn’t reply, maybe because he felt just as hopeless, so Steve sat with Tony in his arms, not knowing what else he could do, as Tony sobbed and screamed about his torture in Afghanistan repeatedly, and always repeating ‘not Steve’ till Steve could hardly stand it anymore.
Eventually Tony began to calm to the sound of Steve whispering gently in his ear, and soon he sat up from Steve with an almighty gasp of breath like he’d just run a marathon.
“Tony?” Steve said tentatively, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tony didn’t seem to register he was even there. He sat in the mess of his own sheets, gasping like a fish out of water, a hand protectively curled around his arc reactor. Steve hated the feeling when waking from a nightmare; the dream still lingering, plaguing the mind; the fear that it was real, that life really was that terrible.
“JARVIS,” Tony eventually stammered, and his hands shook as he pointed to the ceiling.
‘It’s 3.06am, Sir, on the 3rd July 2014. Your name is Anthony Edward Stark and you are Iron Man, and part of The Avengers. Your partner is Steve Rogers. You live in Avengers Tower with your team-mates. You are alive and well, Sir,’ JARVIS recited quickly, as if this was a ritual. It made Steve feel sick that Tony needed this reassurance every time he woke from his bad dreams.
“Tony,” Steve said quietly, and Tony jumped from the bed at the noise, a scream in his throat. He spun round to Steve, and Steve’s stomach clenched at the fear etched into his face. It made him look his age and more, for the first time in his life.
“Hi,” Tony mumbled, sitting on the bed slowly, “Enjoy the show?”
Steve shuffled forward and rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, and soon Tony laid his head on top. “I came as soon as JARVIS alerted me.”
Steve felt Tony nod against his head, and they sat in silence like this for a while whilst Tony calmed down. Soon Tony’s breaths were slightly steadier, and his heart rate had calmed. His hands, which were previously near the arc reactor, lay on the bed, clenching the sheets.
“You should have told me how bad these nightmares were, Tony,” Steve said, breaking the long silence.
Tony moved his head from on top of Steve’s, sighing loudly. “What can you do about it? It’s just something that happens that I need to deal with. Everyone has nightmares.”
“Sure, but people don’t have nightmares that are so vivid and real. It scared me to see you in that way,” Steve said softly, laying his hands on top of Tony’s. Tony intertwined his fingers with Steve’s and released a shaky breath.
“I’m okay,” Tony breathed, and Steve shook his head forcefully.
“No, honey, you’re really really not,” Steve replied gently, and Tony choked a little on his breath. A small tear fell down his cheek, which Steve reached to wipe away carefully.
“Christ, it’s just, shit,” Tony started shakily, his hand squeezing Steve’s tightly, “I’m never gonna get through it, am I? New York and Afghanistan, well, they’re gonna haunt me for life.”
Steve clenched Tony’s hand in return. Steve knew all about what had happened in that cave – after a nightmare a few months ago, Tony had explained the details of what had happened, and to this day it still made Steve see red at how Tony was treated; seriously, open heart surgery without a proper doctor and no anaesthetic?!
“We can find you someone to talk to, a shrink or something,” Steve suggested, trying to forget his thoughts, but Tony was shaking that off before he had even finished his sentence.
“Right, okay, like that’s gonna happen. Be realistic, Steve,” Tony laughed darkly, but there was no humour in it, and he wiped at his tear-soaked face.
“I thought that was a bit of a long shot,” Steve agreed honestly, and he caught Tony’s sad smile, “Worth a try, huh?”
Steve knelt in front of Tony on the floor and took his hands into his, and caught his sad brown eyes with his own. “You know I’m here for you, don’t you? Always.”
Tony nodded quickly. “I know, I know. I manage the nightmares a lot better when you’re asleep next to me. I think, I dunno, maybe cos of the alcohol, and the people I was with tonight going on and on and on about New York, and then coming home to an empty bed; it just… triggered it, I guess.”
Steve kissed Tony’s hands, Tony’s soft yet worn hands that he loved so much, gently and held them tight. “I should’ve been here, I’m so sorry.”
“No, Steve, don’t you dare,” Tony argued, bringing Steve’s face up to his own, “Like I said, my nightmares are just a thing that happen that I need to deal with, it’s not something that you can stop or be blamed for. Okay?”
Steve nodded, and Tony kissed him softly, and put his forehead against his.
“I love you,” Steve whispered, “I love you so much, you idiot. You’re my constant; my guiding light. Don’t ever forget just how important you are to me.”
Tony laughed a little and kissed his forehead, and Steve could see the awe in Tony’s eyes, still not believing that he was someone that could be loved. “The idiot comment seems a little uncalled for. But I love you too. How are you even real, Rogers?”
Tony stood up on shaky legs, like a new born deer, and ran a hand through his crazy hair. He paced the bedroom, picking up sheets and pillows as he went and threw them on the bed.
“Let’s make a pact,” Tony suddenly said, his voice once again back to normal and in tact. Steve sat up onto the bed, watching him with interest.
“Go on,” Steve prompted, watching as Tony flopped onto the bed and snaked around his shoulders, planting small kisses on his back.
“God I love it when you’re topless… hmm, what? Oh yeah, pact. So. Uhm, pact. Yes! We both suffer from shitty nightmares, correct?” When Steve nodded, Tony continued, “And we both agree that when we sleep in the same bed, it’s better. So! Let’s permanently sleep in the same bed. Move into my room. It makes perfect sense; we can both be here to help each other.”
Steve couldn’t help but laugh, and did even more so when Tony’s delighted face turned into one of total confusion.
“Erm, Steve?” Tony asked uncertainly.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, I love how you’ve asked me to move into your room. Like, we’re some kind of teenage couple at college,” Steve laughed, and Tony furrowed his eyebrows and folded his arms.
“I was being a gentleman! Doing things the ‘proper’ way! Christ, it’s like role reversal; I’m turning all Captain Sensible like you. Ew,” Tony complained, which only made Steve laugh more, “Stop laughing, I’m being serious!”
“Sorry,” Steve said again sheepishly, and pecked Tony on the lips, “Of course I’ll move into your room, you little weirdo. It’s a brilliant idea.”
Tony grinned widely and kissed Steve again. “Of course it’s a brilliant idea, I thought of it. Now, anyway, I’m shattered, and I need to make plans tomorrow to make this bedroom suitable for the both of us, maybe some reconstruction? Yes? No?” Tony pondered to himself, and Steve shook his head in wonderment at his ridiculous boyfriend.
“Why do you need to ‘reconstruct’, Tony?” Steve sighed, his hands making air quotation marks, and Tony rolled his eyes as if it was obvious.
“This room is designed around me, I can’t move you in here and not have an essence of you within its design! Some red, white and blue, yeah?” Tony joked.
“You’re such an ass,” Steve grumbled, ignoring Tony’s snort, “It’s just an excuse to blow things up and use a sledge hammer, isn’t it?”
Tony grinned widely and threw his arms up into the air. “You know me so well.”
“I’m so lucky,” Steve mouthed to himself as Tony turned away to have a drink, smiling fondly at his back. Tony, his crazy, messed up Tony, was his reason for sticking at this weird, new world. Tony had helped him through so much without even realising it, and Steve would never be able to repay that debt for as long as he was going to live.
“Come here,” Steve murmured, and he pulled Tony down into the covers and held him close, and soothed him back to sleep as JARVIS turned out the lights.