stevetony | steve panics when he doesn't wake up in his own room and tony makes it all better.
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Steve is anxious for a long time after he comes out of the ice.
For a while, he gasps awake in his apartment in D.C. every morning, sweat sheening his chest and forehead, staring at his room until he gets a grip. This is when he picks up the habit of checking his phone every morning to make sure he still recognises the date, sometimes turning on the radio or checking the New York Times when he feels more unsafe than usual.
Itâs one of the better things about this century.
Then SHIELD starts sending him on missions, and heâd rather hop on his motorcycle and drive until the sun peeks through the dark to sleep in his own apartment than crash in a hotel room for the night, because he knows he would wake up panicking again and this fight is the only one heâs ever run from. He doesnât tell anyone why. Fury and Hill only assume heâs more attached to familiarity than most.
A year in and his bedroom is finally a familiar sight, and then everything changes again when Tony invites him to move into the Tower with the rest of the Avengers. Everyone else seems to agree easily, but Steve turns the offer down politely, clutching his reasons to his chest, and Tony takes it upon himself to convince him.
âIâll give you your own floor, private gym and art studio and everything,â Tony says. âSecurity, temperature, furniture, the colour of the walls, everything exactly the way you want it, and I bankroll. Câmon, Cap, what do you say?â
Steve laughs because he loves the way Tony says things, the way he rambles and his hands fly, but he shakes his head and says, âNo, Iâm fine where I am. Thank you though.â
Even when he visits for parties or meetings or the occasional dinner, he insists on driving the four hours home to D.C. afterwards even though everyone looks at him odd and Tony points out that thereâs plenty of room for him, including his finished living quarters.
Steve just smiles, polite as he always is, and declines. He wonders why Tony bothered building and furnishing a floor for him when heâd turned him down already.
He learns to like the night drive home from Manhattan to D.C., wind pouring into his sleeves and brushing through his hair, but he wavers sometimes because he switches on the light in his apartment and itâs familiar because heâs lived there for the better part of two years, but it doesnât quite feel like home anymore.
Itâs a little lonely, he admits to himself.
He thinks of Avengers Tower and wonders if maybe heâd made the wrong call, staying here. Maybe getting used to a new bedroom and pushing through a few weeks of panicked mornings would be worth it. He would be able to join in on the team dinners and movie nights and video game nights they mention sometimes, and he wouldnât need to keep such a close eye on the clock when he spends time at the Tower. The eight-hour round trip isnât the smartest use of time when he thinks about it, but besides SHIELD business, there isnât much in his life that demands him.
No, thatâs not true anymore, he realises. He has the Avengers now.
Then Tony starts wearing him down, and Steve concedes, little by little. He says he just has to go through SHIELDâs change-of-address paperwork, he just has to pack, he just has to find a moving company, but Tony keeps offering him solutions (âthe paperwork takes literally two minutes and Iâve seen you write reports,â âRogers, I will personally drive a truck down here to help you moveâ) until Steve has no more excuses.
So he looks into Tonyâs hopeful warm mirthful eyes and finally says, âYeah, Iâll move in.â
Tony absolutely lights up, clapping his hands together once and announcing, âHoly shit, I did it. I changed Captain Americaâs mind. Alright, a verbal contract is binding in the state of New York. Letâs get on this.â
Steve laughs, and in that moment everything feels so right that he almost thinks it wonât happen again.
Itâs the exact same thing, all over again, every morning. He opens his eyes and the first thing he thinks is I donât know where I am and the anxiety rises over his head like a wave and crashes down into panic and the air wonât reach the bottom of his lungs, until he remembers to check the date, check the news, fumbling for his phone and checking, double-checking until he calms down and is able to peel himself out of bed.
Itâs comforting when thereâs noise. It seems like everyone else in the Tower already has a routine, and it doesnât take Steve more than a few days to learn them. He goes on morning runs to wear off the adrenaline pumping through his veins and give his nervous energy a better place to go, and he knows that when he comes back, Bruce will be making breakfast in the kitchen, sometimes joined by Clint or Natasha, and sometimes, Tony wanders in, dressed for the day with smoothies to offer.
They are a reassurance every morning that he hasnât been left behind, but it still takes a toll on him, and nothing quite escapes Tonyâs notice when he cares.
âYou okay, Cap?â Tony asks. âAre you not sleeping right? What is it, the mattress? The lights? Humidity?â
No, Steve thinks miserably. Itâs me.
Tony wheedles it out of him, eventually.
âI panic when I wake up somewhere I donât know,â Steve says, rubbing his forehead. âIt takes me a while to get used to a new room.â
To his surprise, Tony softens and itâs like heâs letting Steve in on something, secretive and vulnerable.
âI panic too,â he says, and his eyes flit away from Steveâs face for a moment before turning on him again. âYou wanna sleep in my room tonight? God, what am IâI could come sleep in your room is what I meant. Just to let you know everythingâs okay in the morning.â
Steve doesnât know whatâs gotten into him, but he nods and says, âYeah. That could work.â
Itâs not as awkward as Steve thought it would be.
He goes about his day as usual, and at around eleven, he looks up at the ceiling and says, âJARVIS?â
âHello, Captain Rogers.â
âCan you tell Tony Iâm going to bed?â
Heâs still getting used to JARVIS and Tony keeps telling him he doesnât need to look up at the ceiling to communicate with him (âitâs not like heâs installed up there, you know that, right?â), but Steve feels disrespectful if he doesnât look somewhere when he talks to JARVIS.
Steve has just stripped down to his undershirt and pulled on his sleep pants when JARVISâ voice comes over to tell him, âCaptain Rogers, Mr. Stark is on his way.â
Tony knocks a minute later and Steveâs never seen him in pajamas before, but he would have imagined that Tony wore a silk robe or a matching set with buttons and a collar or something else fancy from the pages of a lifestyle magazine, but Tonyâs wearing almost the same thing as himâa t-shirt and pajama pants, both a little loose on him.
âHey,â Tony says with a crooked smile that makes Steveâs heart jump, holding up the pillow and duvet in his arms. âChange your mind yet?â
It gets a laugh out of Steve. Tony always seems to be making him laugh.
âNo, we can do it. Come on in.â
âI can take the sofa. I know I put one in there.â
It feels like forever since Steve has slept with someone else in the room, but itâs comforting in a way he canât put into words.
âDoesnât this feel like weâre twelve-year-old virgins at a sleepover?â Tony asks in the dark.
Steve laughs again. âI think the virgin part would be implied if weâre twelve years old.â
âPoint taken. Good night, Cap.â
Steve falls asleep to Tonyâs breathing and wakes up to a shout that catches in Tonyâs throat, his ragged breaths sounding like cries.
âTony?â Steveâs voice is thick with sleep as he sits up and turns on his bedside light. Tonyâs sitting up, clutching at his arc reactor and panting. It reminds Steve of every morning.
Tony waves him off. âIâm fine, Iâm fine, sorry, I just really didnât think this would happen tonight or I wouldnât have fucking offered toââ
Steveâs chest tightens. He tosses off his covers and goes to Tony.
âDo you want some water? Do you want me to open a window?â Tony shakes his head and Steve reaches out to pat Tonyâs back. Thereâs a soft stretch of silence as Tonyâs breathing evens out, and then Steve asks, âDo you want ⊠to come sleep over there?â
Tonyâs head snaps up and he meets Steveâs eyes, wet and bright and a little scared. Heâs never seen Tony scared before, not even really when his eyes had flown open as he laid there in broken armour, on the broken streets of New York after the Chitauri.
âOkay,â he says uncertainly, and he follows Steve into his bed. Steve leans over to turn off the light. âSorry I woke you up.â
âYou donât have to be sorry about that.â A pause as they lay there, on their backs in the dark. âAre you okay?â
âYeah, yeah, letâs just go back to sleep. Weâve probably got a couple hours left.â
Itâs a big bed, but theyâre big men. Steve tries to keep some distance from Tony, but they always end up bumping shoulders or elbows or knees, so after some shuffling, he gives up and just closes his eyes.
âGood night,â he says.
Strangely, when Steve wakes up, it isnât like every morning lately. Itâs slow and comfy and warm with Tonyâs body pressed into his, and Steve justâdoesnât panic.
Tonyâs weight and warmth is real and grounding and itâs the first time in this century that Steve doesnât reach out for his phone to make sure he recognises the date, because if Tony is still here, breathing steady and smelling faintly like coffee and motor oil and cologne all mixed together, he couldnât have been gone too long.
Steve closes his eyes and just rests until Tony stirs awake, a luxury he hasnât had in years and years.
âHey,â Tony says, propping himself up on one arm, brows creased with worry. âWhy didnât you wake me up? I was supposed to be here when you needed me, you know, in the morning.â
âYou were here,â Steve tells him, propping himself up too, and he resists the urge to reach out and brush Tonyâs dark hair out of his forehead. âI was okay this morning.â
Tony smiles at him, a little disbelieving, and then turns to get out of bed.
It becomes a thing after that.
Not every night, but most nights.
Sometimes Tonyâs panic attacks wake him up, and Steve learns how to deal with them. Mostly, Tony just needs to be held until he calms down, which Steve can do. They somehow always end up in Steveâs bed, and Steve doesnât want it to stop because he always wakes up softly when Tony is there.
At some point, Tony stops taking his pillow and duvet with him when he leaves in the morning, and then one night he just doesnât bring them back.
Tony has to fly out on Stark Industries business for a few days and he makes a point of letting Steve know.
âAre you gonna be okay?â he asks.
âIâll be fine,â Steve says. âDonât worry about me.â
âIâm probably gonna anyway,â Tony says, lips curling in a smile as he slides his sunglasses on and ducks into his car.
Turns out Tony was right to worry, because Steve wakes up the next morning and the first thing he registers is that Tony isnât there, and his body throws itself into a frenzy before his mind can catch upâTonyâs gone Tonyâs gone Tonyâs gone and Iâm still here.
This is bad, he realises when he calms down. He needs to be able to wake up without Tony.
He tells Tony this when he comes back, and Tonyâs face falls.
Steve pushes through the next few weeks, and itâs strange because it isnât the room that throws him off anymore. Itâs that Tony isnât there.
Still, he gets used to waking up alone, and SHIELD chooses this time to call them in and assign them on a mission across the country, busting dirty weapon dealers.
Itâs nearly a week long and thereâs no way Steve could make it back to the Tower every night to sleep. He clenches his jaw while a SHIELD agent breaks down the mission, his grip tightening on the arm of his chair, and he can feel Tonyâs eyes on him. He knows Tonyâs worrying again.
Tony makes sure the two of them share a room, and Steve trusts that Tony wouldnât tell anyone about his mornings, but the way Natasha looks at them makes Steve think Tony arranged this on purpose.
Itâs too easy, falling back into it. Even though their shitty motel room only has two tiny beds, Tony squeezes into Steveâs anyway, their hair damp from the barely functioning shower and smelling like cheap shampoo, both of them exhausted and a little roughed up from the day.
Steve opens his mouth to say something and Tony sighs, turning over with some difficulty to face him in the dark. âLet me have this, okay? This is for me.â
Itâs like this every night that theyâre out on this mission, and the beds are so damn small that Steve wakes up wrapped around Tony every morning.
âThis is for me, too,â he says.
For the next few years, in every new room Steve ends up for the night, Tony is there, and when he canât be, he calls, even if theyâre across the world from each other and Tony has to wake himself up in the middle of the night to be there for Steveâs morning.
Somewhere along the way, Steve stops needing it, but Tony tells him good morning anywayâ
Itâs years later and theyâre still waking up together.
Steve doesnât panic anymore and he doesnât check the date on his phone, just pulls Tony in closer, sleepy and warm, thinking heâs here heâs here Iâm safe because nothing else matters anymore, how far from home he is or how many years in the future he might be waking up this time.
As long as Tonyâs here, whatever it is, theyâll figure it out.
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