Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Steve didn't sleep much. As a boy, too much sleep led to congestion; as an orphan it led to annoyed nuns (in his heart, Steve still feared Sister Mary more than any German soldier he'd ever met), as a young man it led to missed opportunities for a hour's work when the light came in through the tenement window at a good angle for drawing, as a soldier... well, oversleeping in enemy territory couldn't lead to anything good. Fortunately, his body didn't need much sleep now, but it did require a lot more food. The shawarma had been ok, after all, chipped beef on pita with vegetables was an improvement over the army's recipe for shit on a shingle. But that had been hours ago.

When Tony had invited them all to 'crash' at his Tower, he'd said they could go anywhere Jarvis would allow. Jarvis was... Steve still wasn't sure. He didn't have a body, or maybe the whole Tower was his body, or just the floors Tony had kept for personal use? Anyway, Jarvis sounded like a person, and he responded like a person when you talked to him, so Steve figured he'd treat him like a person. It couldn't hurt even if Tony was pulling his leg and laughing at him for being polite to a machine. "Jarvis, I'm hungry. Is there somewhere I'm allowed to get some food?" It also wouldn't hurt to speak very clearly. After all, if Tony Stark made it, Jarvis probably was capable of joking and he didn't need his leg pulled right now.

"Certainly, Captain Rogers." Jarvis gave him directions, apologizing 'for the mess' when Steve had to reroute around damaged levels, before arriving at his destination.

He opened the refrigerator and began assembling the ingredients for a sandwich. A hand reached in past him and took a water bottle. "CHRIST!" Steve jumped and dropped the jar of pickles on the floor, sending pickles, brine and glass all over before turning to frown at the intruder. Tony Stark, in black loose shirt and soft-looking trousers, and barefoot, like... what was it.. a ninja. "I know it's your tower, Stark, but warn a fella- I almost clocked you one."

Tony opened the bottle of water and drank several gulps from it without bothering to meet Steve's eyes, and now Steve was getting really riled. "Hey. I'm talking to you, Mister Stark."

Tony turned away from the refrigerator and started to walk, heading straight for the broken glass. "No!" Steve grabbed Tony, who turned and leaned against him and started kissing him, slowly and lazily. "Okay," Steve said when Tony moved over to suck on his earlobe. "Now this, this is not normal. Oh, hell, did Loki do something to you?" He backed away from the glass, and Tony went with him willingly. His eyes were still soft and unfocused, hazy and dreamy. Once Steve got him out of the kitchen, Tony patted him on the chest, running his hand around and around, with a look of sleepy contentedness.

"Tony?" Really, why would Loki want to make Tony act this way?

Tony pulled away from Steve. He murmured, "Gotta tell Pepper about Steve. She'll be impressed. I played on Captain America's team." He wandered off.

Steve stared after him, and then followed. Tony walked to a bedroom, where the covers were pulled back on a large bed. He meticulously piled pillows three high, and stood there, tapping his fingers against his chest for a minute before he sighed and got into bed and closed his eyes.

"Huh," Steve said. "Sleepwalking." He shrugged. The show seemed to be over, and he was still hungry. He had to clean up his mess and make his sandwich. Without pickles.

The Avengers went their separate ways after Thor took Loki back to Asgard and Steve didn't think any more about the night Tony Stark had kissed him. It was just one of those stress- relief things, he was sure. He'd seen people do stranger things after battles than kiss someone they didn't like. No point in mentioning it to anyone and embarrassing Tony.

He saw a lot of America. He met kindly people, and mean people, and people who were scared of strangers (probably especially large young men on motorcycles, to be honest) and pretty much all sorts. It seemed to him that people cussed more, and talked more about personal stuff and they all expected you to have seen so many different entertainment programs. He didn't know how anyone got anything done, if they were watching television all the time.

And then Fury called Steve back to New York. Honestly, it was a relief to be doing something useful that didn't require a lot of soul-searching. When giant purple praying mantises swarm over Manhattan, all you have to do is dodge the venomous acid they spit (which was a novel feature the looney who'd created them had added) and blow up, electrocute, dismember, punch, or shoot them full of holes (depending on your particular fighting style). While Steve knew that normal-size praying mantises were the gardener's friend, he was quite sure no one would miss the jumbo version.

It had been tiring, and messy, and along the way they'd all got hit with enough acid to wreck their clothes, but thanks to Steve opening a johnny pump they'd lost minimal skin and most of the acid had been diluted enough not to add further pot-holes to the road. So, all in all, not a bad day. Steve wasn't sure whether Tony had offered the use of his Tower again, but Clint had looked sadly at his acid-pitted bow and said, "Stark could probably fix this," and Natasha had shrugged and said, "Let's go," and somehow Steve had got all three of them on his motorcycle. It was a tight squeeze, but workable, given the athleticism of the three of them.

When they got to the Tower, Jarvis sent the private elevator down for them, which Steve supposed meant that Tony didn't mind their presence. When the doors opened they were on the penthouse level, and their host was at his bar pouring himself a drink. His clothes had been protected from acid by the Iron Man suit, but his expensive suit was sweat darkened and rumpled probably beyond redemption. Tony waved at them and said, "I'm having pizza delivered. What do you guys want on yours? Oh, and there's clothes in your closets."

"Closets?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you. Since I had to remodel the Tower anyway. When Thor gets back from Asgard, and Bruce from whereverstan he disappeared off to, they'll have their own floors, too." He picked up three plastic cards and held them out. "Use these in the elevator and it'll take you there."

Natasha and Clint exchanged glances. "Are you collecting us, Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Possibly. Go and look them over, shower, change, relax. We need a clubhouse, right? You can live here, or just use the facilities to clean up before you go home, wherever home is. No strings, no expectations."

Steve wasn't sure what was going on in Stark's mind, but it seemed a genuine offer, and heck, he hadn't even had time to think about renting a room. And he was absolutely filthy, and some parts of his costume were hardly fit for public view. "Thanks," he said. He was pretty sure Tony wasn't pulling a Rockefeller- giving out dimes to improve his public image. Mostly because Tony didn't give a damn about public image. If it started to feel like charity, Steve could always leave, it wasn't as if he'd be using up the room. Natasha and Clint followed his lead back into the elevator and down to their floors. Jarvis helpfully told them at each stop who should depart. Steve might have been imagining it, but the voice sounded friendlier. He found the shower, and bathed without thinking about much. He was still on autopilot when he found fresh clothes in his size, and in styles that weren't too terrible even if they weren't anything he would have chosen. He was folding up his battered uniform when his stomach reminded him that breakfast had been too small, too hurried, and too long ago. Pizza sounded damn good, no matter what toppings Tony had ordered.

By the time Steve met Natasha and Clint back at Tony's penthouse, all of them slightly damp, and in non-acid-washed clothes, there were a dozen pizzas with toppings that all smelled good, although Steve wasn't sure about the white pie until he tasted it. The ham and pineapple just seemed wrong. They didn't talk much while they ate. Tony turned on a television that hadn't been there until he gestured and it slid down from the ceiling. "Stop me if you've seen this one," he said, and something called 'The Day the Earth Stood Still' began playing.

Clint looked up at Tony. "Et tu, Klaatu barada nikto?"

Tony pointed at Clint. "Ok, so you've seen it. Is that a 'no' vote?"

Natasha picked a mushroom off a slice, inspected it and then ate it, delicately. "Michael Rennie," she said decisively.

"Gort," Tony replied with an air of having trumped her ace.

Steve didn't care, he was comfortable and he had pizza. The movie played, with surprisingly little bickering among his team. It was a fairly good film, Steve thought. Then Clint chose the next movie. Steve had to admit that after spending the day fighting giant praying mantises, 'Mothra versus Godzilla' was less hokey than it would have been on any other day. He liked the singing fairy twins. They made absolutely no sense, but they were pretty.

After that somehow they'd got into a 'classic creature' movie marathon. Steve had run out of pizza but he was still comfortable. Tony's couch had good lumbar support. 'Them' marched giant ants across Tony's floating screen. 'Jason and the Argonauts' was impressive, Steve thought. Natasha took notes on the best methods of 'killing' animated skeletons, and he had to admit the way things were going that might come in handy. It got late, but no one moved. Someone, probably Jarvis, had gradually lowered the room's lighting, and the volume of the television. 'The Valley of Gwangi' wasn't all that enthralling, although Steve had quite liked the tiny horse. The idea of cowboys lassoing dinosaurs was just too silly.

Steve was frankly dozing off when he felt a shifting in the cushions and glanced over to see Tony rise to his feet. Tony walked around behind the couch. The footsteps stopped behind Steve, and then he felt a hand in his hair, gently playing with it. "Tony?" Steve rolled his head enough to get a look at Tony's face, at the placidly unaware, cloudy gaze. "Oh. You're doing it again, huh?"

Next to him, Natasha lifted her head from where she'd been not quite cuddling with Clint. Both agents looked at Tony, who was still slowly petting Steve's hair. "He did this after the Chitauri invasion. Sleepwalking, I mean. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Tony reached out his other hand to stroke Natasha's hair at the same time as Steve's. The expression on Natasha's face was priceless, Steve thought. She was wide-eyed and frozen in place. "I like red," Tony said softly. "Red's fast... doppler shifted. Hot rods." Then he released Natasha's hair, and leaned down to rub his cheek against Steve's.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony."

"The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe," Tony said firmly. "Cheaper by the Dozen. With Six you get Eggroll." He stood up straight, turned and wandered from the room.

"And this is the man I was going to ask to fix my bow?" Clint said.

"Well, presumably he'd be awake at the time." Steve shook his head and got up. "Excuse me, I want to make sure he gets to bed properly."

"You could just wake him up," Clint said.

Natasha shook her head. "If he's going to bed, it's safest to just let him go." Natasha made a face. "Some sleepwalkers get violent if you wake them. I don't think Stark would be the type, but you never know."

"I just want to go to sleep without an argument," Steve said. He caught up with Tony and followed him to the same bedroom. This time the bed was neatly made, and Steve wondered if Tony would just lie down on it, fully dressed. He also wondered if he had enough charity in him to take off Tony's shoes and make him comfortable. Probably. Tony hadn't meant to embarrass him with the hair petting and cheek-rubbing, after all.

Tony stood in the middle of the room, facing the bed for a while, more than a few seconds, less than a minute. Then he began undressing, as matter-of-factly as if he was alone in the room. Steve admitted to some curiosity about the thing in Tony's chest, (the dossier from SHIELD had been full of guesswork) so he overcame his instinct to politely turn his back. Tony turned towards Steve once he was naked and walked towards him-- no, to one side to reach a dresser set against the wall.

Steve let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and indulged his curiosity, peering at the softly glowing device on Tony's chest as drawers were opened and night clothes taken out. Then Tony put a small cardboard box on the dresser and pulled out a damp wipe. He ran it around the skin housing the reactor, slowly and carefully, with the ease of long habit. He dropped the wipe to the floor and then put his hand on the reactor, pressed down and turned and... took it out.

Dear God. It was... a hole. A great, gaping hole, so deep... god, he'd seen men dead of smaller wounds. He'd studied anatomy, there just... there wasn't that much unused space in the chest cavity, pieces had to be cut out to fit that inside, bone and muscle and... yeah, some lung would have had to be sacrificed.

Tony plucked another wipe, and meticulously ran it around the interior of the housing, cleaning out some substance... it smelled horrible, and looked like slime. Throughout, Tony's expression was totally calm. He dropped the second wipe and reinserted the reactor, giving a little sigh as it clicked back in place. Then he put on his night clothes, wandered into the attached bathroom to brush his teeth, and emerged to go through the same piling up of pillows routine he'd done the last time, before he got between the covers and relaxed into a true sleep.

Steve stood and watched for a few minutes to be sure he wasn't going to get up, and then he left the room as silently as he could. The pizza lay heavily in his stomach.

"Stark's gone to sleep?" Clint asked when Steve returned to the living room.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I'm gonna go back to my floor, now."

"Your floor?" Natasha said, apparently picking up more from that statement than Steve had meant to say. "So, not just for the night?"

"Yeah. I think it's a good idea, having a home base for the team. Get to know each other, that sort of thing."

Clint got up. "I like the water pressure and the tv."

"Mmm," Natasha made a noncommittal noise before rising to her feet. "Well, if Rogers is staying, I might as well. Stark puts on a good show when he has a straight man."

Steve smiled. "I've had my leg pulled before. It doesn't come off. Good night." Steve was fairly sure Fury had ordered them to accept Tony's offer. He probably had spies on the construction teams and knew Tony'd made rooms for them. Fury knew a lot about Tony, but Steve doubted he knew about the sleepwalking, and he sure wasn't going to tell him. He felt uncomfortable enough with what he'd seen without tattling on Tony.

Tony seemed to enjoy them taking over his living room; he obviously was a very sociable fellow... well, going by his past, according to SHIELD, he was ridiculously sociable. And not quite grown up. Steve wouldn't be surprised if Tony thought of it as having a playhouse for his pals, only instead of a tree, he'd set it in a skyscraper.

Tony's gal was really something. Steve was pretty sure if they ever got married, which, apparently not everyone thought was worth the effort these days, Pepper would be the one wearing the pants in the family. He couldn't tell whether they were arguing or not, since they were talking together, over each other, bright and fast, and honestly, Steve had sneaked in to watch vaudeville shows that were less entertaining. The Tony and Pepper act would have been well worth the dime.

Of course, Tony was a little handicapped by having the right side of his jaw swollen like a chipmunk, due to a 'minor, unimportant flaw in the protocol' of some gadget he'd been up all hours fiddling with for the last week, pretty much all day, every day since the Adventure of the Purple Mantis-- Steve had been reading The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle the next day and when Tony spotted it, he insisted on heading his after mission report that way. Fury didn't think it was funny.

Steve figured the Avengers were like family now. If you could have a row in front of someone rummaging through the icebox for a pop and not give a tinkers' that always meant family to Steve. He retrieved a bottle of handcrafted sarsparilla imported from Maine, opened it and sat down on the couch next to Clint and Natasha to watch some sports. He liked soccer. It wasn't anything he'd followed before the war, so it didn't tangle up with memories and make him grumpy.

Clint was teaching Natasha how to knit socks. Steve didn't know why, except that it was something top secret. Probably about the knitting needles, he was fairly sure that socks were still just socks. The Tony/Pepper argument/flirting died down and Steve heard their voices drop to not-quite whispers before they walked away in the direction of Tony's bedroom. He heard Pepper giggle, and he decided not to test the soundproofing. "The tv in my room is nearly as big," Steve said as he got up, soda bottle in hand. "Wanna watch the game in there?"

Natasha scowled. "I've dropped a stitch... four rows back." She stabbed the needles into the ball of yarn.

"You were going to have to start over anyway," Clint said. "You turned the heel in two places. Feet don't bend that way."

"They can. You just have to..." She made a gesture with her hands, a bit like peeling a banana. "Help them along."

There was a thump in the hallway, and then Tony giggled. Steve finished his soda and put the bottle down on the table. Clint didn't look as if he was interested in leaving. Steve put his hand on the back of Clint's neck. "Soccer, Clint. C'mon."

"It lives," Clint said during a commercial for something that Steve couldn't imagine anyone needing, but the breaks were handy for getting snacks or visiting the john, so he didn't mind them. Steve looked up, not quite expecting a monster from the movies, but not quite not expecting it.

"Huh," he said as Tony ambled into the room. He was wearing a tank top and soft trousers, but the shirt had been put on inside out and backwards, with the neckline pressing against his throat. "How did you find your way down here in your sleep?"

Tony walked over to Natasha, who'd got up to demonstrate the proper way to kick a soccer ball, but forgot she was knitting, and wound up losing her ball of Merino under a cabinet. Tony took the ball of yarn out of her hand and sniffed it. "A clue! Find the minotaur." He dropped the yarn. Natasha caught it and began rolling it up.

"I think this happens when he's overtired," Steve said as Tony came around the couch, kissed Steve on the cheek, patted Clint on the arm, and then lay down across both their laps, face up. "Grapes," Tony said, as if that was the answer to all the world's problems.

Clint patted Tony on his stomach. "How about a Cheetos?"

"Don't feed the sleeping man," Steve said automatically. The game had come back.

"Yeah, it's after midnight," Clint said.

Natasha returned to the couch, lifted Tony's feet and sat back down, putting them across her lap. "Don't spill your water on him, Steve."

"Pineapple," Tony said and hummed something that reminded Steve of Mozart.

"Tony is definitely a Mogwai," Clint agreed with Natasha. "That's why he wears sunglasses indoors."

"True."

Clint patted Tony again and put his bowl of nachos on Tony's arc reactor. When Steve gave him a frown, Clint said, "What? It keeps them warm. Oh, all right." He put the bowl back on the table.

Tony hummed and picked up Steve's hand. "Needs oiling."

Steve sighed.

When the game was nearly over, Tony sat up, ignoring the groans as he impacted on tender places with his knees and elbows. "Armistice Day. Don't be caught with your pants down." And then he headed for the door.

"I'd better escort him home," Steve said. "Tell me who won."

Steve followed Tony into the elevator and back up to the penthouse. Tony stood at the window facing the Chrysler building for several minutes before turning to go into his bedroom. Steve decided he could just wait outside the room for a few minutes to make sure Tony didn't come out again. He certainly wasn't going to sneak in while Pepper was sleeping.

Tony didn't bother shutting the door behind him, so Steve clearly heard him humming and then the soft creak of a mattress, and then Pepper's voice, muzzy with sleep. "Tony? Your feet are like ice."

Tony hummed a little louder. Pepper giggled. Steve figured it was time for him to go home.

"I believe this is yours?" Pepper said the next morning, smiling far too sweetly as she held out a double-heeled, half-finished sock to Natasha. "I saw you...knitting...in Tony's living room."

Natasha took the sock. "Thank you. I was wondering where that had got to. I suppose Tony picked it up after he got off Steve and Clint last night. Is there any more coffee?"

"Oh, god, I wish Tony had been here to hear that," Clint said around a mouthful of bagel.

"No, you don't, you really don't," Steve said. He turned to Pepper who was staring at him. "We were watching soccer. Nothing happened. Tony sleepwalks."

"No, he doesn't," Pepper said. Then she frowned. "I don't think so."

"He's done it at least three times," Steve said. "I think it happens when he's really tired, but I'm not a doctor, I don't really know."

Pepper sighed. "Thank you for telling me. I'll look into it. First I have to find a doctor Tony trusts..."

"Um." Steve had a thought, he didn't know if it was a good one or not. "Bruce is a doctor, isn't he? Sorta, anyway."

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea. Tony's been after me to lure Bruce back here. I think he wants to adopt him." Pepper smiled brightly, and went over to Natasha. "Where is he?"

Natasha looked up from her coffee. "Can I claim I don't know?"

"No."

Natasha shrugged. "Can I use Tony as bait?" At Pepper's dubious look, she explained, "Tell him that Tony needs him. After all, he saved Tony's life once, so now he has an obligation to look after him."

"I don't think it works that way," Clint said.

"It will by the time I get through talking to Banner."

"Well, all right. Just... I'm fairly sure Tony doesn't knows he does this, and that... makes it complicated. You know Tony."

Natasha finished her coffee. "Oh, yes, I do." She paused and then said, "Banner's quarters are Hulk-proof?"

Pepper smiled. "Tony swore on a stack of physics texts."

"Good. I should be back in a few days."

Steve didn't think Tony's sleepwalking was such a big deal until Clint mentioned that it wasn't always just walking. Some people got in their cars and drove. The idea of Tony getting into the Iron Man suit for a stroll around Manhattan while sound asleep was actually kinda scary. Kinda, as in, very. It had been funny when it was just Tony acting weirdly affectionate but people could get killed if Iron Man was affectionately patting them with repulsors.

So when Natasha returned with Bruce, he was relieved. He'd heard Tony say that Bruce was a genius, but he was more counting on the fact that Bruce had not only made his way around the world by himself, but been reduced to literally possessing nothing time after time. He had to be remarkably resilient and resourceful, so a little thing like sleepwalking shouldn't be a difficult problem for him to solve.

Natasha came up in the elevator with Bruce. "Hey Stark, your physicist delivery has arrived," Clint shouted from the couch where he was playing a video game. Steve had tried a few, and got a bit addicted to Myst and Riven and The 7th Guest. He didn't care that they were 'retro', he liked that he didn't need any contemporary context, and he didn't have to jump about killing things. He did that enough in real life, using his mind on puzzles was a pleasant change of pace. Clint preferred games where he shot things like zombies with flamethrowers. To each his own.

"What?" Tony called back. Jarvis relayed messages, so Tony could be anywhere in the Tower, but most likely when he wasn't in the living room socializing with the team he was in his workshop.

"Hello, Tony," Bruce said. "Natasha said you were lonely without a lab playmate." He grinned at Tony's response of, "Yeeeow, Bruce! You should have told me you were coming, I would have... well, not baked a cake, but something, annealed an andiron... Come to the workshop, let me show you my etchings!"

Steve said,"Etchings? Tony, that had long whiskers when I was a boy. Bruce, I think you may need a chaperone."

"Spoilsport," Tony said, but he was laughing. "Sure, you can all see my etchings, I have great taste."

Pepper had been listening to the conversation from the kitchen, where she was fixing herself a salad. "Tony, what you had was an art curator with great taste, before you gave away our collection."

"I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Never, Tony. I'm coming down too, to see this mythical etching."

"It'll be a party, BYOB."

"I don't think alcohol and workshops are a good mixture," Bruce said. He'd dropped a battered suitcase on the floor and now he followed Steve and the others to the special elevator, the one that only connected the penthouse with the workshop.

"Bring Your Own Beryllium!"

"Oh, that. Sure."

"Bruce, I was just thinking about you! Look, Hulk pants!" Tony held up a sheet of what looked like yellow rubber the moment the group exited the elevator.

"Rubber?" Bruce touched the sheet. "You know, that, that's just not going to work."

"No, wait, this is a new synthetic. It's made from vegetable oil and a component of urine."

"Well, that explains the color," Bruce said, gingerly pulling his hand back and sniffing at his fingers. "What's new about it?"

"This." Tony sliced a corner off the sheet, waved it around and then lined it back up and pressed it against the cut. A few seconds later he picked the sheet up by the corner that had been cut off. "The covalent bonds have been replaced with hydrogen bonds. It was developed in a Paris lab. I've been playing with the concept. Their version took an hour to completely rebuild the bonds, mine only takes a minute or so."

"Niiice," Bruce said, tugging at the sheet again. "I'd have come back for this alone."

"Yeah. Why did you come back, Bruce? Not that I'm complaining, but Natasha doesn't do anything without a sneaky motive." Tony looked around at all the others. "What is going on?"

"Um, well, it's about the sleep-walking."

"Sleep what?" Tony looked totally baffled. "You're going to have to help me out here, big guy."

"You've been wandering about the Tower in your sleep."

"I've... what? This isn't a very good joke, Bruce."

"It's not a joke," Steve said. He could see that Bruce was uncomfortable, and he really didn't like making Bruce uncomfortable. "You did it the night after the Chitauri invasion, and again after the Purple Mantises and then last week, the night before Natasha went looking for Bruce."

Tony blinked. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm up late, a lot of the time, and if I'm thinking hard, which, really, usually I am, I may not notice someone's talking to me."

Steve coughed. "No, really, Tony, you get... cuddly..." Natasha and Clint nodded and said in unison, "Cuddly."

"Cuddly." Tony looked at the trio in horror. "How... cuddly?"

"Like a teddy bear," Steve said.

"No, no, we decided he's a Mogwai," Clint told Steve. "That's why you wouldn't let me give him any Cheetos when he was laying on top of us on the couch."

Tony sat down heavily at his desk and leaned over to thump his head against it. "No. I do not believe it. Pictures or it didn't happen."

Natasha smiled, and pulled out a StarkPhone. She turned it on and slid it under Tony's folded arms. Tony made a soft, protesting noise and pushed the phone aside. Pepper lunged forward and grabbed it. "Oh, Natasha! That's so cute! Send me a copy!"

Tony lifted his head. "Bruce, cure me! You're my only hope!"

"Of course, young padawan." Bruce patted Tony on the shoulder.

"No alcohol, no coffee within four hours of this ridiculously early bedtime, meditation before going to sleep... Bruce, I'm not five years old!" Tony was sitting in Bruce's shiny new lab, shirt off, with various sensors sucker-tipped to his torso and head while Bruce watched the machines take readings. Bruce had insisted on a basic physical evaluation before anything else.

"No, you're a grown man who hates restrictions, but you can be sensible, when it's important. This is probably a temporary phase as you adjust to all the new stress in your life." Bruce smiled sadly. "It's better than night terrors, Tony. Really, they're no fun at all."

"Um. Yeah, I'm not keen on nightmares; been there, done that, got the souvenir." Tony tapped at the arc reactor. "So, temporary?"

"I think so. It's uncommon in adults, but much more likely if you're sleep deprived, taking certain medications or drinking. If simply improving your sleep hygiene doesn't work, we could try hypnosis."

"No, no that's not going to happen."

"Antidepressants might help, but considering your... souvenir, I hesitate to introduce any non-essential drugs in your system."

"I'm fine. Healthy as a horse."

"Uh huh. Anyway, it's always better to remove the underlying cause, rather than cover it up with drugs. So, what's your objection to getting eight hours of sleep a night?"

"Sleep when you're dead," Tony muttered. "Bruce, there is just... you know, that invasion was just the opening salvo. Thor said other worlds now consider Earth open to 'a higher form of war'. We're not ready, Bruce."

"We won't get ready any sooner if you sleep-walk off your balcony without Iron Man."

Tony winced. "I wouldn't. They said I cuddled. Cuddled, if you can believe it."

"Sure, why not. It's a basic human need."

"I get enough sex. More than enough."

"It's not about sex, and you know it." Bruce looked at the machines and nodded. "Ok, your baseline is about what I'd expected. Now, how are you going to deal with this? I mean, are you going to take my advice, or shall I just get back on a plane and get out of your hair?"

"BRUCE! That's blackmail."

"Nah. Coercion at worst." Bruce grinned.

"Fine. Fine. I'll do it, drink my Ovaltine and get tucked in before the evening news, like a good boy. Unless there's an emergency, then all bets are off." Tony began plucking off the sensors. "So, as long as you're here, let's play."

Steve thought that would be the end of it. Bruce settled into the Tower as if he'd always lived there, once he'd checked out the 'Hulk-proof' room and declared it adequate. Instead of a cage, Tony had built a sort of playroom. Steve wasn't sure it would hold the Hulk if he really wanted to get out, but at least it wouldn't make him angrier. Bruce did whatever scientists do in their fancy, state-of-the-art, labs and seemed content. He and Tony really did play together at science most days, and Bruce poked Tony's ego whenever it got too inflated with the idea that he was the one to save the world, and it all had to be done now.

Steve understood feeling time pressure, but heck, your body was a tool, too, and if you didn't take care of it, it'd break, and then where would you be? He remembered having a broken body, and having to choose between accepting his limitations, or accepting the consequences for pushing past them. It hadn't mattered so much back then, when no one was relying on him, but once he became Captain America, he had a responsibility to take care of this new tool he'd been given at the cost of a good man's life. From what little Tony had let slip, Steve figured he'd had the same lesson, but he didn't have the patience Steve had, so he wanted to do everything at once to pay back the man who'd saved him. Steve kinda admired his stubborn cussedness, but a soldier learned to pace himself. Tony was right about that- he'd never be a soldier.

When they weren't going out to battle whatever weirdness hit New York City, most of the Avengers had a lot of time on their hands. Tony and Bruce filled it with experiments, which usually resulted in one or two minor explosions per week, but surprisingly no Hulk-outs. The rest of them sparred and practiced with their weapons for a couple hours a day and then generally they left the Tower to get out in the real world, dressed in civvies and split up to do their own thing. Steve found a gallery that was happy to accept his sketches on consignment, and once in a while one of his cityscapes sold, which was nice because he didn't actually have a job, and the Army stops paying you once you're declared dead. Fury had offered him a salary, but he wasn't a spy and he really didn't want to be an 'agent'. It was a problem, but not a pressing one at the moment, as he had his room and board, and pretty much all the necessities provided 'magically' without him even mentioning it. At first he thought that one day he'd pay Tony back, but then he realized that they'd somehow become friends, and you don't balance out friendship. Instead he painted a portrait of Iron Man and 'magically' left it in Tony's living room one day. It disappeared, only to reappear a day later in the workshop, where Tony could see it whenever he took a break, so Steve figured that was good.

You know, really, when the trouble came, Steve was blind-sided by it. Heck, he'd got used to monsters, madmen and machines trying to make life a misery for the Avengers, and sometimes the news media, or Fury, or even their devoted fans could be aggravating, but you learned to roll with the punches, right? Thor had been granted an indefinite leave to visit, so they had godly backup power whenever Thor wasn't courting his Jane, and really, Steve wasn't worried about the Avengers' ability to handle anyone.

Except the man in post office blues.

"It's got to be signed for by Doctor Banner," the mailman said. He was looking around the lobby of the Tower with interest when Steve showed up, called down by the receptionist when the problem arose.

"Can I sign for him?" Steve said. Ok, so he was shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that everyone now knew he was Captain America and trusted him.

"I wish I could," the mailman replied. "But you know, rules." The mailman waved a large, squarish envelope. "Restricted Delivery. Hand deliver to recipient only."

"It's already been scanned for hazardous material," the receptionist said. That was standard procedure at all Stark Industries facilities, but they were especially vigilant with things addressed to Avengers. "Just paper and ink, totally harmless."

Bruce didn't like leaving the few levels dedicated to the Avengers and mostly Steve agreed with him. Tony was sure that Bruce had the Hulk metamorphosis totally under his control, but there were still rumors that the military would snatch him up for experimentation if given the chance. "Ok, I'll escort you up. Come on."

Steve chatted with the mailman... mail carrier... whatever they called it now... on the way up. "When I was a kid, we'd get mail several times a day. Now I hear they're not going to deliver on Saturdays any longer."

The mailman shrugged. "Times change, and you gotta go with the flow. It was that, or close a lot of post offices. It was just costing too much and something had to go."

Steve wondered if Tony would try to buy the post office. Heck, he liked a challenge. He smiled to himself at the thought of the eagle being replaced with a flying Iron Man logo. The elevator stopped at the penthouse and Steve led him over to the workshop elevator. "Ok, from here on, you don't touch anything. Sometimes things blow up." The mailman looked nervous. "Of course," Steve said, "You could just give me the envelope and I'll have Bruce sign for it."

"I... no, I'd better do it myself. I don't want to risk my pension."

"Tony! Bruce!" Steve called from the doorway at a probably safe distance. Generally, when they were playing with something dangerous the door was locked, but sometimes they forgot. "Mail call, Bruce. You have to sign for it."

"Oh, ok." Bruce looked up from the whatever it was he was peering at on one of Tony's floating screens. "Tony, I still think your safety margins are too thin."

"You can never be too thin, or too rich, Bruce," Tony muttered, but he tapped at the screen and the numbers changed. "Better?"

"Yeah, that's better." Bruce smiled and came over to the doorway. "I wasn't expecting any mail today." He signed the form and took the envelope. Steve was looking at him, mildly curious about this special envelope; he guessed it was something from one of the science type folks that he and Tony corresponded with. Sometimes they tried to get them to attend conferences. Bruce's eyes widened as he looked at the return address. Steve couldn't read it from where he was standing, he could just see that it was machine printed, in an elegant swirly font. Bruce ripped open the envelope, dropping it on the floor unlike his usual meticulous neatness in the lab as he pulled out a card; thick, creamy stock, expensive paper. Steve could tell that much even at that distance.

The hair rose on the back of Steve's neck as Bruce's eyes turned green and he crumpled the paper before throwing it on the floor next to the envelope. Steve grabbed the mailman's arm and shoved him to one side. "Bruce! What's wrong?"

"Betty," Bruce growled as his shoulders hunched and swelled.

"Oh, hey, this is not a problem," Tony said, striding over to Bruce's side to put an arm around him. "How about we just take you down to the playroom? Huh? You know, so we don't break anything, or anyone." He started guiding Bruce to the elevator.

"Huh huh, yeah. Now." Bruce was fighting it, Steve could tell. He stood in front of the mailman until the elevator doors closed in front of Bruce and Tony. Bruce was bent over and Tony was right in his face, chattering to distract the Hulk. It had worked a few times before when they needed to delay the transformation, so Tony wasn't entirely crazy, but pretty close to it.

Steve went over to the monitors and keyed up the security cams leading to the Hulk's playroom. He didn't relax until the Hulk was safely locked in the room, raging and smashing while Tony stood outside, watching. Tony looked up at the nearest security camera after a minute. "Steve, find out what that was."

"Yeah." Steve picked up the card and smoothed it out. "It's... a wedding invitation. Betty Ross is getting married."

"Oh, boy," Tony said.

Steve hustled the mailman out after swearing him to secrecy- or at least asking him not to go running to the news with this story, out of common human decency. He also signed half a dozen photos of himself that the receptionist kept at the desk and sorta bribed the man with them. Then he went back up to join Tony outside the Hulk playroom. "That was cruel," he said. "I don't know much about Miss Ross, but I wouldn't have thought she'd do that to Bruce. I mean, rubbing his nose in it like that."

Tony was still looking inside the viewing port at the Hulk. "For what it's worth, I doubt she did. Her father, however, is a sadist. Someone should call Betty, though, to make sure it's true and not just General Ross having fun with Bruce."

Steve nodded. "Pepper will have her contact information, I think."

"Yeah, Pepper will. Pepper's great." Tony shook his head. "Could you do it? I'm afraid I... wouldn't be very fair to her right now even if she had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Bruce will be all right, Tony."

"Sure. Sure he will."

"Yeah, you know, the Hulk always falls asleep once there's nothing to fight and then we'll talk to Bruce."

Only the Hulk didn't fall asleep. He stopped smashing things after a while, and sat down on the rubble, growling to himself, but he didn't revert back to Bruce. The next morning Steve stood with Tony outside the room as they looked in on a sullenly glowering Hulk who was methodically reducing the rubble down to powder, one slow handful at a time.

Tony turned on the intercom. "Could we have Bruce back now? We were right in the middle of an experiment and he'll want to know how it came out."

The Hulk shook his head. "Bruce hurt. Hulk keep Bruce safe." He pounded on his chest with the hand holding what used to be rebar. Gray powder puffed out between his fingers.

Steve looked at Tony. "Bruce is safe. It was just... something he read that made him unhappy. You can let him out."

The Hulk growled. "No. Bruce sleeping, not hurting."

"You can't keep Bruce asleep forever," Steve said.

Big square teeth grinned at him. "Hulk can do anything."

Tony pushed in front of Steve. "Well, sure you can, big guy, but Bruce can take care of himself. He's just unhappy, he'll get over it."

The Hulk stood up abruptly. "Once Hulk let Bruce get unhappy. LOW. Bruce hurt, HURT. Hulk saved Bruce, but better not to hurt."

"Oh," Tony said. "On the helicarrier..."

"Yeah." Steve remembered. "But this is different. He wouldn't hurt himself, not over... you know..."

"Hulk keep Bruce safe." The Hulk sat back down and picked up another handful of shards. "Nobody hurt Bruce, not even Bruce."

"Ok," Steve said once the Avengers, and Pepper, were gathered in the penthouse living room, "so, what do we do now?"

Pepper said, "He's got to go to sleep sometime, hasn't he?"

Tony shook his head. "The Hulk is a biological law unto himself. He seems to work mainly by willpower. If he's angry he gets stronger. If he's hurt, he heals faster. If he's decided not to sleep... I wouldn't bet against him being able to just turn off that part of his brain."

"Perhaps if Betty Ross were to talk to him, it would help?" Thor suggested. "Bruce would want to hear what she has to say, would he not?" He had just returned from visiting Jane, and as always was scattering 'true love conquers all' vibrations everywhere.

Natasha shook her head. "It might upset him more, and then the Hulk could go on a rampage and escape."

"Hey!" Tony said, "I resent that. That room is secure! From the inside, the only way to open that door is for Bruce to input the codes on the recessed keypad. Even if the Hulk could get the numbers from Bruce's memory, his fingers are too big to operate it."

"There's always Hulk option number one, Smash," Clint said.

"If, and I say, IF the room is forcibly breached, skin-contact sedative gas will be released and the Hulk will go down, my word on it."

"Why don't you just use it now?" Natasha asked. "Put him to sleep and get Bruce back."

"Because." Tony sighed. "Because the Hulk is so one of a kind biologically that I'm not certain that sedating him while he's got his brain set on 'no-sleep' would actually bring Bruce back. It might make matters worse, might freeze him as Hulk even if he tried to let Bruce out. I won't risk it unless it looks like he's endangering other people. And, as you note, he's not doing any harm where he is."

"So, we wait?" Steve said.

"So you wait. I'll be down in the lab, trying to figure out a way of getting cooperation from big green." Tony left the room.

And then, of course, Reed Richards discovered a portal to either the Savage Land, prehistoric times, or maybe some alternate reality based on the movie Jurassic Park. Steve had never seen it, and judging by the comments Tony and Clint made while dinosaurs stomped all over Brooklyn, he really didn't want to see it. Ever.

"I should like to bring one of the smaller ones home as a gift!" Thor said as he wrestled something with too many teeth.

"Hey," Clint said from a rooftop, where he was picking off pterodactyls (technically, they were pterosaurs not dinosaurs, and the water-based reptiles flopping awkwardly on the pavements- except for the lucky one who landed in the lake in Central Park- were plesiosaurs, mostly, although one looked more like a mosasaur. Steve had studied animals for his art.) "Hey," Clint said, "If it's for Loki, I'm all for it! He can hand-feed it. Or whatever."

"Chatter!" Steve yelled. It was bad enough they didn't have the Hulk with them, without them bickering among themselves. They finished off the last of the dinosaurs and allied reptiles and went back to the Tower to clean up, but within a few hours Fury had them back out trying to head off a threatened strike by the city sanitation workers, who had got fed up, and Steve really couldn't blame them. It wasn't bad enough that they had huge carcasses blocking the roads, but museums all around the country were screaming at them to preserve the bodies intact, or at the very least number the parts for reassembly. As one of the workers told Steve, "If I'd wanted to be a kosher butcher, I'd have trained for it!"

The back and forth negotiations would have gone on much longer, but Fury had a stroke of genius and set up the meeting in a tent right beside a lightning-flayed allosaurus, and the aroma made people aware of the urgency of the situation. By nightfall a compromise was worked out where the military, and SHIELD, would provide heavy-lifting helicopters for the largest carcasses, the museums would provide experts who would mark the corpses they wanted, and the sanitation workers would haul the smaller bodies to a pet food factory that somehow Stark Industries just happened to own. Dino-knibbles was already being trademarked.

Somewhere along the way, Iron Man disappeared. Steve was pretty sure he'd find him in the lab, but he wasn't too happy to discover the glass door locked against him when he returned to the Tower. "Tony," he said through the intercom, "it's late."

"Uh huh," Tony said without looking up from something green bubbling through a mass of tubes. "Yeah."

"You need your rest."

"Right, sure. Be there in a minute." Tony didn't look up.

Steve leaned his head against the glass. "Tony. Thor took a dinosaur back to Asgard."

"That's nice."

"Clint and Natasha got pulled in for debriefing with Fury."

"Yup."

"Pepper is handling contracts for turning Tyrannosaurs into tabby food."

Tony grinned a little, but still didn't look up. "And your point is?"

"I... I don't know. Look, just... get some sleep. We've had dinosaurs today. Who knows what we'll have tomorrow."

Tony shrugged. "Good night, Steve."

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

"I could lie to you, if you like, and say 'yes'. "

"Tony."

Tony glanced at Steve. "Ok, it's Bruce, you know? You can't expect me to go to sleep when he's in trouble. He's... like the brother I never had."

Steve couldn't help thinking of Bucky. "All right. But try not to blow yourself up, ok?"

"Sure, sure." Tony turned back to whatever it was, and Steve left him to it.

The next day, a swarm of some things that Steve had never studied and had no name for came out of the sewers, apparently attracted by dinosaur giblets. They looked like a mishmash of bat, rat, and alligator and were mainly interested in dead meat, not live people. Since they also weren't large enough to smash buildings, Steve felt that he could handle the situation without calling for Iron Man. He had a sneaking suspicion Tony wouldn't come, and an important part of leadership is not giving orders you know will be disobeyed. Thor had returned from Asgard, and Clint and Natasha were as lethal as ever, so really, Iron Man would be overkill.

It took most of the day to sort the critters out, and when they returned home, everyone was tired enough to shower, scrounge a quick meal, and then sleep. Steve had checked the security monitor at intervals, and always found the Hulk still in the room. The Hulk was now amusing himself by pressing the powdered rubble into new shapes, like a child making mud pies. Steve went to sleep, trusting that the alarm would sound if there were any problems.

When the alarm went off, Steve came straight out of a dream to find himself reaching for his shield. He checked the security monitor, which he'd left on. The door to the Hulk room was open.

And Tony was there, walking towards the Hulk with that same, 'I'm not here', expression on his face that he wore when sleepwalking. He was fully dressed, in the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time Steve saw him, but there was the imprint of a keyboard across his cheek, testifying to what had happened when Tony Stark's ego had proven unable to resist the body's demand for rest.

"Holy Mother of God, have mercy," Steve said, and it wasn't blasphemy, it was an honest prayer. The Hulk was staring at Tony. Steve didn't wait to see what would happen next. He ran for the emergency stairs that only opened to Avengers' thumbprints. He didn't have time to wait for the elevator.

He wasn't sure how they managed it, but Clint and Natasha beat him there. Thor arrived a few seconds later, Mjolnir in his hand. He was otherwise naked, Steve noted absently, as most of his attention was taken up by the tableau in front of him. The Hulk was still sitting on the floor and his hands were wrapped around a lump that was roughly shaped like a baby. His brows were lowered and he looked confused. "Tony?" the Hulk rumbled.

Tony said, "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Very green." He stroked the Hulk's arm. "Warm."

Steve heard the elevator doors open behind him, but he didn't turn to look. Tony was climbing into the Hulk's lap and curling up against his chest while the Hulk looked down at him.

"Dear God," he heard Pepper say.

"Don't," Steve said. "Don't move." He put out his arm and felt her grab onto him and hold on tight, trembling.

The Hulk tilted his head to one side. "Tony sick?" he asked. He dropped his doll and reached up to gently touch the arc reactor, on display in the cut-out shirt Tony often wore for shopwork, for ease of using himself as a battery. "Light is strong."

Tony said, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star."

Steve said quickly, "He's asleep. Ask Bruce, he knows."

The Hulk looked at Steve. "Huh. Tony is funny. Bruce laughs at him. Bruce likes him."

"We all like Tony," Pepper said. Her voice showed no signs of nervousness even though her fingers were ice cold on Steve's arm.

"Yes," the Hulk said after a moment. He stroked Tony's hair with one massive finger. "Tony is good."

"Tony likes Bruce," Natasha said. "He won't let anything happen to him."

The Hulk considered that. "Maybe. But Tony not always here. Hulk always here to protect Bruce. Always."

"Orange sherbet," Tony muttered into the Hulk's chest. "While crossing the Delaware. Shoeless. Both ways through the snow. And uphill."

"Bruce has many friends," Thor said. He put Mjolnir down. "We will all fight for him, against anyone who would harm our brother."

The Hulk showed his teeth. "Hulk strongest. Hulk protect best."

"I know, keeping him wrapped up inside you makes him safe," Clint said, "but Bruce wants to do things. He wants to help people."

"People hurt Bruce," the Hulk said. "Stupid people." He was still petting Tony's hair. "People afraid of Hulk. Tony not afraid of Hulk. Why?"

"Because Tony knows you're good," Steve said. He put down his shield and walked into the room. "I'm not afraid of you. None of us are afraid of you. We're your friends." He sat down next to the Hulk. "We're Bruce's friends."

"Huh. Bruce thinks so. Bruce is not always right."

Tony stood up on the Hulk's leg and kissed him on the cheek. "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

The Hulk laughed. "Tickles." He patted Tony on the back. "Be good to Bruce?" he asked Steve, and then looked at the others for confirmation. Apparently he liked what he saw, because the Hulk yawned and lay down, pulling Tony with him. He closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and began shrinking back to Bruce.

"Approximately eleven meters per second," Bruce said when everyone was back in the living room relaxing with coffee and tea because there was really no point in going back to sleep.

"What?" Tony asked. He still had dark bags under his eyes, and had a tendency to blink owlishly, but at least he was awake. He was half leaning into Pepper on the couch. Thor was helping himself to some fruit from the snack refrigerator that Tony had installed after it became apparent that normal meals weren't enough for Asgardians, giant rage monsters, or super soldiers. Not everyone was staring at Thor's ass. Just most of them. Natasha was making no pretense of looking anywhere else.

"You asked the Hulk for the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow."

"The classics, they never go out of style." Tony grinned at Bruce. "Now that we're all here, I only have one question about the whole sleepwalking thing that's been bothering me."

"Only one?" Pepper asked.

"Yeah, look, I went to college. I know how it works. Why didn't I ever wake up with a penis drawn on my face?"

"Damn, I knew I was forgetting something," Clint said. "Hey, Steve, do you still have those markers?"

"Sure!" Steve got up.

"Hey!" Tony protested, "I'm awake!"

"You are now." Steve left the room, whistling. Maybe Tony needed a little incentive to look after himself. And not make a dick of himself. At least not all the time.