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Tony is warm. He is surrounded by warmth, and he desn’t know why. He shuffles back slightly in bed, into the whatever it is warming him up. The heat seems most concentrated there. As his back hits a broad, hairy chest, he remembers. Bruce. He’d been awake for far too long, unable, as always to shut off his mind. Pepper tells him off, but what she doesn’t understand is that he simply doesn’t function the way she does. As she thinks in a linear way, one thought after another, sometimes leading to something new, his is constantly rushing, thoughts tumbling around in his brain, never giving him peace, never letting him get a moments rest. It is why he works so hard, if he can just get enough of those thoughts onto paper, into reality, just get that next invention started, then the thoughts slow enough for him to rest. It’s been happening less and less lately. Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D, there is always another villain, another battle, another necessary upgrade to the suit, another invention that they cannot win without.
He sighs, and turnes in Bruce’s loose embrace to study the man’s features, relaxed in a way he rarely is waking. As Tony reaches up to slowly stroke Bruce’s hair, he realises that not only has Bruce changed his life for the better, ensuring he gets adequate sleep, decent food, and less of the coffee, he’d also lost that skittish air. He seemed to have settled down slightly, and become more comfortable in the tower. Tony no longer felt like he was going to wake up one day to find Bruce and all his things missing. Tony realises that it has in fact been several months since that fateful night Bruce found him in the kitchen, desperately trying to suck down enough coffee to keep him conscious long enough to complete his latest upgrade. Bruce had taken the coffee, and taken his hand. Tony had stumbled, and fallen against Bruce’s body, nose resting against the other man’s collarbone. He’d smelled of spices, and faintly of engine oil, a combination Tony felt he would be the only one to appreciate.
He’d been worried when Bruce took him to bed, afraid that his insomnia would annoy the other man, or that Bruce would try to diagnose him. It had shocked and relieved him to find that lying in the other’s embrace had slowed the thoughts racing through his head. Not stopped. They never stopped, even in his deepest sleep he still dreamed of things he should be doing. But with Bruce’s arms around him, breathing in that scent, his mind had drifted, and he’d slept, better than he had in a long time.
He blinks when he suddenly realises that Bruce is awake, looking sleepily up at him, and smiling. “Hi,” he says softly, feeling a little uncertain with the scrutiny. Bruce lets out a little chuckle, and reaches up to muss Tony’s (already wild) hair. “Hi yourself,” he murmurs, and before he knows what he’s doing, Tony kisses him. It’s a simple touch of the lips, nothing more, but his somewhat calm mind spins into overdrive. What is he doing, why did he do that, how is Bruce going to react, what will happen next, why isn’t Bruce doing anything? All these thoughts run through his mind in a nano second, in the time it takes for his eyes to widen, and for him to pull back. He stares at Bruce with wild, dark eyes, not willing to even move until he sees which way the other man is going to react. Bruce lifts a hand to touch his lips with a finger, and Tony holds his breath. So far, Bruce doesn’t seem disgusted, and that is a big plus in Tony’s book. Bruce’s eyes dart up to lock on Tony’s, before his hand comes up and grips the hair he had just tousled a moment ago. Tony doesn’t even have a moment to panic, before he is drawn down, and Bruce is kissing him.
The sounds of lips meeting and parting, as well as the sound of skin brushing skin are all that fill the room for a few moments, until a moan fills the air, and they part to the sounds of slightly accelerated breathing. Bruce’s hand is still in Tony’s hair, no longer gripping, but sliding the strands through his fingers. Tony’s face is pink, it is he who moaned, unable to keep quiet in the face of all the emotions he has just realised he had, and the potential to have them reciprocated. He licks his lips, feeling them slightly swollen from their kiss, and blushes more as he sees Bruce’s eyes follow the motion of his tongue. “So…” he clears his throat and tries again. “So… should I apologise?” Bruce laughs. “Because you started it? Only if you want me to apologise for finishing it,” his fingers leave Tony’s hair then, trail around to cup his chin. “Are you regretting that, Tony?”
“No!” Tony’s face, which had begun to return to its normal colour, flushes red again at his unnecessarily vehement exclamation. “No,” he repeats more softly. “I’m not regretting it at all. It’s just, well that was really sudden, and although I liked it, and I think you liked it too, I didn’t really think it through, and maybe you wouldn’t appreciate being attacked like that, not that I think it hurt, but any touch you don’t want is an attack really and-“ Bruce’s fingers stop his word flow by pressing gently against his lips. “It’s not an attack, Tony,” he says softly. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s something I’ve been wanting for a while now. I just didn’t think it would be something you would want too.” The look of sadness on Bruce’s face melts Tony’s heart, and he takes the slender wrist in his hand, moving Bruce’s fingers so he can press a kiss to each one. Bruce makes a small sound in the back of his throat, which Tony takes as encouragement to kiss him again, and again.