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Day 17: Spooning
They didn’t usually spoon. It’s not that either of them had anything against the activity - they both liked a nice, comfortable cuddle after sex or a rough battle, but spooning had never really been a thing for them. When Steve was big-spoon, Tony would not shut up about how he couldn’t see Steve’s face and body and how Steve’s body was just too warm, and how he’s never been the kind to need the sense of safety this kind of contact created. That was a nice lie, Steve always thought, because Tony all but pressed back into him like he might as well be welded there; he toyed with Steve’s fingers and ghosted kisses over his forearms and Steve would always get a sudden urge to protect the guy from the world. They didn’t do this often mainly because of that, because Tony had picked up on Steve’s tendency to become reckless in his attempts to keep Tony safe after these times. It was not something to discuss or try to clear out of the way, so they didn’t mention it and rarely tried to initiate anything of the kind, opting mainly for front-to-front cuddles.
But there were times Tony would be big spoon. Rare as the other kind, and usually initiated by the genius himself in the dead of night. Steve theorized that these occurrences happened as direct response to the nightmares he knew Tony had, but he never asked, and Tony never said anything. When warm, muscled arms reached for him at night, Steve kept to his sleeping act. He let Tony line himself against his back, enjoying the feel of his pectorals, with the round arc in the middle, pressing against his shoulder-blades and center of the back, the feel of his ass cupped between thighs and abdomen, the light, hot puffs of air at his nape. He would listen to Tony’s breath evening out, his heart-rate coming down to a normal pace, and it would be worth it. The knowledge that his mere presence there could put Tony’s mind at ease was enough compensation for the rarity of the occasion.