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Tony was tired. His night has been relatively okay, no nightmares of the sort, but he was tired.
It wasn't because he didn't sleep, on the contrary, he was more prone to sleep recently, simply because he couldn't stay awake for too long. But the familiar acidic sensation or a bad sleep was there, coupled with a dull ache in his neck and ribs, and a fogginess to his mind that he couldn't shake away with coffee, like he usually did.
He looked in front of him. Sitting in a slightly slouched fashion, hair tousled and going in all directions, a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth but no sign of dark shadows under his eyes, was Stephen Strange, a cup of tea between his hands, looking all for the world like a satisfied cat while he was warming his hands with the hot beverage.
All of this was because of him, the sleep, both in profusion but of rare quality, and the lack of coffee to explain it.
The reason was simple. Tony had a caffeine addiction. He knew it. Pepper knew it. Rhodey knew it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. knew it, he'd designed her coffee protocols himself many years ago, in the eventually that she would ever be activated, and she was executing them perfectly.
That stopped when Stephen came in.
The history of how they got together was not one to share, for depending on who you asked, it would be a very different tale, sometimes including incongrue visits and stern talks which were best left forgotten, a certain number of lingering stares, coy looks, double-meaning words and sleepless nights complaining to their respective friends and co-workers, sometimes with only insomnia as a friend.
No one wanted to relive that, even in just words.
But Stephen was here, and it changed everything.
You see the thing with caffeine was that it's a double-edge sword. If like Tony you had the means to procure yourself with quality beans to back up your envies, then it was all fine and dandy and you could pretend that you were okay and ignore the real problems lurking behind the reason of said addiction, other than a treacherous biology.
That was the case, until Stephen decided that it wasn't, and tried to make it stop.
Tony's refusal had, to say the least, consequences. One of which was affecting him now, not only in the form of a case of bad sleep, but also in the way of his stiff neck muscles and sore ribs.
All because of Stephen.
Said man regarded him with content when he saw that Tony was drinking the multifruit juice that the doctor himself had carefully prepared for its many beneficial properties, in the hopes that Tony would come to his senses and realize that there were better ways to wake up than with coffee.
And as for sleepless nights? What sleepless nights, Stephen had asked, looking at him with intent just a few days ago.
Tony had gone to bed quickly after that, fearing what his boyfriend would do to his not-so-hidden coffee machine otherwise.
Yesterday's new tactic had included putting coffee beans in his pillow and part of the mattress, which had crunched under him and poked at his ribs all night, forbidding him from having a fulfilling sleep or even a nice rest. He had stared at Stephen in horror, realizing that they were from his last secret stash, Stephen having probably smelled them on him when he had come to the workshop earlier to tell him to sleep. Trying to open the pillow or mattress to get them out hadn't worked, nor had going on the couch or taking another pillow, for Stephen had been prepared for all eventualities.
Tony was trying. Really. But there was no winning against Stephen, only resisting.
He put the now empty glass down with a cling, and stared directly at Stephen, his vision and mind already a bit clearer. The sorcerer was looking at him with a knowing look, his smirk hidden behind the pretense of sipping his own drink, before he put it down to rest his hands. No matter how beneficial fruit drinks could be to both his health and his mind, Tony wouldn't give up his beloved coffee so easily, and he didn't look away from the smiling sorcerer for the rest of the morning, daring him to keep trying to coax (force) him into stopping, knowing full well that it was up to the first who would give up.
Tony loved his boyfriend, but coffee was too important. Sleep be damned, he wanted his insomnia back.