It's probably the endorphins from sex, and from being cuddled and petted, coupled with general exhaustion, but Steve feels quiet and peaceful and a little floaty. It lasts for a couple hours, even after the channels have been shuffled through and they've watched part of one of the Thin Man movies, and Steve has commented that he had a crush on Myrna Loy when he was in his teens.

That confession is met with a faint snore rather than a verbal response, and for some stupid reason that makes him feel warm all over. It's strange, it really is; they both have strange lives, and yet for just a few minutes Steve feels like he is in some way home.

Domesticity can't last, not in a fancy hotel, not while they still have a major mission to pull off, but once he realizes Tony's asleep, Steve turn the volume down low and settles where he is to enjoy reality instead of the silver screen. He sleeps, too, and unlike Tony he sleeps well. Not long, but deep, and he finds his head much clearer when he wakes a few hours later.

The frantic adrenaline rush has eased, though it's not completely gone. The euphoria has calmed to something manageable, and Steve finds himself thinking things that are melancholy but not desperate. A tremendous improvement. When Tony stirs and starts, Steve is still on the bed, but he has a pad of hotel stationary in his lap and a few full sheets of it set aside on the nightstand. He's been writing letters, to Bucky, to Natasha, to Sam, with the intention of giving them to himself to pass along.

Tony gets his immediate attention, though, and he sets the pen and paper aside. "...hey. You okay?"

He puts a gentle hand on the man's knee. "We're still safe."

He understands nightmares. He's had a few, himself.