Tilting his head to the side, Tony glances over Bruce’s shoulder to the bed. “Good thing that’s current-you sized, huh? I hope that body doesn’t miss sleeping in a skull. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Not that Tony will sleep. He’s gotten a dozen hours in the last three days and that should hold him over pretty nicely for another day or so.

There’s a scattering of parts just about everywhere. He can’t sleep in messy places. Not even the hole in the ground if Afghanistan could be messy. Every rock and pile of gravel had a place, after all.

“I’ll get to fixing my stuff and you take both sides of the bed,” he says, because although he had liked very much to nap next to Bruce, he doesn’t want to get squished if he rolls over.