Anthony Edward Stark

"I'm just trying to keep up with you." He tips his head into the touch until it's gone, and when it is, he wants it back. It has been so long that he's had the kind of intimate contact that most humans need to thrive; he's going to need some time to catch up.

Instead he turns over and stretches out with a sigh that's more for the lingering effects of the drugs than anything else. As fraught as things will be back on Earth, he wants nothing more than to be home, whatever that nebulously defined home may be.

"Good-night."

And if nothing else can be said for sleep after an alien drug binge, it's deep. He barely moves during the hours until sunrise, dreams only of that one incredibly awkward time in gym class when he got a boner over one of the hottest girls in school, and wakes slowly and without wondering where he is. He's on Sakaar, and he's in bed with Tony.

Actually, he'd better check that.

Lump under the blankets? Check. Dark hair? Check. Grumpy morning Iron Man out of his shell?

He's ready to check that off as well, leaning over Tony to kiss his temple before heading off to the bathroom, when something registers as not quite right and it's more than a bit of rejuventated skin from a pink pollen facial.