[I kinda pictured them in college in this imagine.]

Finals. One of the worlds that automatically make you cringe at the thought of hunching over numerous books for hours on end, studying and taking notes and getting no sleep.

It's that time of year again, and for being such a genius, Tony isn't any help. At all. His method of studying is looking at the thing for five minutes, grows bored with it, moves on to a different subject, then back to the previous one.

"I don't get it," You whine, crumpling up a paper and tossing it at Steve's head. He looks up briefly, eyes glazed over from staying up too late. "Help me?"

He yawns, slides off his bed, nearly stepping on Clint along the way, and plops down beside you. "If I answer this can I fall asleep like this?"

You shrug, placing the math book on the coffee table in front of you and point to an equation. "How is this possible?"

Steve gets halfway through the answering when his head lulls forward and the pencil falls out of his hands. A small snore comes from his lips as he leans against you, his hair tickling your nose as you push on him.

"Steve, you're heavy!"

"Shuddup," Comes a pitiful moan from somewhere behind the couch, sounding like Natasha with a book over her face.

"C'mon, big guy," You poke him hard in the ribs and he lurches awake, blinking as he looks around.

"What year is it?"

"Okay," You sigh, grabbing his forearm and tugging him with great effort to his feet. "Let's go to bed, yeah? Careful- careful, you're about to step on Clint's-"

A pained howl shoots through the room, and you quickly lead Steve to his bedroom.