It may have been a couple of weeks, but Tony was sure he would have remembered Wanda being asleep while he slipped through the time machine. It hadn't involved nearly so much forethought. He grunted in acknowledgement at the sound of his name, quickly closing his hand around the gem and dropping it heavily to the ground where he held himself upright before Wanda got too close, glancing around in the warm light she shed to try to get a read on how long he had been gone. It was a parallel timeline, he thought. There wasn't any reason to assume it wouldn't have carried on being parallel instead of stopping to wait for him. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
When his curious examination finally landed on Wanda, she had asked him a question and already seemed pretty irritated, but Tony wasn't about to make the call and pinpoint what exactly he had done to deserve that. He'd just been to a particularly rough sleepaway camp to thoroughly beat that impulse straight out of him. He just made another wordless noise, putting off getting into what might have been right or wrong with him (with a vague gesture that might have meant 'hit my head', which she could have guessed, or 'fell down some stairs' which looked closer to the truth), to instead mutter, "Wanda, sssh," as he reached out (and had to stretch-- he must have done something aggressively irritating) to touch her ankle and bring her (or him, he could do the work) closer to kiss her knee with an appreciative affection before resting his head there. He was happy to be here, he was happy to see her, he was apologizing, they could work it out later. There was work to be done, but, "Sssh," he didn't mean to wake her.