AN: New Chapter! Yay! Not much of an author's note this time around. The songs used are "3055 by Olafur Arnalds" and "Rain by Blackmill"(the short version). I don't own either of these. Also warning for Tony's mouth and depictions of violence. Thank you all so much for reviews and I hope you like this one. Read and Review!


Tony slept that night, better than he had in a long time and, when he woke up the next morning, he could barely feel the aches and pains from the day before. And then he remembered why. Brad had dosed him strongly with Advil the night before, because Tony had barely been able to stand up off the couch when he went to shower.

For now, content that he was okay to move around, he stood up and grabbed clean clothes from the dresser and made for the shower. Today was the day that Thor would return to Asgard with Loki, so he made sure to grab a suit. When he was done and dressed, he pulled on a pair of socks and had Jarvis remove the curtains from the window. It still wasn't morning yet, and the sky was only just turning gray. If he kept this up, everyone might think he actually had a normal schedule.

Sighing, he made his way to the elevator and headed down to the main floor, almost certain that he'd be the only one awake. Jarvis was feeding him headlines and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, socked feet silent as he shuffled about the carpeted elevator box. When it hit the main floor, he stepped out, head down as he mumbled to himself some design and the elements he would need for it to work.

He noticed there was a soft shuffling and some whispered words from the kitchen but, assuming it to be either Clint or Natasha getting food, he ignored it. He didn't look up until he heard the familiar "wow wow wow"of Inari greeting him and asking for food. He looked up, customary response on the tip of his tongue. And froze.

His kitchen was full of people.

"Jesus!" He hissed in surprised response and everyone burst into laughter. In the massive open area of the kitchen and dining room were, with little doubt, almost fifty people, all of them grinning brightly. Standing in the center were Pepper, Brad and Anatassia, the last obviously fresh off of a shift at one of the hospitals and Brad obviously ready to head to one. Tony recognized chefs, medics, teachers and assassins he'd worked with for years.

"What are you all doing here?" He asked, surprise evident in his voice. Alexander emerged from the crowd and wrapped his old student in an embrace, one which Tony readily returned.

"Well, of course we saw everything on the news, and we knew that the city was going to need volunteers and the lovely Virginia here volunteered to bring a group of us out here and put us up during the cleanup and reconstruction. There's more coming, this is just all we could get on the first StarkJet out. Ms. Potts even offered to cover any wages we lost at our other jobs."

Tony widened his eyes and looked at Pepper, who just smiled at Tony softly and handed him his first cup of coffee, which he obviously needed to get going. Once his cup was in hand he reached in the refrigerator and pulled out one of the numerous containers of cubed raw meat and cooked rice. He conversed with the others in the room, pleased to find they had already ordered breakfast from a deli a ways away and that Happy and a few of the others had gone in a van to pick it up.

He grabbed a small skillet from where they hung over the stove and dished half of the contents of the container into the warmed pan. The rest went back and Tony grabbed a familiar steel dish from the cabinets. When the meat was half-way cooked, he placed it in the dish and then on the ground, which earned him a nuzzle from Inari, who'd been in Pepper's arms. Just as he was pouring his second cup of coffee there was a commotion from the entryway and Tony went out with a few others to pull in the bags and boxes.

Just like they used to in the den, everyone found a spot somewhere on the floor or furniture and the food and coffee made rounds to everyone (luckily, someone had seen fit to buy plastic silverware and paper plates) until everyone had dished their fill. They sat around for awhile, talking and laughing like it was old times, and Tony smiled more than he had in awhile.


Steve Rogers prided himself on keeping a tight schedule, but after the invasion, he figured he was entitled to a few mornings of sleeping in. It felt weird, sleeping in Tony's massive, futuristic tower and, truth be told, he was surprised that the other man had offered him a room after their confrontation on the Helicarrier.

Tony was much like his father in that most of the time, you wanted to strangle, slap or yell at him and the rest of the time, you just wanted to laugh at his jokes, ruffle his hair or hug him. It made being around him a pain and Steve wasn't looking forward to continued coexistence with the other man if he was constantly acting like a jerk.

And so, it was a surprise to the Captain when he left his room and headed for the kitchen at eight in the morning that day to find the entryway filled with the rest of team, who were peering into the area of the kitchen/dining room with rapt expressions. Before Steve could ask what was going on, Clint was hushing him and motioning him to look over his shoulders. And Steve gaped.

The area was absolutely full of people, every one of which was occupied with something to drink, empty food plates stacked neatly in a box and shoved off to the side near the broom closet. Steve could differentiate coffee, tea, juice and milk from the pots left upon the stove, the massive industrial coffee maker and the empty jugs.

They were sitting on the floors, chairs, counters and a few of them were even sitting atop the fridge and table. Tony was sitting on the island with Pepper, a woman with red hair and man with sharp blue eyes, something white and fluffy cradled in his lap and blushing a new shade of red not even Steve's artist eyes could name.

The occupants of the kitchen were listening raptly to a woman who was standing by the entry to the livingroom, gesturing with her hands and speaking, her voice showing the strain of holding back laughter.

"S-so he comes out of the locker room, right and he looks like just the kind of target our perp was looking for. He'd cut his hair like that Matt Damon dude, the one in the Bourne movies, and he's wearing a french maid outfit and these tabby cat ears and tail. The guys are laughing Tony's just grinning a storm and he strikes this pose and asks "Does this skirt make me look fat?" and one of the rookies tells him to go and ask the captain. So what does he do? Turns around on his heel, and I don't even know how he managed such a move in the pumps we gave him and he marches right up to the captain, turns around and flips up his skirt and goes: "Captain, dearest, do these panties make my ass look fat?"."

The room burst into raucous laughter and Tony tried to hide his face in his hands, but the man he was leaning against was laughing so hard he shook Tony's body. "Damnit Shasha you promised never to tell that story again!" He wailed, which started another round of laughter from everyone else.

"Aww, but kitten, we love you. And telling embarrassing stories is how we show you we love you." The woman with red hair on the island cooed and Tony blushed harder.

"Am I ever going to live that name down, 'Tassa? It's been months!" He asked, a faux-whine leeching into his voice. The woman smiled brightly.

"Not unless those pictures suddenly disappear, 'Nio. And they're not going anywhere anytime soon." Tony rolled his eyes and then looked over at the entryway where they were all standing, looking suitably unimpressed. "How long are you all going to stand there like a bunch of a morons before you come in?" He asked, fingers dancing along the spine of the creature in his lap.

Natasha was the first one in and she stopped in front of Tony. There was a silent moment where they stared at each other before Tony nodded, once, sharply, and then Natasha reached out and ran a delicate hand between the creature's ears. Said creature seemed to awaken at the new touch, ice blue eyes staring at the agent before closing again.

Apparently not the only one wondering what that had been about, but seeing it was not their place to ask, the others filed in and appropriated beverages for themselves and the original occupants of the room shuffled about to make room for them. Once everyone was settled, Steve looked around and then something became glaringly obvious to even him.

Every single person in the room was hovering around Tony, like he was a linchpin and they would all scatter to the wind if he disappeared. Even just the three on the island with the genius were proof of this. The man was holding Tony, one arm gently wrapped around the inventor's stomach while Pepper and the red-headed woman sat like sentinels next to them, every line of their bodies screaming protectiveness. Others in the room were constantly looking over that way, as if to make sure that he was still there. Steve knew that the images of IronMan flying the nuke into space had somehow made their way onto the internet and the news and it was obvious these were friends of Tony's and that they were all close with each other. It must have been terrifying for them to see those images.

Steve was pulled out of his reverie when Pepper whistled sharply and the room fell silent, everyone turning to stare at her. "Time to talk business, children. Pay attention." There was some playful whining from the group as they turned to the island to hear what she had to say.

"Tomorrow begins the official cleanup of Manhattan and you guys and everyone who comes on the second plane will be under StarkIndustries' "employment and protection" while you're here. Today, we're having tags made up that I expect you all to wear while you're out and working incase there's an accident. I don't care if you're doing first aid, feeding people or part of the cleanup crew. We've got you three to a room on the residence floors once everyone shows up and, I know it's a little crowded, but it's the best we could do on such short notice until the damages are repaired."

There was some soft murmuring from the group, the general consensus of that they didn't mind and then Pepper was speaking again. "The pool is on basement four, the ballroom and shooting gallery are on basement three and the gyms on the basement levels above those. The cards I gave you when you arrived this morning will allow you onto those levels only. Each residence floor has a kitchen with the basics so feel free to add your own items as you see fit. And I hope you enjoy your stay here."


Two weeks after the Battle for Manhattan, Nick Fury was sitting in his office, looking at the displays around him. Only a few days ago they'd been covered with news clippings and broadcasts and internet entries asking if the Avengers were a good thing or not. Now they were covered with footage from news interviews, internet postings and a single news clipping, all of Tony Stark and IronMan.

He'd been worried that the public would turn on the men and woman who'd saved their lives, but now the public seemed to be supporting them instead. And it was mainly because of Tony Stark. Romanov and Barton had taken a vacation, Rogers was out touring the country, Banner was back in India wrapping up his affairs and Thor was back on Asgard, leaving only IronMan as an Avenger on cleanup duty.

Fury had to give it to the genius. StarkIndustries had made an impressive volunteer staff showing, with ten medics to help with the Red Cross, multiple chefs to feed the work crews and a staggering number of cleanup crew members. IronMan was seen almost constantly, lifting heavy chunks of debris and alien bodies and, when all those were gone, Tony himself made daily appearances as a member of clean up crews, dressed for work and going for hours on end with the rest of them. On the monitor was proof of that.

A picture of IronMan, normally shiny paint job smudged with ash and goo, supporting a kitten in the palm of his hands and gently handing it off to a Red Cross veterinarian.

Video footage, probably shot from a parent or sibling's phone, of Tony and a few other Stark volunteers acting out a silly play for injured children, their laughter clear and bright as Tony playfully over-acted his death as a terrible monster at the hands of the valiant prince.

Tony, standing in a food service line, hair-net and apron adorned, dishing out food to the hungry workers, smiling and joking with them as they filed through.

The last, Fury's secret favorite, was a color picture from a newspaper headline. Two dozen men and women, streaked with mud, soaking wet and standing in the rain, all smiling brightly, the caption beneath declaring "A work team playing a game of football instigated by none other than Tony Stark after a hard day's work."It had taken Fury a minute to find Stark among the filthy group, but he had been at the end of the row, face obscured by a splatter of mud, teeth brilliant white against the mess on his face.

The public was loving Tony Stark. His dedication to restoring the city, his drive to get his hands dirty with the rest of the workers. He was their man, their poster boy in the aftermath of the invasion. And Tony was taking it with calm aplomb that was thought unknown to the man before. Maybe Stark was a better fit for the team of superheroes than originally thought.


After the first two months a majority of the Order members who'd shown up to help with the cleanup went home. Those who were trained in construction, architecture, engineering or any of the other professions that would be needed to rebuild, stayed around.

And slowly, the Avengers started to show back up at the Tower. Tony had made sure to let them know about the "open door" policy before they left. The first back was Bruce, carrying one lone bag and looking sheepish. Tony grinned brightly and invited him in with his usual enthusiasm. Bruce ended up on the floor below Tony's.

Next came Thor, a little less vibrant than he'd been before, but happy to be reunited with "Friend Tony!" nonetheless. With him came his girlfriend, Jane, and her assistant, Darcy. Tony learned quickly that, while Darcy didn't look like it, she was dangerous.

Next came Clint and Natasha. They went on the floors below Bruce, but above an empty floor and Thor. Lastly came Steve, who looked even more sheepish than Bruce had. Tony, though he was still harbouring a dislike for the Captain after never having resolved the conflict between them on the Helicarrier, had set him up on the floor above Thor but below the assassins.

Slowly, but surely, they began to learn to coexist. Thor ate a ton of poptarts by himself and, the nights he did cook it was mostly bread meat with cheese. Tony's kind of meal really, but he didn't want to be roasting an entire pig in his communal kitchen every other day.

Natasha drank almost as much coffee as he did, but Clint and Bruce both preferred tea, and had a special liking for the Catmint-chamomile blend Tony kept around for nights he couldn't sleep, even after long stints in the workshop.

Though Steve and Tony couldn't stand each other, in the field, IronMan and Captain America got along swimmingly. The public still adored Tony for his efforts with the cleanup, but were wary at best of the others, especially considering they'd left after the invasion. There weren't a lot of fights right away between the Avengers and the bad guys and for that, they were grateful.


Steve and Tony's last fight was also their worst. Tony couldn't remember what had started it, but it had ended with Tony taking a wooden practice bar in the chest on accident and Steve with some rather impressive, while they were there, bruises. Clint held him while Thor held Steve and Clint let out a shocked "Fuck Stark, you're stronger than you look!"when Tony twisted in his grasp, an actual snarl bubbling in his throat.

Tony tried twisting out again, but Clint held on like a boa constrictor and finally he fell limp, but the rage was still boiling close to the surface, and Clint didn't dare to let the genius go until Steve had been pulled from the room.

"What's going on here?" A voice said from the door and Clint looked over to the door where Natasha was standing with Brad, who looked fresh off a short-shift, still wearing blue scrubs. He breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what mood the genius seemed to be in, Brad and Anatassia always seemed to be able to pull him out of it. Or distract him.

"Stark and Rogers went at it again. I'm almost afraid to let him go, in case he goes flying after Rogers." Clint said, and he was only joking a little. He could feel the bunched muscles in Tony, rage keeping him tense. Brad made a noise in his chest, shucked his shirt and then went over to the supply cabinets along one of the walls. Clint was surprised by what he pulled out.

A wooden shield, similar to the ones he'd seen in movies about ancient Greece and Rome, long and narrow, almost completely designed to cover a body protectively. He walked over to where the wooden practice bar had fallen and used one foot to kick it up in the air. Clint released Tony and watched the inventor catch it out of the air and swing immediately for the shield.

Brad didn't give an inch and instead pushed back, taunting Tony and then Clint realized what he was seeing. Brad was doing this both let Tony vent and tire him out. In its own way, it was like what Clint did when he spent hours at the range, shooting arrows until his fingers stung and his arm was stiff. Natasha had left the room already, leaving Clint the only Avenger left, so he went and sat in corner, watching the fight.

Neither man gave any quarter and both seemed very strong. Brad taunted Tony mercilessly, and Tony, too angry to realize none of the barbs had too much sting, put his all into trying to knock Brad down with the polearm. The moves looked eerily familiar and Clint felt a small part of his brain screaming at him to run, but he chalked it up to his subconscious remembering a previous assignment. He'd fought some strange people before.

They fought for almost an hour and Clint would be unashamed to admit that he was impressed by Tony's stamina. For all the crap people gave him for being unfit, it was all obviously a lie.

When it ended, it ended in spectacular fashion. Tony was tired, it was obvious, and his chest was troubling him where he'd been hit earlier. The man readjusted the grip he had on the polearm, rearranged his feet and struck. One sweep had the shield out of Brad's hands, a jab to the stomach had him staggering and a final sweep to his knees had him on his back and Tony was over him in a second, the end of the polearm at Brad's throat, a raspy growl leaking from between clenched teeth.

Clint felt a jolt when he saw the move, but couldn't quite remember why. Ignoring the feeling lurking at the back of his mind, he rose to his feet and watched. Tony had helped Brad back up and was now peeling off the sweat-slicked shirt off of his back, revealing a mottled black and blue bruise forming on his right side.

Realizing he wasn't needed anymore, Clint left the room, a thought niggling at the back of his mind. It wouldn't be until later that night, when he was in bed, that he remembered where he'd seen those moves before. He shot up, sheets pooling about his waist, a cold sweat broken out across his skin and he hissed the horrifying answer aloud to himself.

"The Fox."


Tony knew right away when Clint connected Tony with his other identity. It was kind of hard not to. Clint began avoiding him constantly. He would flinch at the slightest move, if Tony reached for even a harmless household object, he would tense, as if to run away. And if Tony surprised him by accident? He was up in a vent and gone before Tony could even get a word out.

As a member of SHIELD, Clint was bound to silence, and wouldn't be able to tell anyone about Tony's past activities, but if he kept up like he was, the rest of team were bound to figure out something was wrong between the two and start asking pointed questions.

Tony only gave Clint a few days to get a hold of himself and, when he didn't, devised a simple plan. He got his mask case out of the room where he kept all of his old things, the oak wood polished to a shine, and brought it down with him to lab. After working a few hours on the design for Clint's new arrows, he had Jarvis call the archer down.


When Jarvis called for Clint to go down to labs, the man felt as if ice water had been poured down his veins. Objectively, he knew Tony wouldn't hurt him, or any of them for that matter, but he still felt a nagging fear as he rode the elevator down to the level where Tony and Bruce had their labs.

Jarvis opened the doors for him and he walked a few paces in before stopping. "What's up?" He asked, trying to be casual and only partially succeeding. Tony swiveled in his chair and made a motion with his hand.

"Jarvis." He said, voice smooth and quiet and the glass doors went dark and there was click. Clint jumped. Tony had locked the door.

"We need to talk." Was all the inventor said before he rose to his feet. He grabbed a case off the desk next to him and came to stand in the large open area. Clint approached cautiously and watched as Tony opened the case. And Clint gasped.

Most people see the masks of assassins from the Raan Do Sivaasfrom far away, or at least a little more than arm's length away. But up close, the craftsmanship was visible and astounding. It's clear what animal the mask is portraying, the features done in brilliant crimson against an ebony backdrop. Scratches adorn the mask, like scars, indicating a long time of use.

Clint reaches out and runs a finger down the muzzle of the mask and the material he comes into contact with is cool like metal, but without the abrasiveness. He looks up at Tony, who's staring back at him blankly.

"Do you know why my mask is in this case, Clint?" He asked and the archer is struck by how calm, how put-together Tony's voice actually is. There's a hint of something there, almost an accent, an amalgamation of an imprint, left by all the languages Tony's learned, and Clint shivers with it. He shakes his head.

"I'm retired, Clint. The Fox hasn't taken an assignment in over seven years, and he will probably never take another. I don't want to hurt people anymore Clint. I'm done with it. So this flinching, acting like the next thing I'm going to do is stab you with a spoon? It has to stop." Tony's voice is firm and Clint finds himself nodding.

Tony was no different from himself. An agent, a weapon of the highest order, once used for nothing but bloodshed, now out there saving lives instead of ending them. He gets it, he really does. So he nods his understanding and Tony closes the case softly, almost reverently, and Clint realizes that this part of Tony, this bit of him that so very few people know exist, is actually one of the most major parts about him.

He and Tony share an intense look, one of understanding, and Clint nods one final time before he leaves the room.


Tony and Steve still aren't talking to each other a week after their fight when they called out to stop someone Thor refers to as Amora. They don't make a dismal showing, but it's still one of their worst to date. And shortly before the woman leaves, there's a puff of green and gold dust, and then everything goes black.

Tony woke up a few minutes later and noticed something off right away. He could hear on both sides. And half the world wasn't colorless anymore. He sat up swiftly and looked at his hands. And they're larger and lighter-skinned than he's used to. But what clued him in to the fact that they're screwed is that right across from him, his body is staring back at him in abject horror.

"What in the actual fuck!?" He screeched and he's horrified when he recognizes Clint's voice. Everyone was awake then, staring at each other in a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. And then a thought struck him. "Bruce. Shit if we changed bodies..." The others didn't need to be told. Hulk. But just before he could start panicking fully, Bruce spoke.

"I'm still in my body. I think the Other Guy stopped the spell from working." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and Bruce didn't even blame them. Only his body can handle a transformation and only he knows how to keep calm enough to stop one. The Other Guy in someone else's body or someone else in his body is a recipe for disaster.

Before they could discuss it further though, the silence was broken by what sounded like hyperventilating and Tony looked over at his body. He was standing up, panic written across his face and clawing at his chest. The armor had been released by Jarvis and now whoever was in his body had his shirt off. Tony and the others realize a moment too late what's about to happen and then, the Arc Reactor's out.

There's a chorus of curses and Tony, in Clint's body and Thor, who must be occupied by Natasha because she's the only other person on the team who realizes the true importance of the reactor, are on their feet. Natasha pinned his body down and Tony grabbed the reactor from his hand, pushing the shirt back up and reconnecting the wires before pushing it back in. There was a pained sound from his body and Tony knew the autoinjector on his wrist had just dumped a ton of Adenosine into his blood to counteract the removal.

"Fuck you whichever jackass is in there! Are you trying to kill me?" He hissed and was surprised how easily the rage came across in Clint's voice compared to his own. He sat back heavily, wringing his-no, Clint's, hands together as he watched his body suck in air. SHIELD was on the way, he could hear the commander's voice in his ear, telling them to sit tight.

And then Coulson was there.

The others exclaimed loudly, and it was a horrible cacophony of sound and TOny just sat there, watching them. He'd found Coulson, ghost in the system though the man had been, just yesterday. He'd meant to tell the group, but by the time he arrived back from his...meeting with the director, they'd been called out.

Coulson had survived the fight with Loki and had been recovering in a private hospital. Only recently had he been cleared for duty and Fury was going to announce his "magical return" the following day. But Tony, in the midst of one of his usual hacks of SHIELD (checking for security breaches he told the IT department) had found the files and, as soon as the sun was up, had stormed the office building where SHIELD had set up in New York.

He and the director had words. Loudly, and with great anger and enthusiasm. And, when he had said his peace and demanded Coulson's return immediately, he left, though he was aware that Hill and the junior agents were looking at him with a new respect as he left.

Now Coulson was striding over to where Tony-in-Clint's body was sitting and stared at him with that blank look that he'd perfected. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I Stark? Threatening the director in his own office?" Tony shrugged Clint's shoulders, and god wasn't that weird, and smiled, a vicious, lopsided look that exposed teeth.

"Guess not, Agent. But he had it coming and you know it." He said and Coulson shook his head. Natasha-in-Thor's body made a questioning noise and, after a moment of looking surprised by actually making a sound, she spoke and, though it lacked the usual boom of Thor's voice, it was still louder than her own.

"Stark threatened the director?" She asked and Tony smiled as Coulson nodded almost resignedly.

"I believe his exact words were; "If you ever, and I mean EVER, mess with my people like that again, I will eviscerate you with my bare hands and string your entrails from here to Grand Central Station and then laugh while the tunnel rats eat your maggot-encrusted corpse!"." The man said with little expression and Tony could feel his face flush a little and, oh look, Clint still had the ability to blush.

All eyes were on him now and he shrugged his shoulders. "I was mad." He defended himself weakly. Coulson snorted indelicately and whapped him on the back of the head and Tony squawked indignantly at it. Coulson shepherded them all onto a transport to Medical and on the way there tried to figure out who was in whose body.

Tony was occupying Clint's body, while Clint was occupying Steve's who was occupying Tony's body. Thor was occupying Natasha and vice-versa and, once all that was figured out, Tony ordered one of the agents to call Doctor Brad Eckley at Manhattan General. Brad, as a cardiologist and someone Tony trusted with his life, was the only other person who knew the ins-and-outs of the Arc Reactor and its effects on Tony's body. He'd have to be on hand until this whole switcheroo blew over, in case Steve accidentally did something to the Reactor again.

After being cleared at Medical as "just fine, except for the whole body-switch thing", Fury benched the whole team and then they were confined to the Tower. Happy drove them all home and once inside, they were met immediately by Brad and Anatassia, along with another man, tall with black hair done in the high and tight fashion with emerald green eyes wearing dress blues.

Tony recognized Robert right away and, before he could stop himself and explain the situation to the other man, Robert had Steve in a hug. Steve squeaked and tried to kick out of the hug and Robert looked hurt before Tony stepped forward. "Don't feel bad, Rob. That's actually not me you're hugging." He said and Robert gave him such a look of utter confusion that Tony, Brad and Anatassia burst out into laughter.

"You didn't explain to him what happened?" He asked and Brad shook his head, body wracked with laughter. Tony placed a hand on Robert's shoulder and explained the situation breifly and Robert, who'd been taught how to "Make Do" since he was three, simply nodded. "All right then." He said, nodding his head.

"Well, I've got good news for you. I'm home for six months!" Tony made a sound and jumped at Robert, wrapping him in a hug. "I have to admit that its weird hugging you while at the same time not hugging you." He said, and Tony moved his arms off. In the background, Clint was muttering something and Tony flipped him the bird behind his back. Time for the business at hand.


It took a week for the spell to wear off. Tony was back in his own body with a flash, this time without passing out. Happy to be back, he rolled his shoulders and leaned down to scoop up Inari. Inari and Clint had always gotten along so Clint, a few days earlier while still occupying his body, had gone to "shake hands" with the fox and, unaware of his super-soldier strength, broke Inari's front leg.

Although, Inari could limp around the house, Tony had taken to carrying him around in a larger version of the kit-sling again. Now he meandered up to the entertainment room where the others were rejoicing in being back in their own bodies. Anatassia and Robert hugged him quickly, Robert muttering about "right one this damn time"into his hair and then Tony found himself face to face with Steve, back in his own body. Inari glared at Steve warily, recognizing the man that had hurt him, even on accident and even though it hadn't actually been Steve. Before Tony could say anything, Steve was speaking.

"I'm sorry!" He rushed out. Tony blinked. He'd made a few overtures of apology towards Steve before, and had even offered to teach him to dance, but the former had been turned down and the latter had been seen as a particularly vicious jab by everyone else on the team, who seemed to believe Tony couldn't dance and had been mocking the man.

Now Tony blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?" He asked and Steve blushed.

"For what I said before. All the times we fought. I don't know how you've done it. How can you breath with that thing in your chest? Helping the company? Designing for SHIELD and fighting villains? It's little wonder you don't eat or sleep normally. And that suit! How many pounds does that thing weigh?" Tony was stunned into a momentary silence and then smiled softly, an odd look on his face. He held out his hand.

"I'm Tony Stark. Nice to meet you." He said and, Steve realizing what it was, held out his own hand and shook with Tony.

"I'm Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Tony."


Tony takes his title of philanthropist very seriously, this no-one can deny. Although the Maria Stark Foundation funds several different charities, Tony's personal contributions oftentimes go towards groups that helped children in cities around the united states who wanted to play an instrument, sing or dance. He knew the arts held great importance for a child's development.

Another charity he funded and had helped found was a ranch, just outside of the city where, during the school year, kids lived and worked on the ranch, learning how to ride horses, care for them and even compete. Tony had donated all of Achilles', who'd passed away the year before, offspring to the ranch and often traveled out to the ranch on weekends to help with the lessons.

Most of the charities he funded in the city he visited often, like the chior program that operated out of a church on Brooklyn, or the band and orchestra group that played out of a school in Manhattan.

But his favorite is a weekly dance class he holds in the ballroom on one of the basement levels of the tower. Three times a week, a group of kids and teachers use the ballroom to practice dancing, both traditional and nontraditional types. Tony made sure to visit at least once a week, and sometimes he danced with the students and other times he simply sat there and offered advice and encouragement. While he often danced alone, or with Pepper or Anatassia, both of whom were excellent dancers, the students, most of whom were high school, were blank slates, who hadn't picked a style yet.

Which is why, on a stormy Friday in September, Pepper, Anatassia and he were sitting in the livingroom with the rest of the team, who were engrossed in a Mario Kart battle between Clint, Thor, Brad and Natasha. Pepper and Anatassia were dressed in black tanktops and pants and Tony was dressed in a tight black t-shirt with similar pants. All three were barefoot. Today, the teachers were doing an exhibition class for all of the new students and to entertain the returning ones.

"Sir, your class has arrived."Jarvis's voice filtered in and all three were off the couch and stretching.

"Alright kids, play nice while we're away. Don't blow anything up and try to keep each other alive. We'll be back in a couple of hours." Pepper said and then they were gone, in the elevator and down. There was a quiet moment after the game was paused.

"Class?" Steve asked and Brad grunted.

"He didn't tell you?" He asked and received a negative answer. "Figures. Tony sponsors a program for dancers who don't have another place to practice. He helps teach the class at least once a week, if not more. The kids think he's great." Sensing a disbelieving silence in response to his answer he sighed, annoyance clear in his voice. "You don't believe me? Fine. Jarvis, bring up the feed from the ballroom."

There was a beep and then the video game was replaced with the image of the massive ballroom. There were nearly three dozen kids, all sitting against one of the long walls, while Tony, Pepper, Anatassia and three other adults stood in the middle of the floor, talking with each other.

The introduction was made by one of the other instructors, and when he was done, everyone but Pepper and Tony took seats with the kids. Tony and Pepper stepped towards each other, beaming a discussing something lowly before they approached the rest of the way, Tony's hand on her hip, the other held out and Pepper put her own hands where they belonged.

"Jarvis, play "3055" by Olafur Arnalds, please."There wasn't a response but, after a short moment, soft strains of music filled the room and the team watched with surprise as the pair slowly moved across the floor. Their feet were sure and steady, and then the song picked up its pace and they were flying across the floor, smiling and twirling. And when the song ended, they drifted apart and bowed to the clapping students.

And the team felt something sink inside them. Only months before Tony had offered to teach Steve basic dances and they'd shouted him down, accusing him of making fun of the super-soldier, without giving him time to explain or elaborate. And here the same man was, dancing like he'd been doing it all his life and like he'd could be professional at it. They watched for a while as all the instructors danced. There were pair dances, group dances and even a few dances with some of the older students.

When the class was beginning to wind down, the team as a whole made a conscious decision to follow Brad down, as the man had left almost an hour before. When they got down to the basement level jarvis let them in and they tucked themselves into a corner. They were just in time to here one of the instructors tell the students they had could ask questions. One student, tall with short hair, rose his hand and the instructor pointed to him. He rose to his feet.

"I have a question for Tony." He said and Tony stood up.

"I might have an answer. Let's hear it." Another boy stood up next to him and they shared a look before nodding.

"Sectional, Regional and National dancing competitions are allowing same-sex duos to compete this year in their Contemporary Categories, so long as the content can be described as "sensual" and not "sexual". It's really such a fine line, do you have any examples that fit this criteria?"

Tony seemed to mull over the answer for a bit. "I do, actually. Who here remembers Brad Eckley? He helps with the class sometimes?" Most of the hands went up and the team watched as Brad smiled softly.

"Well, a few months ago, we did something for a charity, where we created a dance. Perhaps if you were all able to convince Brad to come down here and help me out..." There's cheering and shouts of Brad's name and the man himself comes from a round the crowd, already barefoot and smiling.

"Oh, if I must!" He exclaims dramatically and it pulls more cheers and some laughter from the students. Brad and Tony lean close together and seem to talk about something for a moment before brad moves down to the far end of the room and Tony takes up at the center of the ballroom floor.

"Jarvis, light setting 33B." He orders. The team and students watch in awe as the room descends into dark blues, interspaced equally with lighter blues and black, like it's raining. "Jarvis, "Rain", by Blackmill." He orders. There's beat and Tony's moving.

He's slow and measured as he goes and as the beat picks up, if only minutely, Brad enters from the side and they glance at each other, moving forward until they're face to face to face, Tony's hand on Brad's shoulder and Brad's on Tony's cheek. And then they're apart, moving in counterpoint and everyone is enraptured.

Brad and Tony have lost track of everyone else, with eyes only for each other, and soon they're close again, like an embrace. Their every move screams seduction and several people in the room find their breath stolen from them at the intensity in the dancing pair's eyes.

As the song ends, they embrace, chests heaving, their breath almost in time with the beat. Tony's eyes are closed and his head tossed back to expose the long column of his neck. Brad's hand is at his throat, fingers splayed so his thumb rests under his chin and his longer fingers sink into inky black hair, face resting just above the reactor, eyes smoldering.

There's silence in the room until they break apart and then thundering applause fills the space, sounding like there's a thousand times more people than just the small group of students, instructors and friends. Brad and Tony bow, high-five each other, smiling all the while as they try to catch their breaths.