~*~
Tony could adapt in a second.
He was a chameleon, with reflexes as fast as Natasha's and eyes as sharp as Clint's.
His mind was always racing, looking for ways out (the most common, unfortunately), ways in, different routes.
Flying a suit of armor at increasingly high speeds forced this kind of thinking. If he didn't think like this he'd be in the middle of every infrastructure in Manhattan by now.
(Which really wouldn't be that bad of a thing, the suit could take it, and God only knows how poorly some of those buildings were made; seriously, it was embarrassing, Tony needed to petition to get everything knocked down and rebuilt by Stark Industries - free of charge.)
Dry wall wasn't a good look for him, and neither was accidentally ramming into some oblivious middle-aged secretary named Marge (been there, done that), so Tony made sure to keep his turns sharp and tight and predict every possible variable in a timely manner.
It was how he lived his life, predicting and calculating and preparing; Stark men were made of Iron - metaphorically, of course, even if Tony could make it happen - and that meant they were capable and strong and reliable.
Tony lived by his father's egotistical motto now more than ever, because reliability was something akin to trust, and the entire team was standing on a layer of thinly laid trust.
Thinner than the brittle foundation used in some of the crappier built places around town, and while Tony was eager to knock that shit over, he wouldn't dare touch anything when it had to do with the team.
They had accepted him, despite Natasha's lovely Not Recommended spiel, after the Battle of Manhattan.
He'd fought, and he'd fought right next to them, even if his SHIELD file was dripping in red, Natasha's pretty handwriting, and the word consultant.
During the fight? They'd all been equal, and that, that was something mesmerizing.
Tony had never been equal to the likes of a god, two world renowned (secretly renowned of course, because assassins) agents, a man-beast with a heart of gold, and Captain America.
No, Tony was selfish and self-volatile (he was sure there were more words to describe him that started with self - really, Natasha's vocabulary was astounding and offending, but he was only proving it right by talking about himself not being self centered).
Tony had always been told he was an asshole, self centered and uncaring; when those words had hurt, Tony knew that all of those people had been wrong - because he cared about what people thought of him, and in turn, what people thought about his employees and friends.
Because he cared, he cared about everyone on the team, even if no one worried a bit about him.
He never wanted to see anyone get hurt, especially anyone in good ol' America, the place that his father had been known to fight so hard to protect - in retrospect, Tony was a disgusting blemish on his reign, and that left a nasty taste in his mouth. In the beginning, it's why he'd made weapons to protect the country; he didn't mean to provide the enemy with the best missiles and tech.
He didn't mean for anyone to die.
And he surely didn't mean for that to put him on the top of the exclusion list. No one wanted to touch him with a ten foot pole after Afghanistan, and when he'd dropped weapon production, the only thing he got out of his so called family was outrage and an attempted murder.
This is what made him seem like somebody who worked solo. No one wanted to work with him, because he was too fast, too smart and he had no filter (which was only the product of a constant stream of information, thank you very much).
Tony Stark had always been alone and yet, he had always been a team player.
He worked well in groups, simply because he was deft at reading people, skillful when predicting their moves in advance, and great at studying - people, books, machines.
Studying was one of his favorite things, moments where he could take a person and examine their every move made his heart race with adrenaline; it was like getting a private sneak peek into their mind, and Tony was so lonely that it had sated him each and every time.
He'd done it ever since he could remember, and meeting the team had done nothing to stop his habit.
Luckily for them, it had helped out on the field on numerous occasions.
He was like their Jarvis, a constant help and support, the net that caught them when they fell (sometimes literally, fucking Clint and his constant urge to hop onto and then off of collapsing - see, they really were built horribly - buildings).
Jarvis was the only team he'd had before the Avengers. Jarvis was always there, understanding every move he'd make, calculating distances and enemies, sending out missiles without being enjoined.
Jarvis knew how well he worked with others, how fast his mind could run when needed.
They were one in the same, computers with feelings, who could adapt to anything thrown at them; Tony had made Jarvis, so Jarvis was part of him (which pleased him, because family that didn't attempt to beat him or kill him was welcome family).
Jarvis had been there when he'd fought Rhodey and then fought next to Rhodey, watched how the two of them flew in tune, as beautiful and seamless as a choreographed dance against Ivan Vanko. It was the first time Tony'd had physical back up, and he couldn't help but notice the safety it birthed.
He'd joked, "You wanna be a hero? I could use a sidekick."
Then they were blasting Whiplash across the ground, burning him like a fucking Triscuit; flying away before the explosion could impact them.
But Tony had known Rhodey for years, and that was expected of them. They should know how one another would react to certain situations.
Tony wasn't so sure, because the moment he fell in step with Rhodey it was perfect; as if they'd been doing it their entire lives, and while they were crazy college kids, they hadn't had the chance to fly around in armor.
He had continued to fight solo after that, because Rhodey had his loyalties to the military and blah blah, need your suits Tony. This is when SHIELD, the sneaky bastards, and the team came along.
The Avengers? He couldn't really pick that particular boy band apart; it was too much of a conundrum, the way everyone clicked together, just as he did with Rhodey.
The Battle of Manhattan was one of the most liberating and stressful days of his life.
Which meant he'd learned alot.
Tony counted every step they made, took note of it, just incase they would ever need backup; he'd be right next to them, like another arm, synchronized and controlled:
He noticed how Steve, with all of his older military training, tended to fight with his shield rather than behind it. He'd stick his entire body out there, swing, retreat, swing, retreat. He'd use it to ricochet things too, such as an enemy's head, or bullets. It seemed like Steve's shield was another appendage with the way he'd grip onto it and whip it out, nabbing anything in his way. He moved with incredible speed, and tended to fight where there were objects that he could use as shields, just in case he was overrun. Steve was good at hiding when he needed to be, and could use any part of his surroundings to make do.
Steve was an improviser.
Thor fought more obnoxiously, simply because he was even more difficult to kill. Tony usually found the god attacking from anywhere the enemy happened to frequent, fearless towards any environment, even if his back was vulnerable. He, like Steve, used Mjölnir as a prop, his entire body moving with it as he charged forward, hair flying in the wind, teeth bared. He was slower in his attacks, thinking about things like momentum and distance even if he didn't realize it. Every whack was accompanied by a grunt or a roar, and Tony, even if he was supposed to be a cruel selfish monster, found that incredibly hilarious.
Thor was an intimidator.
Hulk did have a type of fighting, even if smashing was the only thing an untrained eye would see. Like Banner, he was very cautious (believe it or not), especially when around civilians. He could smell an enemy out in seconds time (pheromones of fear were highly pungent), and once he made sure that no one else was around, he would go mad, releasing his wrath upon whatever being happened to make him angry that day. Buildings and other non-human collateral damage didn't matter to him, so he wasn't slowed down by structures or road blocks as he swung his body around, smashing his elbows down like a professional wrestler would (who knew Bruce had a fondness for WWE). Tony knew that the Hulk did this rarely because it was difficult for a mass his size to get back up, but the smile that graced his giant face was worth it.
Hulk was a gentle giant.
Clint liked heights because it gave him a greater field of vision, and it was better for his safe keeping when he was far from the blast of his explosive arrows. He was always jumping and firing, using his bow as if he was extending his hand. Unfortunately, poorly made buildings were a common thing, and Clint was always getting on top of collapsing infrastructures. Tony was a lot more involved in his fight than the other's, simply because of Clint's need to fly through the air rather than fall when the perch he'd been shooting from began to crumble. Clint, like Steve, was extremely fast and used a lot of acrobatics.
Clint was a bird man.
Natasha's fighting style was a mix of many things, simply because her background varied. Her maneuvers usually required strength from her legs when it was hand-to-hand combat. If she happened to be shooting a gun, like a normal human being (which was a rare thing to find on the team), she'd always make sure to move whilst firing. This method kept her from becoming a sitting duck, and it was easier for her to move with her target rather than just shoot. Gymnastics played a big part in her routine, and her method of intimidation happened to be the friendliest smile she could muster.
Natasha was a friendly flier.
Tony had seen replays of the Manhattan Battle months after it happened (alien invasion was a big thing, he supposed), and had Jarvis look over it, to suggest improvements. He knew that he tended to go in guns blazing, or so it seemed, but in all actuality he had thought about that particular outcome before it had happened and was only prepared - something he couldn't stress enough, he wasn't irrational or neglectful or risky. He had planned everything out before it even had the chance of happening, and no one could understand that, so he was left to stand there afterwards as they stared on in shock, congratulating him for being lucky when luck had nothing to do with it.
Tony was a canned calculator.
#
He'd fought with (not against, shocking, aye) Captain America, and they fit. They clicked like a fucking seatbelt, and no one could deny that, not with the footage. Tony was a team player, and from the moment he'd opened his eyes to find Steve staring down at him, he knew that everyone else had figured that out too.
It seemed Natasha was the first to discover his not-so-selfish self.
Natasha's apology had been sporadic, an hour or so after Shawarma, when they'd all found themselves in SHIELD medical, getting looked over.
"Look Stark." She started, lips pursed and hair perfect, even if she'd just participated in saving the world. Tony had flinched, because holy shit, Natasha was talking to him kindly, in her free time, by choice.
"I know that I treated you unfairly in my report-"
He couldn't stop himself, grimacing as he rubbed at his shoulder in pain, "And stabbed me in the neck, don't forget tha-"
He was cut off, not by words, but by the smile that graced her lips.
"Like I was saying, I was unfair, and I'd like to officially apologize."
She was leaning in close to him as he sat on a stretcher, feet swinging over the edge. Natasha's lips touched the spot on his neck where she'd dosed him up after he'd been poisoned by the same device that was keeping him alive.
Tony shivered, his eyes closed, and by the time he opened them again, she was gone.
#
Steve's apology came a week later, and it was more unexpected than Natasha's.
Because Steve hated him, team player or not, he was Howard's disappointing off-spring and that was that.
But Tony remembered meeting the captain's eyes mid-battle, seeing the gratefulness held in his irises as they bounded off one another, Tony shooting off of his shield, reflecting the damage onto the common enemy. Steve had smiled with pride and Tony had never felt more important.
It had been a connection, a moment of clarity; they were one mass, finally together instead of fighting against one another.
Of course directly after Tony was put to the test with a deadly mission; to save the entirety of New York from a motherfucking nuke.
As if he hadn't had enough on his hands, what with the whole alien invasion and Steve actually liking him, smiling at him.
Tony ended up flying towards space's asshole with Steve notifying him that he would probably die.
"You know that's a one way trip." The captain had sounded solemn, maybe respectful; it had done nothing to stave off Tony's fear of death (god knows he deserves hell), and it had reassured him that the choice he'd made was acceptable, at least to a hero.
Tony had been prepared - as he'd been for everything in his life - to die, but he had not expected Steve to show some sort of kindness to him (other than pity) before he met his end.
Of course he had known it was a one way trip, Tony, to put it truthfully, knows a lot of things; most things, in fact. He knows that when portals close, whatever's on the other side tends to stay there - which was the whole point, obviously. The nuke needed to go off in a safe zone and the Chitauri needed their asses whooped.
Luckily, he was falling before he managed to witness the explosion completely, because if he hadn't, then he wouldn't have been falling at all.
He would've floated, weightless and dead.
He would've been left in space, body suspended and bloated, and no matter how hard life had been, he never wanted it to end in an extraterrestrial darkness (Tony had always figured it'd be during battle and he'd make one wrong move, maybe his calculations were off and that'd be it - he'd die a hero).
Steve's eyes were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again, and they were anything but dark, so that was a cool relief.
Then the entire team went and got lunch, and Steve had stayed distant ever since. Gone was the happy smile, the comforting hand on his chest when he'd first fell from space.
Steve, the confusing man that he was, showed right back up a week later, knocking swiftly on the glass door to the lab. Tony was so perplexed that he'd went to the door himself and opened it, brows knitted (he was sure if Jarvis had a face, he'd be frowning, because Tony had always instructed his AI to open or block access - this was different and so very vulnerable).
"Hey Tony,"
Tony? That was new, oddly so. Stark was a common phrase out of the captain's mouth, but it was usually spit out like it burned and accompanied by a few insults, all varying in degrees of hurt (from a mild jab to something that could start a Civil War).
Steve was following Tony back to his desk, which Tony didn't intend to happen, but it wasn't like he could stop it now. Steve was looking at him with enthusiastic features, and Tony was nothing but suspicious.
"Can I talk to you?"
Steve's voice was almost as weary as Tony felt, and it gave off an odd vibe; the captain's expression didn't match his tone, and that meant something difficult was about to come out of the man's mouth.
Something confusing, something with feeling and meaning.
Tony could only clutch onto his desk chair like a lifeline.
"Go 'head, you're already doing so."
Steve smiled at the joke, which Tony hadn't intended, but had simply come out as such.
"Right, sorry, I'm just nervous an-"
"You, nervous?" Tony cocked a brow, keeping up his no-I'm-not-panicking façade. He laughed a little, but it sounded broken to his own ears. "Please tell me there's not another invasion."
Pretty pretty please.
"No, no," A laugh from Steve was like music to Tony's ears, and he reminded himself to have Jarvis make copies later so he could blare it as loud as his Black Sabbath albums. "Of course not," Steve met his eyes, expression unreadable, a single nod, a sign of respect. "You took care of that."
Tony did, he realized. It came back to him and he felt his heart pounding. Breathing became increasingly difficult but he wouldn't faint in front of Captain America, especially when he was being recognized for something positive.
"Yup, easy as-"
Nothing in Tony's life had been easy, and he'd hate to be cliché and say pie.
"the Staples button. You know, because it says easy."
Tony's voice trailed off and he felt himself flush; how cringe worthy could this get before Steve just left him or hit him in the face - he deserved it after saying that. Steve nodded, happy to have found a relevant reference.
"I'm familiar with that commercial." He paused, looking down at Tony, face growing serious. "But I need to do something I've been meaning to do for a while now."
"Oh-okay." Tony stuttered out, watching as Steve got on one fucking knee, proposal style. He took Tony's hand from it's death grip on the chair arm rest and rubbed his thumb over it.
Be still my barely beating-shrapnel-surrounded heart.
Or you know, don't, because the room was spinning and he really didn't want to die in front of Captain America.
"You're an A1 type of man, an A1 type of teammate Tony, and I couldn't be more sorry for those things I said. I'm older and I should've known not to poke you when you were under so much stress while you were trying to figure out the whole Loki thing."
"Um, I'm, I'm sorry too, and wow, A1, huh, that's, that's a new one, well, not new, pretty old actually, jus' hadn't heard you say it before, uh, sorry-"
Tony was beet red and shaky, and Steve seemed to pick up on it right away.
"Tony, calm down. You don't have to be nervous around me anymore. You proved your worth to me because I was too blind to see it and I appreciate that. It took a lot of courage."
Breath, Tony. It wasn't like Captain America, the most courageous motherfucker out there, had just called you worthy and courageous; all of the things your father had told you that you had lacked from the moment you could process words-
"Yup. Calming down-"
He was so not calming down. Jarvis was going to save this in a file called, 'Shit That Never Happens', because Tony was barely appreciated by anyone, never less Steve.
Yeah, he was definitely not breathing.
"So I've talked to the team and spoke to Fury. I want to be your captain, if you'll accept the team and I. I got confirmation today and it's official. You can be an Avenger if you'd like, we'll have to sign some papers-"
"Really?"
Paperwork seemed like an underwhelming process to apply for a position in the most powerful boyband ever.
Steve's grin was as wide as the moon as he squeezed Tony's cold hand.
"Really Tony. So, whaddya say?"
"I say-"
Shit, what was he supposed to say? Oh, yeah, I'll play with the big kids now because they finally like me, all I ever wanted and needed was your acceptance. I can't deal with anybody not liking me, it makes me cry-
Then again, all he'd ever wanted was a chance to redeem himself from the past, and maybe space had turned over a new leaf for him.
Maybe he could be who he always was, Tony Stark, the biggest team player out there.
"Yes, Captain Rogers. I say yes."
Steve's blinding smile only reassured him that he'd made the right decision, just as before when he'd saved the world, only he knew this one wouldn't land him in space.
The blonde slapped his thigh, standing and pulling Tony with him, hugging him tightly; Tony could only squeak, standing as stiff as a pole - this would take time, but he could do it.
For his captain, for his team.
"Welcome to the team, soldier."
Tony smiled, and hugged his captain back.
"Now," Tony pulled away, back to business as usual. Steve rolled his eyes fondly, watching as Tony's fingers tapped against his chin, "I'd like to talk to you about the real enemy. A pressing matter that is literally surrounding us."
Steve's brow knitted, "Another invasion?!"
Tony snorted, shaking his head, "Fuck, I hope not, now shush. Look."
Tony pulled up a hologram of the Manhattan area and began clicking and pulling.
"As an official Avenger, it's my duty to keep people safe; Cap, these buildings are made of cardboard."
Steve chuckled, loud and boisterous, and Tony was damn well saving that one for his ringtone.
~*~