Tony Stark’s mother, Maria Stark, was a born and raised upper class Italian woman. And as such, was happily raised in the prestige of a ballerina. That significance is something she always dreamed of giving her child. And nothing Howard Stark did would ever keep her from raising her son the same. She couldn’t give him a big Italian family, but she can show him love and give him the beauty of ballet. Therefore, she had him in ballet since he was 3. Howard knew nothing of it; that is, until Tony came into the office where Maria and Howard sat, to show them his grand pirouette. Tony was 7. Tony had never seen such fury in his fathers eyes, and such pride in his mother’s.
From then on, his mother had him continue his training with his private tutors in secret; they even taught him their own native languages, Russian and French. The tutors his father paid for taught him politics, table etiquette, math and various other things.
Tony was sent to MIT at the age of 15; his mother kept up his training as his tutors went with him, still funded from his mother’s personal family accounts. Tony continued his training; they’ve used the Vaganova method since he was a young boy. He was always exceptional at it. Tony was a natural at ballet, and watching him go through his program always brought tears to his mothers eyes and led his instructors to puff out their chest in pride. Sometimes, Ana and Jarvis would come and visit, sitting in on one of Tony’s classes and then taking him for lunch afterwards. Tony’s instructors had become fond of the boy. They were no less strict and ruthless, but they were fond and loyal nonetheless.
Tony was 16 when he first let Rhodey come to one of his classes. Rhodey was speechless by the time it was over, and still speechless when he gathered Tony in the biggest hug, only pulling back to show Tony the huge smile on his face that made his cheeks ache.
Tony’s rigorous training kept his petite, lithe body in shape and strong; during breaks, he would do homework with Rhodey, making sure he kept up with his studies as well. And after the day was over, he would call his mother in Italian, before Ana and Jarvis in German.
Maria’s death tore through Tony like a dull knife. He continued his dancing in his mother's memory. Through the blinding tears in his eyes and the sobs stuck in his throat.
When he graduated with Rhodey at the age of 18, his instructors told him they had nothing left to teach him. Tony has become something they were proud of, and his talent had begun exceeding theirs. They gave him a regiment to continue on so he doesn’t lose himself, and told him to call them. They had become family.
When Ana and Jarvis passed, Tony was once again run through with a dull, now rusted, knife. He cried for weeks, never once stopping his fouetté en pointe when a sob escaped him and his trembling got bad. Tony danced and danced until his feet ached and bled, till he was sweat and tear soaked. Till Rhodey came in and caught him, cleaned him up, and wrapped him in blankets with a cup of Hot cocoa; Ana’s recipe.
Tony took over SI, barring Obadiah Stane from coming to power. Maria never trusted him, and neither did Jarvis. Even Aunt Peggy told Tony to keep his eye on him.
Tony built dance studios into each one of his homes. When Tony’s ptsd got bad from his times with Ten Rings, Aim, and others, he would build till his hands blistered then he would dance till his legs gave out.
When the avengers came around, Tony noticed Natasha. He had read in her file, the one she gave him when she was supposed to be ‘spying’ on him (unbeknownst to the Fury, though they wouldn’t dare tell), that she also used to dance. So Tony took her to the compound’s hidden studio. As neither of them were overly physically affectionate from their times in the wrong hands, he was shocked when she had hugged him. His shirt left damp from where her head had lain. When he handed her both pointe shoes and flats, she had snatched them up and had them on before he could blink. It had become their thing. When the nightmares got bad, they would find each other there, dancing until they dropped, until the dreams could almost be forgotten. Till the program just left them in an aching bliss.
After Ultron, Tony’s PTSD got worse. Tasha didn’t blame him, nor did Rhodey, but it still made Tony’s heartache that his team would turn on him so hard and so fast.
When Tony found about about James Buchanan Barnes, Tony’s childhood hero, Tony was floored in shock. He did everything he could to help the Captain find the man. That was until Tony once again bore the weight of all the Avengers’ failures. Even after Tony used his B.A.R.F. technology for Barnes, and funding the reparations for the Sokovia disaster they still looked at him with blame and stilted disgust. Because if the accords Tony felt progressively alienated from those he thought of as family, more than he ever had. He called up his instructors, Ivan and Anastasia, and cried to them. They talked him through it all as Tasha and Rhodey settled him on the couch with Ana’s cocoa.
When Tony found out what Barnes had done, he was stuck in a state of shock. He knew, he knew that Barnes wasn’t at fault. Tony now wanted to help the man more than ever, but seeing his mom strangled; the fresh weight of her death; her muffled Italian endearments for Tony; and then the suffocating truth of Steve's betrayal. Tony wanted to hurt Steve. He wanted to hurt him so bad. Not Barnes though; Tony didn’t want to hurt him. Barnes seemed to know that, but Steve seemed convinced that Tony wanted them dead. No. Because if Tony wanted them dead, then he would have no problem with achieving that. No sweat off his back. Barnes even tried to deflect some of Steve’s more brutal, crippling, deadly strikes. Barnes saw when Tony finally gave up his own attacks, but Steve didn’t. Tony may have been killed if James hadn’t knocked Steve out before it was too late.
When James used the manual release on Tony’s armor, he fell out and into James’s arms; tear stained cheeks pressed into the warm metal of his kevlar-covered shoulder. James picked him up shifting his form to one arm with ease, being quite a bit larger than Tony, before grabbing his armor and leaving the Captain to T’challa. James’s heart ached for the tiny man on his arm, tucked small into the crook of his neck and against his chest. James brought him home.
Tony was left feeling emptier than ever. Tasha danced with him, their melancholy duet. James watched from the corner, feeling the emotion of the movements more vividly than he had ever felt anything before. The sadness and heartache palatable in the air visible in the story playing out in front of him. Rhodey fixed them all their favorites from the recipe book Ana left Tony. Even Ivan and Anastasia flew down at Natasha’s request.
They knew it would take a while for Tony to recover. Anastasia wrapped Tony’s sore and blistered feet and kissed his temple while Ivan doctored his other cuts and scrapes. Yes, it would take time, but there, wrapped in blankets and tucked under James Barnes’s arm with his cat, Ensign, in his lap; Ivan and Anastasia in front of him and Rhodey and Tasha snuggles on his other side, Tony felt safe and protected; he knew, he knew that no matter what, this was his family, and they would never leave him.