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The lights were bright, the cool air of October in Los Angeles turned sticky hot in the outdoor amphitheater. Fans cheered as the familiar beat of “Teenage Dirtbag” started playing. Tony Stark, what many would call a “genius, rock star, playboy, philanthropist”, strut towards the mic stand, a lazy smile on his face. His band mate, Natasha Romanov, reached her mic first, her low voice filling the speakers all around them.

“Alright, you all know what time it is.” Her voice was smooth, enough that you wouldn’t assume she created the lead garage rock band in the country. But The Avengers were a sensation, and she was the girl who started it all. “Let’s see who catches the microphone tonight.”

Somehow the crowd made even more noise, everyone bustling to reach out their hands, their eager eyes turning to the shy guitarist to Tony’s right. Steve Rogers grabbed the mic from the stand in front of him, flashing a small smile to the crowd before throwing it into the mass of fans in front of him. Tony looked over at the blond, a smirk plastered on his face as he wiped his dark brown hair back from his face. Finally he looked over at the audience, who had all grown silent in anticipation to see what lucky soul had caught the microphone today.

“Alright, let's see who’s lucky tonight.” Tony’s low voice spoke into his microphone. The screen next to him scanned the crowd, looking for the lucky girl. “What’s your name, honey, you gotta say something so we can see ya.”

As the girl in the audience spoke, the camera’s focused on her in the mass. “Holly!” She seemed to scream into the mic.

“Holly, huh. I think I can make that work.” Tony said, walking towards the edge of the stage, looking the brunette girl in her eyes. “Now be a doll and sing along.”

“During their Los Angeles show, The Avengers performed their hit song ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ but with a very familiar twist. Here we have the lucky girl who caught the microphone. Tell us Holly, how did you feel hearing your name in such a famous song?” The reporter tilted her microphone to the girl, both of them standing outside of the venue later that night. Nat and Tony smirked as they watched the broadcast from their TV in their hotel room.

“She didn’t care about her name. All she cared about was the thought of a rock star singing a love song about her.” Steve chuckled from the other room, drying his hair from his shower, a towel tied loosely around his waist.

Tony just rolled over, turning to face the blonde that was so beautifully undressed. “Can’t really blame her, Rogers. Not many people can resist the Stark charm.”

“Right, charm.” Steve laughed, rolling his eyes at his band mate. “I’d call it somethin’ more like douchebaggery.”

Tony feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically, rolling onto his back. “You wound me, Steve. You and your made up words.”

Steve opened his mouth, a snarky response on the tip of his tongue, but he was cut off by the redhead in the bed next to Tony.

“Oh my GOD, can you two stop flirting for two seconds so I can listen to the press tell me how beautiful I am?” Nat groaned, turning up the volume on the TV without looking at the now blushing boys next to her.

Steve’s entire face was red, but it was Tony that choked out a small noise of agreement. Neither of them would meet eyes again, the voice of the gossip journalist filling the awkward space between them. Neither of them wanted to think about Nat’s comment. By now they should be used to it. After three years of their band, there have been so many worse things said about their dubious friendship. But it didn’t mean anything, that they both swore on.

The journalist on the TV, Tara Hempstead, started recalling the events of the night, letting the young girl named Holly walk away and giggle with her hyper friends off camera. “Like usual, the band made a huge impact on the teenage population of Los Angeles tonight. So many new fans will be buying tickets for the rest of their tour, we’re sure of it.”

Nat turned and smiled brightly at Tony because of the comment. “Now Clint can get off our asses about spending too much on late night food runs.”

“On the slightly more dramatic side, Bruce Banner is hot off the edge of another ‘incident’.” The journalist continued, her voice changing slightly, as if she was already conspiring to spread more rumors. The three musicians all turned their attention to the TV then, trying to figure out how much the press had heard about the “incident” that night.

“At the end of their song ‘Kickstart My Heart’, Banner apparently got ‘too into the song’ and tore through his snare, setting off his anger issues. He then proceeded to throw his drum sticks into the audience, narrowly missing innocent fans, kicked through the bass drum, before storming off stage. The band was thankfully able to continue through their last song-”

Before Tara could finish her sentence, Bruce stepped into their room, as silent as he could be. But of course, not silent enough for Nat to not hear it, her hand immediately moving to switch off the TV. The boys were about to protest, before their eyes met their hot head drummer.

No one spoke for a good minute, the three of them watching Bruce’s every movement as he dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on the edge of it. Finally his voice broke the silence.

“It’s okay guys. I already heard what Tara’s got to say about me.” Bruce sighed, his voice defeated. “I’m reckless and dangerous. That’s all she ever says.”

“It’s not entirely your fault.” Steve reasoned.

Bruce finally met their prying eyes, his expression weak. “Who else’s fault could it be?”

That seemed to stop all other attempts from the three of them. Silence settled again, but this time heavy. It had been a long month. They had done the west coast part of their tour for the last two weeks, right after releasing their debut album EARTH’S MIGHTIEST HEROES. All of them were exhausted, and it was moments like these where they finally got to just sit and hear their own thoughts.

Eventually their door opened again, this time loud footsteps followed by expensive ones were what filled their room.

“You must all go out to celebrate!” Thor’s booming voice filled the room. Behind him, Clint followed, holding his phone as he typed furiously.

“What for, Point Break?” Tony said lazily, the nickname rolling off his tongue quicker than he could stop it.

Thor completely ignored the name, his arms open as he exclaimed. “Well, for the amazing performance tonight. There were lights, anger, expected throwing as well as unexpected. It was a perfect show.”

“I don’t know if me breaking through another drum set on stage and nearly hurting our fans is what I call ‘perfect’.” Bruce spoke around a self deprecating chuckle.

Thor just laughed, patting Bruce roughly on the back. “Silly man, of course it is. The fans love your angry outbursts and dangerous spirit. It adds to the band’s appeal.”

“Sure it does.” Nat mumbled, turning back on the TV, where Tara was still reporting on the show, this time with videos of the performance. The camera zoomed in on the anger on Bruce’s face as he smashed through his drums. They all turned to face the TV, Thor with a proud smile on his face as they watched.

Clint was the one to shut it down, finally shoving his phone in his pocket and reaching for the remote. “Nope, we’re shutting that off. Tonight was a great show, Thor’s right. Everybody loves the ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ change, Stark. Great addition to the set list.”

Tony mock saluted. “Anytime.”

“It’s really adding to our ticket sales. Young women are flocking in all across the country to buy tickets for the rest of the tour. We might even sell out the rest of the tour by next week.” Clint said, clapping his hands lightly.

For some reason, one part of that sentence caught on Tony’s brain, the words turning over in his head, festering as he half listened to the rest of Clint’s pep talk.

“No celebrating though.” Clint’s voice was stern. “All of you need to be up early tomorrow for the bus to Arizona. We are ready to start the next leg of our tour.”

Nat and Steve cheered halfheartedly, sarcastic tones in their voices. It’s not like they didn’t like performing, don’t get them wrong. But there hasn’t really been any time for them to rest over the last four weeks, instead driving all across the west coast, performing like zoo animals while gossip “journalists” drag their friends through the mud.

Clint basically dragged Thor out of the hotel room, speaking over his shoulder at the four musicians behind him. “Sleep. You all better be bright eyed as the day you signed on with SHIELD at seven tomorrow morning or else.”

Phoenix: “Julia!”

“Be a doll and sing along.”

Santa Fe: “Zara”

”Beautiful name. Sing along.”

Austin: “Courtney!”

“I can do that, Court. Now sing along.”

By the time the band was on the bus from Austin to Dallas, Tony couldn’t take it anymore. He knew they all loved the name change, but if he had to stare into one more girl’s eyes and tell her to sing along while he fucked up his own song, he was going to go crazy.

“I swear, Nat, half the time the names don’t even fit into the beat.” Tony sighed, exasperated as he leaned back into his seat. Nat was only half listening, her headphones on, playing some alternative rock band no one had ever heard of.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Tones. You asked to make this change to the set list, and it’s selling tickets. There’s no way Barton’s gonna let you cut it.” Nat mumbled halfheartedly. She wasn’t looking up as Tony dragged his hands down his face, dramatically dropping his head to her shoulder. She shoved him off her lightly, tapping the end of her pen against his head. “Maybe you should just figure out how to make the songs better for you.”

“Wow, thanks Nat. That’s soooo helpful” Tony rolled his eyes sitting up and facing the window to his right. Maybe Nat was right. Maybe he could make the best of his horrible idea.

It wasn’t like hearing the absolute miss of a rhyme in the song was really bothering him. It was the performance. He hated feeling like what he was singing wasn’t true. He wrote that song for a real girl, for someone he knew. Someone he could’ve loved. Now it felt superficial, like he was trying to create this illusion of a connection. Almost like he was selling off his feelings.

Tony watched as the state of Texas passed him. In his periphery he could see Steve sit down in the seat across from him. Tony tried not to move as he watched the blond get settled in the seat, pulling out his sketchbook and staring out the window. Something flickered in Tony’s heart for a moment. He pushed it down.

He was not going to think about that right now.

Instead he pulled out his travel notebook from the bag at his feet. He pulled out an old pen his mom gave him a long time ago and started writing. One thing Tony found out over the years is that if he just started writing, eventually he’d get a song.

Sometimes he couldn’t always control where it went.

The songs on the radio are okay

But my taste in music is your face

And it takes a song to come around to show you how

His eyes drifted up to the man across from him subconsciously. His hand moved before he could stop himself.

He's the tear in my heart, I'm alive

He's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

He's the tear in my heart, take me higher

The words floated off the page as Tony stared at them. He did not dare to think about what they meant. No, instead he scribbled hasty little “s”’s before each line, trying to make them look natural. He shut the notebook quickly before his mind could dwell too long.

Tony just forced his eyes back to the road they drove on, not on the notebook in his lap that he held like a guilty man, not on the blond boy in front of him.

“Dallas, you know what time it is.” Nat’s voice boomed through the speakers. Tony had to fight to roll his eyes as he forced a playful smirk at the audience. Just play the part. “Let’s see who catches the microphone tonight.”

Tony watched as Steve threw his mic like he had dozens of times by now. The movement was practiced, not too far in the crowd, aimed for a group of eager girls, just playing a part. His pale shoulders flexed under his slightly damp white t-shirt. Tony didn’t allow his eyes to linger long enough to trace the tendons, instead focusing on following the microphone as it descended into the crowd.

“Alright, let's see who’s our lucky girl tonight.” Tony’s low voice spoke into his microphone. The screen next to him scanned the crowd, looking for the gracious recipient of the microphone. “What’s your name, honey, say something so we can see ya.”

At that moment Tony was thinking about anything else than the soft voice in his earpiece. That was until he heard something that made the entire stadium pause, and shock rise in his stomach.

“Tanner” the male voice spoke from the crowd, light blue eyes on every screen in the stadium. “My name’s Tanner.”

Tony could hear the gasps in the audience as everyone saw who caught the mic. He could feel the way his bandmates looked at each other, unsure of what he was going to do. He could feel the way every set of eyes was on him. He could hear Clint in his ear telling him to tell the kid to hand the mic off.

But for now he could go deaf.

“Okay, Tanner, I can make that work.” Tony smirked, winking at the fan in the stands nervously holding the microphone. He turned back to Bruce, signaling for him to start the beat, ignoring the way the drummer’s eyebrows might as well be in his hairline. After a good moment, the song started and they all got into it.

His name is Tanner

I have a dream about him

He rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

Oh, how he rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But he doesn't know who I am

And he doesn't give a damn about me

Tony doesn’t look into the audience as he sings the song, trying not to focus on anything but the lyrics he’s changing. It should feel foreign to him. But it doesn’t.

He danced along to the song like he normally would, turning to Nat and Steve during the chorus when the beat dropped. He tried not to think about how the press would take this, how Tara Hempstead would flip this. Tony just wanted to be in the song.

It was nearing the part he usually let the crowd sing. He knew they wouldn’t, knew that there was enough prejudice in his Texas crowd that they wouldn’t dare sing a song like this. But he did it anyway. He wanted the whole world to see their hate.

How does he know who I am?

And why does he give a damn about me?

“C’mon Dallas, sing it!” Tony shouted to the crowd.

I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby

Come with me Friday, don't say maybe

I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

OOOOOOOOO

Tony finally faced the crowd, trying not to show the shock on his face when they screamed the lyrics, loud and slightly masculine. He jumped quickly back in the song for the closer, enjoying the moment that felt like freedom.

Oh, yeah, dirtbag

No, he doesn't know what he’s missin'

Oh, yeah, dirtbag

No, he doesn't know what he’s missin'...

The cheers of the audience were the loudest they’ve ever been on the tour so far, and Tony had to struggle to keep going with the last few songs. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he was so happy.

All Tony could do was collapse onto the clean hotel bed in front of him. He couldn’t control the smile plastered across his face after the show. He was just so mesmerized by what happened, he almost couldn’t believe it.

Nat followed him into the room, throwing her bag onto the other bed in the room. He didn’t even look up when she flicked on the TV, the volume playing low in the background.

Her dry chuckle filled the empty space, her green eyes watching his child-like smile.

“So you like the song when it’s Tanner, huh?”

Tony didn’t even have it in him to tell her no, instead sitting up and looking her in the eyes.

Before he could answer, Steve and Bruce opened the door, moving into the room and dropping their stuff down on their respective beds. Steve’s brown leather back pack plopped down next to Nat’s black duffle. Bruce’s headphones were on and playing music loud enough to block the world out. The blond was smiling brightly too, his sharp blue eyes immediately meeting Tony’s.

“Stark, that song was amazing.” Steve tried to keep his voice from showing more than he wanted.

Tony laughed, though he wasn’t sure why. “Which one? ‘Across the Sea’?”

Steve just shook his head, stepping closer to Tony. “No, ‘Teenage Dirtbag’. I don’t know many people who’d sing something like that, especially in the middle of Texas.”

Tony just shrugged, trying to play off his own shock at the song. “I’m just doin’ my job.”

“Nah, it was more than that. It was…” Steve trailed off like he was trying to find the words. He grabbed the towel left on his bed, picking out his stuff for the shower as he thought. For a long second his eyes met Tony’s and something small passed between them. “I don’t know, it was awesome.”

Tony nodded, trying not to show how much that affected him as he watched the blond walk over to the bathroom and close the door. His eyes finally turned back to Nat, though severely more lovey dovey than before.

Nat just smirked, a knowing smile in her lips. “So, I’ll ask again. The song is good when it’s about a guy, right?”

Tony looked down at his hands, trying to make the smile on his face fade. His eyes trailed back up again, flicking to the door for a second before responding.

“Yeah, it’s the best when it’s about a guy.”

Ahhhhh I’m so excited to post this fic because I love writing for stony, especially when it’s part of a more complicated work!!!

This is what is supposed to go next chronologically: The Hempstead Files, 10/10/2012; then the next chapter: Across the Sea COMING SOON

Any interaction with this fic is greatly appreciated! Love ya guys!