(Tony P.O.V.)

Oh god, this was worse than he thought.

Right now he was sitting in between Steve and Thor, with Avila on the other sofa with the girls, trying very hard not to die at the sight of two-year-old him running around in the garden with very heavy and very messy makeup on (maybe some of these were photoshopped? He did NOT remember doing that) and also wearing one of his mum's dresses. Naturally it was much too long and every ten seconds he would trip, fall, squeak "I'm okay!" and get up again. To make matters worse, every other person in this room was pissing themselves laughing. There was a thump as Sam fell off the sofa, cackling manically. Nat was rocking back and forth, hugging her knees as she screamed with laughter. Wanda was leaning forward, clutching her stomach. Avila had slid halfway off the sofa, leaning her head back and laughing 'til tears streamed down her face. Tony began calculating how long it would be until Avila would probably go home (two hours? Two and a half?) and how many videos they'd most likely watch before then (all of them. Crap.) and how he could divert them from the videos (NO FREAKING IDEA).

"This one is called "Music Lesson". Okay let's play it!" Rhodey announced gleefully, starting the video.

Tony had begun calling the evening "an intrusion on privacy" (which it very much was). This was the fifteenth or sixteenth video and he was DYING.

"Tony! Cheer up! It's only the third video!" Avila chirped encouragingly.

Wait. Wait. Wa-a-ait. The third video? The third? The—what? HOW???

"Why does he look like someone stuck a tent pole up his shirt?"

"Maybe someone stuck a tent pole up his shirt."

"Oh shut up Clint."

"Language."

"You WHAT, now? Did he just say—?"

"Yeah he's like that."

"But—"

"MOMMY, LOOK!"

Aaaaaand the video had started. Help.

"Yes dearie, I'm looking." That was his mother. Something clawed at his heart.

"Are you watching??? You're watching right??? Look!"

"Yes dear, I'm watching."

"Okay!" Soft, gentle notes began to slide off the keys as eight-year-old Tony began the song.

"Try to remember

The kind of September

When life was slow

And oh, so mellow.

Try to remember

The kind of September

When grass was green

And grain was yellow.

Try to remember

The kind of September

When you were a tender and callow fellow.

Try to remember

And if you remember

Then follow

Follow."

Suddenly, Tony remembered the song.

"Try to remember the kind of September..."

A quaint, sunny room, with a piano in the center, and a white-haired woman playing a quiet song.

"Maria, I'm taking the bags now." A relatively old man stuck his head into the room.

Leaning against the piano was a teenage boy, an annoyed expression permanently displayed on his face. He wore a t-shirt and shorts, and was staring into space.

The woman got up from the piano. "Say something," she whispered, "or it will be too late."

The man re-entered the room. The boy paced over to the wall, sighing irritably.

"I don't love you dad." He uttered suddenly, turning to face his parents. "And I know," he continued, placing a hand on his mother's chest, "that you tried your best."

Back then he still thought he would see them again.

He was stupid.

He was naïve.

Because they died.

YEAH SHORT I KNOW BUT NEXT ONE SHOULD BE LONGER!

Btw this is the actual song Maria played in that scene, in Civil War. Didn't mean to make you guys cry I swear!