When with Family

The last thing Steve expected was to be woken up by was Jarvis announcing that they had guests, at eight in the morning, no less. He stumbled out of his bedroom, hair mussed and sleep in his squinting eyes, after having his first lie in since he had woken up. Continuing down the hallway, he was joined by Natasha, and later by Clint, who jumped down from the vents, presumably after spending the night in them.

For the sake of his sanity, Steve wasn't going to ask.

"Was anyone expecting guests?" he muttered, glancing back and forth between Clint and Natasha, as if expectant that they had invited somebody over - hopefully not another assassin, he didn't think he could cope.

Natasha and Clint simultaneously shrugged, quizzical expressions on both of their faces.

"To my knowledge, we weren't expecting any guests today," Natasha replied, as they reached the communal kitchen, "Unless SHIELD has a new mission for us which we weren't warned about."

Steve prayed to God that there wasn't a mission including him. After his recent discovery of recliner chairs and electric blankets, that was exactly how he intended to spend his one day of relaxation, preferably with a bowl of popcorn or two.

Tony and Bruce were waiting for them in the kitchen, looking equally as bewildered at the announcement of incoming guests. Clearly, this was a surprise visit for all of them. Steve had been hoping it was one of Tony's scientists, or business partners, but this was so obviously not the case that he couldn't help but wonder whether the guests would be the lethal kind or not. He hoped for the latter.

Tony looked frustrated, agitatedly running a hand through his greasy and dirt covered hair, after spending the night in the lab. He looked worn out, as if he hadn't slept in days which, in tony's case, was likely.

"Are we all absolutely certain that nobody was invited to have a light breakfast with us today?" he snarked, raising an eyebrow at all of them.

Before they could reply, the elevator doors slid open to reveal... a group of shouting chidden being shushed by several older men and women? Steve was bewildered by the sight before him, he didn't know any children, and he was quite certain none of the others did either. Perhaps Bruce knew them, the scientist was known to be rather secretive about his personal life. He tried to imagine it, yes, the younger women could be good friends of his, the children were most likely theirs, were they Bruce's as well? Perhaps that one at the front was his, they had similar brown eyes, and the same-

Steve's inner ramblings were cut off by by one of the young women marching forward, straight towards Tony, before yanking him down by his ear and slapping him across the face, fire blazing in her eyes. He was about to intervene, but then the woman let go of his ear and threw her arms around Tony's waist, hugging him close against her. To say Steve was surprised would be an understatement, he was completely nonplussed by the sight before him.

Tony was, for lack of a better word, completely and totally fucked. The last thing he had expected when the elevators doors opened was this. In fact, he had thought it more likely for an armed group of Hydra agents to come storming through, catching them unawares when they were tired, and not expecting an attack. The young woman at the front of the group, a very familiar young woman might he add, then continued to stride up to him, grab him by the ear and slap him across the face, before pulling him into a tight hug. For a few seconds, as the red marked burned across his tanned skin, Tony stood stock still with his muscles tense, before melting into her hug, and bringing her into to a hug of his own with his chin resting upon the top of her head.

They stayed like this for a few seconds before the young woman pulled back, nose wrinkling. She caught his eye, throwing him a disapproving glare.

"When was the last time you had a shower Antonio? You smell worse than Uncle Alberto did when he came back from that month long camping trip." she asked, using a finger to wipe some grease off his top, and waving it in front of him like it was proof of a great crime he had committed.

Tony grinned down at her, cheeks flushing a little red at her disapproval. His reply flowed of his tongue in his mother language, the words easily flowing out.

"I may smell worse, but at least I'm not covered in insect bites like he was. The antiseptic we had to use stunk up the house for weeks after," he snickered, reminded of the horrible smell that kept them awake at night. The woman grinned back up at him, as they both laughed.

"Am I the only one here that's confused as to what the fuck's going on," came a voice from behind him, and he spun round to see that Clint was looking confused, glancing between Tony and the gaggle in the elevator, along with the rest of the avengers. Tony had been so caught up in his surprise that he had completely forgotten about the others. Slinging an arm around the smaller stance of the woman, he spoke towards the avengers.

"This is my family," he said with a relaxed shrug, glancing back at the elevator with a fond look in his eyes. The room exploded into questions.

"You have a family?"

"Where are they from?"

"How did you keep them hidden?"

"Do the kids like archery?"

"You speak another language?"

"I didn't know Howard had any brothers or sisters."

The last question was most obviously from Steve, and it was a moment in which Tony knew he should have told Steve about his relatives, and the fact that they couldn't stand the idea of ever being related to a man like Howard. This was very much proven when Tony's Auntie Claudia, not that Steve knew who she was, marched up to him and gave Steve the second slap of the day, a frown firmly set across her face. She continued in a very deja vu fashion, grabbing Steve's ear and pulling him close.

"Don't you dare insinuate that that man was considered part of our family," she hissed into his ear, although the silence from the others made it easy to hear what she said, "he was never family, not to us, maybe to dear Maria at some point, though I doubt even that sometimes. I suggest you don't say another word about Howard if you want to keep what makes you a man."

Claudia continued to stare at Steve through narrowed eyes for a moment, before letting go off his ear and giving him a warm smile. 

"But," she continued, "I have heard bits and pieces about you, and from what I know, you helped protect mio bambino, and for that I am thankful. Antonio doesn't have many people to look out for him, outside his family of course, and I hope I can trust you with that favour."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve replied, flushed red from the scolding tone of Claudia.

"Please, amico di Antonio, call me Zia or Claudia. All the children do." Embarrassed at being called one of the children, Steve nodded almost shyly towards the Tony's tough Auntie Claudia. She patted his cheek and strode back over to the main gaggle of Tony's family. Tony decided to use this as an opportunity to answer the questions that were asked. He coughed and started to explain,

"So, first of all, I do have a family, I think that much is pretty obvious. My mothers side of the family all come from Italy, my father met my mother when he went back over there after the war, on a business trip. It wasn't easy to keep them hidden, they are a rowdy bunch-" there was an indignant shout from his family "-but my mother kept them hidden by never telling my father about the majority of the family, and did very much the same thing, but with the help of Jarvis and my technology. To answer your question Clint, Rosa and Diana both took some archery lessons, and although they don't get the chance to practice a lot, they are rather fond. As said before, my family is from Italy and my Madre made sure I could speak it fluently by teaching me from a very you age."

Bruce hesitantly asked another question, "If you had to keep them hidden, then surely you don't see them much. Why do they seem so close to you, like you're practically another son?"'

The other Avengers nodded in agreement. How did Tony know his family so well? It was a well known fact that after Tony's parents died when he was quick young (although  most thought not as young as he actually had been), his guardian was Obadiah Stane, although he spent most of the year at boarding school.

"The boarding school story was a cover. Of course, I had to come back to New York every summer holiday for a week or so, and a couple of Christmases, which were Hell, when it was just me and Obadiah, but I spent nearly all my time in Italy. Most of the family lives in the same two villages, which are next to each other, but after one uncle moved to Venice, we've got relatives up there too. We traveled to see them a few times each year when I was younger. I had to leave when I was seventeen, and considered responsible enough to take care of the company, although I started inventing when my parents were still alive." Tony then looked thoughtful, turning towards his family, who were staring back at him with grins.

"What are you all doing here, anyway? We didn't arrange a visit." he said, staring at them suspiciously. The oldest of the women, with an ancient and lined face, huffed and put her hands on her hips.

"You haven't arranged a visit with us for nearly two years, bambino! What's more, you never sent us an invitation to your birthday party, and I know for a fact you have one every year, although I have to admit, we all expected you to come home this year, its a special birthday for you! Absolute disgrace, you would almost think that you didn't want to see us ever again. What do you have to say for yourself, hmm, Antonio? Is that what you wanted?"

Tony, who had slowly become more and more nervous during the old woman rant, hurriedly replied,

"Of course not! I love seeing you and the family, it just kept slipping my mind, I've been so busy working." 

He gestured to his stained top and jeans, to exaggerate how hard he had been working, in hopes of placating the woman's, his grandmothers, anger. Unfortunately, her glare just grew more intense as she marched over to him, and as his cousin did earlier, swiped some grease off his top, tutting disapprovingly.

"That's no excuse, young man, I expect so much better from you. I don't see you for less than two years, and you become the least hygienic person I know! Whats more, Antonio, you trim that beard something terrible, and look like you haven't showered in weeks."

Tony shuffled with his feet, playing with his hands as a nervous sweat dripped down the back of his neck, weary of his grandmothers wrath. Natasha chose this as a moment to speak up.

"You can't get Tony to shower, eat or sleep if he doesn't want to, there's no way anyone can change his mind, not even Rhodey can, despite his best efforts." The avengers nodded in agreement. Tony was the most stubborn person they knew, and refused to do what anyone told him, apart from in the field. Tony's grandmother raised a doubting eyebrow.

"Is that so?" she replied, glancing back towards Tony, who was standing frozen, waiting for his grandmothers reply,"You might not be able to, but if Antonio's grandmother tells him to do something, he is expected to do it, and I expect no less of him."

She turned sharply to face Tony, hand flying forward to grip his forearm tightly. He tried to pull away but her grip was firm and she gave him a smug smile.

"You, young man, aren't getting away with another step out of line, as I've had quite enough of that attitude already. Once we leave this room, I expect you to have a hot bath and clean your teeth. Once you've done that, I'm going to shave that terrible beard of yours and cut your hair into something more suitable. What did you cut it with, a chainsaw? Once we are done, I expect you to put on clean clothes, or someone else if you don't have any. Then you are going to come down and help me set the table for lunch."

The avengers gaped disbelievingly at Tony's grandmother. There was absolutely no way she would get Tony to do more than brush his teeth, if that. He was far too stubborn. Apparently, Tony agreed. He started to talk,

"There's no way im doing any of that! I'm perfectly fine as I am, very comfy, in fact. You can't make me do anythi-" Tony yelped as his grandmother squeezed his arm harder and began to drag him off towards his bathroom. The Avengers heard her talking to him as they went.

"-solutely disgraceful, it's a wonder you have any friends with that stubbornness! You will do as I say, and let there be no doubt about it."

There was a momentary pause in which they heard Tony grumbling.

"Gloria, dear sorella, would you mind helping get Antonio hair sorted, its an absolute birds nest!"

The Avengers were left to gape as Tonys great aunt Gloria swished her way towards the bathroom and out of sight.

In the hallway, Tony was being dragged behind the family matriarch like a puppy that had bitten the neighbour. His grandmother, or Nonna, still had a grip on his arm as she guided him towards his en suite, Aunt Gloria right behind them. Once all three of them were inside the bathroom, Gloria shut the door, and Nonna firmly sat Tony down into the chair that was in the corner, towering over him with a frown firmly set on her face.

The bathroom was massive, only the best for Tony Stark, with a large glass window that allowed him to look out over the city, but for nobody to look in because of the darkened and reflective glass. At the back of the room, in the right corner, was a door to the bubbling jacuzzi that was In the smaller room next-door. in the left corner was a large bath, accompanied by a rack of fluffy white towels, as well as a large variety of body washes, shampoos and conditioners. The toilet and sink were running up the right wall, with the wicker chair Tony was currently sitting on in the left corner as soon as you walked through the door.

"Now," Nonna started, as she pursed her lips at him, "I don't expect you to have that type of attitude again, embarrassing the family in front of your friends, like a rude bambino piccolo who wants attention. You must remind yourself of how to be respectful, or we will do it for you." She gave a firm nod and, much to Tony's surprise, knelt down on her knees and started unlacing his shoes.

"What- what are you doing?" he asked bewildered, as he had expected for them both to leave him alone to bathe once they were done talking. Not that he would, he would just have a quick shower.

"If you insist on acting like a child, then I will treat you like a child," Nonna said firmly, as she started unlacing his second shoe, and easing it of his foot, "and that means I am going to be washing your hair, and watching your every step, because I know what you're like when left alone."

With horrid realisation, Tony understood what she meant. She was going to wash his hair, because she thought him a child. He wouldn't be treated like a child, not on his watch. He had to choose one of two options. Option one was to stay, and follow Nonna's every command or... he could escape back down to the lab and put it lockdown, so they couldn't get in.

You bet your ass he was going with option two.

Waiting until his Nonna stepped back from doing his second shoe, he dived out of the chair and, making use of his slippery socks, slid past Gloria and to the door. He fumbled to open it as his Nonna yelled in Italian to 'get his ass back over here' and finally opened the door as Gloria was getting close to him. Shoeless, he sprinted out of the connected bedroom and stumbled into the hallway, nearly falling over as he blindly legged it up the hall, towards the communal kitchen where he could get down to his lab by the elevator.

As he hastily ran into the kitchen, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at him, bewildered as to his arrival when they were sure he was still showering. He continued to sprint past them all, ignoring Bruce's "Are you okay, Tony?" and pressing the button for the elevator, stepping back to expectantly watch the numbers as they rose to his floor. Except... they didn't. The floor number wasn't moving.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What's wrong with the elevator?" There was a momentary pause.

"There is nothing wrong with the elevator, sir, I simply believe it is in your best interests to stay on this floor."

Jarvis, the traitor. Tony turned away from the elevator, and spotted Steve's muscular form in the corner. He hurried over to him, and Steve looked at him with concern written across his face.

"Are you alright, Tony?" he asked, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder and looking the smaller man in the eye.

"Yes Steve, I'm fine. If you wouldn't mind, I urgently need to hide behind you right about now." Tony fumbled to get the words out, Nonna would be here any minute, and Steve was his last chance for freedom.

"Why? I need a reason." Of course Mr.Righteous needed a reason.

"Well, you see..." It was too late. Nonna had arrived.

"Bambino!" she tutted, marching up to Tony with an air of confidence, "you're just making it worse for yourself! You should know that by know."

As she once again grabbed him by the arm, Tony resigned himself to his fate. There never had been a time where he could escape Nonna's wrath. A few minutes later, the three of them were back in the now locked bathroom, with two of his smug cousins waiting just outside the bedroom in case he managed to escape again. He didn't intend to, knowing what Nonna would be like if he did.

She sat him back down on his chair, and began tugging his socks off.

"Don't you be embarrassed, Antonio, it's not going to be anything I haven't seen before. Just give me a few weeks, and I'll have you straightened out again."

A few weeks? How long were his family intending to stay?

"How long are you all staying, Nonna? Were you intending to live in the guest rooms?" he asked as she told him to lift his arms so she could take off his shirt. It was so embarrassing.

"Only tonight, bambino," replied Nonna, "we are heading back tomorrow afternoon." Tomorrow afternoon? He didn't understand. Hadn't she said she would take a few weeks to straighten him out? His confusion must have shown upon his face, as Nonna smiled at him, shook her head, and replied,

"You didn't expect us to not bring you back with us, did you? You can't have forgotten that its your 25th birthday in just a few weeks time, now can you?" she tutted at his apparent lack of knowledge.

"But why do I have to come back with you so early. Why do I have to be 'straightened out' before my 25th birthday?"

Nonna looked at him surprised, as if shocked he didn't know why. He had a feeling he was forgetting something.

"Surely you remember? You're a Carbonell, you have to accept your duties on your 25th birthday. Ever since Maria died, you're technically next in line for throne. Your cousin Fabio was only King because he had just turned eighteen, and could legally take the throne if there was no other choice. Its your turn now, although we may have to withhold the ceremony until a few weeks after your birthday, to give you extra time to train, and learn about the rites of passage, which you should have been doing for the past year. Unfortunately, you weren't, as you were so busy with the company. Anyhow, take off your jeans."

Tony had been so distracted by the fact that would be an actual king in a few weeks time, that he had completely forgotten why he was in the bathroom in the first place. Flushing a dark red from embarrassment, he stood up and wriggled out of his stained jeans, throwing them into to the dirty washing basket, which was already overflowing. His Nonna clicked her tongue at how slim he had gotten, she had always approved of people having plenty of meat on their bones.

In the background, the running off the tap stopped as gloria finished off the bath, steam rising from the bubbly surface. Nonna looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Come on then, boxers off, bambino."

Mortified, Tony stripped naked, and threw his boxers into the basket too, quickly climbing into the bath to cover himself up. Nonna nodded approvingly before selecting the needed bottles of shampoo and conditioner, as well as soap, of the racks and kneeling beside the bath.

"Alright then Tony, get your hair wet, and then I can shampoo it."

Muttering crass remarks under his breath (which earned him a huff from Nonna) he leant back into the water and wetted his hair, making sure it was all soaking, and taking care not to get too much water on his face. Sitting back up, he watched as Nonna squeezed out a good sized dollop of shampoo and began to lather it into his hair. He sighed contentedly - it did feel nice against his scalp, as he closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. A tap on his back interrupted his half slumber as Nonna reminded him to keep his back straight, so she could reach.

After several minutes of making sure all his hair was shampooed, Nonna made him lean back again so she could rinse the shampoo suds out. They came out grey from all the dirt that was in his hair. Nonna sighed.

"We'll have to shampoo it again, it's even dirtier than I expected."

Another five minutes of shampooing and rinsing, and Tony's hair was cleaner than it had been in weeks. Nonna then got a small dollop of conditioner and gently ran it through the length of his hair, which when it was completely straight from water weight, reached to the top of his jaw, due to him not cutting it himself, or letting anyone else cut it for that matter. Nonna brushed through the tangles, and Tony winced as she tugged on some of the particularly tough knots ins hair that he hadn't noticed before. Once she was done, the conditioner was rinsed out with clean water from the tap, leaving his hair softer and silkier than it had been for months. Nonna muttered remarks about how exactly she would keep it looking nice, and Tony figured this wasn't going to be his last bath in which someone else washed his hair.

"Now your hairs looking much better, I expect you to clean yourself using the soap, and if I'm not impressed I'll do it for you."

Nonna turned away so that he could wash himself in private. Small victories he figured. Scrubbing himself quickly all over, it took Tony only a minute to wash himself properly. Or what he thought was properly, as when Nonna turned around, she was not impressed.

"Did you wash behind your ears and between your toes? I think not. Don't you dare tell me you washed your arms, I can see a grease mark from here! Honestly Antonio, if that's the best you can do, I don't think I trust you to clean yourself for quite some time."

Nonna took the stop and sponge from him, adhering up the sponge some more, before vigorously attacking the oil stains and behind his ears. She then scrubbed both his feet clean, whilst he held his breath to not give away just how ticklish he was, as Nonna would be sure to tell his cousins. Finally Nonna stepped back, proud of her handiwork, and old him to go back and sit on the wicker chair.

He stepped out of the bath, the tile flooring cold because the underground heating hadn't been switched on. Hopping speedily, he was at he chair in no time, shivering a little from wet skin meeting cool air. Nonna threw a towel over his head, buffeting his hair with the towel until it was damp, but not soaking. the towel was given to him so that he could dry of his feet and hands, as per. Nonna's orders, before she tugged his arms into a bathrobe and tied the cord firmly round his waist. He felt like a child again.

"Come with me," ordered Nonna, going through another door that was in the wall, the led to a sort of dressing room, where he normally fashioned his beard into its normal style. This was not the case today.

Nonna made him sit down in the chair facing the mirror, he had to admit, his hair did look much improved from the bath, although he mourned the fact he was going to lose his beard, whether he wanted to or not. As Nonna selected a razor to cut it off, great aunt Gloria - Nonna's younger sister - came up to him with a pair of haircutting scissors she had found in the drawers.

"Lets smarten you then shall we?" she smiled at him, snipping the scissors ominously in preparation to cut his hair. he tried to rebel against the inevitable by making a quick attempt to escape. He couldn't lose his beard. However, Tony wasn't even out the dressing room door before Gloria managed to grab him by the back of his bathrobe, pressing him back into the chair and, to the surprise of only Tony, handcuffed both his wrists to the armrests.

"If you are to become king, Antonio, you will learn to escape handcuffs, but for now, they will keep you in place whilst we cut your hair and beard." she murmured, making sure he was secure and couldn't get away.

"I don't want my hair to be cut! And definitely not my beard," he burst out indignantly, as a last attempt. Nonna only ignored his shouts and told him,

"You are far too young to have a beard, and if you were to have one, at least grow it properly. It looks ever so scruffy when you keep it like that." And with that, she shaved off the first part of one of his sideburns, as Gloria began snipping the back of his hair, working from the top and down.

Half an hour later, they were finished. Tony had refused to open his eyes since the first snip, refusing to believe they wearing cutting his hair, and shaving his beard. Except... they were. Nonna announced that they were finished, and Tony finally cracked open his eyelids.

His beard was completely gone, as well as his stubbly moustache. In their place was smooth skin, freshly shaved. His hair was also different. Where it had been roughly cut before, the top now fell in a gentle wave down just below his eyes, with the very bottom resting slightly below the bottom of his ear. It was a glossy dark brown, although it was still lighter then the oily almost black it had become before the bath. Nonna nodded at him approvingly from where she stood - it made him look so much younger. With the beard and longer hair, Tony had looked almost double his age, and because of this many of the younger population, and people who didn't know much about him, thought he was closer to fifty the twenty five, including his team mates.

"We'll leave you to wash your face, and then Gloria will cut all your nails, they are far too long. Once we've done that, we can go and find some clothes, as I believe all of yours are in your washing basket." This statement made Gloria shake her head with disapproval, as she rummaged for nail scissors. They uncured him, so that he could go wash his face, as there was no point in running now the worst part was over. Shuddering at the feel of the smooth skin instead of his beard, he carefully washed his face, knowing they would be able to tell if he didn't do it properly.

Face washed, Tony returned to the wicker chair, and allowed Gloria to cut his nails to a reasonable length, as they had roughed up edges at all the tops from when he was working on his cars for hours on end. Tony then thoroughly brushed his teeth, getting rid of some of the leftover food morsels that were still stuck (not that he'd eaten much recently). Hours from when they had started, Tony almost felt like a completely different person - he certainly looked different.

Nonna then came back into the room, after her quest to find clothes and, much to Tony's complete mortification, Clint was right behind her, carrying a small pile of clothes, presumably for Tony to wear.

"This young man, Clint I believe, is the closest to your size in clothing Antonio, darling. They might be a little big, he's taller than you, and he's got a bit more muscle on his bones," Nonna smiled, sounding as if she very much approved of Clint having a bit more weight on him - she had always disapproved of being skinny. Clint, as he was standing behind Nonna, was yet to see Tony in the wicker chair.

Tony awkwardly stood up, a little shy of being seen with his new look, and turned to fully face Clint. The look on Clint's face expressed his surprise, Tony looked so much younger than he was used to. He passed the clothes to Tony, who accepted them quickly, and turned to the dressing room to get changed. Clint left, surprised expression still firmly in place.

Ten minutes after Clint had re-entered the kitchen and sitting area, Nonna and Gloria walked in, with Tony trailing behind, looking thoroughly scrubbed. He was wearing one of Clint's arrow shirts and dark wash jeans, with a belt around his waist to hold them up. His hair was nearly dry and it looked very soft. Steve gaped at Tony. He looked so much younger than he did before. Steve had always believed Tony was around forty years old, maybe slightly younger because of his childish traits sometimes, but his new look had shaved ten years off, and he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

Tony's family of course knew his age, but it was still a refreshing change to see him looking close to twenty five then twice that.

Tony sank down into an armchair, looking thoroughly worn out, and as if he could collapse any second. All the cleaning had taken it out of him, and now that he felt his freshest for a long time, all he wanted to do was go to sleep right there and then.

"Come now, bambino," admonished Nonna, poking his side to rouse him from the armchair, "you need to set the table, and then help serve up the bolognese, its your house after all."

With a groan, Tony dragged himself off the arm chair, stumbling slightly as he grabbed the cutlery and set out thirteen places, five for the avengers and himself, two of the places for Nonna and Great Aunt Gloria, two places for Auntie Claudia and Auntie Matilde, and the final four places for his cousins, Elisa, Diana, Alice and Rosa. He had many more cousins and aunties, but they were still at home in Italy.

Nonna ushered the family and avengers to the table, six on each side, with Nonna at the head of the table.The order round the table was arranged as so: Natasha, Clint, Diana, Rosa, Alice, Gloria, Nonna, Claudia, Tony, Matilde, Steve and Bruce. Tony went round, serving everyone the spaghetti as his Aunt Matilde followed him, dolloping out sauce onto their plates. Tony was then forced into a chair firmly between his two aunties, to make sure that he ate plenty, so Nonna could try and increase his weight

“Eat up, Antonio, we cant have you being a skinny little thing. Can you imagine yourself leading our people when you’re smaller than all of them but the bambino’s?”

They could have heard a pin drop when Nonna finished that sentence. Every single avenger seemed to freeze after the last syllable was uttered, forks hovering between their plates and mouth as they tried to process what they just heard. Tony also felt his chest tighten, his internal mantra screaming fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Bruce spoke up from the end of the table,

“What do you mean, leading your people?” He queried, confused by what Nonna has said.

“I think Tony’s becoming the head of his family,” piped up Natasha from next to Bruce, winding spaghetti round her fork whilst staring intensely at Tony. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking impressed. Head of the family was a big title to hold, especially when Tony appeared to have such a large family.

“I didn’t take you for the type, Tony, to take the responsibility of that title,” Steve announced, looking thoughtful.

“Head of the families usually hereditary,” explained Clint, “it depends who was the eldest of the siblings in the generation above, and who their oldest child is. Clearly, Tony’s mother was the eldest of her siblings, and as Tony is her only child, it was passed down to him.”

That made sense, the avengers mentally agreed, turning to look at Tony for confirmation. He looked distinctly uncomfortable trying to shrink in on himself and disappear as the attention went to him. Tony tried to play it off as what they thought it was.

“Ah, well yes, it is hereditary, I’m soon going to gain the title of head of the family and-”

Tony yelped as Nonna whacked him upside the head with the wooden stirring spoon, brandishing it threateningly at him, in case he tried to escape the table.

“Don’t try to play it off, Antonio, you know perfectly well that you’re not gaining head of family as a title. If you’re going to speak up, at least be honest!”

The avengers were confused. Had Tony been trying to give himself a better title than he was getting? Or was it a more important title? That thought was dismissed immediately, there weren’t many titles more important then head of the family.

“What are you going to be then,” asked Clint, expression curious, “what kind of title are you getting?”

“Well, you see,” Tony coughed out, stuttering slightly. How was he going to explain this?

“I’m not going to be head of my family exactly, although you could, kind of, I suppose, call it that, if you wanted. Well, umm, you see it’s quite a different title to that really, one might think-“

“Just spit it out, laddie!” Exploded Nonna, frustrated by his awkward stuttering and pausing. She continued speaking,

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the table, the soon-to-be King Antonio Edwardo Romulus Carbonell, of the Italian throne.”

If you could hear a pin drop before, you could probably hear it if it was dropped in Africa now. The tension in the room was thick enough that it couldn’t be cut with a knife. Tony groaned, and slammed his head onto the wooden table in despair, not come to terms with the fact that the secret was out, and that he was eternally fucked.

Steve choked on his bolognese sauce.

“He’s a what?” Rasped out Steve, eyes wide as they glanced towards Tony, and then back towards Nonna.

“A king,” she repeated slowly, as if to a small child, “although technically not yet. He will be in a few weeks though, just give me some time to straighten him out, and the ceremony should all go smoothly, so long as he remembers his rites of passage.” Words like king, ceremony and rites of passage were all flying through the avengers heads as they gaped at Tony, although Natasha did so with a little more finesse than the others. She pulled herself together quickly, and quickly put back on a cold and calculating expression.

"How come we weren't told of this before," she asked suspiciously, "wouldn't Tony have told us?"

Leave it up to Natasha to doubt things, Tony thought from where his head continued to rest on the table. Nonna chuckled, shaking her head, and looking fondly over to where Tony was slowly dying of embarrassment.

"Maybe he would have told you, if it hadn't slipped his mind. Antonio always did forget the most important things when he got too wrapped up in those dreaded projects of his," she said eyeing the top of Tony's head, as if remembering a similar incident. Tony also remembered this incident, but preferred not to remember the time he didn't realise it was Christmas due to having been in the middle of a project, and forgot to buy any presents. The thought made him cringe.

There was a pause in which the avengers tried to wrap their head around the fact that Tony was a fucking king, and he hadn't told them. Nonna cleared her throat, and stood with her finished plate in hand.

"We'll leave you with your friends for a while Antonio, whilst we go get our bags from the hotel we stayed in last night. I expect you to make dinner, with pudding, Lord knows you cooked a lot as a child, you should remember a few recipes." And with that, Nonna and the rest of Tony's family stood, put their dishes in the dishwasher, and headed out into the elevator, waving at him as the doors shut. He was alone with his team.

And so, the questions began.