Two weeks.

Tony had been an official, documented parent for two weeks. Fourteen short days filled with Steve and Peter and a whole lot of diapers.

Steve was thrilled that after only four days of intense this-is-how-you-make-sure-he-doesn't-die lessons, he was able to comfortably leave the child in his boyfriend's capable hands. Peter seemed to thrive on Tony's attention; every time Tony entered the nursery (a new addition to Stark Tower), Peter vibrated with excitement, reaching for the genius and happily screeching out his name. Unless, of course, he was in a particularly bad mood.

Tony wasn't quite prepared for one of Peter's bad days.

"Shhhhhh… Peter, buddy, you're killing me. What's wrong?" The wailing continued, undeterred by any amount of bouncing, shushed words, or cuddliness on Tony's part. He had spent two hours trying to calm the child, using all of his not inconsiderable brain power to find a solution. He was a problem solving machine; he should be able to calm a screaming child! He looked at his long forgotten tablet longingly; he had been so close to a break through.

"What happened, Tony?" Steve rushed into the room, fresh and damp from a post work out shower. He took one look at Tony's panicky expression and the screaming child and let out a low groan. "So it's going to be one of those days, huh?" Steve shook his head, dislodging a few damp strands of hair that hung limply in front of his eyes.

"What days? What do you mean?" Tony looked down at the baby, who had started squirming, drooling, and writhing in his arms.

"Some days he just won't stop crying for no particular reason. Then he falls asleep and is happy as a clam when he wakes up." Steve shrugged and held out his arms for Tony to place the baby in. Steve was shocked when Tony recoiled from the gesture rather than depositing the child and running for the hills.

Tony's eyes were wide and staring blankly at the child in a way that Steve recognized as calculation and intense thought. Steve didn't entirely grasped how impossible it was for him to really understand what was going through Tony's mind, an endless stream of probabilities, percentages and variables flashed behind his eyes. "What if he's sick? We don't exactly know what the spidey powers could be doing to his anatomy; he could be in pain. Jarvis! Run some tests; make sure he's healthy. In the mean time, how do we get him to sleep?"

"May I suggest warm milk, Sir?"

Tony glowered at the ceiling. "Really, Jarvis? Most intelligent system in the world and that's the best you can come up with? Warm milk?"

Steve chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to hide the immense pride and love that had swelled in his chest as he watched Tony care for his child. Their child. Tony seemed to catch on to his thought process, cocking his head to one side and giving Steve an somewhat exasperated smile.

"I know I'm amazing and all, but if you keep staring at me with those hell-sent puppy dog eyes, I'm never going to get Peter to sleep." Steve chuckled again, unable to stop himself despite the subtle insult. They way Tony said Peter's name made Steve's heart leap. The man wasn't nearly as heartless as he let the world believe.

"Sir, I believe I have discovered the problem." Tony's head jerked up at the sound of Jarvis' voice, looking hopeful and terrified at the same time behind a perfect scowl. No one who didn't know Tony inside and out would be able to see the fear there.

"Well, by all means, Jarvis, keep us in the dark as long as you like," he spat venomously.

"It seems that Master Peter is teething. May I suggest you purchase some teething rings and oral gels to ease the pain?"

Tony and Steve stared at each other for a few moments. "Let me guess; you had no idea that this would happen?" Tony said in a strained voice.

Steve had a look of horror and chagrin on his face. "I hadn't occurred to me, no."

"God, we suck."