#bby!peter

What was not fascinating, though, was the set of lungs the kid had. Apparently, growing teeth wasn’t as fun as it looked because the kid had started crying and chewing on everything and crying harder when it didn’t alleviate the pain. Tony had tried everything he knew: the teething ring, a cold washcloth, some chilled fruit. Nothing seemed to help the pain, and Peter would scream a little harder at Tony. 

When the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open, Tony almost cried. Steve sauntered in, his luggage rolling behind him. 

“Hey baby, I’m back- what happened in here?” Steve stopped at the edge of the couch and paused. The coffee table was littered with bowls of fruit, and various colored wash clothes. The floor had a pile of teddy bears and teething rings that Peter had flung aside in his tiny fit of rage. 

“Hi. Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” Tony turned his bloodshot eyes on Steve, thrusting the baby into his arms. He was so happy to see his fiance, he was, but he couldn’t feel the joy when the pounding headache had beat his happiness to a pulp. 

Steve didn’t seem too thrown off by the mess, because he took Peter and immediately pressed a finger to Peter’s red gums and began to massage the front of his mouth. Peter sobered quicker than Tony did in the Fountain Incident of 1997. (Tony had gotten high off his ass and took a quick swim in the fountain at MIT and sobered immediately when he saw Howard and the dean walking towards him.) 

“How...how did-” Tony watched Peter rest his head on Steve’s chest and silence washed over the child. He was content. He’d be screaming for the last 48 hours, and now with Steve’s finger in his mouth he was content? Tony’s eye twitched. 

“I don’t know. I read about it somewhere. I didn’t think it’d work.” Steve stepped over a pink teething ring which now had a hole in the plastic and all the water left the carpet damp. He sat on the couch and looked down at Peter who looked like he was ready to fall asleep. 

“I hate you.” Tony grumbled. “I hate you so much.”