For about the millionth time, Tony's phone vibrated, drawing him away from his work on the suit. This last buzz pushed him over the edge, and he snatched the phone up. He slid the top up, the screen rotating sideways. His own personal modifications. A dark eyebrow raised at the eighteen messages from an unknown number.

[6:01 PM] HEY

[6:01] HEY TONY

[6:05] HEY NAT GOT ME A PHONE

[6:10] TEXTING IS COOL RIGHT

[6:16] BUT I CAN'T GET THESE PESKY CAPITAL LETTERS TO GO AWAY

[6:16] HELLO

[6:23] TONY

[6:24] MY THUMBS DONT FIT THIS TINY TYPEWRITER

[6:25] TONY

[6:25] TONY WHAT ARE YOU DOING

[6:25] HEY

[6:30] ARE YOU ASLEEP

[6:31] TONY PLEASE

[6:40] PLEAASE

[6:41] TONY HEY

[6:42] IM COMIGN DOWN THERE

Tony's fingers stabbed at the device, but before he could send the text, his music was cut off and Captain Rogers entered the garage. "I was listening to that," Tony muttered, sitting back down in his chair and working on the suit again. His partner came to stand by him, nose pressed to the screen of his phone.

"This thing is so confusing, honestly. How do you do it?"

"LIke this," The device was ripped from his fingers and thrown across the room, where the screen shattered on the floor. A protest came from Steve, as he bent down to check it out. Yep, screen was broken and flickering. "It was a crap phone anyway, don't make them anymore."

Steve sighed, leaning over Tony. "Fixing it?"

"Yeah, the flight balancers got uncalibrated and almost sent me into the Statue of Liberty a few days ago." He muttered, poking at the suit with his tools. Steve slowly pulled the chair back, picking Tony up and sitting down, placing the philanthropist on his lap. Tony gave a huff, looking at Steve. "What do you want?"

"Just want to talk."

"Usually when you want to talk, you start yelling and getting upset over the new generation. Would you like a drink?" Tony reached out, grabbing a bottle of whisky and two glasses. Captain rejected. TOny shrugged and pored himself some of the dark liquid into the clear square glass. "More for me."

"Tony, I need to talk to you, about something important. Can you stop drinking for five minutes?" Steve mumbled, taking the glass. Tony glared.

"What? I'm getting a hangover already."

Steve focused on the glass, and not on his friend, partner and lover's face. "I get lonely around here when you're away on Avengers stuff, and I bet you get lonely when I'm not here. We... um..."

"Spit it out," Tony grumbled.

"I want to adopt," Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He had always wanted kids, but never thought of it as a possibility, because he was always teased by the other kids for how small and timid he was. Hell, he never even thought of being with a man. Well, until he met Tony. The Iron Man. SOmething clicked inside of him, and he was nervous at first. But, everyone said being with a man was accepted now, so...

Tony stared at him for a moment. "Are you serious? A kid?"

Steve nodded, setting his jaw. "I want to raise a child. Please, Tony?"

Tony glanced from the bottle to Steve and back again a few times. "Are you fucking SERIOUS? I'm an alcoholic, really want to do that?"

There was no use arguing with Steve.

A few months later, paperwork settled and the boyfriends opened the Stark Mansion door for their new daughter, a four year old named Naomi Marie Rogers Stark. She had curly, wispy brown hair and adorable gray eyes, which were lighter around the pupil and dark around the edges. She had a toothy smile, and was completely energetic. Steve fell in love with her the moment they laid eyes upon her, and Tony took a day or two to feel the same.

SHe was their little girl. That was all that mattered.

Until everything got weird and fucked up.