I Can't Lose You
Peter hadn't heard anyone play piano since Ben had bled out in an alley in front of him, a gunshot wound in his chest. He purposefully avoided the hallway of the school that led to the band room lest someone happen to be playing the old hand-me-down piano in the corner of the room and quit band, making the excuse that he needed to devote more time to academic decathlon. To himself, he made the excuse that he needed to devote more time to patrolling. He didn't watch movies that had anything to do with music. He didn't listen to songs that featured the piano. And he quit playing himself.
There was an electric keyboard in one of their closets. He hadn't been able to bring himself to donate it with the rest of Ben's things that had gone to the local refugee ministry. Instead, he peeked into the closet occasionally, looking at it. Just a peek. And then he'd shut the closet and push the thought out of his mind. Told himself that the next time they cleaned the apartment and decluttered, he'd finally let it go. But he never did...he could never quite bring himself to, no matter how many times May went on a cleaning kick.
May and Happy made the plans before she told him. It didn't bother him that they were dating. It had been a long time and he knew that she was lonely. He wanted his aunt to be happy, and he liked Happy, so it was...fine. Weird, but fine. Mr. Stark teased him about it sometimes when they were in the lab, but never maliciously. He was happy for them too. Peter was pretty sure the man had helped set them up, actually. It was just...seeing May with someone...it brought back memories. And although he laughed along with Mr. Stark when he'd joke about May and his bodyguard, it still made something in him ache.
He missed Ben. It had been too long, he thought sometimes, but he still missed him. He missed the way his uncle would take him out for dinner some nights when May was working and he missed the way they would watch Star Wars together. He missed playing Mario Kart and going on late night donut runs and resting with his head on his uncle's shoulder during movie night, the three of them, his whole family, curled up on the sofa together, a big bag of popcorn passed between them.
And he missed playing piano together.
He stayed with Mr. Stark and Miss Potts while May and Happy went on their cruise. May and Ben had always wanted to go on a cruise. They'd wanted to travel the world before him, and they'd given it all up. Now May was on a cruise and Peter was laying in his bed at the tower, staring at the ceiling, wide awake despite the fact that it was nearly 3 am. He had been tired earlier...it had been a long day at school, and a long evening doing homework and then hanging out in the lab with Mr. Stark, but as soon as he'd laid down, dressed in an old t-shirt that had belonged to his uncle, he found himself unable to sleep. Eventually, he got up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. It was Friday, so it was no big deal if he didn't get to sleep any time soon, but Mr. Stark would probably want to do something the next day...or, later that day, as it was. The man had been watching him strangely the evening before, obviously able to tell that something was wrong but not attempting to pry.
Now Peter headed for the kitchen, deciding to stretch his legs and get a drink of water when he heard it...the soft sound he'd heard so many times as a kid.
When Peter had been little, he'd thought that the piano was magic. That his uncle was some kind of magician for being able to make such beautiful sounds come from the little electric keyboard he kept in his living room closet. Then, one day, Ben had taken him to the house of a coworker, and that's when Peter had seen a grand piano for the first time. It had stood there, shiny and larger than life, and Peter had been transfixed as Ben had sat down on the stool, gesturing for Peter to do the same.
And then he'd begun to play.
Peter followed the sound, his fingers twitching along with the music. He knew the song...Chopin. Soft and beautiful, the music filled the hall until he reached the room, one he hadn't been in before. That was nothing unusual...the tower was full of rooms he'd never been in. Peter leaned against the doorjamb, watching as the man he'd come to see as a father figure, the third one he'd had in his short life, ran his fingers nimbly over the keys, his eyes half closed, and Peter wanted to close his too. He wanted to lay on the sofa in the corner, curl up with a blanket and let the music ease him into sleep like the lullabies Ben had sang him when he'd been too young to understand why his parents had left him.
He'd lost them. He'd lost Ben. The weight of it seemed heavier than he could bear as he approached Mr. Stark, the two of them surrounded by shelves filled to capacity with thick volumes on physics and chemistry and engineering. He hadn't known that Mr. Stark could play the piano, but it made sense. Mr. Stark could do anything. The same fingers that had built the Iron Man armor and that programmed AI's faltered a little on the keys when Peter sat beside him, his head resting on the man's shoulder.
"Hey. Did I wake you?" Mr. Stark spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper, but he didn't stop playing.
Peter shook his head, eyes shutting as the music seemed to fill him, reminding him of things he both wanted to remember and wanted to forget. "Couldn't sleep," he whispered in a voice that came out choked and sad.
"Yeah?" Mr. Stark's voice was inviting. Kind. And it only made Peter's chest ache more.
"Ben taught me how to play piano," he finally told him, a tear escaping. Peter ignored it. Mr. Stark wasn't looking at him...he continued to play the piece, slower now. Softer.
"My mother taught me."
Peter watched his fingers. Even if he pretended, he couldn't make Mr. Stark into Ben. Ben had played on an electric keyboard. Mr. Stark played on a grand piano so shiny he could see his own reflection in it. Ben had been much taller than Peter, with broad shoulders and arms that made him feel safe. But although Mr. Stark was only a few inches taller, the man seemed larger than life sometimes, just like the first grand piano Peter had encountered. When he lifted an arm, draping it around Peter's shoulders, Peter felt that same safety...that same comfort that he'd always felt when Ben had held him. Nothing could hurt him when Mr. Stark was holding him.
"I miss him," Peter admitted, almost ashamed to say it. Ashamed because it had been more than two years and ashamed because May had moved on and ashamed because he had Mr. Stark, and sometimes that felt like it should be enough.
"I know, buddy. I know." He realized then that he was crying, his face hidden in Mr. Stark's shoulder, and the man turned on the bench, holding him close. "I'm sorry, Pete."
"I'm scared I'm going to lose you too." The confession came tumbling out of his mouth, the truth of it striking him to his core. "I can't lose you too."
"Oh, Peteā¦" His mentor rested a large, warm hand on the back of his head, his thumb stroking Peter's hair. "I'm not going anywhere, kiddo."
It wasn't worth much as far as promises went. He was Iron Man. Peter was Spider-Man. Either one of them could die at any time, during patrols or a mission or just while crossing the street. They both knew all about their own mortality, probably better than most. But for some reason, it was a comfort to hear him say it, and Peter let himself be comforted. And after a moment, Mr. Stark pressed his lips to Peter's temple, then pulled away, clasping his shoulder. "Alright, kiddo. Why don't you show me what he taught you?"
From then on, the two of them could be found in the music room when neither of them could sleep, their shoulders pressed together as they played, the soft music filling the penthouse. And Pepper would sit and listen sometimes, her eyes closed, a smile on her lips. Years later, in the lakehouse, Pepper would miss that sound as she sat in their living room, her husband alone in the study that didn't have a piano, and her daughter sound asleep, blissfully unaware that her father had once played piano with her big brother on nights when they couldn't sleep.
