Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 40: Detective Training

[Third Person Pov]

“You want me to do what, exactly?” Dylan asked, blinking in disbelief as a perplexed expression plastered itself across his face. He stared at Damon as though he were waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came.

“I want you to teach me how to be a detective,” Damon repeated, this time slower and with far more seriousness in his voice. His tone made it clear that he wasn’t teasing, exaggerating, or trying to pull anyone’s leg.

Lori frowned slightly and turned to Damon, studying him as if he were a puzzle that suddenly didn’t fit together anymore. “Where is this coming from?” she asked carefully. “Surely this isn’t just because of what happened earlier today, is it?”

“I mean… yeah,” Damon admitted, glancing away and rubbing the back of his neck. “What else would it be about?”

‘In truth,’ Damon thought to himself, this would help a lot more than they realize. ‘If I’m trained as a detective, it’ll help me as Spider-Man too. I’ll know how to analyze scenes better, track patterns, connect clues. My eye abilities won’t just be for fighting—they’ll actually have practical use. Solving cases, unraveling mysteries… honestly, I could be a pretty good detective if I learned how.’

Lori shook her head, her concern deepening. “No, I just mean… isn’t that quite a leap? Wanting detective training all of a sudden?”

Damon shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe. But wasn’t Dad’s whole issue that I don’t have proper training compared to the people around me? That I should let others handle situations instead?” He exhaled sharply. “I hate that. I hate the idea of standing back and leaving things to someone else. I won’t feel confident—or comfortable—unless I know I can handle things myself.”

Dylan glanced at Lori and smirked. “Wow. He totally gets that from you. That stubborn streak has your genes written all over it.”

Damon pretended not to hear him and continued, his voice firm. “So I figured the only real solution—the only way to reassure both you and myself if something like this happens again—is for you to teach me how to be a detective. I want actual training. The right way.”

Dylan leaned back against his table, crossing his arms. “I don’t know…” he said slowly, his tone uncertain. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked as he closed the door behind him and stepped fully back into the room.

“It means you’ve been coming home later than usual.”

“It’s summer vacation.”

“You suddenly picked up this photography hobby that puts you in dangerous places.”

“It’s summer vacation, so I got a summer job.”

“And then there’s what happened today.”

“It’s summer vacation,” Damon said flatly. “Weird fuckery happens all the time.”

Lori laughed softly, clearly amused by his logic. “Are you really going to blame everything on summer vacation?” she teased. “And what did I say about your language?”

Damon lifted his hands in surrender, but Dylan pressed on. “I just don’t want to teach you something like this only for you to think you can handle yourself and throw yourself into another dangerous situation. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Valid argument,” Damon agreed quickly, then smirked. “But now here’s my rebuttal.” Lori burst out laughing. “Would you rather I be equipped with the knowledge you give me whenever I’m in trouble, or would you prefer I be completely helpless and have no idea what I’m doing? Because if something did happen to me—and it could’ve been prevented if you taught me—that would weigh pretty heavily on your conscience.”

Dylan scoffed. “First of all, I would prefer it if you didn’t get into trouble in the first place, you little brat,” he said indignantly. “And second, are you seriously trying to manipulate me into agreeing with you? Where did you even learn that?”

His gaze slid over to Lori, who was smiling proudly.

Dylan groaned. “Ugh… forget I asked. I already know the answer.”

“First of all,” Damon said, crossing his arms, “I’m a teenager. I’m going to get into trouble one way or another. It’s basically part of the job description. And don’t act like you two were saints when you were younger—I know you had your fair share of trouble too.”

Lori and Dylan exchanged a glance before simultaneously shrugging, their expressions practically saying: Fair enough.

“And second of all,” Damon continued without missing a beat, “of course I’m trying to manipulate you. I’m trying to get you to agree.” He scoffed impatiently, throwing his hands up. “Do you seriously think I’d go this far if I didn’t actually want this? Be for real. So just say yes already.”

Both Dylan and Lori broke into quiet laughter at his blunt honesty. Dylan, however, didn’t answer right away. His amusement slowly faded as he grew contemplative, staring off into space while internally debating his options. Part of him wanted to shut the whole idea down outright—parental instinct screaming at him to protect his son from anything dangerous. The other part of him, the part that recognized that same stubborn determination in Damon, knew that flat-out refusal would only make him push harder.

It was Lori who ultimately tipped the scales.

“Why don’t you teach him just the small, basic stuff for now?” she suggested gently. “You can do it over the rest of the summer, whenever you have time. School starts again in a little over two weeks, right?” She glanced between the two of them. “By then, you’ll be able to tell how serious Damon actually is about this sudden interest. If he still has the same level of passion he does today, then you can go more in-depth with the lessons. And if he loses interest, you drop it where it stands. No harm done.”

Dylan mulled over her suggestion, turning it over in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded. Controlled, limited, and supervised—something he could live with.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine. That sounds fair enough.” He looked directly at Damon. “What do you say?”

“I’m cool with that,” Damon replied quickly, nodding. “As long as you don’t deliberately make the lessons unbearable just to see if I quit.”

Dylan smirked knowingly and gave a small nod. “No promises.”

“Should we shake on it?” Dylan asked, leaning forward slightly.

Damon snorted. “A fist bump will suffice, old man. A handshake is way too formal.”

They exchanged a fist bump, the deal unofficially sealed.

Damon then glanced over at Lori and gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Mom.”

Lori smiled warmly and ruffled his hair affectionately, earning an annoyed but fond huff from Damon. Dylan leaned back against the counter and added, “We can even start today, if you want.”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Damon said, his tone suddenly more serious. “But there’s something important I need to do first.”

…

Danielle sat alone in her room, slouched in front of her computer. Her hand rested on the mouse, but she wasn’t really seeing the screen anymore. It took her a moment to notice that her fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

She let out a shaky sigh, the urge to game completely gone. Reaching up, she pulled off her headphones and dropped them onto her desk before standing and trudging over to her bed. She flopped down onto it with a tired groan, staring up at the ceiling.

She barely had five seconds of peace before a knock sounded at her door.

“Oh my God…” she groaned in annoyance. Pushing herself upright, she shuffled toward the door and yanked it open. “What do you want—?”

She froze mid-sentence.

Damon and Daphne stood in the doorway together.

Damon was holding up a couple of ice cream cups with a sheepish smile. “We never got the chance to do the thing you wanted in the first place.”

“Ugh, fuck,” Danielle groaned dramatically, throwing her head back before snatching the ice cream straight out of his hands. “You’re literally the best.”

“Don’t let Mom hear you cursing,” Daphne teased as the two of them stepped inside. “You know how she is.”

“What are you doing here?” Danielle asked, glancing at Daphne as she walked back to her bed and sat down cross-legged.

Daphne shrugged while she and Damon sat on the floor with their backs against the bed, opening their own ice cream cups. “We pulled into the garage at the same time.”

“By the way,” Damon added casually before taking a large bite, “she was about to burst into tears when she heard what happened to you.”

“I was not!” Daphne protested immediately, shooting daggers at him.

“I totally believe it,” Danielle scoffed with a smug smirk as she took a spoonful of her ice cream. “And since I’m clearly heavily traumatized—probably for life—you two wouldn’t mind sharing your ice creams with me, right?”

Damon and Daphne slowly looked up at her, their expressions completely flat.

“You’re really going to milk this, aren’t you?” Damon asked in a monotone voice.

“For everything it’s worth,” Danielle replied shamelessly, her face dead serious. “So hand them over. From where I’m sitting, they’re both looking delicious.”

Damon and Daphne groaned in unison and rolled their eyes, but despite themselves, they lifted their ice cream cups toward her.

“Hehehe… yeah, boi,” Danielle giggled mischievously, sounding almost like a gremlin as she leaned forward to claim her spoils.