Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 37: Asian Fetish

[Third Person Pov]

Damon’s eyes practically sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward across the table, voice dripping with anticipation. “So,” he began slowly, “do you have any embarrassing stories about Dane as a newbie? Anything good? Anything mortifying?”

Dane, who had just opened his lunch container, froze mid-motion. He lifted his gaze toward Damon with weariness “Can’t you let me have my dignity as the cool older brother for once?” he asked, exasperation pushing through every word. “Why do you have to actively go digging for ways to embarrass me?”

“I mean…” Danielle chimed in, already snickering. “I actually want to know too.” She tilted her head toward Yuri with a look that translated to please spill everything you’ve ever witnessed.

Feeling both younger siblings staring at her with wide, eager, and absolutely unrestrained curiosity, Yuri gained an amused expression, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you two,” she said, tone half-playful and half-sincere. “I don’t have any grand stories—not for the time being, at least.” She gave Dane a firm pat on the back and added, “Dane’s a great and reliable partner. A quick learner too. You both should be proud.”

Dane, cheeks puffed full of food and tomato sauce decorating the corner of his mouth, stuck out his chest like a triumphant toddler who’d just been praised by a teacher. His dorky, cheesy grin stretched across his face—and immediately earned a matched pair of disappointed groans from Damon and Danielle. Yuri let out a soft laugh at the sight.

“Don’t look so smug,” Damon complained, arms crossed. “She basically called you a glorified teacher’s pet.”

Dane swallowed, wiped his mouth, and gave Damon a flat, unimpressed stare. “You really couldn’t let me have this, could you?”

“Nope.” Damon’s grin was way too proud.

Yuri chuckled one last time as she stepped back. “Anyway, I’ll let you enjoy your lunch and company. I’ve got work to get back to. Join me when you’re done.” She paused, leveling a firm, authoritative look at the two younger siblings. “And you two—don’t hang around too long. This is still a police office, not your personal hangout spot.”

Damon snapped a dramatic salute, posture stiffening as though standing before a drill sergeant. “Yes, ma’am!” he barked, way too seriously.

Yuri scoffed, shaking her head as she walked off. The moment she was out of earshot, Damon immediately elbowed Dane’s arm, raising his brows up and down in an exaggerated, wiggly motion. “Ayyyy~?”

“Dude. Stop.” Dane said flatly, stabbing another bite of lasagna. “She’s my superior officer.”

“Office romance…” Danielle whispered under her breath, eyes shimmering with unholy excitement.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Damon added, hands raised defensively. “She’s a beautiful woman. And from what I remember, exactly your type.”

“Oh, right,” Danielle chimed in. “I forgot Dane has an Asian fetish.”

Dane let out a dramatic groan and shot both of them a fierce glare, continuing to eat. “I do not have an Asian fetish.”

“Tell that to every girl you dated in high school,” Damon snorted, poorly hiding a laugh behind his hand.

“It’s a preference, not a fetish, you absolute doofus.” Dane countered, pointing his fork toward him. “And you can leave anytime if you’re just here to be a pain in the rea—”

His sentence slowed to a crawl.

Damon’s spidey-sense didn’t just tingle. It spiked—a sudden, crushing wall of warning that hit him like ice water.

Behind them, a uniformed officer was guiding a man in black, a thick beanie pulled low over his brow. His wrists were bound in front of him, secured in metal cuffs. At first, he looked like any other detainee being processed.

But then he lifted his head.

His eyes locked instantly onto Danielle—onto her laughing beside Damon and Dane. Recognition struck like a blade. His stare sharpened into something cold, calculating…

The man only needed a single step—just one—before everything unraveled.

In a sudden, vicious motion, he twisted toward the officer behind him. His cuffed hands shot down, snatching the handgun straight from the holster with startling precision. Before anyone could blink, he lunged, clamped an arm around Danielle’s neck, and yanked her flush against him. The barrel of the stolen gun pressed hard against her temple.

Danielle froze. Every muscle in her body locked as if turned to stone. Her breath hitched; her lips quivered. Terror swallowed her expression whole.

“D-Damon… Dane…” she choked out, voice cracking.

Both brothers’ pupils shrank into pinpoints. The world tunneled around them. Everything slowed.

Damon didn’t think. His body moved before his brain could even form a thought. He lunged forward, grabbed the man’s gun-wielding arm, and yanked it into the air just as the trigger was pulled.

The deafening gunshot exploded through the room.

Screams broke out. Officers ducked behind tables. Paper trays and lunch containers clattered to the ground. Danielle flinched so violently her legs nearly gave out.

The gunshot echoed for a full second before Damon’s snarl cut through the ringing in everyone’s ears.

He twisted the man’s wrist with brutal force.

CRACK.

“ARGHHHH!!” the man howled, dropping the gun as his wrist bent at a sickening angle.

Damon’s lips peeled back, revealing fangs that had extended in raw instinct. A feral growl rumbled from his throat as he tackled the man to the ground, slamming him into the tiles with enough force to rattle the chairs.

Danielle let out a yelp, stumbling backward. She rushed blindly toward Dane, who had already risen from his seat with his hand on his holstered weapon. He immediately stepped between her and the chaos, pulling her behind him. Danielle clutched his shirt in a trembling fist, knuckles white, burying her face behind his shoulder as she tried to breathe.

On the ground, Damon’s fists began to fall—heavy, merciless, fueled by adrenaline and instinct. Each punch came with a guttural sound, half-human, half-animal. Officers swarmed in, shouting orders, trying to pull him off, but Damon was stronger than all of them expected.

It took six… then seven… then eight officers to finally pry him away.

“Let go of me!!” Damon roared, thrashing violently. “I said LET—!!”

“DAMON!” Dane bellowed, his voice slicing through the frenzy like a whip.

“What?!” Damon snapped, chest heaving, breath ragged and hot. His tinted glasses were the only thing hiding the bright, unnatural blue glow burning in his eyes.

Dane didn’t answer immediately. He simply jerked his head toward Danielle.

Damon followed the motion—and stopped.

She was still trembling. Still gripping Dane’s shirt. Still trying to steady her breathing. Fear clung to her like static.

Not fear of him. Fear of what had almost happened.

Damon’s rage ebbed just enough for clarity to seep in. He shut his eyes, jaw tightening, and let the officers guide him back. They dragged him several steps away toward the wall as more rushed to surround the unconscious, bleeding man sprawled on the floor.

When the grip on him finally loosened, Damon tore free—not to attack, but to reach Danielle.

“Are you—”

He didn’t finish.

Danielle threw herself into him, arms wrapping around his torso so tightly it nearly knocked the air out of him. Her face pressed into his chest, her breath shuddering as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Damon exhaled shakily and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “You’re okay,” he murmured softly. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

The commotion drew Yuri into the room within seconds. She skidded to a stop, eyes scanning everything in rapid succession—the battered detainee being lifted off the ground, the officers surrounding him, Danielle clinging to Damon, and the blood smeared on Damon’s cheek and knuckles.

The picture came together instantly.

Her expression hardened.

She strode to Dane, voice low and controlled. “I think it’s best you start contacting your parents. Now.”

Dane nodded stiffly, jaw locked so tight a muscle twitched along his cheek. “I’ll call my dad. He should still be on duty…” He raked a hand down his face, through his hair, his appetite—his whole lunch—utterly forgotten.

Everything had changed in a matter of seconds.