Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 8: Concern Sister

[Third Person's PoV] 


Damon stepped into the house, the door clicking softly shut behind him. He wore a pair of sleek, oversized sunglasses—still bearing the dangling price tag. In one hand, he balanced a plastic bag of fresh sushi, the scent already starting to fill the entryway. His footsteps echoed lightly as he climbed the stairs, heading straight for the first door on the second landing without hesitation.


As he knocked on the door, the door creaked open slightly and Danielle peeked her head through. She wore a fluffy oversized sweater in pastel blue, the sleeves hanging slightly past her hands. A pair of comfy shorts completed her loungewear look, and large headphones with pink cat ears perched on her head. Her expression froze when she caught sight of Damon.


“…What’s with the sunglasses?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.


“I thought they looked cool,” Damon replied with complete seriousness, holding up the sushi bag as if it were a peace offering.


Danielle eyed the food and gave a nod of approval. “Nice…” She opened the door wider and stepped aside, motioning him in with a flick of her hand.


Her room was nearly identical in size to Damon’s—large and comfortable, with walls decorated in soft tones. A mountain of pillows and stuffed animals covered her bed like a colorful army. On the far wall, a custom desk held multiple monitors, glowing faintly with screensavers and scattered notes.


She grabbed the bag from him and padded over to her desk, headphones still around her neck. With practiced ease, she unpacked the containers of sushi and handed one to Damon.


“Don’t get stuff on my bed,” she warned as he made himself comfortable, plopping down on the edge of her pillow fortress.


“I’m not gonna,” Damon said, rolling his eyes as he cracked open the plastic container and dug in.


“Where is everyone, anyway?” he asked between bites.


“Mom and Dad are still at work. Daphne’s with her boyfriend,” Danielle answered casually as she snapped her chopsticks apart.


She picked up a piece of sushi, stuffed it into her mouth, then gestured at him with her chopsticks mid-chew. “What about you?”


“What about me?” Damon asked, already halfway through his second piece.


Danielle swallowed, leaned back in her gaming chair, and clarified, “What were you up to?”


“You literally saw me with Richard earlier today,” Damon replied, raising a brow. “So what’s the point of asking?”


“Yeah, no shit I saw you with Richard,” she said, rolling her eyes and crossing her legs under her. “I’m asking what you were doing with him, dumbass.”


He scoffed. “Training. Same thing we always do.”


Danielle tilted her head and hummed, unconvinced. “Didn’t he tell everyone you had food poisoning? And a fever? You look perfectly fine to me…”


Damon froze for half a second, nearly choking on his food as he realized she remembered that. “Oh that... He was obviously lying.”


“Really? Wow, thanks for clearing that up,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She pointed her chopsticks at him like they were weapons. “Take off the sunglasses.”


“What—why?” Damon asked, his expression twisting into confused protest.


“One, you were covering your eyes earlier today. Two, now you’re wearing those glasses indoors. I wanna see if your eyes are red. I swear, if you're doing drugs—”


“I’m not doing drugs,” he said flatly. “Maybe you’re on drugs, considering how weirdly interested you are in my life all of a sudden.”


Danielle didn’t back down. “Damon, I’ll tell Mom you’re on drugs if you don’t show me your eyes.”


He groaned dramatically, while inwardly thinking, ‘Don’t glow, don’t glow, don’t glow…’ Then, with exaggerated flair, he pushed the sunglasses up onto his forehead and opened his eyes wide like a cartoon character. “There. See? Not red. No drugs. I just had a migraine, which is why I covered my eyes earlier—and now I’m wearing these stupid sunglasses.”


Danielle leaned forward and examined his face for a long moment, squinting like a detective solving a case. Finally, she leaned back and sighed. “Fine. I believe you’re not doing drugs. But seriously, you don’t need to lie to me. If you really had a migraine, Richard wouldn’t have made up some dumb story about food poisoning.”


A hint of color crept up Damon’s ears, and he looked away, shoving another bite of sushi into his mouth in silence.


“I don’t really care what you’re doing,” Danielle said more softly. “I just don’t want to be known as the sister with a junkie brother, or the one who has to say you overdosed or something. That would suck.”


Damon paused mid-bite, then chuckled. “Thanks. It’s nice to know your concern comes from protecting your reputation.”


“As long as you understand,” Danielle said with a grin. 


…


Damon woke to the blaring sound of his phone alarm. Groggy and half-buried beneath a mountain of blankets, he reached for the device with a tired grunt. The moment his fingers wrapped around it—crack—the phone shattered like cheap glass in his hand.


“Oh, goddamn it…” he groaned, blinking through the harsh morning sunlight spilling in from the window. His white hair stuck out in every direction.


Still hugging his pillow, he dragged a hand through his tangled hair. Unfortunately, his fingers snagged midway through, yanking hard enough to make him wince.


“Ow—seriously?” he muttered.


Frustrated, he buried his face in the pillow and let out a string of fake, exaggerated sobs. After a moment, he took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and focused. Slowly, deliberately, he willed his fingers to release their death grip on the strands. It was like coaxing sticky gum off silk—but eventually, his fingers slipped free.


“Thank god,” he exhaled with relief.


He tossed the covers aside and swung his legs over the bed. As he shuffled toward the closet, something caught his eye—a glint of movement in the full-length mirror. He stopped and turned to face it.


He blinked.


His reflection looked… different.


Damon stepped closer. His usually lean frame had filled out—his muscles fuller and more defined. His shoulders had broadened noticeably, and when he lifted his arms, he could clearly see the intercostal muscles stretching beneath his skin like cords of tension.


Turning slightly, he flexed his arm. His biceps bulged, and his back shifted with muscular tension, the lines of his delts and lats sharp in the morning light.


“Maybe Richard was right…” he murmured, staring at himself in disbelief. “These are a gift.”


He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the mirror. “Wait a second… have I grown taller?”



---


Later That Morning – School


Damon walked into class, dressed in a hoodie, black jeans, and a new pair of black-framed glasses that rested lightly on the bridge of his nose. His vision was still sensitive but the tinted lenses helped filter the overhead lights.


He sat at his desk and leaned back with a casual sigh, watching the classroom slowly fill.


Gwen entered a moment later, bag slung over one shoulder and a stack of books tucked against her chest. Her platinum-blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her lab badge still dangled from her backpack zipper.


As she sat down beside him, Damon gave her a teasing smirk. “Well, if it isn’t Ms. Oscorp Intern herself.”


“Stop,” Gwen replied, her cheeks coloring slightly as she set her bag down. “Why are you wearing glasses?”


“To look cool,” Damon said with a grin. “But don’t change the subject. What’s it like working with the top dogs of science? Living the dream and all.”


Gwen rolled her eyes, amused. “You wouldn’t get it.”


“Ouch. That’s harsh.” Damon pressed a hand to his chest, feigning injury. “Just because I wouldn’t understand it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in what you do.”


That made her pause. Then her lips curled into a soft, warm, genuine smile.


“Alright, fair enough,” she said. “Get this—Dr. Connors is leading a new research project. He’s studying human regenerative capability based on reptilian DNA sequences.”


“Wait, are you allowed to tell me that?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that like, top secret confidential information?”


“It’s fine,” Gwen said, waving him off. “I’m not showing you lab files or formulas. It’s just general concept stuff.”


“Right,” Damon nodded. “Still sounds like the kind of thing that ends with mutant lizards crawling up skyscrapers.”


Gwen laughed quietly and leaned in. “You joke, but the science is real. If it works, it could revolutionize medicine—amputees, burn victims, even neuroregeneration.”


Before Damon could say more, Mr. Warren walked into the classroom and began the lecture. Damon sat back, expecting to drift through the lesson as usual.


But something felt… different.


As Mr. Warren began breaking down his lessons on chemical compositions, Damon found himself genuinely following along. Terms he usually had to look up suddenly made perfect sense. he could visualize it all. Not just remember it, but understand it.


He opened his textbook and started flipping through the pages, scanning with growing interest.