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Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 3: Wasted Potential
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 06:40:37 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
After school, Damon and Richard were in the large home gym built in the back of Richard’s house. Richard wore thick padded boxing gloves, while Damon wore fingerless gloves with his knuckles padded, sweat glistening on their skin as they moved in rhythmic sync—jab, block, duck, weave. The dull thud of punches filled the air as Damon launched a series of fast blows, which Richard intercepted with practiced ease.
Richard swiped his gloved hand toward Damon’s head, aiming high. Damon ducked low, slipping under the swing, and responded with a clean shot to Richard’s guarded torso. The impact made a muffled thump, and Richard took a half-step back to reset his stance.
“I seriously don’t get why you haven’t tried going pro,” Richard said between breaths, keeping his gloves up as they circled each other. “You’re ridiculously good, man.”
Damon exhaled heavily through his nose, sweat clinging to his damp hair as it stuck to his forehead. “I didn’t get into boxing to go pro, Rich. You know that. My dad and brother just thought I needed something—anything—to keep me distracted, they both thought it would help keep my depressive episodes at bay.”
“I get that,” Richard replied, parrying another jab. “But you’re wasting talent, dude. Real talent. I’ve sparred with a lot of people, and I know how sharp your instincts are. Give me some of that skill, man—share the love.”
“Says the reigning champ of like five minor leagues,” Damon shot back with a dry smirk.
“Oh, please,” Richard scoffed. “The only reason I’m the champ of half those leagues is because you dropped out early or didn’t even bother showing up. If you’d committed to any of those tournaments, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Damon aimed a quick combo—jab, cross, uppercut—and finished with a kick aimed at Richard’s padded abdomen. Richard grunted as the blow pushed him back, his stance momentarily unbalanced. He slapped his gloves together and straightened.
“Damon, we’ve known each other since we were eight,” Richard said, voice sincere now, “and out of everyone, I think I get your level best. You might not care, but I know what you’re capable of. And not gonna lie—it’s frustrating seeing someone that talented, especially in something I love just... not doing anything with it.”
Damon paused, his gloves lowering slightly as he shrugged. “Sorry?” he offered, tone uncertain. “Like I said, boxing was never about winning for me. I just needed something to get the noise in my head to quiet down. Punching things helped.”
Richard chuckled and started unlacing his gloves. “Yeah, I get that. There’s something kind of therapeutic about knocking the frustration out of your system, one hit at a time.”
Damon followed suit, pulling off his gloves. They tossed their gloves to each other, switching roles—now it was Damon’s turn to guard while Richard took the offensive.
Richard bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders. “Just know, I’m going to imagine your smug little face on both your gloves.”
“You’re absolutely hilarious,” Damon deadpanned, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks,” Richard grinned. “It’s one of my many irresistible charms.”
With that, they resumed. Their bodies moved in sync once again—gloves flying, feet shuffling, heads weaving. The air echoed with the rhythm of focused energy.
The two kept at it until the sun outside began to dip low in the sky, the golden rays filtering through the gym windows as the sounds of punches and laughter slowly gave way to quiet, heavy breaths and well-earned exhaustion.
…
The rest of the week passed uneventfully—school continued like clockwork, with the usual rhythm of classes, homework, and tests. Afterward, Damon and Richard stuck to their routine. If Damon wasn’t at Richard’s house, then Richard was at his. They had been friends since childhood, already more like brothers than anything else.
When the following week arrived, Damon found himself riding shotgun in the family car, his mom, Lori Drake, behind the wheel.
“It’s been ages since I drove one of you kids to school,” Lori said brightly, her eyes crinkling with a nostalgic smile. “I should do this more often.”
Damon rolled his eyes, though there was amusement behind it. “The only reason you're doing it now is because I’ve got that field trip.”
“Still,” she sing-songed, glancing sideways at him, “it wouldn’t kill me to be a few minutes late to work if it means I get time with my wittle babies~” she teased, reaching over to pinch his cheek.
Damon batted her hand away, rubbing his face. “Aren’t you the boss of your law firm? Wouldn’t it set a terrible example if you were constantly late?”
“Wrong,” she said, eyes sharp now. “I’d be setting the best example. You should never put work before family. Not ever.”
Soon, they pulled up to the school where a large yellow bus waited out front, students already lining up and chatting in groups.
“Alright, we’re here! Enjoy your field trip, honey!” Lori beamed as Damon opened the door and stepped out. “Love you!”
Damon gave a small grunt of acknowledgment and shut the door.
“Damon!” Lori called again, rolling down the window.
He turned, startled, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I said, I love you,” she repeated firmly, face serious.
“I heard you the first time…” Damon muttered, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Say it back,” she ordered, pointing a finger at him.
“You can’t be serious…” he muttered in horror.
“I’m not leaving until you do.”
“I love you too, now leave, woman—”
He didn’t even get to finish before Lori hit the gas and peeled away from the curb, throwing a fist in the air triumphantly. “WOOOO! HAHAHAHA!”
Damon tugged his hoodie up over his head, groaning as he trudged toward the group of students. Nearly everyone had witnessed the scene—and they were dying with laughter.
Flash Thompson slung an arm over Damon’s shoulder, laughing so hard he was doubled over. “D-man! Who would have guessed you were a total mama’s boy!”
“Flash, I swear I’ll put you in a submission hold right here on the pavement,” Damon muttered, shoving him off.
Richard came up beside him, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. His shoulders were shaking.
“Laugh and I will beat you black and blue,” Damon warned flatly as their teacher, Mr. Warren, motioned for the students to begin boarding.
“I’m sorry,” Richard snickered. “But dude—even Mr. Warren was laughing!”
Damon glanced toward the chemistry teacher, who was in fact shaking his head with a barely contained grin.
“Kill me now…” Damon groaned as he climbed onto the bus with Richard.
They made their way to the back as Mr. Warren called out names for final roll call. As the engine rumbled to life and the bus began to move, Damon frowned and glanced around.
“Huh? That’s weird. Where’s Gwen?” he asked, noticing her absence.
From a seat closer to the front, two heads popped up.
One belonged to a girl with tan skin, chestnut-brown hair, and sharp eyes—Liz Allan. “Why does it matter?” she said with a scoff. “Why do you even hang out with that geek?”
“Don’t call her that, Liz. It’s not nice,” Richard said, frowning.
“I’m just saying,” Liz went on, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Damon here could hang out with literally anyone, and he chooses you and Midtown’s biggest dork.”
“Although,” the red-haired girl beside Liz said, voice curious and teasing, “I wouldn’t go as far as calling her a geek… I am curious though. How did you two get so close?”
Damon sighed and leaned back in his seat, already tired of the conversation. “One—you seriously need to stop calling her that. Two—our dads know each other. They’ve both been on the force for years. That’s how Gwen and I met when we were kids.”
“How lucky of her~” the redhead purred, voice turning playfully sultry. “I wouldn’t mind having a white tiger like you as a childhood friend.”
Damon gave her a deadpan stare. “Mary Jane, face forward.”
Mary Jane just giggled. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” she said, but there was still a mischievous glint in her eyes.
The group continued chatting and teasing throughout the drive, the bus humming along the streets of Queens on its way toward Oscorp.
Comments
T.0.PA.CI.0
When I first read this I wasn’t expecting Flash to be so friendly.
Vrati
Good thing that despite the terrible 💩 that will happen to our Spider-Man, at least his love life will be a success and infinitely better than OG Peter Parker. I know Shadow won’t write MJ to be toxic (if she is the love interest).
