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Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 2: School Day
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 06:37:05 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
Both Damon and his younger sister, Danielle, sat in the back seat of their father’s car, each absorbed in their phones. Damon had his headphones on, music pulsing through his ears, eyes half-lidded as he relaxed against the seat. Danielle was scrolling through her feed with rapid swipes of her thumb, her expression unreadable behind her oversized glasses.
Their father, Dylan Drake, climbed into the driver's seat with a grunt and adjusted the rearview mirror. As he tilted it to check on his kids, he sighed at the familiar sight—both of them silently glued to their screens.
Shaking his head in quiet disapproval, he reached behind him and handed a signed permission slip to the back seat. “Here it is, signed,” he said, his voice edged with a touch of tired sarcasm.
“Much appreciated,” Damon replied without even glancing up. He rested his phone on his lap, and carefully slid the slip into one of the folders inside his backpack. By the time he zipped it up, the engine had rumbled to life and they were already on their way to school.
Damon leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the car and the music in his ears lull him into a calm daze. Outside the window, the suburban scenery zipped by—a blur of trees, power lines, and early commuters. He barely registered any of it until he felt a sharp nudge against his side.
He cracked one eye open, revealing a striking blue pupil that caught the morning light. Danielle was leaning over, tugging one side of his headphones off his ear.
“Move it, doofus. We arrived,” she said, smirking.
Damon groaned and pushed the headphones down to his neck, the faint hum of the song still audible. Looking out the window, he saw they were parked directly in front of Midtown High. Connected to it on the left side was the middle school wing, where Danielle was finishing her final year before she would join him on the high school side.
“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” Damon muttered as he opened the door and stepped out.
“Thanks, Daddy!” Danielle chirped as she hopped out behind him, her hair bouncing.
“No sweat, you two. Try to enjoy yourselves today,” Dylan called out, offering a casual wave. As soon as Danielle closed the car door, their father sped off down the street, undoubtedly late for work.
Now standing on the sidewalk, Damon and Danielle joined the flow of students pouring into the school gates. The air buzzed with morning chatter and the occasional squeak of sneakers on pavement.
“Later, bro,” Danielle said, already veering off toward her side of the campus.
“Mmhm,” Damon mumbled in reply, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie as he made his way through the crowd.
He weaved effortlessly between groups of students, ignoring the stares he received as he passed by. He’d grown used to the attention—some mixture of admiration, curiosity, and maybe a hint of envy. He didn’t care for it either way.
Reaching his locker, Damon unlocked it with a practiced spin of the dial and began shoving his things inside. Just as he was about to close the door, a firm slap landed between his shoulder blades.
“Ow—damn it!” Damon winced, jerking forward. “Asshole! I told you to stop doing that!”
“Yo! Morning!” came a familiar, cheerful voice.
Damon turned to see Richard Kingsley grinning at him. Richard had rich brown skin, sharp brown eyes, and a baseball snapback covering his curly hair. He wore a yellow puffer vest over his hoodie and carried himself with ease.
“Sorry, couldn’t help it. You have a very slappable back,” Richard said with a shrug, leaning casually against the locker next to Damon’s. The two exchanged a fluid, practiced handshake.
“And you have a punchable face, but I don’t go around rearranging it every time I see you,” Damon shot back, slamming his locker shut with a thud.
Richard rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed. “Anyway, you busy after school?”
“Nah, I’m free,” Damon replied as they started down the hallway together.
“Cool. Come over then. My dad’s out, so we can use the boxing gym at my place.”
Damon smirked. “That’s something you usually tell girls. You know, ‘Come over, my dad’s not home.’ You might wanna consider getting a girlfriend. It’s kinda sad how dry your dating history is.”
Richard gave him a flat look. “First of all, I was talking about boxing, dumbass. Second, you’re one to talk. You’ve rejected more girls than I can count. You ever gonna say yes to someone?”
“See, I’m single by choice. You? Not so much,” Damon teased, clapping Richard on the shoulder. “But hey, maybe if you beg your dad, he’ll take pity on his tragically single son and set you up with one of his fashion models.”
Richard cracked his knuckles menacingly. “I swear, I’m gonna beat you so bad your pretty boy face won’t be so pretty anymore.”
Damon laughed, leaning out of range as Richard swung a playful punch. “Wow, violence? Just to bring me down to your level? I mourn for you, I really do.”
The banter continued all the way to their classroom door, where the two finally separated and headed to their assigned seats in chemistry class, their mischief on pause.
Damon walked into the classroom, weaving past a few desks before settling into an empty seat beside a girl with long, wavy blonde hair and soft blue eyes. Her gaze was fixed on her notebook, expression blank but calm.
Just as he dropped into the seat, she spoke without looking up. “Did you do it?”
“Hm?” Damon blinked, feigning innocence.
Gwendolyn slowly looked up, her eyes narrowing as she gave him a sharp sideways glance. “Damon…” she said in a low, warning tone.
Damon sighed dramatically and bowed his head. “Gwendolyn, I beg for your most noble and gracious forgiveness.”
“I’m not letting you copy,” Gwen replied flatly, her face unreadable.
“Please!” Damon whispered urgently, leaning in. “You’re literally the reason I’m not failing this class. I just need to copy your worksheet before the teacher starts collecting.”
Gwen sighed, her shoulders drooping. “And why, may I ask, couldn’t you do it last night? You know, at home? Like a responsible human being?”
“I tried…” Damon said defensively, digging into his backpack. He pulled out a crumpled homework sheet and held it up as evidence. “See? I got through the first few questions. But then I got distracted and… fell asleep.”
She snatched the paper from him and scanned the answers. Her eyes narrowed. “Damon… these are wrong.”
“What? That can’t be,” he said, leaning over her desk to double-check.
Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, you’re helpless.”
Damon flushed slightly, his internal panic growing. ‘How the hell am I supposed to remember high school chemistry from over fifteen years ago? I barely remember what I ate for lunch yesterday. This is so embarrassing…’
With a defeated sigh, Gwen slid her completed worksheet out from under her notebook and shoved it toward him. “Honestly… just take it. You’re pitiful.”
“You’re the best,” Damon said, wasting no time as he began copying the answers in a controlled frenzy.
Gwen rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.
A few minutes passed, tension thick in the air, before the bell rang to signal the start of class. Their chemistry teacher, a tall man with silvering hair and a perpetually stern face, began walking around the classroom collecting homework.
“Hurry,” Gwen whispered urgently, eyes flicking between Damon’s frantic writing and the teacher approaching. “He’s almost here.”
Damon’s hand blurred across the paper. His eyes darted from her sheet to his, and just as the teacher reached the row behind them, Damon scribbled the final answer and dropped his pen with a quiet clatter.
“Homework, Mr. Drake,” the teacher said, stopping in front of him with an outstretched hand.
“Here you go, sir,” Damon said with a perfectly polite smile, handing over both his sheet and Gwen’s.
As the teacher moved on, Damon slumped dramatically in his chair, exhaling with exaggerated relief.
Gwen shook her head, one hand pressed to her forehead, but she was smiling again, more openly this time. She was clearly used to his antics.
Class continued as usual. Damon spent most of it trying to balance a pencil on his upper lip, eyes crossed in intense focus. Gwen facepalmed more than once, occasionally elbowing him to keep him from getting distracted.
Finally, the bell rang again, signaling the end of class.
“Remember,” the teacher called out, raising his voice over the chatter, “today is the last day to turn in your permission slips for next week’s Oscorp field trip.”
Gwen looked over at Damon. “Are you going?”
“Yeah, I had it signed this morning,” he replied, pulling the folded slip from his bag and waving it.
“That’s good,” she said, smiling brightly.
He gave her a suspicious look as they packed up their things. “Why is that good?”
She chuckled softly, brushing her hair behind her ear as she walked toward the door. “Not telling. You’ll find out.”
Before he could press further, Gwen disappeared into the hallway, heading off to her next class.
Damon raised an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. With a shrug, he handed in his permission slip and strolled off to his next class, already wondering what surprise she had in store.
Comments
Bryan Vargas
YUP
Sin Vergil
Is Richard by chance the son of Roderick Kingsley?
