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Manhattan, the Goring Building.
Helen Stacy, who had been a devoted wife and mother ever since she married George Stacy, was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
Her two sons, nine-year-old Howard and eight-year-old Simon—Gwen's younger brothers—were in the living room, watching TV as if their lives depended on it.
Yes. Because the moment their mother was free, she would march them off to do their homework.
As Helen often said, "Your sister Gwen is so smart. You all came from the same place, you should be smart too."
In reality, Howard and Simon weren't bad students, but they were perpetually hovering right on the edge of a passing grade, and sometimes, they slipped.
Case in point: their final exams this year had been a disaster. As a result, Helen had cut their daily hour of screen time in half.
Just then.
The doorbell rang.
"Howard, Simon, time to go to your rooms and study," Helen called out from the kitchen.
"...Okay."
Helen walked into the living room, gave her two sons a pointed look, and then watched as they trudged upstairs to their rooms. She went to the front door and opened it.
Standing on the other side, Hawk smiled at the woman who opened the door—a woman whose first impression was one of pure, gentle warmth. "Good evening, Mrs. Stacy."
Helen's eyes widened in a welcoming smile. "Good evening, Hawk. Please, come in."
Hawk said his thanks and was immediately pulled inside by Gwen.
This was the first time in this life that Hawk had ever been a guest in someone else's home.
Gwen's apartment was on the top floor, a two-story duplex. It wasn't massive, but every corner of it exuded a sense of warmth and tidiness.
Hearing the voices downstairs, George Stacy descended from his second-floor study, his face a mask of stern disapproval.
Gwen, who had been introducing Hawk to her mother, heard the footsteps on the stairs. "Dad."
Hawk looked up and gave a respectful nod. "Mr. Stacy."
George's expression was severe, his posture rigid. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to smile.
But at least this was better than yesterday.
This time, he actually grunted in acknowledgement before walking past them to the dining table without another word.
Helen just shook her head with an amused smile. "Hawk, please, have a seat. Dinner's ready."
Hawk said his thanks again and followed Gwen to the table. He gave another slight nod to George, who was now seated across from him, and took his own seat.
Helen then called upstairs.
"Howard, Simon, dinner!"
"Coming!"
The two boys, who had been waiting for this moment, came thundering down the stairs. They stopped short when they saw the stranger at their dining table, then slowly took their seats, their eyes fixed on Hawk.
Hawk met their gaze and extended his right hand to the older boy.
"Hi, Howard. I'm Hawk."
"I'm Howard."
"I'm Simon." Eight-year-old Simon stood up, shook Hawk's hand with his own small one, and then looked up at him, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you my sister's boyfriend?"
"..." Hawk's eyes flickered to George.
Yep. The captain's face had gone several shades darker.
Hawk smiled and nodded at the young, blonde-haired boy. "I am."
At that, George's face went even darker.
Gwen, however, just smiled and ruffled her little brother's hair.
Nice one, little bro.
She decided she'd give him ten bucks before bed as a reward.
Howard, on the other hand, would get nothing.
The dinner was served in typical American fashion—individual plates, not family style.
This was probably George's doing.
After all, Hawk was an outsider. Unless you were a lifelong family friend, the first time you came to dinner, it was always formal.
Hawk understood.
But regardless of how it was served, the food was excellent.
This was, without a doubt, the best meal he had eaten in this life.
The school cafeteria food didn't even count. And when he was alone, Hawk never cared about flavor or presentation. He just ate to fill his stomach, because just surviving was hard enough.
...
At the dinner table, George presided like a silent, watchful patriarch, eating his meal without a word.
Helen was occasionally asking Hawk if he was enjoying the food and making light, easy conversation.
Gwen acted as a buffer between her mother and her boyfriend, while also keeping a wary eye on her father, half-expecting him to explode at any moment.
Howard and Simon just happily ate their food.
Just then, George picked up his glass of whiskey, took a sip, and cleared his throat.
In an instant, all eyes were on him.
Here we go again...
Hawk thought to himself, his own gaze shifting to meet the captain's, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye the entire meal.
Just as George was about to speak, Helen caught the desperate, pleading look in Gwen's eyes. She hid a smile and cut in first.
"So, George, tell us about work. That Spider-Man, have you caught him yet?"
"..."
George shot a look at his wife, then at Gwen, and finally, his eyes settled on Hawk. "Not yet. But we will. He's an amateur, and he's leaving clues everywhere."
With that, without giving Helen or Gwen another chance to interrupt, he turned his full attention to Hawk. "So, Hawk, what's your take on this new Spider-Man? Do you think he's some kind of vigilante?"
Under the table, Gwen's hand gently squeezed Hawk's thigh.
Hawk got the message. He just smiled and shook his head.
"Sir, I've been in Maryland for the past few weeks. I just got back yesterday, and I spent all day at the library."
"Honestly—"
"—I'm just a student. My only concern right now is getting a scholarship to NYU so the bank will approve my student loan application."
"As for this Spider-Man... I don't really care if he's a vigilante or just some idiot looking for attention."
"..."
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