It's dinner night at the Kent family's house.
Under the warm glow of the lights, the long wooden table is loaded with a hearty spread. Martha's apple pie fills the air with the sweet scent of cinnamon, while Jonathan's creamy corn chowder steams invitingly. But the real star of the show is Locke's perfectly roasted brisket—crisp and golden on the outside, tender and juicy inside, its rich aroma practically taking over the table.
Sitting at the head of the table, Dio carries himself with the grace of a young aristocrat, not a hint of his farmer's son roots. He slices his portion of brisket with slow, deliberate precision, each cut following the grain perfectly before he lifts a small bite to his mouth with his fork, chewing thoughtfully.
On the other end of the table, Clark's the complete opposite, diving in like there's no tomorrow. He spears a huge chunk of brisket and stuffs it into his mouth, cheeks puffed out like a hamster, glossy sauce smeared across his face.
Glancing at Clark, then at Dio, Jonathan can't help but chuckle. "Clark, slow down, buddy. Nobody's stealing your food."
"Mmph—mmph!" Clark mumbles through a mouthful, nodding vaguely but not slowing down one bit. In a flash, he's already grabbing another piece of meat.
Dio's knife and fork pause mid-motion. His eyes lock onto Clark's ravenous eating, a vein faintly twitching at his temple. That brisket… Dio wants to dig in just as badly! But to keep up his "polished and proper" image, he's stuck nibbling tiny bites. Meanwhile, Clark's practically inhaling the entire platter!
Thankfully, Martha's next words bring a spark of relief.
"Clark!" she says sharply. "Look at Dio. We should learn from others' strengths to improve our own weaknesses."
Caught off guard, Clark freezes mid-bite. He glances at Dio, who's elegantly slicing a small piece of meat, his ruby-red eyes crinkling with a sweet, innocent smile aimed right at him.
In the past, Clark would've fired back something like, He's just eating too slow! But today, after some wise words from Uncle Locke, Clark swallows his retort.
"Okay, Mom," he grumbles, slowing his chewing—but still going way faster than Dio.
Martha and Jonathan exchange satisfied smiles. They don't expect Clark to be as refined as Locke's boy Dio, but if he can pick up even a little of that poise, they're happy.
Dio, meanwhile, is fuming inside. His grip on the knife tightens, knuckles turning white. Damn it, Clark! Why didn't he argue back today? That jerk! Dio's dying to tear into that brisket like a normal kid, but Clark's hogging it all!
The knife in his hand creaks faintly, like it might snap any second. Still, Dio keeps his perfect smile plastered on and even slides his plate toward Clark with a generous gesture. "Clark, have some more. I'm not that hungry."
Martha's eyes well up with emotion. "Oh, Dio, you're just too sweet."
Jonathan nods proudly. "Yeah, Clark, you could learn a thing or two from your brother."
Clark grins. "Thanks, Dio!" He glances at Dio's "kind" smile and the extra meat now on his plate, thinking, Uncle Locke was right—keeping quiet really does pay off!
"Oh, come on, it's a family dinner. Let's not get hung up on manners," Locke says, barely hiding a laugh as he cuts a big slice of brisket and plops it onto Dio's plate. "Eat up, kid. Don't come crying later about being hungry."
"Thanks, Dad!" Dio's eyes glisten with genuine gratitude. He knew his dad had his back.
---
As night falls, the starry sky stretches over Kent Farm, a gentle breeze carrying the fresh scent of wheat fields across the porch.
Locke stands by the tractor, scooping Dio up with one strong arm and setting him in the passenger seat. "Alright, kid, time to head home," he says, ruffling Dio's blond hair before buckling his seatbelt.
"But, Dad…" Dio blinks his ruby-red eyes, tilting his head up at Locke. "I wanna hang out with Clark a bit longer."
Hang out? Locke thinks. I'm more worried Clark's gonna deck you, you little troublemaker!
"It's late, kid," Locke says, raising an eyebrow and putting on a stern face. "You've got school tomorrow. And don't think I don't know about you and Clark sneaking peeks at that Vampire Hunter D book in class."
"?!"
Dio's eyes narrow, shooting a glare at Clark, who's standing there cluelessly. That snitch! Dio's practically ready to pounce.
Locke chuckles, waving to the Kents on the porch. "We're off! Gotta get up early to harvest wheat."
Martha, cradling a sleepy Clark, smiles warmly. "Drive safe!"
"Locke!" Jonathan calls, stepping out after clearing the table. He pats the tractor's hood. "It's pitch black out. Why don't you stay the night? We've got your room ready, and Dio can bunk with Clark."
Locke starts to wave it off, but Dio tugs at his sleeve, whispering, "Dad, I'm kinda cold."
This little actor, Locke thinks, catching Dio's scheme—probably planning some late-night prank on Clark. What's this kid got against him?
Locke glares down at Dio, who shrinks back and fakes a sneeze for effect.
Martha's instantly concerned. "Oh, honey, it's chilly out. What if he catches a cold?"
Jonathan chimes in, "Yeah, Locke, that old tractor doesn't even have a windshield. The kid'll freeze!"
Locke sighs. "Jonathan, are you serious? Our house is literally three hundred yards away. We're right next door!"
"Oh… right." Jonathan scratches his head, laughing awkwardly. "Well, get going then."
The tractor's engine roars to life, its headlights casting shaky beams across the country road. The Kents stand in the porch's warm glow, waving as Martha pulls her shawl tighter and sighs. "I never would've thought Locke could raise a kid as well-mannered as Dio."
Jonathan slings an arm around her, watching the tractor's taillights fade. "No kidding. When Locke first showed up at the farm, he had this grim look that gave you the creeps. But now…" He glances at Clark, fast asleep in Martha's arms. "Guess being a dad's mellowed him out."
"Oh, and haven't you noticed?" Martha says with a smile. "Dio only acts like a kid when he's around Clark."
She laughs softly. "Kinda like how you used to tease Locke back in the day."
"Me? Never!" Jonathan's face flushes, his voice dropping as he tries to play it off.
---
Moonlight spills across the bumpy dirt road as Dio curls up in the passenger seat, flipping through Vampire Hunter D by the faint glow of the dashboard. The pages rustle softly under his fingers, his blond hair hiding most of his expression.
Locke, one hand on the wheel, notices Dio's stopped at the chapter on "Vampire Weaknesses" and finally speaks up. "Dio."
"Hm?" The boy doesn't look up, his voice oddly cheerful.
"Why do you always pick on Clark?"
Dio smirks. "I knew you'd ask that, Dad."