The living room of the Crocker house is loud in that familiar, chaotic Haven way—Nathan leaning against the counter with a smirk, Audrey perched on the arm of the couch, Dwight chiming in from somewhere near the door. Duke sits dead center in an old wooden chair, arms crossed, posture relaxed, expression maddeningly calm.

“Nothing?” Audrey asks, narrowing her eyes. “Really? Not even a flicker?”

Duke lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Nathan scoffs. “Oh, don’t worry. We will.”

They take turns—teasing comments, exaggerated compliments, Dwight even tries a dramatic monologue about Duke’s heroic jawline. Duke just watches it all with amused patience, sea-green eyes warm but unreadable, like none of it even comes close to rattling him.

You stay quiet, leaning against the doorway, arms folded. You’ve been watching the whole thing play out, watching Duke’s reactions—or lack of them. The way his fingers tap once against his knee. The way his gaze flicks to you every so often, softening without him realizing it.

“Okay,” Nathan says finally, throwing his hands up. “I give up. The man’s unflappable.”

You push off the doorframe.

“No,” you say calmly. “He’s not.”

The room goes quiet as you cross the space between you and Duke. He looks up at you, an eyebrow lifting in mild curiosity, confidence still firmly in place.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs.

You stop right in front of him. Slowly, deliberately, you reach out and hook one finger under his chin, tilting his face up just enough that his eyes meet yours fully. His breath stutters—just once—but everyone else misses it.

You lean in, close enough that your words are meant for him alone, your voice low, warm, and steady.

“My good boy.”

That’s it.

Duke freezes.

Like someone unplugged him.

His confident smirk vanishes, lips parting slightly as his brain absolutely short-circuits. Color rushes up his neck, spreading across his cheeks in a way that cannot be denied. His shoulders tense, then drop, like he forgot how posture works.

For a long second, he doesn’t blink.

Nathan stares. Audrey’s mouth falls open. Dwight lets out a victorious, “Ohhh!”

Duke finally swallows, dragging a hand over his face, laughter breaking out—soft, flustered, completely undone. “Okay,” he mutters, shaking his head, cheeks still burning. “That—that was not fair.”

You straighten, smiling sweetly.

“Told you,” you say, glancing at the others. “He’s very flappable.”

Duke looks back up at you, eyes still warm but now undeniably shy, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, just for you. “But only for you.”