Chuck had grown accustomed to certain hardships that were coupled with the freedom of living in Motorcity. Just about everyone living there was impoverished, with the very special exception of one. He called himself The Duke of Detroit, but the Burners had dubbed him The Dick of Detroit in hushed tones- sans Mike who physically could not cuss. So when that first mysterious package showed up to the Garage with "Chuckles" written crudely in big bold letters, and the return address nothing more than a familiar, territorial sticker with "Duke" printed neatly (and somewhat tackily) across it, there was doubt and concern.

"He's mad that I won the race," Chuck said with a shrill exhalation of fright and terror.

"Well he shouldn't be. We let him keep his tacky car," Mike grumbled, chin resting on his blonde friend's shoulder. He took the package tenderly from the other's hands, examining it in his own. "I'll open it. Don't want you getting hurt do we?" he chuckled.

"Why did he use…that name," Chuck groaned, rubbing his eye sockets with the heels of his hands.

Mike was silent for a moment, turning the crisply packaged item this way and that. "I think I know why." But before Chuck could inquire, he only offered him a grin and a shrug. "Don't worry about it."

"This is dumb. I'm outta here. Let me know if that thing explodes," Texas piped in, jabbing Chuck in the side. "Lover boy." He laughed loudly as he left, making little exploding gestures with his hands.

"Don't let him get to you Chuck," Julie interjected, patting Chuck's shoulder. "And I'd love to stick around and see what's in that thing but Dutch is fixing up Nine Lives and I should really be there for her." She smiled and waved as she stealthily walked off, seeming a little anxious.

"That was…kinda strange," Chuck murmured, rubbing his arm as he took the package back. "Maybe I'll just, uhm, you know…hide this somewhere and never ever ever open it ever."

"C'mon Chuckles, don't be like that," Mike laughed, slinging an arm around his friend's neck. "Aren't you even a little curious?"

Chuck almost looked like he was going to give in, but he quickly snapped out of the enchantment and shook his head vigorously. "No no no no no way!" he squealed, tucking the package into his pocket. He felt the gritty texture of the wrapping paper for a moment, the curiosity blossoming once more before he repressed it. "No," he said again with feigned finality.

Mike sighed with exaggeration, throwing his arms up. "Fine! Fine. …Wanna go for a ride in Mutt?" Mike always had a way of never letting anything bother him. Or if he did, he never let on about it.

The shock had a greater impact than the package when, four days later, the most beautiful array of roses and peonies was delivered to the Garage. It was almost as big as Chuck's entire upper body and had been decorated in colors you'd only dream about; It was like a pastel summer.

"Wow." Was all Chuck could manage to say.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer," Dutch boasted, slapping Chuck on the back and receiving a terrified yelp in response. Chuck's cheeks flared up red, however, when he thought about it. Maybe it was Claire? Maybe it was Claire! His eyes lit up and he was floating on airs, gathering up all the fake confidence he could possibly muster.

"Oh…wow. Not so secret," Julie said with a small cringe as she held the small dedication card in her hand. "It's The Duke."

Chuck couldn't say he wasn't upset that the flowers weren't for him. But in the end it was a little too girly for him to be receiving flowers from Claire anyway. "Why did The Duke send you flowers, Julie?" Chuck wondered aloud.

"Uh…Chuck they're not for me." Julie grumbled. She seemed at odds with herself, like her brain was trying to work the quickest it could, but still didn't suffice to find the words she needed.

Chuck just gave a nervous laugh while a palpable discomfort wafted through the air. "Who else could they be for? Seriously?" He wanted to pretend he wasn't anticipating her reply, but even denial couldn't hold his hopes as high as he wanted it to. And those hopes were quickly drowned when Julie muttered a gentle;

"They're for you."

Chuck had run away and refused to go back. There was too much embarrassment. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to face the gang again, not until he set things straight at least. So once he was back in the safety of his room and carefully prying apart the clean packaging of the thing The Duke had sent to him before the flowers, he made a decision. He decided he would go see The Duke and explain that he wasn't interested and to stop sending him things.

The package was about as anticlimactic as climaxes could anti, for its only contents was a small card. The outside was a kitten and a bunny cuddling in a basket and a caption that read 'You get my heart hoppin'. Chuck cringed visibly, turning bright red. He shook his head, swallowed, and opened the card. The inside wasn't any better. The bunny and kitten were laying with their paws showing and the inside caption read 'You are PAW-sitively purrfect.'

He frowned deeply, almost on the verge of tears. If The Duke was trying to humiliate him to death, he was doing a wonderful job of it. Scrawled out in the same handwriting Chuck's nickname had been written in was a small note underneath it all.

'Dear Chuck,

Meet me at my pad.

-The Duke of Detroit'

Chuck screamed when his doorbell suddenly rang. A shiver ran up his spine as a result of the aftershock and he had to slowly calm himself down before he sprang up to answer the door. He was relieved to see it was Jacob.

"Hey Jacob…what's up?" the blonde asked, still trembling from his earlier episode.

"Hey, uh…some stuff came for you at the garage today." Jacob looked nervous, which only increased Chuck's anxiety.

Chuck looked around, examining Jacob's hands. "Did you…bring it with you?" he asked curiously, half hiding behind his door. "I don't think I can face all the guys back at the garage."

"I brought it with me," Jacob affirmed. His eyes shifted here and there, tension written on his features.

"Did you leave it in the car…?"

"No…I had to borrow a truck."

Chuck quirked a brow, confused. "A truck?" he asked. Before Jacob could answer the loud, familiar beeping of a truck in reverse pierced the air around them. Chuck emerged from his home, wide-eyed as he examined the large truck dumping a pile of boxes in various sizes. "It can't be all of that!" he gasped, clutching the door frame.

Jacob looked distant for a moment before regarding Chuck again. "Yeaahh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Listen Chuck, if you're really bothered by this me and the guys…"

"No…" Chuck sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "No, that's alright Jacob. I got it."