Mixtape

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Will doesn't realise it's Valentine's Day, not until he finds the gift left on his desk. It's a small midnight blue box, no bigger than the leather coaster he sets his coffee cup on. His dark eyebrows crease into a frown as his fingertips trail over the gold silk ribbon tied neatly in a bow on the top. He has no idea where it's come from, there's been no women in his life since before Angie passed away, certainly none who would be so thoughtful.

He's careful as he opens it, someone's put a lot of thought into it making it look pretty and it seems a shame to ruin it. He's surprised to find a small Dictaphone tape inside, resting on crisp gold tissue paper. It's not one of his, he can tell from the lack of wear and the fresh green label on the top.

A puzzle, he thinks as he removes the tape from the box and pops it into his Dictaphone. He sits down in his chair and leans back, pressing down the button with his thumb.

He smiles when he hears your voice, the sweet dulcet tone in his ears as you say.

"Top Romance Songs of all time, dedicated to Special Agent Will Trent who wouldn't know taste if it bit him in the ass."

You've gone old school and made him a mixed tape; one he can listen to on his Dictaphone anytime he wants. The idea must have come from the argument the two of you had last week.

It's the sheer amount of effort you've put into the gift that humbles him. Tracking down tapes that'll fit his device, finding recording equipment to transfer the songs onto the tape so the sound is clear instead of muffled. He has no doubt you bribed someone downstairs in the IT department to help with that. Noone has ever given him such a thoughtful gift before, not in all the years he's been on this Earth.

He's still listening to it when you get back from court later on in the day. He sees your familiar shadow through the patterned glass as you walk past his door and straight into your own office. He hears your delighted laugh through the wall and the edges of his mouth twitch up into a smile.

It's a couple of seconds later you appear at his door, knuckles rapping on the glass as you hold up a box of baklava from Broz Bros Bakery, almost forty minutes away. Each piece of pastry is a work of art, handcrafted with tiny sugar flowers and hearts. He'd known the instant he laid eyes on it that you'd love it. He's tied the gold ribbon from his gift around the box. His bow isn't as neat as yours, but he thinks he's done an alright job.

"I don't suppose you know who dropped off this box of baklava on my desk?" You ask him as you linger in the doorway.

"Not a clue." He says before raising to his feet and slipping back into his waistcoat, he busies himself by focusing on the buttons as he asks. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"I have a hot date with the computer in my office and this box of baklava," You tell him as he smooths his palms down over the creases. "What about you?"

"Betty." He says simply and you smile, that knowing smile of yours because the love he has for that dog, it's heartwarming.

"I will leave you to it then." You say, stepping back over the threshold.

"Camilla..." He says and you pause for a second, meeting his earnest gaze. "The man who bought you that baklava, he's lucky to have you in this life."

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