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Happy Birthday, Robbie

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"Hathaway."

"Sir?"

"What. is. that?" Lewis pointed to a white bakery box sitting on his desk.

"A box, Sir?"

"I can tell it's a bloody box, Sargeant Hathaway, the eyesight isn't gone yet. What is it doing on me desk?"

"I ascertained that it is your birthday, Sir?"

"Ascertained."

"Yes, Sir."

Robbie Lewis sighed and pulled out his chair, then grudgingly reached for the box and opened it. His eyes lit up for a brief moment and he chanced a look at his partner, who was trying to smother a grin, but failing badly. "How -"

"Your daughter, Sir. I wanted to be sure it would meet your approval, Sir."

"The sentiment is appreciated, James."

Hathaway nodded, then settled into his chair, and watched as his partner in all things took the ridiculous chocolate thing out of the box and examined it closely before dipping his finger into the frosting and licking it off slowly, his eyes never leaving Hathaway's.

"Sir."

"Yes, Hathaway."

"I had made reservations for that new place you wanted to try, but I think, if you don't mind, we'll just have some eggs and chips at home?"

"Sounds like a plan, Sargeant."