You remember the day you met Will. You remembered those tired eyes locking on yours briefly when he rushed into the room, dishevelled, and his apology towards Jack Crawford as he took a seat. His curly locks of hair were messily styled, his grainy stumble of a beard and that smell of cheap aftershave that wafted through the air around him when he would stride anywhere. He wasn't too fond of eye contact and struggled to maintain it but you understood and could relate. Initially, he was distant, dismissive, and reserved as if not allowing you to break through those walls he installed around himself but it slowly crumbled away, Now, Will and you had become closer over the cases you had collaborated on. His witty yet sarcastic humour was one of the highlights of your time spent with him and even acted as the catalyst to form this strong bond, almost as if Hephaestus, himself, forged it. It seemed you two were destined as if the stars aligned to find two people who could complete each other.

Today marked a good day, you had finally caught the perpetrator, the gruesome killer behind all of the mayhem that was caused in the state and finally were able to deliver justice. He had suggested if you wanted to celebrate with him with a bottle of whiskey which you promptly agreed to enthusiastically. Now you were sitting in his house, in the quiet living room with soft jazz circling you both, creating a secure and relaxing environment. Sipping on his whiskey, he continued to glance between you and the furniture around the room.

"To us. To our accomplishment." He raised his glass and smirked, his eyes locked on you as he awaited you to raise yours.