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Salute

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You never showed up at John’s place in the middle of the night without calling first. Not since that night you tried to make him a surprise and ended up pressed face-first against the foyer’s wall, but not in a fun way. Tonight, you just forgot. Things at work had been really crazy and you meant to call at lunch but halfway through it another emergency came up and you only remembered when you already had parked on his driveaway.

You unlocked the door slowly calling out his name and announcing yourself in the dark living room but he was nowhere to be found. Not even Dog was around to greet you. Setting your bag and keys by the door you headed for the stairs, wondering if he was on the second floor, but caught light coming from under the basement door. John would only stay downstairs when he was working on his books or his guns.

You pushed the door open being greeted with the familiar accords of a song you would never in a million imagine playing in this place. It made your lips quirk in a wide smile. Descending the stairs, you tried to make the least amount of noise possible and paused at the last step. From there you could see John’s profile, but he couldn’t see you. Not unless he turned his head, which was currently bent over a pair of disassembled pistols in front of him. There was an old radio by his elbow and there was from where the music came from.

John’s head bobbed a little as he sang along with the lyrics, his deep, throaty voice a sharp contrast with the singers’ high tones. You reached into your pocket for your cellphone, managing to aim at him to capture the scene.

“Don’t even think about it,” John warned without looking up and you jumped startled. He snorted finally turning his head your way eyebrow arched.

“Sorry,” you giggled, pocketing your phone once again. “This is just one of those things that one needs to have video evidence of. You were singing and dancing to Little Mix!”

“I wasn’t dancing,” John complained, assembling his clean gun without even looking at it.

“Bobbing your head counts as dancing in my book,” you teased with a smirk, walking closer to him. John pulled away from the table far enough so you could settle on his lap. “I’m still shocked that you actually know the lyrics.”

“You do realize you played it on repeat last weekend, right?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s seared into my brain. I didn’t even notice until it started playing.”

“Oh, just admit you like it!” you said baiting him. “It takes a very secure man to sing along with a pop song from a girl group.”

“It’s a catchy tune,” he relented with a smile and you grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“It really is.”