The morning sun spilled softly over the bustling streets of Farringdon as John parked his truck a block away from Briki Cafe located on the narrow street of a corner store.

Its exterior was painted a warm, inviting teal with large windows that gave a clear view inside. Tiny string lights lined the windows, their soft glow adding a touch of charm, even during the day. A chalkboard outside displayed today's specials in elegant handwriting, with little doodles of coffee cups and pastries sketched along the borders.

Inside, the cafe was filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sweetness of pastries. Dark wooden tables and chairs filled the space. A few high bookshelves along the walls held vintage novels and succulents in tiny pots, giving the whole place a rustic, homey feel.

John adjusted his jacket before stepping out of the truck, running a hand over his head where his beanie would be.

He'd left it behind today, letting the cool airbrush through his dark chocolate, short hair. He stepped inside and took in the surroundings.

With the soft indie playing inside the cafe, it sets a laid-back mood and it was perfect for patrons to read alone, hangout and have coffee with someone or do work on your laptop.

Near the window, Soap and Niamh were already seated.

Her dark and chocolate hair and medium cut fall onto her shoulders. She wore a forest green sweater that complemented her complexion and high-waisted black jeans that fit her casual but chic style. Small hoop earrings glinted as she moved, and a small diamond-shaped pendant rested against her collarbone, catching the sunlight in a way that added to her natural charm.

She sat next to Soap, her posture relaxed but alert, as if she were always aware of her surroundings. A streaming cup of coffee sat in front of her, untouched. She scrolled through something on her laptop, her fingers dancing over the keyboard.

Soap looked relaxed, which shows his known style as he wore his navy blue bomber jacket over a gray henley, casual but stylish jeans, and clean, well-worn sneakers. His eyes lit up when he saw John approaching.

"Look who decided to show up," Soap said, grinning as he gave John a quick, friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Just making sure you had time to settle in," John grinned, pulling out the chair across from them.

Niamh rolled her eyes in and glanced between them.

"Ignore him, he was double-checking every detail of the day," she teased, nudging Soap with a playful look.

"Guilty as charged." Soap admitted, and he glanced at Niamh. "Just wanted to make sure everything's perfect for you, babe."

John chuckled, and glanced at Niamh. "You're diving into work on your birthday?"

"Always," Niamh said after she moved her gaze from Soap to John. "There's no off-switch for me, you know that."

"Or maybe you need a break and be present, Murphy." John added with a playful jab. "You don't want to miss your man giving you undivided attention."

"I can multitask," Niamh said.

"I manage to keep her ahead," Soap added.

Which made John chuckled half-heartily.

Her skills weren't impressive—she'd first crossed paths with Task Force 141 two years back, during an operation tied to Las Almas, Shadow Company, and Hassan Zyani.

What had started as an anonymous tip from a hacker had quickly turned into a partnership. Her knack for cybersecurity and information gathering had been the key to uncovering enemy plans that could've blindsided his elite force.

Back then, her identity had been a mystery. He remembered her voice was an disembodied guide through encrypted comms.

It wasn't until Soap, ever the charmer, convinced her to meet in person that they realized the powerhouse behind the screen was someone far younger like Soap—and clever—than they'd expected.

She had a sharp mind, never one to mince words. But beneath her no-nonsense exterior, there was a layer of trust. 

Over time, she became more than an informant; she became one of them when John found her valuable.

Not long after they settled in, Gaz strolled in. He wore his burgundy hoodie under a black denim jacket, dark jeans, and white sneakers. His laid-back style fit him well. He flashed a grin as his eyes found them.

"Morning," Gaz greeted, pulling a chair and nodding to Niamh. "Happy birthday, Niamh. Ready to put up with all of us today?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Kyle," Niamh said, smiling.

Just behind him from a distance, Simon entered, unmasked.

He wore his leather jacket over a light tee, his dark jeans fitting just right, and his gaze unreadable. His hands were tucked into his front pockets, and he gave Niamh a respectful nod and a quick "Happy Birthday" before taking the seat next to Gaz.

"Thank you, Simon. I hope you don't mind, but we might be dragging you to places you're not into." Niamh said, her Irish accent warming her words.

Simon shrugged. "I'll survive."

John glanced at Simon and added. "Try to keep up, Simon. I'd hate for you to get lost in the comic shop."

"Can't wait," Simon said, giving John his deadpan look.

John glanced at the barista behind the counter as he studied the surroundings.

He had never been into this one, but when his breath held, he realized it was Charlie.

Her golden hair was tied back with a few loose strands framing her face as she worked.

She wore the Briki apron over her simple top, focusing on steaming milk for a latte. His stomach flipped. He hadn't expected to run into her with his men and without his usual beanie.

Fuckin'hell!

His eyes almost widened as he turned around and cleared his throat.

Gaz, noticing John's sudden change, asked. "Boss?"

"What?" John said without hesitation.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," John said sharply.

"Oi, Price. You look like you've seen a ghost." Soap added.

Simon raised his eyebrow as if Soap got immediate attention by his usual call sign. "What?"

John groaned, and he covered his face with his one hand. Sinking himself further in his seat. "Don't fucking look at the counter, lads. Niamh, how long are we staying?"

"Not long," Niamh answered. "Why?"

Then, Soap blinked and turned his gaze to someone he recognized at the front counter. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Isn't that your girl over there, Price?"

John immediately stiffened, and his teeth gritted.

"Keep your head down," he said, a bit of panic creeping into his tone.

"Okay, what is going on?" Niamah asked, irritated.

Soap nudged beside her as he pointed out by his gaze. "That's his favorite lass one grounding the coffee."

"What?" Niamh whipped her glance to Soap. "Since when?!"

John shushed her before Gaz jumped in, surprised by her response. "You didn't know?"

"This is the first," Niamh said aloud before some eyes glanced at their table, and she blushed. "Oops."

"Your husband set me up." John said, pointing at Soap with a frown.

Before Soap opened his mouth, Gaz chimed in. "It all started when Soap thought our fearless Captain needed a life."

"Really?" Niamh raised an eyebrow, turning her full attention to Soap. "You took it upon yourself to set our boss up on a date without telling me?"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for him," Soap said, flashing her a charming grin. "And let's be honest, he's hopeless and alone."

John scoffed. "Right. Good to know you're always a step ahead in meddling."

"Can't say he's wrong," Gaz added. "It's nice seeing you flustered for once, boss."

"Careful, Kyle," John warned, his voice low but laced that his team knew all too well. "You start pushing your luck, and I'll handle your leave requests."

But before Gaz could retort, Niamh leaned in closer, giving Soap a pointed look.

"So, let me get this straight, Mo Ghra. When did you start hooking our boss with a barista?"

Soap nervously chuckled. "Thought it might be more fun if you found out for yourself, eh? Plus, she's not a barista. I didn't know she works in here."

Niamh stared at him before rolling her eyes at him. "I rest my case."

John shifted uncomfortably, casting an anxious glance toward Charlie, who was still busy behind the counter.

He shot Soap a look of mild exasperation, his voice barely above a murmur. "If she catches wind of me without my hat... I'll make you regret it."

"You're seriously freaking out without a hat, boss?" Gaz teased, barely holding back his laughter. "Think of this as a morale booster."

John gave Gaz a deadpan look. "You think this is a morale booster, son?"

Simon, watching the whole exchange in his usual, unreadable way, finally spoke up. "If morale's low, I'll take the next mission over this any day. Less chance of complications."

At that, Niamh scoffed. "Okay, you all leave him alone. John, with all due respect, you'll be fine without a beanie for just one day. A change can be refreshing. You look better without them."

Just as John was about to talk back, he felt a presence close behind him.

Turning slightly, he saw Charlie balancing a tray of drinks for Soap and Niamh. She offered them a warm smile, her gaze lingering on John for a beat longer, surprise flickering as she took in his hatless appearance.

"Wow," she said with a soft laugh. "Didn't expect to see you without your beanie, John."

A rush of warmth creep up his neck. The last thing John needed was his team to catch him blushing over a simple compliment.

"Thanks," John said, trying to play it off with a casual smile. "Thought I'd give it a break for today."

Her eyes sparkled as she handed out the drinks. "Well, it's nice to see a different side of you."

Soap, noticing John's flustered expression, could hardly contain his grin. He leaned over to Niamh and muttered, "See what I mean? He's smitten."

John shot him a warning look before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze to Charlie in an attempt to keep control of the situation.

"Charlie, these are my friends," he started, pointing at his men in row. "Johnny MacTavish. Simon Riley. Kyle Garrick." And his eyes moved to Niamh, "and this is Niamh. It's her birthday today."

Her face lit up with genuine warmth as she glanced at Niamh. "Oh, happy birthday! Hope they're spoiling you today."

Niamh chuckled, glancing pointedly at Soap and then at her. "Oh, they are going too! Between you and me, it's not exactly easy to wrangle this lot."

Soap feigned offense, clutching his heart. "Hey! We're perfectly manageable. Right, lads?"

Gaz snorted. "As manageable as a pack of wild dogs."

Charlie giggled, her gaze shifting back to John. "Sounds like you're in good company. Thanks for letting me crash your little gathering."

"Not crashing," Simon said, his voice calm but with a hint of a smirk. "In fact, you've made this more entertaining for us."

Charlie blinked. "I did?"

John glared at Simon, a silent message saying, 'Don't you dare.' But Simon ignored his plea.

"Yes, we watched him squirm since he realized he was naked without a hat. At least, we now know he is human and not a grumpy ol'arse twenty-four-seven."

Fuck you. John mentally cursed at Simon.

If only he could express it aloud; but he kept it to himself instead.

"It is true," John grudgingly admitted.

Charlie giggled and shook her head.

"Okay, I gotta get back to work, but it was nice to meet all of you." She said with a warm smile. Charlie glanced at John one last time before leaving the table.

The group becomes silent for a brief moment, and Simon breaks the bubble.

"You're head-over-heels, boss."

John scoffed at the obvious statement. "Can't you see?"

"I say you're self-conscious," Simon said with almost a smirk. "Seeing you this worked up over a girl? It's the best entertainment I've had in a while. Makes me think you do have a soft spot."

"That's what I get for not wearing my security blanket," John muttered.

"Trust me, mate, I know how brutal Simon can be with his comments," Soap said, leaning back and throwing an arm around Niamh, leaning against his arm. "It's like he gets some twisted pleasure out of it."

"Only when the reactions are this priceless," Simon deadpanned.

John rolled his eyes. "Well, don't get used to it. This was a one-off."

Gaz snorted. "Sure, Cap'n. And I'm guessing we won't see you wandering into Briki, beanie or not, the next day."

John shot him a sideways look, jaw tightening but unable to suppress the grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah."

"Admit it," Soap said, "we think you're glued to your hat or beanie. It's nice to see you let your guard down a bit."

With a shake of his head, John murmured, "Cheers to that, you bastards," explicitly to his men and excluding Niamh.

---

Hey readers!

This chapter was pure chaos in the best way, wasn't it?

Between Soap outing John's crush on Charlie, Simon throwing in his deadpan comments, and Gaz stirring the pot, I'd say John is officially out of his comfort zone—and without his trusty beanie, no less!

I don't know what's more entertaining: John trying to keep his cool or Simon silently reveling in his discomfort. 😏

If you were part of this group, whose vibe are you most like? Are you Soap's chaos, Simon's stoic sass, Gaz's laid-back humor, or John's grumpy charm?

Be honest: would you also mess with John if you saw him flustered, or would you have his back? (Let's face it, Simon isn't holding back!)

What's your equivalent of John's "security blanket" beanie—something you'd feel totally exposed without?

Feel free to answer in the comments—I'm excited to hear your take!

🌟 Reminder: 3 new chapters drop this Friday!

🌟 Maybe a surprise chapter on Wednesday, if I'm feeling generous. (Spoiler: I probably will be. 😉)

As always, thank you for reading and laughing along with these characters!

Your support and comments mean the world to me, and I can't wait to see what you think of John's awkward moment at the cafe. Until next time! 💬✨