Niamh was full with chatter during the ten-minute drive from Briki Café to Forbidden Planet.

Bouncing in her seat from the far end of the back seat, she chattered with Soap, who was seated beside her, and Gaz on the other end beside Niamh. Up front, Simon stared out the passenger window.

At the same time, John focused on the road, occasionally tuning in to the conversation.

He had chosen the route, knowing it would be a short cut way for Niamh.

After all, it was her birthday, and she had free rein over the day's plans.

Their next stop—brunch—would wrap things up, but for now, they had to spend time with her at the "geeky paradise."

When he pulled up to the store and turning off the motor, Niamh leaped out of the car. Her excitement bubbling over as the rest followed behind her like a pack of bewildered bodyguards.

Ahead of them, the Forbidden Planet storefront appeared.

Its dark windows gleamed with vibrant superheroes, sci-fi, and other nerd culture displays.

For Niamh, it was a treasure meant to discover.

For John, it looked more like colorful plastics.

"Here we are!" Niamh exclaimed, throwing her arms out like a game show hostess unveiling the grand prize. "Prepare yourselves, boys—you're about to enter paradise."

Soap grinned, bowing dramatically. "Lead the way, my queen. The nerd kingdom awaits."

"Been ages since I've been here. Wonder what new stuff they've got." Gaz said to himself, squinting his eyes at the displays through the window.

"More like a recruitment center for cults," Simon said dryly, his hands shoved in his front jean pockets.

John smirked at Simon's comment but said nothing. He would totally agree with him. But it was Niamh's birthday, so they'd have to survive—even if Simon looked like he was coming with ways to leave them behind.

***

Inside, the store was a geek's dream—and a nightmare to non-geeks.

Shelves buckled under the weight of graphic novels, action figures, and collectibles, while posters of iconic franchises plastered the walls. There were a lot of customers darting between aisles like wide-eyed kids in a candy store.

Niamh darted straight to the fantasy fiction section the moment she stepped in. Her eyes lighted when she held up a leather-bound collector's edition of her beloved book series of ACOTAR.

"Look at this!" she gushed, turning to Soap with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Soap nodded instantly. "Perfect, babe. I'll get it for you."

John hovered nearby, offering a faint (and a fake) smile. "Good pick, Niamh."

Her eyes sparkled as she held the leather-bound collector's edition close to her chest like it was some holy artifact. She turned the book over, admiring the embossed golden lettering on the cover and the design.

"Sarah J. Maas never disappoints," she said with a dreamy sigh, flipping through the gilded pages. "I've been collecting this series forever, and this edition is perfect to finish my collection."

"Fantasy novels," John said. "Never got the appeal. Witches, fairies, and whatnot. Seems like a lot of fluff to me."

"Fluff," Niamh looked at him, mock-offended. "John Price, do not disrespect the masterpiece that is Sarah J. Maas."

His brows raised while the corners of his mouth twitching. "Didn't mean any offense, but how many books can one person read about magical kingdoms and broody lads with wings?"

Soap chuckled, nudging his wife. "He's just jealous he can't sit still long enough to read more than a mission brief."

"It's not just about magical kingdoms and wings, Captain." She paused, clutching the book to her chest. "It's got spice, too."

John blinked, unimpressed. "Spice? You mean, like, actual spice or something else?"

Her smirk grew, and she exchanged a knowing glance with Soap. He glanced back and smirked before they look at John.

"Let's just say these books have... scenes that would make even a hardened soldier, like my hubby, blush."

"She's not wrong, Cap'n." Soap chimed in. "Some of the stuff she's read aloud—woo! Thought I'd need to fan meself."

John stared at them. His face remained stone-like, but his eyes narrowed, unimpressed. "So, you're tellin' me these books are basically fairy porn disguised as literature?"

Niamh giggled and Soap slapped his knee, clearly enjoying their Captain's confusion.

"It's not porn!" Niamh said between giggles. "It's romantic fantasy! There's a difference."

"Sure there is," John deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Never thought I'd see the day where fairies and spice are a winning combination."

"It's called a good plot and good tension," Niamh countered, holding her head high. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

John shook his head, clearly done with the conversation. "I'll stick to my reports and field manuals, thanks. At least they don't come with scenes and shit."

Soap patted John on the back, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "Don't knock it till you try it. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up a fan."

"I'll pass," John said dryly before turning around and move to another aisle. "Fairies and spice. What's the world come to?"

"A better love story than Twilight!" Niamh called back.

John rolled his eyes in return and wandered to a different aisle.

He could already picture it—Charlie defending Edward Cullen's brooding devotion, Niamh countering with Rhysand's dominance and wingspan, and Soap egging them both on for the fun of it.

He knew that if these young women argue about a fictional male heroes, he'd be better off hightailing it out of there before it gets too weird for him.

***

Thirty minutes.

Thirty long, mind-numbing minutes had passed, and John was convinced this shop was some sort of geek hell.

Everywhere he looked, there were shelves stacked with colorful figurines, collectible comics, and memorabilia he didn't care for. Posters of superheroes and fantasy characters lined the walls, while die-hard fans swarmed every corner, debating the merits of some franchise or another.

John leaned against a shelf displaying an array of oversized Funko Pops, his arms crossed over his chest.

If someone asked him, he'd rather be somewhere than here. Hell, he'd even settle for sitting through a briefing. But here? This was borderline torture.

His patience was further tested as he watched Soap and Gaz locked in what could only be described as the most pointless argument of the day.

"Look, see this detail?" Soap said, holding up an original Batman figurine. "They've nailed the cape and the suit. Good ol' days."

"Yeah, but look at this Iron Man. Classic design. Timeless." Gaz talked back.

"Classic? Kyle, Batman's suit oozes style! Back in the 90s is better."

"Iron Man's suit flies! So does he back in the day!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you two serious right now?"

"Dead serious," Soap shot back, shoving the Batman figure closer to Gaz's face. "And don't you dare disrespect Batman's trauma. It's iconic."

Gaz grabbed an Iron Man figure off the shelf, waving it in Soap's direction. "Iconic doesn't win battles, Johnny. Tech does! Ask your wife. Iron Man would mop the floor with him."

"Bullock," John muttered under his breath, glancing to his left to find Simon, who looked equally unimpressed.

Simon stood stiffly near a display of anime collectibles. His broad shoulders hunched as he scanned the store with an air of silent disapproval. His blank face made it hard to read his expression, but the way he stood motionless screamed bored out of his mind.

"Still figuring a way out of here?" John asked, walking over to him.

"I've mapped out three exits, but Niamh's got us locked down, and those two—" he gestured toward Soap and Gaz, who were now comparing comic books—"are clearly settin' up shop."

John smirked faintly. "No luck sneakin' off?"

"Negative," Simon said, the frustration hinted in his tone. "Tried to slip past the board game aisle, but some bloke in a Spider-Man costume started rambling about dice mechanics. Had to backtrack."

John raised an eyebrow. "Surprised you didn't take the chance to learn somethin' new."

Simon shot him a look, or at least what John assumed was a look of 'are you shitting me?'. "I'd rather be interrogated."

John chuckled under his breath, his arms still crossed. "Guess we're both stuck, then."

Simon shifted his weight, glancing toward Niamh, who was happily flipping through a rack of limited-edition graphic novels. "What's worse is Soap's lovin' it. Look at him. He's like a bloody kid in a toy shop."

"More like two kids," John said, nodding toward Gaz, who was still fiercely defending Iron Man's honor. "If they start throwing punches, I'm not stopping them."

Simon huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You'd think we don't have actual lives outside this mess."

They stood there in silence for a moment, both men watching the chaos around them. Then Simon spoke again, his voice low. "If we don't make it out of here soon, I'm puttin' in a request to ban mission downtime."

John smirked, his tone dry. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious," Simon frowned. "Next time, we're draggin' them to a hardware store. Let's see how they like that."

John shook his head and said, "Careful. Niamh might drag you back here for revenge."

"Fucking hell," Simon sighed, his shoulders slumped.

Just then, Soap's voice rose above the din. "Oi! Do you have a favorite superhero, Ghost? There's gotta be one brooding enough for you."

Simon deadpanned, "Does Death count?"

Gaz thought about his comment and he found a Spawn figure nearby. "Found your guy."

Simon gave it a cursory glance. "At least he doesn't wear tights."

John looked at the figure too, and he nodded in approval.

"Agree."

***

Outside, Niamh clutched her bags of goodies, shining with joy, while Gaz juggled his own haul of goodies.

"I gotta say, Niamh. You've got great taste," Gaz added. "You okay of me stopping by and we should binge Agents of SHIELD? I'll bring in beers."

"Gaz, you're more than welcome to stop by our place at any time," she said, looking at Gaz while clutching her bags of goodies. She then looked at Soap with a lopsided grin. "This has been the best day, thank you!"

"Anything for you, babe," Soap said, kissing her head. "I'd walk through the fires of geekdom for you."

"Sounds like a fire hazard," Simon added, earning a glare from Niamh.

"Simon," she warned. "Don't ruin my happiness."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Simon said, his tone dripping with mischief.

John trailed behind, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his mind drifting back to Charlie—her laugh, her smile, and how she'd worked her way into his thoughts. It had been a while since he'd felt like this, until Simon's parting shot—"At least now we know the old man can blush"—earned him a sharp glare.

"Go to hell, Simon."

Simon smirked last. "Already there, boss."

-----

Hey Readers!

How was that for a chapter? From Niamh leading the crew through geek paradise to John enduring Soap and Gaz's superhero debates, this one was a ride.

And let's not forget Simon's dry wit—it's the comedic cherry on top of the geek sundae. Poor John, though. He's really having a day. 😂

Here are some fun questions to geek out over (pun intended):

If you had to pick a side in Soap and Gaz's superhero debate, which one would you prefer: DC or Marvel?

What's your dream section in a store like Forbidden Planet—books, action figures, comics, cards, or something else?

🌟 Don't forget: 3 new chapters drop every Friday!

🌟 Feeling lucky? I might post a surprise chapter on Wednesday if I'm feeling generous. Stay tuned!

Thank you so much for reading and for sharing your thoughts! I love hearing your comments, theories, and reactions—it makes writing this story even more fun.

Let me know what you think of this chapter! 💬✨