The golden hour light spilled through the windows of the Murphy house, casting warm stripes across the cluttered living room. Melissa Chase and Zack Underwood sat cross-legged on the floor beside a teetering stack of board games, a bowl of popcorn between them. Across the room, Milo Murphy was fine-tuning a popcorn catapult with a wrench, whistling cheerfully.

The sleepover was in full swing. Movies were queued up, snacks were stacked like supply crates, and Diogee—Milo's ever-loyal dog—was curled under the coffee table, suspiciously eyeing a toaster with blinking lights.

Just as the popcorn launcher fired its first triumphant kernel across the room, a low rumble shook the house.

Thunk… hiss… clunk.

The air conditioner died.

"Oh no," Melissa said, looking up. "Was that—?"

"The AC," Milo confirmed, already standing up and brushing popcorn off his shirt. "I was afraid this might happen. I sensed the freon was getting restless last week."

"You sensed it?"

He unrolled a bright red toolbox labeled 'Emergency Climate Control Kit', filled with a dizzying collection of hand-labeled gadgets. One screwdriver read "Use only during Mercury retrograde."

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Why do you even have a climate control kit?"

Milo grinned. "Because I live here."

He clipped a light to his tool belt and headed for the hallway vent access. Melissa, as always, was right behind him.

"Want help?" she asked, picking up her curly hair into a messy bun.

"Always."

Zack watched them disappear down the hall, Melissa already laughing at something Milo said about duct tape and rogue humidity. He sighed and sank back into the couch.

"I'm here too, you know," he muttered to Diogee, who responded with a bark and a lick before wandering off to chase a mysterious noise in the kitchen.

Zack sat for a moment, arms crossed. Milo and Melissa were great—smart, capable, always in sync—but sometimes, he felt like the third wheel on a tricycle that had already won a science fair.

He stood up, scanning the room for inspiration. His eyes landed on a pillow. Then another. Then six more, stacked in a neat pyramid. An idea sparked.

Moments later, Melissa and Milo were deep into the vent system, Milo half inside the wall.

"Okay," Milo said, passing her a coiled copper wire. "Hold this while I recalibrate the secondary thermoregulator."

Before she could respond, a pillow smacked her in the back of the head.

She spun around. Zack stood at the end of the hallway holding another cushion like a knight wielding a foam sword.

"I challenge you to a pillow fight," he declared. "To win your attention."

Melissa blinked. "Are you serious right now?"

"I was your loyal squire. You left me for the HVAC guy."

"I didn't leave you," she said, turning fully toward him. "We're fixing the AC!"

"With all due respect," Zack said, stepping closer, "I'm much more fun than ductwork."

Another pillow flew.

This time, Melissa caught it midair.

"Oh, it's on."

They clashed in the hallway, laughing and spinning. Feathers burst from one of the older pillows and floated through the air like snow. Zack dodged behind a folding chair. Melissa ambushed him with a couch cushion from the side.

Back inside the vent, Milo remained completely unbothered. "Just a reminder," he called down calmly, "pillow fights in close proximity to an active freon conduit may result in temporary invisibility or light frostbite."

WHUMP. A pillow bounced off the wall next to him. He adjusted his goggles and tightened a valve. "Or both!"

Down below, Melissa had just pinned Zack to the floor, one knee on his chest.

"I win," she said, breathing hard.

"You always do," he replied, smiling up at her.

"You're such a dork."

"And you love it."

Milo climbed down from the ladder, brushing insulation dust from his shoulders. "Good news! The AC is working again."

Cool air poured through the vents with a satisfying whoosh. Everyone paused to enjoy the breeze.

"Bad news," he added, pulling a melted-looking wrench from his pocket, "we may have opened a temporary wormhole to the inside of a vending machine."

Zack blinked. "Come again?"

"Don't worry," Milo said cheerfully. "It's only semi-sentient. Mostly snack-based."

As if on cue, a bag of neon-orange chips skittered across the floor and vanished into the vent with a slurp.

Melissa exchanged a look with Zack. "Should we be worried?"

"It's the Murphy house," Zack said, shrugging. "Define 'worried.'"

Later that night, the three of them were piled into sleeping bags in the living room. The TV glowed softly in the background, playing an old sci-fi B-movie Milo insisted was "deeply underrated." Diogee snored quietly at Milo's feet, curled protectively around a wrench that might've still been glowing.

Melissa rested her head on Zack's shoulder, their earlier mock battle leaving them both content and flushed.

"You know," Zack said, "even with all the chaos… I wouldn't trade nights like this for anything."

"Not even central air that doesn't try to eat you?" Melissa teased.

"Not even."

Milo, lying flat on his back with his tool belt still buckled, looked up at the ceiling. "Hey, guys?"

"Yeah?" they answered in unison.

"Next time we fix the AC, we should probably check for extradimensional snack monsters before rerouting the coolant."

Zack laughed. "Noted."

Melissa reached across the sleeping bags and gave Milo a light fist bump. "Nice work, engineer."

"Thanks," Milo said, smiling as the cool air hummed through the vents. "Just another normal night."