The grand courtroom in Washington D.C. was a cavern of polished marble and stern faces, the air thick with the weight of bureaucracy. Rows of government officials from the U.S. and the United Nations sat like statues, their eyes narrowing as the heavy double doors burst open with an unapologetic thud. Diego Cruz, the newly christened Captain America, strode in, his muscular frame straining against a tailored suit that seemed one flex away from splitting at the seams. His vibranium-adamantium-titanium arm gleamed under the fluorescent lights, a stark reminder of the brutal experimentation he’d endured at the hands of the Friends of Humanity. He was late—again—and the collective glare of the room could’ve melted steel.
Behind him, his powerhouse team of wives entered with the kind of presence that commanded silence. Emma Frost, in a white blazer and pencil skirt, exuded icy control, her diamond-hard gaze sweeping the room. Rogue, her Southern drawl ready to cut like a blade, adjusted her gloves with a smirk. Storm, regal as ever, let a faint crackle of electricity dance along her fingertips, her eyes daring anyone to speak out of turn. Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers, stood with arms crossed, her military posture unyielding, while Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, leaned against the doorway, her sly grin promising trouble. These women weren’t just Diego’s partners in battle—they were his equals, his anchors, and, more often than not, his bosses in their unconventional marriage.
“Captain Cruz,” barked a grizzled U.S. senator from the panel, his voice dripping with disdain. “Care to explain why you’ve kept the combined might of two global governing bodies waiting for twenty-three minutes?”
Diego flashed a roguish grin, running a hand through his tousled black hair as he slid into his seat at the defense table. “My apologies, Senator. Had to save a kitten from a tree on the way. You know how it is—hero stuff.”
A ripple of suppressed snickers passed through the gallery, but the senator’s face remained stone. “This isn’t a comedy club, Cruz. You and your... team are under scrutiny for operating above the law. Unauthorized missions, unchecked power, and that arm of yours—where did it even come from? We have questions, and you will answer them.”
Before Diego could respond, Emma leaned forward, her voice a silken blade as she cut in. “Senator, if I may, let’s not waste time on theatrics. You’ve got files thicker than War and Peace on every one of us. You know where Diego’s arm came from—those delightful bigots at Friends of Humanity thought they’d make a weapon out of him. Spoiler: they failed. Now, shall we discuss the real issue, or are you just here to ogle my husband’s biceps?”
The senator sputtered, his face reddening, while Diego bit back a laugh. Emma’s diamond-blue eyes flicked to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t look so smug, darling. We’re still discussing your little... delay.”
“Oh, sugar,” Rogue drawled, leaning in close on Diego’s other side, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah reckon you weren’t savin’ no kitten. Smell like you’ve been savin’ somethin’ else entirely in a steamy bathroom somewhere. Care to confess, or do Ah gotta charm it outta ya?”
Diego’s grin widened, his dark eyes dancing with playful defiance. “Rogue, mi amor, you think I’d risk the wrath of five goddesses for a quick rinse? I’m wounded.”
“Wounded, my ass,” Carol snapped, her voice low but carrying the weight of a photon blast. She leaned across the table, her blonde hair brushing Diego’s shoulder as she fixed him with a stare that could level a city. “You’ve got that guilty smirk, Cruz. If I find out you were late because you were ‘polishing your shield’ with someone else, I’ll personally toss you into orbit.”
“Carol, I’m flattered by the imagery,” Diego shot back, his tone teasing as he flexed his cybernetic arm, the metal catching the light. “But my shield’s only ever polished by the best. You five keep me too busy for side quests.”
Storm’s rich, commanding voice cut through the banter, her presence like a gathering tempest. “Enough, Diego. Your charm won’t save you from us—or this room. Though I must admit, your timing is... suspiciously convenient. Were you caught in a storm of your own making, perhaps?” Her lips curved into a knowing smile, and a faint spark danced in her white irises.
Diego leaned back in his chair, unfazed, his gaze sweeping over his wives with a heat that belied the formal setting. “Ladies, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re more interested in my morning routine than the senator’s laundry list of complaints. Should we take this interrogation somewhere more... private?”
Natasha, who’d been silent until now, let out a low, throaty chuckle, her red hair falling over one shoulder as she stepped closer. “Careful, Captain. Keep dodging like that, and we might just tie you down for a proper debriefing later. But for now, let’s focus on not getting ourselves locked up by these paper-pushers. I’d hate to break out of a federal prison on a Tuesday.”
The senator cleared his throat loudly, slamming a gavel to regain control. “This is not a personal soap opera! Captain Cruz, explain your refusal to follow direct orders. You’ve ignored protocol on no less than seventeen missions in the past year. Why should we trust you with the safety of this planet?”
Diego’s playful demeanor shifted, his jaw tightening as he stood, his presence suddenly commanding. The room fell silent as he spoke, his voice a low, resonant force. “Senator, with all due respect, I don’t follow orders that put innocent lives at risk. My team—my family—operates to protect everyone. Mutant, human, alien, it doesn’t matter. We’ve stopped threats you couldn’t even dream of, and we’ve done it without asking for permission slips. You want trust? Look at the cities still standing because of us. Look at the people who call us heroes, not because we wear fancy titles, but because we bleed for them. If that’s not enough, then lock me up. But you’ll have to go through these women first—and good luck with that.”
A murmur of grudging respect passed through the officials, though their expressions remained hard. Emma’s lips twitched with pride, and she whispered, just loud enough for Diego to hear, “Nice speech, love. But don’t think it gets you off the hook for being late. We’re still having words.”
“Words, Emma?” Diego murmured back, his voice dripping with suggestion as he sat down. “Or something a little more... hands-on?”
“Keep dreaming, Cruz,” Carol interjected, her tone sharp but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. “You’ve got a long day of groveling ahead before any of us lay a finger on you.”
Rogue smirked, patting his shoulder with a gloved hand. “Better start practicin’ your apologies, sugar. Ah’m thinkin’ somethin’ real poetic.”
Storm’s gaze softened, though her voice held an edge. “We’ll see how contrite you are when we return to the Tower. For now, behave.”
Natasha’s smirk was the last word, her whisper a promise. “Don’t worry, ladies. I’ve got a few tricks to ensure he’s very sorry by tonight.”
The senator, clearly exasperated, slammed the gavel once more. “This hearing is adjourned. Captain Cruz, your team is dismissed—for now. But rest assured, we’ll be watching. Return to your... X-Avengers Tower, or whatever you call it. We expect full cooperation moving forward.”
As the team rose to leave, Diego caught the glares of the officials and the barely contained smirks of his wives. The courtroom had been a battlefield of words, but the real war awaited at home—one of passion, power, and playful retribution. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
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