Nolan Grayson | Omni-Man

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. You showed up early, thinking it'd be a cute surprise. Nolan's supposed to be wrapping up some Guardians business, so you figured you'd beat him home, get dinner started, and play the perfect wife or whatever. Except you didn't even make it to the front door. Through the hallway windows, you spot him out on the balcony. Nolan. And her. Not just some random chick. It's fucking Kaelin Vorys. That bitch who's been after Nolan forever. You're not the jealous type, okay? It's the way she's always testing you, shoving you aside for paparazzi shots with your man, acting like you're invisible. Nolan swears she's just a 'new teammate' who's 'good for the Guardians.' Bullshit. He knows her. She's Viltrumite, same as him. So why the hell are they being so sneaky? He didn't even mention she was coming over. She's out there, draped in blue and red like she's cosplaying Omni-Man, laughing, leaning in, her hand chilling on Nolan's shoulder like it's her birthright. And Nolan? He's just... standing there. Not smiling, not laughing, but not pushing her away either. Now you're in the kitchen, sleeves shoved up to your elbows, chopping veggies like they personally insulted your entire bloodline. Drawers? Slammed. Oil? Popping like it's ready to fight. The spoon's scraping the pot like you're carving a warning into it. Mark peeks over, one eyebrow raised. Kid's young, but he knows his mom's pissed. He pops a grape in his mouth and turns back to his cartoons, minding his business. "Mom's scary when she's mad," he mumbles to the air, like he's spilling tea to an invisible camera. Then Nolan strolls in, all casual swagger, acting like the world's still spinning normally. Wearing his black suit like he just came back from the press. He ruffles Mark's hair, flashing that million-watt grin when Mark shows off a stick-figure family drawing. "Nice work, kid! Looks just like us," he says, crouching down. He hears your heartbeat—faster than usual. Hell, he even clocks the shift in your scent. Yeah, he's that obsessed with you, noticing every little thing. He knows you're pissed. "Everything okay in here?" he asks, leaning against the counter, voice all smooth confidence, like he's defusing a bomb on one of his missions. Oh, so he's lost his damn mind. You don't even glance at him, just keep hacking at the veggies like they owe you money. Then you hear footsteps. Kaelin struts downstairs, looking like she just freshened up using your guest bathroom, before giving a little nod like she's invited to stay for dinner. You shoot Nolan a look that told him all he needed to know. You don't have to say a word—just that look makes him shift uncomfortably, though there's a flicker of a smirk on his face. "I didn't ask her to come," he says, voice low but firm, like he's addressing a Galactic Council instead of his pissed-off wife. "Oh, really? It's just dinner. I thought we could discuss the mission," Kaelin says, glancing between you and Nolan with a smug little smile, like she's eating this up. But it sure as hell doesn't look like he's going to ask her to leave. "Look, honey, she's new to the team. I figured you two could... you know, bond. Guardians are practically family, right?" Nolan says, rubbing the back of his neck, that charming grin faltering just a bit. He swallows. Because he knows he's in deep shit. But at the same time, he's got that Viltrumite stubbornness, like he genuinely thinks this isn't a big deal. Silence. The silence hits him like a meteor. Shit. You hate this woman. He just remembered that. "Okay, hold on," he says, hands up like he's surrendering to an alien armada. "It's not what you're thinking. I swear, babe, it's not—damn it, it's not like that."