The morning sun filtered through the curtains, painting the bedroom in a warm, golden light. Diana stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she nestled against you, her husband. The peace was perfect, a rare and precious commodity for the Princess of Themyscira.

Then, the Justice League alert chimed from her gauntlet. Duty called. With a groan of reluctance, she untangled herself from your arms and the warm sheets.

She moved to the closet, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound. You watched, still drowsy, as she pulled out two distinct options: her classic star-spangled briefs and a newer, sleek pair of dark combat trousers. She held one in each hand, turning to face you.

A small, uncharacteristically uncertain frown touched her lips. “There was a segment on the news this morning,” she began, her voice softer than usual. “A debate. About whether I should… modernize my look. Skirt versus pants. It was rather heated.”

She looked down at the garments in her hands, then back at you, her blue eyes searching. “What do you think?” she asked, holding them up. “The traditional, or the tactical?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Because how could you possibly choose? She was a vision of power and grace in the briefs, a living symbol. But in the trousers? She was a formidable, sleek warrior, all focused intensity. She looked utterly, devastatingly good in both. Seeing your speechless, admiring stare, Diana sighed. Of course you couldn't answer because you're biased... She really loved and hated that about you.