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Any summer vacation that involves being far away sounds good. Away from the USA and its horrific oligarchy tendencies and attack of liberal and overwhelmingly human values, but especially away from her parents.

MJ has nothing better to do, forging her dad's signature and boarding a plane to Europe.

They visit mostly landmarks and museums and restaurants, but eventually, MJ finds herself with her classmates on an ancient, ground-level monastery with open arched windows, fashioned with the style of lancets and plate tracery, but no visible glass to be seen. It's all begrimed, crumbling stone.

A semi-indoor garden waits down a pathway, and MJ files out with a group of other teens. Unlike the hollow rooms, there's more sun peeking in. Yellow-white light drenches over snowdrops and red elderberry and blackthorn. She wanders off by herself as Peter vanishes around the corner, listening to the soft, steady chirps of insects. It feels like a endless maze surrounding her.

There's an area of fine white marble statues, encased by vines and what looks like orange-and-red speckled roses. A crown of them blossoms over one of the heads of a petite, nude statue.

MJ approaches it, eyeing the veil of spiderweb-gossamer thread to the face.

A young woman. She's prettier than the rest of the statues. Not the same European carving. Oval-shaped but thin face, nicely proportioned in the hips and shoulders, full lips. Kissable even.

She rolls her eyes, scolding herself. That's idiotic. Yeah so… the statue is lifelike… what about it?

People are still missing from the global catastrophe, MJ's brain adds morbidly. They've been calling those people "Vanishers" on social media like Twitter and the depths of Reddit. Her great auntie swears up and down that her best friend's nephew had been among the hundreds of thousands, and that he reappeared recently in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. (Or did she say it was a pizza place in Indiana?)

But still her fascination grows, as MJ steps up on a heavy, ashy-grey rock, leveling her eyes to the statue. Something seems weird. It's like she is looking back at MJ, hushed and yet frantic.

MJ peels off the thick, silky veil of cobweb, running her finger tentatively over the statue's lips.

Idiot.

She scolds herself again, but leans in fast, kissing those cold, dirtied lips. An impulse really. Until the statue begins to erode before MJ's eyes, revealing dark brown skin and a breathing, living body. The other teenage girl collapses forward into a shocked MJ, off the marbled base, whimpering.

"Help!" MJ yells out, her voice cracking. She's never been more afraid in her life, next to when their local news station announcers turning to dust within seconds. "Mrs. Buckler! Help me!"

The statue-girl feels fever-warm against MJ's hands, as MJ makes desperate, inaudible noises and hugs her close. Footsteps race to them. "Peter!" MJ yells again. He halts, skidding, touching MJ's shoulder in worry and then glimpsing down at this other girl. He hesitates, kneeling down, and then backs off. "Peter?"

"I know her… …" Peter mumbles, wide-eyed.

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A gigantic hover-carrier ends up roaring into a nearby field. MJ has never seen the King of Wakanda face-to-face and can only think to stare up awkwardly as he speaks to her about locating his younger sister.

She didn't even know he had a sister, let alone that Princess Shuri had been a Vanisher.

"My family owes you a debt of gratitude."

"Really, it's no big deal," MJ grumbles, thrusting her hands into her frayed jean pockets and shrugging. Her lips twitching. "It was… honestly kind of an accident? I guess?"

Shuri also gazes up at King T'Challa, narrowing her eyes. "Brother, don't be so melodramatic." MJ steels herself when the other teenage girl, now fully dressed, looks back at her, smiling so easily and openly. It still feels like MJ has to fight back the terrifying memory of discovering her. "Thank you, Michelle Jones."

"It's MJ, uhm… just call me MJ."

"I will," Shuri blurts out, her dimples popping, her accent heavy. She laughs with a nervous, high note as MJ lowers her eyebrows, confused. "I will call you, I mean. Your name." Another a moment of long, flustered silence, Shuri tells MJ how to reach her and grabs King T'challa's arm, attempting to flee the scene.

To be fair, MJ did kiss her spontaneously. But she gets the feeling Shuri… doesn't mind that.

"My, my. You like her, don't you—" King T'Challa says in the distance, amused.

"—BROTHER!"

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Marvel isn't mine. OH JOY OH RAPTURE im gonna say this is an A+ ship because it is and even though its a rarepair/crackpair,,, I like it almost as much as PeterMJ. ONLY BECAUSE PETERMJ IS MY BIG OTP. Honestly? PeterMJ, ShuriMJ, NedPeter are so so sooooo valid. PLEASE ENJOY MY NONSENSE OR IF YOU DID, LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS! Any comments are deeply appreciated! I got done "Silent" for Femslash February official prompt and "Hurt/Comfort - Kiss of Life" for today's fic!