Author's Note:

Whatever the clock says when you're reading this, good morning! Breakfast (at Tiffany's) time!

XXIII

'Have Breakfast with Princess' sounded like something off a family's Disney vacation itinerary. It was true that MJ couldn't imagine there being a happier place on earth than where she'd be meeting Princess Shuri that morning, but the comparison ended there. She wouldn't be bringing along some kind of Avengers & Friends autograph book to collect the princess's signature, gushing about how big of a fan she was (hopefully), or wearing a hat with mouse ears. There was a dress code though. At first, MJ had believed this must be standard for an audience with a member of the royal family, but it turned out Princess Shuri just dug a theme and wanted to make the most of her experience in New York City. MJ respected that. Who knew, maybe if they got along and the princess had time in her schedule they could protest at the consulate of Her Royal Highness's choosing. Or maybe not, since Princess Shuri was a political figure herself. MJ definitely didn't want to be instrumental in encouraging the princess into something that could have diplomatic ramifications. Well, they could start with breakfast.

MJ reached into her closet for the garment bag tucked against the back, unzipping it to extract the black dress she'd worn to her grandmother's funeral a couple years earlier. The princess had told her over the phone that any black dress would do and was prepared to buy her one if she didn't own one already. MJ would've felt weird about that, so she was glad she had the appropriate wardrobe. The best thing was that the dress was linen; if temperatures soared as high as they had the day before, she wouldn't get too sweaty in front of the princess.

Because she hadn't been given any instructions beyond the dress, MJ went for high-top sneakers (in case they had to walk) and swirled her hair into a loose pile on top of her head, like yesterday. She didn't plan to leave it like that, but she wouldn't see the princess until she arrived at the set location and she wasn't interested in overheating in the meantime.

Her mom forced a glass of water on her for hydration, then a glass of juice for a little sugar hit until she got some food in her stomach. When she started slathering her exposed arms in sunscreen before MJ could do it herself, she realized her mom was full of nervous energy. June hadn't been this excited about a royal since Meghan Markle married Prince Harry, and that had only been on TV; her daughter was about to meet a real-life princess. But if she started making a big deal about this, then MJ's carefully supressed internal panicking would transform into external panicking and she wouldn't be able to get a single word out at breakfast. She'd fail Princess Shuri, she'd fail Peter, and she'd fail herself. She could do this. She would do this. MJ rubbed in the too-thick smear of sunscreen her mom had smacked onto the back of her neck and marched out of the apartment (forgetting her key, but June was home today and could let her back in).

Without transit options of her own at her disposal, the princess had assured MJ that a self-driving car would be dispatched for her from the compound. It was waiting at the curb. There was no one in it, but she hadn't expected to meet Princess Shuri that way, while she was crouched over as she climbed into the backseat, trying to simultaneously tuck the skirt of her dress underneath her and not bump her head on the ceiling. The time and space to clear her mind on the way over was good. Traffic would make it a bit of a drive, even at 8:30am on a Sunday, and MJ planned to close her eyes and enjoy the air conditioning. Almost immediately, she opened them, wondering if this was the car that had driven her and Ned to and from Peter's birthday party, or the car that had taken her to the compound for the first time. Could be, which meant that her boyfriend had almost groped her boob exactly where she was now sitting. Ah, memories.

Now that she was thinking about him, she had to text him. She'd brought both of her phones with her today in her backpack purse and got out the one that was all about Peter.

Tell me this is going to go well, she tapped out.

It'll be so great! he texted back right away. Must have had his phone in hand in case she needed reassurance today. Nerd. MJ smiled to herself and read his next message: She's really nice and super cool. Mr. Stark thinks you have some things in common.

Oh yeah? Like what?

Irreverence. Towards him specifically.

Then we are definitely going to get along.

I think so. Excited for your surprise? Peter asked.

Excited/really hoping that this isn't the same surprise as the one you've been working on. She flushed in embarrassment at the thought that anyone else was in on their secret, which was totally unhelpful in terms of trying to arrive non-sweaty. She fanned the back of her neck with her hand.

No! I swear it's not! I mean, Shuri would probably get it done way faster and she wouldn't have to build it out of spare parts, but trust me―B.A.R.F. is between you and me. Nobody else.

Then I can sincerely wish her the best of luck in constructing a sex fantasy simulation for/with her own boyfriend.

I don't think she has one, Peter informed her, but that's a nice thing to say. Maybe not in person though.

Really, Peter? Before you said that, technology that enables enhanced sex fantasies was the first thing I was planning to mention to her.

I'm just trying to help!

Ok then, nerd. What else? MJ wanted to know. Some genuine advice would be welcome because she was getting closer to her destination.

No bowing. I guess Dr. Banner did that and it made shit awkward.

Banner's the best. Thank him for taking one for the team. The 'no bowing' thing is actually really good to know.

I'll tell him.

MJ set her phone down on the seat beside her for a second and thought. What else did she need to know? There were probably other cultural blunders she could make since she'd never hung out with any Wakandan royals before (or any other class of Wakandans, or royals from anywhere else), but Peter's own knowledge of those wouldn't be much more extensive than her own. Mainly, MJ didn't want to do something dumb, like step on the princess's foot or spill food on herself. Bottom line, Princess Shuri seemed awesome and MJ wanted her to think she was interesting and smart and stuff, even as she felt her brain emptying with every passing pretzel stand. She grabbed her phone again.

You can't give me any hints about what she's doing for me or giving me?

Sorry, Peter replied. I can just tell you that it's soooo amazing and you're gonna freak out.

Can you use a more comforting phrase than 'freak out'? MJ requested. Her sneaker had begun to bounce on the floor of the backseat.

After a minute, her boyfriend edited himself with, You're gonna be really, really happy and calm because she's pretty much fulfilling one of your dreams.

Also, he added as MJ was contemplating which dream Peter could possibly mean, you'll love me even more for suggesting this and we'll have the best sex ever next time I see you.

She snorted a laugh. All of that combined did actually make her feel better and calmer about the situation she was walking (and driving) into. She only had a single correction.

I thought you told me whatever this is was originally Romanoff's idea? I'm going to have to pass on the thank-you sex if it's not with you.

Awww! her boyfriend texted, ignoring the first part of her message. Whatever. She'd just say thanks whenever she ran into the spy next. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a zipline involved in any way. The car detoured for construction and MJ pulled up a map on her regular phone, leaving the spy-phone in her lap. They were approaching from a different direction, but the location was just two streets away.

I'll talk to you later, ok? she texted Peter.

Do you feel calmer?

I did for a minute or two. Now, my hands are shaking. MJ had to type 'shaking' three times to get the spelling right with her trembling fingers.

Remember, she's basically our age. There's nothing to be scared of.

Hope not.

I love you, Peter replied. Have a great time!

Love you too.

She could barely feel her legs under her when the car veered gently towards the curb and stopped, letting her out. MJ slung her backpack on and stumbled out. Somewhere between shutting the car door and taking two steps down the sidewalk, she went into a kind of trance and forgot to take the elastic out of her hair like she'd planned. There was a slim girl in a black dress standing maybe ten feet from her, gazing at a storefront. A few things gave away that this wasn't just anyone―the woman with perfect posture and watchful eyes who was so obviously guarding her, the building they were standing in front of, and the fact that the girl's silhouette, from her narrow black dress to the braided hair she'd arranged like a '60s beehive, screamed Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

MJ had known about the dress code, and that they were meeting at the jewellery store, but it was still surreal to walk towards a princess dressed as an iconic film character. It was like a really weird, super glamorous dream. Her throat was dry, so she could only swallow and nod at the guard, who had noticed her first. She must have said something under her breath because then Princess Shuri turned to face her. Sliding oversized sunglasses down her nose, she grinned at MJ.

"You made it! Wonderful! I have a few things for you."

"Hi," MJ said weakly, completely clueless as to what she was about to be presented with and blinking when the princess pushed a warm paper cup into her hand. Next, she handed MJ a croissant, just peeking out of a crinkly white bag.

"What do you think, coffee first, or pastry?"

"That is not coffee," the woman guarding the princess commented, keeping her eyes on the street.

"Fine, hot chocolate," the princess conceded. "Would it kill you to have a little imagination?"

"I'm MJ," MJ finally offered.

"Yes, I know. I'm Shuri. I would ask you to call me by my first name on any occasion, but especially here. Okoye is afraid of attracting attention by calling me 'Princess.' You understand."

"Oh, sure."

"That may be a lost cause regardless. I told you no diamonds. You are trying to get us mugged," Okoye accused.

"As if anyone could mug you! And they are not diamonds," the princess said defensively. She touch the tiara nestled into her hair that MJ had barely noticed because, hello, princess. Sure enough, it glittered when she turned her head.

"What are they if they aren't diamonds?" she wondered aloud. Asking questions felt natural and it was better than awed silence, she thought.

"Completely synthetic," Shuri said. "They require no mining, no external resources of any kind. I made them in my lab."

"That's awesome."

"Thank you! Would you like to wear yours?"

"Mine?"

Shuri handed her hot chocolate to Okoye and bent to a small pack sitting at her feet. She extracted a tiara identical to the one she was wearing and stood with it held in both hands, reaching towards MJ. Which was, of course, when MJ remembered her sloppy updo.

"Oh, shit, my hair," she said, reaching up as well.

"It will work perfectly." The princess worked the tiara into MJ's hair, in front of where she'd piled it up. "There. Very secure."

"Yours looks amazing," MJ offered, waving her croissant towards Shuri's intricate braids. She took a drink from her cup.

"I did my best. It would have been easier with an extra pair of hands."

After saying this, Shuri shot a glance at Okoye, who didn't answer.

"A pity hairstyling is not one of your many skills," the princess concluded.

Her guard turned her head slightly to look at her. Subtly, she lifted the edge of what MJ hadn't realized was a wig, revealing a bald head beneath.

"I am out of practice," Okoye joked dryly.

So far, the Wakandans were exceeding all of MJ's wildest dreams. She took another sip of her hot chocolate, then a bite of her croissant, trying not to move her head too much; she knew the tiara wasn't made of real diamonds, but it had been fabricated by a princess, which made it insanely valuable. Wait, was this why they had met? Shuri was giving her a tiara? Why the hell would Romanoff have suggested that? As she stood almost shoulder to shoulder with the princess, contemplating everything that sparkled behind the window of Tiffany's, MJ tried to think of how she could ask. If the tiara was the reason for the meeting, that was strange, but she didn't want to sound ungrateful. If it wasn't, she didn't want to sound like she was demanding her real gift and didn't care about the much greater honour of getting to meet two people from such an incredible place.

"After this, we are getting you a cronut," Shuri told Okoye. Turning to MJ, she said, "She refused to get anything when I did."

"I would like my hands to be free," Okoye explained, not looking over this time.

"Yes, yes, of course, but you could certainly fight someone by throwing a hot coffee at them."

"Then I would lose my coffee."

Shuri snorted.

"Do they still make cronuts?" she asked MJ. "It has taken so long for my brother to allow me to visit New York City that the trend might have come and gone."

"I actually don't know," she replied. "Maybe?"

"There, Okoye," the princess said soothingly. "There is still hope."

"I could not care less."

"You are very convincing, but I am sure you are lying. Never fear. I will make your cronut dreams come true." Shuri smiled persistently at her guard until Okoye gave her a tired look from the corner of her eye. Then, the princess laughed and leaned towards MJ. "As you can see, Okoye was thrilled to be assigned to me today."

MJ laughed too.

"There's only so long you can hang out with Stark."

"Yes! An intelligent man, but it is very difficult to resist cutting him down to size when he becomes arrogant. T'Challa has reprimanded me for this multiple times a day since we arrived."

"I guess his reprimanding isn't very effective," MJ observed.

The princess grinned.

"He may be a king, but he is still my brother, and a brother, like a king, must occasionally have his commands tested. It is good for him."

"Good for Stark too. He does enough humbling of his own to afford to be humbled himself every once in a while. Has he told you about CondomGate yet?"

This wasn't a story MJ would have volunteered to most people (or anyone), but she already liked Princess Shuri a lot and it was easy to tell her. They stood in front of the jewellery store, talking and eating, both laughing as MJ tried to get the story out, and she found that Peter was right; Shuri was great. She was cool and smart and effortless to talk to. Unfortunately, MJ was repaying her boyfriend's reassurances by spilling this embarrassing story about him, but she doubted Shuri would repeat it to anyone other than Peter. It would give Tony a break when the princess went back to the compound and teased his protégé for a while instead. MJ was re-establishing the Avengers ecosystem.

"Now, I should show you the purpose for your trip," Shuri said when they'd finished with their breakfast and with Tiffany's. She lifted her pack and MJ could tell there was something still inside it. "Why don't we sit in your car?"

With Okoye close behind them, they walked back to the car that had brought MJ into Manhattan. Shuri climbed into the backseat first and, as MJ followed her, she wondered if Okoye would stand guard outside or join them. Before she'd shut the door behind her, she had her answer as Okoye got into the driver's seat.

"I am not leaving you in a car that can drive itself away," she remarked, seeming to catch Shuri's eye in the rearview mirror.

"Yes, but if I did get kidnapped by use of a self-driving car, you could blame Tony Stark and whack him over the head with your spear," Shuri cheerfully suggested.

"Never joke about being kidnapped."

But MJ saw Okoye's smile.

"So," Shuri said, twisting in her seat until her knees hit MJ's. She unzipped her pack and pulled out a matte-black cylinder. "Discrete," she said, balancing it across her palms.

Then, she held it in one hand and flicked her fingers along the length of it with her other hand, like swiping a phone screen. The cylinder clearly hadn't been a hollow tube; it extended and reconfigured, metal shifting and tiling itself to form a ball. Shuri gave the controls a final brush and spikes popped out of the sphere. MJ's jaw dropped.

"Attack mode," Shuri told her with a grin. "Here, it isn't heavy."

And the Princess of Wakanda passed MJ her new mace.

"Holy shit," she breathed, handling it with care. Well, some care. She shifted it from one hand to the other and one of the spikes sliced a clean line through the leather coating the back of the driver's seat. Her eyes went wide. This thing was fucking sharp. "Sorry," MJ added belatedly.

Shuri waved her off.

"If there was no swearing, I would be disappointed. This reaction tells me I've done my job."

"Thank you. Romanoff asked you to make this for me?"

"She said she promised you she would acquire one."

MJ was dumbfounded for a minute. Then, she remembered their conversation in the back of that crêpe truck.

"I guess she did say she could make a call."

"Well, in the end there was no need. I came to her. It was fun to have a project this week. When they aren't fighting, the work of the Avengers is more tedious than I imagined."

"Thank you," MJ said again. "This is... How does it work?"

Eagerly, Shuri leaned closer, retracted the spiked ball first, then started from the beginning to show MJ how to operate the controls. They were hard to spot, but not invisible. Once MJ practiced extending and collapsing the weapon a few times, it felt pretty intuitive. Her hand wasn't tired of gripping it either. Like the princess said, it wasn't heavy and, since MJ now also knew it was solid with components all the way through, she was sure this wasn't any metal she was familiar with. Which meant it was probably Wakandan. Which meant it was special.

"Am I even allowed to have this?" MJ checked, holding up the cylinder that was now in discrete mode but, according to Shuri, still dangerous as a baton.

"Legally, definitely not," the princess laughed. "But certain allowances have always been made for the Avengers in America, haven't they?"

"But I'm not an Avenger," she whispered.

Maybe there'd been some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe they thought she was enhanced because Peter was enhanced and she was going out with Peter and knew his secrets and got invited to parties at the compound like she was on the inside.

"And who's going to make you one? Stark? You can't wait for one of those men to let you into the club," Shuri urged. "I certainly am not. If you are connected to them, you need the tools to defend yourself. But I am sure that you knew this already. It was you who had a specific weapon in mind."

"Yeah, I kinda briefly stole one of these things from the Crown Jewels vault in London."

"Cool. You must tell me that story another time."

As she opened the door and got back out of the car, MJ agreed. She held the door wide as the princess exited after her, informing Shuri that Peter would be able to tell some of it. If there was time to ask him about it. Obviously, hearing about CondomGate would take precedence, and making fun of him after hearing about it would take much longer than the story itself. The princess should have plenty to keep her entertained for the rest of her stay Upstate. She wasn't heading back just yet though―she had a full itinerary planned for her day in New York City and Okoye seemed to have softened to the idea of a cronut.

At the last second, MJ remembered the tiara and pulled it out of her hair, probably making even more of a mess of whatever was going on on top of her head. Though Shuri resisted taking it back, MJ was adamant. It was beautiful, but it wasn't something she needed. Bizarrely, the mace was the item that really felt like it belonged to her. So Shuri took the tiara back and MJ waved goodbye to her and Okoye, then got into the car with a sigh. The heat of the city was rising around her and she was ready to get home to crunch on a freezie and, whenever her mom wasn't in the room, swing her mace around the kitchen.