Chapter Text
For Yelena, the world had always been defined by solid ground, urban rooftops, and the tactile reality of ballistics. The Red Room trained Widows to be masters of land-based infiltration, but the vast, unpredictable nature of the ocean remained a tactical blind spot. Aside from the utilitarian necessity of swimming—a skill taught for survival rather than leisure—water-based activities were often considered a logistical nightmare for Widows, lacking the predictable cover and escape routes of the concrete jungle. Standing in the aquarium, the sheer scale of a world she couldn't control felt foreign, yet strangely liberating.
-w-
The blue glow of the "Oceanic Wonders" tunnel reflected in Yelena’s eyes, making the green of her irises look like moss under shallow water. For someone who had spent most of her life looking for exits, traps, or targets, she was currently doing something Kate had never seen her do: standing completely still.
"Look at that one, Kate," Yelena whispered, her voice uncharacteristically small. She pointed a gloved finger at a massive, gliding manta ray. "It looks like a wet blanket. A very majestic, floating pancake."
Kate grinned, leaning against the glass. "That’s a manta ray. They’re basically the chillest dudes in the ocean."
Kate had planned this day with surgical precision. She knew Yelena didn't need another high-stakes mission or a heavy conversation about the Red Room. She needed what she’d missed out on between the ages of six and twenty-six wonder.
Yelena darted toward a smaller tank, her boots clicking excitedly on the tile. "Kate! Look at this one. It is a tiny horse! Why is he clinging to the grass with his tail? He looks very nervous, like he is waiting for a bus that will never come."
"That’s a seahorse," Kate laughed, catching up. "They’re terrible swimmers, so they just hang on for dear life."
"I respect his commitment to staying put," Yelena nodded solemnly. She moved further down, her eyes widening as she spotted a bright orange flash. "And there! It is the fish from the movie. The one who is lost. He is much smaller than I imagined. I could protect him in my pocket."
They moved toward the "Touch Tank," a shallow pool where small rays and starfish drifted lazily. Yelena froze.
"I am not supposed to touch the wildlife, Kate Bishop. It feels like a trap for my fingerprints."
"It’s literally the point of the exhibit, Lena. Look." Kate plunged her hand in, swirling the water. "The skin feels like sandpaper. Come on."
Yelena hesitated, then slowly reached out. When a small cownose ray brushed against her palm, she didn't flinch. Instead, a tiny, genuine gasp escaped her—the kind of sound a child makes when they realize the world can be soft.
"It is... velvety," Yelena murmured, a faint, lopsided smile tugging at her lips. "I thought it would be cold. Like everything else."
The highlight, however, was the jellyfish exhibit. The room was dark, lit only by the pulsing neon colors of the tanks. Yelena walked to the center of the room, surrounded by drifting, translucent bells of light.
Kate watched her. The rigid set of Yelena’s shoulders—the "Black Widow" posture—was gone. In its place was a girl who looked like she’d finally been allowed to put down a heavy backpack.
"They have no brains," Yelena noted, her face pressed near the glass of the Moon Jelly tank. "No bones. No hearts. They just... exist. They go where the water tells them. It must be very peaceful."
"Sometimes it’s nice not to have to be the one steering the ship," Kate said softly, stepping up beside her. She bumped her shoulder against Yelena’s. "You’re allowed to just drift for a while, you know? No missions. No Mac and Cheese with hot sauce—unless you want it later. Just... being."
Yelena turned to Kate. For a second, the sharp, witty assassin was nowhere to be found. There was just a woman reclaiming a piece of her soul.
"I think," Yelena said, her voice regaining its usual dry edge but keeping its warmth, "that I would like a plushie. The one that looks like the grumpy shark we saw. He reminded me of Alexei."
Kate laughed, hooking her arm through Yelena's. "One grumpy shark, coming up. And then? We’re hitting the gift shop for the most overpriced churros in New York."
"This is acceptable," Yelena nodded, her eyes lingering one last time on the glowing water. "This is a very good day, Kate Bishop."
-w-
To Yelena, "sustenance" had always been a mechanical necessity. Life in the Red Room, and the years of wetwork that followed, was defined by dry protein bars that tasted like chalk, vacuum-sealed bags of gray mush, and strictly measured rations designed to keep a Widow’s body functioning as a weapon—and nothing more. The idea of food being a source of beauty or joy was as foreign to her as a peaceful childhood. Seeing this much life, this much color, was a sensory overload she hadn't prepared for.
After the glowing serenity of the jellyfish, the smell of butter and garlic led them toward the "Coral Cafe," where a sprawling seafood buffet awaited. But as they walked past the steaming trays of shrimp, crab, and grilled fillets, Yelena stopped short. Her brow furrowed, and her excitement dimmed into a quiet, wounded look.
"Kate," Yelena said, her voice dropping to a somber whisper. "Why are they doing this? We just saw them. We were friends with the majestic pancakes and the tiny bus-stop horses. And now... they are on a stick?"
Kate realized she’d hit a minor snag. She stepped in quickly, placing a comforting hand on Yelena’s arm. "No, no, Lena, wait. It’s not the same guys. The fish in the tanks are for looking and learning. These are different. This is the 'Delicious Sea.' These are the 'edible' ones. It’s like the difference between a pet dog and, well, not that we eat dogs, but you know! These weren't the ones we just talked to."
Yelena looked skeptical, eyeing a platter of seared scallops. "Are you sure? That one looks suspiciously like the grumpy shark's cousin."
"I promise. No sharks were harmed for this buffet," Kate laughed, grabbing two plates.
It took a few bites of a buttery lobster tail for Yelena’s sadness to evaporate. Compared to the bland, gritty rations of her past, the richness was overwhelming. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating as the flavors hit her.
She became a whirlwind of efficiency, navigating the buffet line like she was clearing a room of hostiles. She returned to their booth with a plate piled precariously high. As they sat across from each other, Yelena picked up a perfectly peeled, butter-drenched shrimp with her fork and held it right up to Kate’s mouth.
"You must try this one, Kate. It has the perfect snap," Yelena insisted, her eyes sparkling with pride.
Kate took the bite, blushing as she chewed.
"Kate Bishop," Yelena said around a mouthful of crab leg, "this 'Delicious Sea' is a revelation. Why is the meat so sweet? It is like a dessert that is also a dinner."
As they sat across from each other, the atmosphere shifted. The frantic energy of the day settled into something cozy and intimate. Yelena, normally so protective of her own plate, suddenly picked up a perfectly peeled, butter-drenched shrimp with her fork.
"Try this! Try this Kate." Yelena insisted, leaning across the table.
She didn't put it on Kate's plate. She held the fork right up to Kate’s mouth, waiting with an expectant, slightly bossy tilt of her head. Kate blinked, a little flustered by the directness, but she leaned in and took the bite.
"Right? Is it not the best thing you have ever had?" Yelena asked, her eyes sparkling with a sort of pride.
"It’s... yeah, it’s really good, Lena" Kate muffled, blushing as she chewed.
Yelena didn't stop there. For the next twenty minutes, it was a constant cycle of, "Open your mouth, Kate Bishop," and "You are too thin, you need more protein from the sea." Yelena was meticulously de-shelling prawns and feeding them to Kate like it was the most natural thing in the world—acting less like an assassin and more like a partner making sure their person was well-fed.
Kate just leaned into it, enjoying the sight of Yelena so completely at ease, her "inner child" not just healed, but very, very full.