Chapter Text
Dear God
To be fair, Enid had asked for this. Not quite this , exactly, but close enough. She had wanted someone. Someone with whom she could share her jagged edges, someone who would accept her just as she was, colorful and monstrous and herself. She had not expected someone who would relish on her monstrous side quite this much, though.
“Wednesday,” Enid asked, her eyes on the object resting on her bed, “what is this?”
Wednesday took a moment to look away from her typewriter and follow Enid’s eyes.
“Oh,” she said as she returned to her work, “you’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say ‘thank you’, I said ‘what is this?’”
Wednesday took a small, annoyed breath at the prolonged interruption from her work. She turned again.
“It’s a chew toy. For your full moons.”
“That. Is not a chew toy,” Enid said pointedly, “That. Is a human femur.”
“Which should make an excellent chew toy,” Wednesday concluded.
“Wednesday.”
“I find it interesting that you could instantly identify that it was a human femur.”
Enid tensed. So maybe she was a bit too familiar with human anatomy. Maybe her school wasn’t incredibly normal, and her friends weren’t incredibly normal, and her life wasn’t incredibly normal. It was still rude to point it out. Or it would have been, if it had been anyone else. Coming from Wednesday, this was genuine curiosity.
“That is not the point,” Enid said through her teeth, “I just wish you wouldn’t assume I’d be happy gnawing on human bone during my wolf nights.”
Wednesday stared in silence for a full second.
“Noted,” she said.
“But thank you. It was thoughtful, I suppose.”
“You’re welcome,” Wednesday said, turning back to her typewriter.
“How did you get it?” Enid couldn’t help but ask.
“I dug it up,” Wednesday said, not even bothering to look at her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You dug it up.”
“Yes.”
“From a grave.”
“It wasn’t a fresh one, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s-”
Wednesday’s shoulders stiffened, that barely perceptible gesture that signaled more serious discomfort. She turned again, looking at Enid with a blank expression that betrayed nothing.
“Would you like me to take it back?” she asked.
“What?”
“The bone. I can take it back. It can be back in its grave by tomorrow night. Is that what you want?”
Enid looked down, and realized she was holding on to the femur, which she was now clutching against herself. When had that happened?
“No,” she said, “no, that’s okay.”
“Are you certain? It would be no trouble.”
“I– I’m keeping it,” Enid insisted, “it’s mine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Is there anything else?” Wednesday said, a note of impatience in her voice, “or can I resume my work?”
“You– there’s nothing else, no.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
Wednesday returned to her work. Enid looked down at the bone as she sat on her bed. It was, she had to admit, the perfect chew toy.
It was about fifteen minutes later that Wednesday finally moved. Enid realized she’d been lying in bed with her new bone, looking at the ceiling the entire time. Thankfully, Wednesday didn’t realize, as she was now rummaging through her desk looking for something. Oh.
“It’s under your pillow,” Enid said.
“No it’s not,” Wednesday said automatically, before pausing. “How do you-”
“You need your knife to practice movements for reference for your novel,” Enid said, “you’ve been keeping it by your typewriter for that reason. But it’s in its usual place under your pillow.”
Wednesday looked at her, eyes slightly narrowed, before heading to her bed and lifting her pillow.
“Huh,” she said.
“Yeah,” Enid said with a small sigh.
“It’s been sharpened.”
“You’ve been slacking.”
“I’ve been busy .”
“And therefore, you’ve been slacking.”
“You did this?”
“You get into way too much trouble to walk around with a blunt knife,” Enid explained.
“In my hands, a blunt knife is just as deadly–”
“Yes, yes,” Enid interrupted, having heard it all before, “you are very scary. You also antagonize every human and half the monsters you meet.”
“It’s at least seventy-five percent, thank you very much.”
“You are actually more liked than you realize.”
“Which is entirely your fault,” Wednesday complained, “It’s collateral damage from your nauseatingly endearing personality. Second-hand charm, if you will.”
“Whatever,” Enid said, “the point is, you have too many enemies, and you love using that knife on whatever inanimate object gives you an excuse. You need to take better care of it, so it can take care of you. I’m not always gonna be around to save you–”
“That was one time ,” Wednesday protested, “I do not need saving. And for your information, I was planning on sharpening it tonight. When I was done working on my novel,”
“Which was going to take you all night, after which you were going to sleep two hours, after which we have classes,” Enid explained, “leaving you with no time to sharpen it. Again.”
“You know, it used to be that you didn’t like that I was armed.”
“Yes well, that was before I realized how much of a danger you are to yourself,” Enid said. And before I cared so much about you , she didn’t say. There was a pause in the conversation. Enid realized Wednesday was looking at the femur Enid was still firmly clutching in her hands, just as Wednesday was holding on to the sharpened knife. Their eyes met.
“Thank you,” Wednesday said slowly, “it was very thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Enid said awkwardly.
“I suppose,” Wednesday said, “I have been obsessing slightly more than usual over my novel.”
“You have.”
“Perhaps I could use a break to clear my head.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Enid agreed.
“Maybe a walk in the woods.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” Enid said, “but I’m coming with you.”
There was a glint in Wednesday’s eyes. Almost as if she’d just gotten away with something.
“If you must,” she said, “I suppose I could tolerate the company.”
Rapture
It was a lovely night. There was a chill in the air, and the sounds of creatures skittering about. There were dark clouds, and a foreboding sense of impending doom. It was, Wednesday had to admit, nearly perfect.
Enid walked besides her, absently reacting to the sounds that surrounded them with sharp senses. Not skittish: alert. Not prey, but guardian. It was, truth be told, slightly humiliating, the way Enid so naturally adopted the role of her protector, without even realizing she was doing so. It was also, horribly, painfully beautiful. Wednesday decided she could endure it for a little while.
“So,” Enid said, “you know how you like avoiding other people? And other people like avoiding you?”
“Yes,” Wednesday said, “it’s one of their few redeeming qualities.”
“It’s just, well,” Enid said, clearly bracing herself to say something important, “it’s inconvenient, sometimes.”
“Inconvenient.”
“Yes.”
“To you?”
“Yes.”
Wednesday would have liked to say she did not care. Wednesday would have loved to say Enid’s inconvenience was no concern of hers, and that if anything it was impertinent of Enid to care about Wednesday’s social life. Most of all, she wished she could say Enid’s disapproval, or judgment, or whatever this was, did not sting.
“How so?” She said instead.
“Because I have other friends, you see. And I like to spend time with them too. And I only have so much free time.”
“I am not forcing you to spend time with me.” Wednesday said through her teeth, “you are free to spend all the time you want with them.”
“I want to spend time with you, you moron,” Enid said, clearly annoyed, “I like spending time with you. I just wish we could I don’t know, find a way to spend time together with other people . It would be more…efficient. You like efficient!”
“It would be efficient for you, ” Wednesday pointed out, “there’s little I would enjoy less.”
“You’re being very difficult,” Enid complained.
“I am very difficult,” Wednesday reminded her.
“I know,” Enid, “It’s just, again, it’s becoming increasingly inconvenient.”
“That,” Wednesday said, “is not my problem.”
Enid growled.
“No,” she said, “I suppose it’s not.”
Wednesday hated this. Loathed it. This was supposed to be a nice, quiet night. Just the two of them and the darkness around them. What more could one ask for? Instead, Enid was bringing everyone else into it. Wednesday hated everyone else. Almost as much as she hated how insufficient Enid was making her feel.
“I’m not going to change, you know,” she explained. Not even for you.
“I don’t need you to,” Enid said, “I don’t even want you to.”
“It sounds like you do.”
“Well, I don’t. I just thought maybe you’d be willing to explore some new experiences. Be open to the possibilities and all that.”
“The possibilities.”
“Yes.”
“Of socialization.”
“...yes?”
“Are you even listening to yourself?”
Enid sighed.
“I love you just the way you are, I really do, I just don’t know how to deal with this.”
Wednesday kept walking, mostly because she had completely lost control of her body. She hoped her legs had enough sense in them to dodge any trees in her path, because her mind was closed for business. Enid could be so casual about it sometimes, so sickeningly casual, that it was impossible for Wednesday to process just what was meant by the affection. I love you just the way you are . Just like that. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if it was not an impossible notion for anyone to feel that way about Wednesday. As if it was not being said by the one person who had the right to say it.
“Barclay can be engaging company, under the right circumstances,” Wednesday heard herself say.
“What.”
“Very specific, very brief circumstances,” Wednesday specified.
“Are you serious?”
“And I might be able to go five minutes without staking that one vampire.”
“You know I know you know her name.”
“And her girlfriend might survive if she picks her words carefully.”
“Divina and Yoko are not actually-”
“They are, they just don’t know it yet.”
“Wait, are you serious?”
“Trust me, I wish I could pay less attention to them.”
“No, I mean, are you serious about spending time with them?”
Wednesday paused.
It was a lovely night, and it was just the two of them. Enid’s smile had fangs.
“I wish I wasn’t,” she admitted.
Enid let out an excited, incoherent squeal of joy as she rushed to pick up Wednesday and spin her around.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Wednesday froze in her arms. Usually, Enid knew better than to display this level of physical affection so suddenly and liberally. Usually, Wednesday was quicker to dodge it. Usually, she was not this helpless.
Enid put her down and let out an awkward cough.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Wednesday muttered as she smoothed her clothes.
“No, I know you’re not– I didn’t mean– I just–”
“ Enid ,” Wednesday said, “it’s. Fine. Forget it. I certainly will.”
Enid looked at her with a mix of fondness and confusion. It was not the first time Wednesday saw that look directed at her. She hoped it would not be the last. She liked that Enid still found her confusing sometimes. It made her feel safe from an unnamed force that threatened to devour her.
“I really do appreciate this, you know,” Enid said.
“I know,” Wednesday said.
“And who knows, you might even enjoy yourself!”
“Insanity is supposed to be my department,” Wednesday reminded her. Enid chuckled.
“I don’t know. I always feel a little crazy when I’m with you.”
“Oh,” Wednesday said, feeling dumb at her lack of ability to respond to that.
“That’s a good thing.”
“Oh,” Wednesday said again, feeling even dumber this time.
Enid closed her eyes and breathed in, clearly enjoying this moment of solitude in the wilds. Wednesday could not help but stare. In all her life, she really had not found anything that terrified her as much as Enid’s smile.
“It’s a lovely night,” Enid said, eyes still closed, a stray thought voiced with no real weight to it.
“It is,” Wednesday agreed. Her fingers itched with a need to reach for Enid’s warmth. Her eyes rejoiced at the monstrous smile before them. Her feet froze in panic and despair. Her heart pounded with horror, and her lips, her lips tightened like they were holding themselves back from saying or worse, doing something incredibly stupid, “it really is.”
Robot Rebellion
Enid sat on the quad bench next to Wednesday and leaned against her, resting her head on Wednesday's shoulder. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at her roommate.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong,” said Wednesday, who had been staring into nothingness before Enid's arrival and had continued to do so until now.
Enid hummed.
“Nah, if nothing was wrong, you'd be bored. This isn't bored you, this is something else.”
“I am fine.”
Enid narrowed her eyes. Wednesday had always been one for a flat tone and emotionless inflection, but there was something off about it today, something different. It took Enid a moment to realize: Wednesday was trying . Wednesday never tried. Wednesday simply was. This deadpanning was performative. Enid could not help but wonder what had Wednesday so rattled.
“Is there anyone you'd like me to maul?” she asked. That got a slight reaction. A tiny movement of the jaw as Wednesday considered the words.
“I can always go for a mauling,” she said slowly, “but I have not been wronged by anyone recently, if that's what you mean.”
Enid hummed.
“Some other time, then.”
“Some other time.”
“Well, is there some other way I can help?”
“There is nothing to help with. And if there was, I would be able to accomplish it by myself anyway.”
“And just because you could, it would not mean you'd have to,” Enid reminded her. Wednesday often needed to be reminded of that kind of stuff, “also, I don't like it when you lie to me.”
“I do not care what you like or don't like.”
“Wednesday. What did I just say?” Enid said, unable to hold back some laughter.
Wednesday exhaled. Oh, she was furious. This wasn't just a bad day, Wednesday was having a full blown meltdown in the middle of the Academy, and the only reason why no one was panicking about it was that no one was well-versed enough in her mannerisms to realize they were walking past a nuclear bomb waiting to go off.
Hesitant, Enid reached for Wednesday’s arm and wrapped her arms around it. She felt Wednesday’s discomfort, like a deer in headlights, but for once decided to push through. Her hand made it down Wednesday's arm. When she reached the hand, when skin touched skin, Wednesday did not flinch, exactly, but from the way a single finger twitched, she might as well have. Enid wavered, but there was something inside her that would not let her pull away, not this time. She could feel a need coming out of Wednesday, like– like those videos of the cornered feral kittens confused by the food and affection being offered to them. She did not hold Wednesday’s hand. Not quite. She merely rested her own hand on it, letting the contact be enough.
“It's gonna be okay, you know?” she said.
“You don't know that,” Wednesday replied instantly and wow, that had almost been despair in her voice.
“Weds. It's you. Whatever this is, you're gonna kick its ass. You always do.”
“Right.”
“And again, you do have a werewolf ready and willing to maul whatever is in your path.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Enid could tell immediately, though she could not tell why. She just knew Wednesday had hated that.
“Sorry,” she said helplessly, “sorry. I just–”
“You just want to help,” Wednesday finished for her, “I know. It's fine. But you can't werewolf me out of this, I'm afraid.”
“Well–”
“You can't Enid me out of this either,” Wednesday anticipated. Enid huffed at being so predictable, and Wednesday almost smirked, which was progress.
“You don't know that. I'm a girl of many talents. I might surprise you.”
“You often do,” Wednesday said, which was uncharacteristically nice of her. After a pause, she looked at Enid, her expression unreadable, “I am angry at myself,” she explained, “I have not been functioning at a level anywhere near close to my standards.”
“You mean your impossibly high standards?”
“Precisely.”
“Don't you think their impossibility might be related to this situation?”
“It's never stopped me before.”
“I see. And now?”
“Now it's… sedition.”
“What.”
“Mind and body are plotting against me. Underperforming. Revolting. Yes, that's a good word for this: revolting.”
“Meaning?”
Wednesday looked up, eyes fixed on the sky.
“I have been distracted.”
“I see,” Enid said, frustrated with how difficult it could be to get anything out of Wednesday sometimes, “any reason why?”
Wednesday took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
“Would you maybe like to share?”
“No.”
Enid rested her head on Wednesday's shoulder once again.
“Okay, then,” she said.
“For what it's worth,” Wednesday said, hesitant, “I wish I could. Share.”
“It's worth a lot,” Enid reassured her. She knew the feeling, “let me guess: the revolt has seized control of your lips.”
Wednesday actually let out a low brief hum one might have confused with a chuckle.
“Something like that,” she said, with a hint of bitterness in her tone, “something like that.”
Grey Goo
Werewolves are not colorblind. Not all of them, anyway. There probably were some colorblind werewolves, statistically speaking. The point was, just because she had certain doglike features that intensified at a certain time of the month, it didn't mean Enid's eyes lacked the human bits that allowed her to see the color range most humans were familiar with.
Enid liked color. Famously so. And yet, lately, her life felt strangely devoid of it. There was a grey haze that seemed to gather at the edges of reality, slowly creeping in and taking over everything.
Classes were the first to go, lost in the mist. Gossip, her beloved haven, quickly followed, turning stale and flavorless. Speaking of which, food also failed to bring her much comfort, only the rarest steaks being able to get anything out of her. Friends helped, though they had decidedly noticed her new gloomy disposition and were beginning to show concern.
Ironically, the only true source of color in her life these days was the monochrome girl fate had turned into her roommate.
Whether she was getting herself nearly killed, getting Enid nearly killed, or getting someone else nearly killed, there was something about those times when Wednesday seized the initiative and made life interesting that made the world seem brighter in every possible way. Enid could watch a disheveled and wroth Wednesday wreak havoc with her latest enemy all day. All night. All week. Her entire life. But whenever that wasn't on the schedule–
“Ugh,” Enid complained.
“So you've said,” Yoko reminded her.
“Multiple times,” Divina added.
They were hanging out in Yokos's room. Yoko and Divina each had taken one bed (Divina was wearing her shoes on Yoko's roommate's bed), and Enid was on the floor, resting her head againstYokos's bed. The hangout had slowly devolved into Enid moping while the other two tried to pretend they weren't thinking about jumping each other from across the room.
“Sorry,” Enid said, “It's just…ugh. When did this place get so boring.”
“Probably when you decided hanging out with Addams was an average experience,” Yoko said.
“There's nothing average about Ad– about Wednesday.”
Divina snorted.
“No shit,” she said.
“Can you guys not be mean about my friend?”
“We're not mean,” Yoko said, “I like Addams. Well, I fear both of you enough to know better than to dislike her. But she's giving you unrealistic expectations.”
“That is not true. If anything she's the only interesting thing in this dumb place. No offense.”
“Offense taken,” Divina said. Then she gave Yoko a weird, pleading look. Yoko shook her head.
“What?” Enid asked, looking between the two of them, “What is it?”
“You gotta figure it out on your own, pup,” Yoko said, “otherwise we'll never stop giving you shit about it.”
“Figure what out?”
“That would be telling.”
“Oh, fuck y–”
There was a knock on the door. Enid perked up, sniffing the air.
“Holy shit,” she said, “she actually came.”
Yoko gulped.
“Enid, tell me you didn't–”
“I invited Weds to hang with us,” she said, “You guys don't mind, right?”
“Give us a warning next time,” Divina said, “so I can get my will in order.”
Enid stuck her tongue out at her before turning to the door.
“Come in!” she called.
Wednesday opened the door and stepped in. She looked at them, one by one.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey,” Yoko said.
“Hi,” Divina said.
Wednesday looked at Enid, who realized she'd been staring, a dumb smile plastered on her face.
“Oh. Um. Hello. Hey. Hi,” she said.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Divina said.
“Watch who you mock or even he won't save you,” Wednesday threatened, defending Enid’s honor like the softy she was. Enid smiled again.
“It was just some friendly teasing, Wednesday,” Yoko said, “Friends stuff.”
“Of course,” Wednesday said, before taking a fob watch from her pocket to check the time.
“Got somewhere to be?” Divina asked, failing not to sound hopeful.
“Anywhere but here,” Wednesday replied casually, “but I was ensuring the flow of time was not abnormal, as it seemed to slow down to a tortuous pace the moment I stepped in here.”
“Gee, sorry,” Yoko said. Enid chuckled. She could tell what was coming.
“Not at all,” Wednesday said, “I quite enjoy torture.”
There it was. Fucking softy. Wednesday looked at her, a tiny satisfied smirk at the edge of her lips. She liked to make Enid smile. Enid liked that Wednesday liked it. In fact, she might even love–
“Enid, are you alright?” Wednesday asked, probably concerned at whatever expression Enid had made at The Realization.
“Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost,” Yoko added.
“Nothing like that,” Enid said, hoping to sound reassuring, “I just, uh, figured something out.”
“Huh,” Yoko said, clearly getting the message.
“Well, shit,” Divina said. Had Enid really been so transparent to them?
“You okay?” Yoko asked.
“Oh, yes, this is fine,” Enid said, holding back her panic, “I mean, I was just complaining life was getting too boring, wasn't I?”
“I'm not sure what this is about,” Wednesday said, “but if that was a concern of yours, you should have said something. I could have easily found something more engaging for us to do with our afternoon.”
Divina laughed.
“Yeah, I bet you could have,” she said. Wednesday’s posture shifted, uncomfortable. Her eyes met Enid's and Enid could almost hear the words, only for you , whispered in her mind. She only melted a little about it.
“That, I believe, marks my limit for socialization for the time being,” Wednesday said, “Poison tolerance does take some time to build up, after all. Enid, I'll see you in our room?”
“Wednesday, wait!” Enid said as Wednesday turned to leave. Wednesday looked at her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I, uh– Be safe out there?”
“Never.”
With that, Wednesday left, closing the door behind her. It took two full seconds before Divina and Yoko burst out laughing.
“Fuck, pup,” Yoko said, “you are down bad.”
“She finally sees it though!” Divina cheered, “God, that was torture. Oh nooo, I'm sad all the time except when my beautiful awesome roommate who totally isn't a serial killer looks at me! What could it possibly mean!”
“Oh shut up,” Enid grumbled as she stood up and began to pace around the room.
“This is good, though,” Yoko said, jumping off her bed to comfort her, “this means you can finally do something about it.”
“Wait. You're okay with this?” Enid asked, looking to both of them for confirmation.
“Why wouldn't we be?” Divina asked, suddenly right next to her.
“Enid,” Yoko said, unusually soft, placing a hand on her shoulder, “do I get it? No. Do I need to? Also no. She makes you happy. That's all I need.”
“Gross,” Divina said, “but same. You smile differently around her. You forget to worry about your fangs.”
Enid sniffed.
“That's…so sweet you guys.”
“Okay,” Divina said, suddenly worried, “no need to get all mushy.”
“But I love you guys,” Enid said, holding back a sob as she forced both of them into a hug.
“Enid! Wolf strength! You're using wolf strength!” Divina said.
“I think you just fixed my back,” Yoko said, though she did not sound too pleased about it.
“Guys,” Enid said, ignoring their complaints and hugging them tighter, “I like Wednesday Addams.”
“We know,” Yoko said.
“I'm fucked.”
“We know,” Divina said.
Water Wars
Something had changed. Something had changed in the worst possible way.
Wednesday had known for a while that she was hopelessly in love with Enid Sinclair. The problem was that Enid was beginning to turn that hopelessness into hope, and Wednesday could not have that. Hope was too terrifying a monster, even for her.
It was little things.
Enid smiling at her wasn't new, but the way her eyes shone, the way the tips of her lips twitched, that was new. Almost hungry.
And sometimes Enid's colorful nails would run their way down Wednesday's arms, a gesture Wednesday would normally have rebuffed and one that normally Enid would never have dreamed of, but which now was becoming more and more commonplace. It was not mere affection. There was a possessiveness to it, to the way Enid's slightly hooked, sharp, not-exactly-a-claw would leave a trail of fire on Wednesday's skin, an invisible reminder that lasted all day.
And there was the hair. Enid had begun touching her hair. Playing with it, even in class. And she would beg, beg Wednesday to let her braid it and brush it and honestly, Wednesday suspected one time she'd almost dared to ask if she could wash it. And every time Wednesday crumbled, and every time she felt those fingers running through her hair, and every time she thought to herself that was the last time, because her heart would certainly not survive another such battle.
In short, Enid was circling Wednesday like a predator around prey, and Wednesday was having trouble hating it.
In fact, Wednesday was having trouble with absolutely everything. If she had been distracted before, now she was falling apart. Progress on her novel had stalled, her grades were falling to almost mediocre levels, and some people were actually catching her smiling at nothing. And yet, all she could care about was not her passion, or her performance, or her reputation, but the deep, endless need that she could no longer ignore.
They were back in their room after a long day of fruitless teenage normalcy. Wednesday had attempted to read on her bed to distract herself. Enid had chosen to use her as a pillow. The book had promptly been discarded so Wednesday could properly enjoy the pain instead. She looked at Enid, who had snuggled up to her and was now resting with a soft smile on her lips.
“This is torture,” the words slipped out Wednesday's mouth. Enid let out a pleased hum.
“You're welcome,” she said.
Realization That We're a Computer Simulation
Wednesday felt her hand absently take a strand of Enid's hair and play with it. It was a hideous thing for one of her limbs to do on its own, but she found herself helpless to do anything about it: instead, all she could do was stare at the ceiling and wonder.
Wonder how it was possible that Enid had said such a perfect thing.
Wonder how any of this could possibly be real.
Wonder what she was supposed to do next.
Enid knew. She knew she was torturing Wednesday, and she had known for a while. And she'd kept on doing so intentionally because she somehow, incredibly, understood. She had looked upon the layered tangle that was Wednesday’s relationship to affection and pierced through it like the sword through the proverbial knot.
Enid's hand was resting on Wednesday's chest, peaceful, relaxed. And yet all Wednesday could think was that Enid was trying to rip her heart out of her chest. That at the very least she must be able to feel it trying to do it by itself.
“I could get used to this,” Enid said.
“I could not,” Wednesday countered automatically. The supposed complaint had come out breathless.
“Lucky you,” Enid said, once again demonstrating a terrifying level of understanding.
“Enid,” Wednesday asked carefully, “are you of sound mind right now?”
The question, she thought, was a reasonable one to ask to someone who seemed to understand her own mind so well.
“Am I ever?” Enid retorted, “Not sure I even know what that's like anymore.”
“That's worrying,” Wednesday mused, “it would be practical for at least one of us to have some degree of common sense.”
“What, and risk you getting bored of me?”
Finally, some respite. Wednesday sighed.
“Good,” she said, “you don't completely know me, then.”
Enid chuckled.
“I'm getting there, though,” she said, almost a threat. Wednesday felt her heart race.
“You've never sounded more like a wolf,” she said.
Enid snuggled deeper into her. Her hand went from Wednesday’s chest to her face, where a single nail scratched its way down, leaving a small, tender trail.
Quantum Vacuum Collapse
Enid thought she'd been doing pretty well. She'd thought she'd had it handled. And then Wednesday had to go and say the most perfect thing she could have said, and it had been such a Wednesday thing to say too.
You've never sounded more like a wolf.
Just like that, Enid found herself suppressing the most mortifying of giggles. All the contained energy found an escape hatch in her hand, which searched Wednesday’s face and traced a line down the soft skin. Wednesday would not let anyone else do anything even remotely close to that. Only her. Only Enid. The knowledge was exhilarating. Ever since Enid had realized the extent of her feelings, she’d been testing the waters, pushing further and further, seeing just what she could and could not get away with. For science. And because she could. And because she needed to. And time and time again, Wednesday had surprised her by quietly accepting what once upon a time had been unthinkable.
“You know you can tell me if I’m being too much, right?” Enid asked, “I’ve been known to be too much, even to more… extroverted people.”
“I’m aware,” Wednesday said, “this if fine.”
Enid smiled.
“Just fine?” she asked.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“I don’t know. I’m kinda feeling lucky right now,” Enid said. Wednesday’s eyes left the ceiling to look at her and Enid could have sworn there was a hint of panic in those eyes. Enid kind of wanted to see more of that.
Slowly, carefully, she took Wednesday’s hand in hers and took her to her lips.
“Is this fine?” she asked, placing a kiss on Wednesday’s knuckles. And Wednesday nodded.
Not quite as careful as before, Enid turned and placed a kiss on Wednesday’s jaw.
“Was that fine?” she asked. And Wednesday nodded.
Not careful at all, Enid shifted, straddling Wednesday, her hair falling to her sides as her lips almost touched Wednesday’s. It was her thumb that made it there first instead. She felt Wednesday actually shiver.
“Is this–”
“Yes.”