Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tyler is exhausted. He has been on the run for over three days since escaping the SWAT prisoner transport. He hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept, and has barely stopped moving in that time. On top of that, the drugs they had him on must have done something to him, because something feels… wrong.

He had been enjoying the dreamless sleep that can only come to him now from a virtual tanker truck worth of barbiturates and elephant tranquilizers, when something had set the Hyde off. He didn’t even have a chance to register that the change was happening before his mind was shoved into the passenger seat of his own body and he could only abstractly see the monster break its chains and tear its way out of the armored vehicle. The beast had hung around just long enough to run his body to the point of exhaustion before ceding control back to him. He got his body back physically spent, suffering the worst pharmaceutical induced hangover of his life, and naked. Why did he always have to be fucking naked?

After scrounging to find some sort of clothing, he spent the next three days leading the Jericho PD, and his father, on an unending game of cat and mouse through the woods around the town. He had become intimately familiar with the forest during his time prowling for victims, and he had managed to stay one step ahead of the authorities, but just barely. His luck had run out that evening when he’d stumbled into an honest to god bear trap. His father had authorized the use of the redneck, back country, the Hills Have Eyes style torture devices on him. What the actual fuck, Dad? He must have had some luck left, because his pilfered leather work boots had stopped the damn thing from clamping all the way through his ankle bones. He was able to get away, but was left with a limp and a trail of blood dripping behind him. The odds of him being able to outrun the patrols and their search dogs were not in his favor any more. Maybe he’d have had a shot if the insipid monster inside him were willing to help out, but it hadn’t made a peep since the initial escape. It was like the damn thing had decided to go into hibernation the one time when its presence could have been anything besides a soul destroying burden.

It's dark now, but the pursuit continues. The authorities are hell bent on running him to ground like the wounded animal he is. Tyler knows the lead he has over those tracking him is dwindling with every lopsided step he takes. He uses up far too much of the energy he has left to scrabble up a steep embankment and onto the shoulder of the only road leading through the woods and away from Jericho. He has barely managed to stand up when he has to jump backward, nearly falling back down the gravel slope.

A white, nondescript, crossover SUV, the stereotypical Millenial mom-mobile, skids to a grinding halt with its passenger door less than a foot from where he stands. The window rolls down and Tyler becomes certain that he has completely lost his mind. There is no way he’s seeing what he thinks he is seeing.

“Get in.” Wednesday Addams leans across the center console to bark at him, as her ever present disembodied hand opens the passenger door and crooks a finger to indicate he should get the hell in the car.

“This feels like a trap.” Tyler mutters as he tries to look for any better option.

“This offer expires in five seconds. If you would rather spend the inevitably short remainder of your life bound, drugged, and dissected, by all means, run into those woods and straight into the dragnet of Jericho’s finest.”

“And how do I know you’re not planning to do even worse to me?” He can feel his pool of viable options shrinking by the second.

“You don’t.” She deadpans.

He hears the sounds of his pursuers in the woods behind him and gives in. “Better the devil you know.” He utters as he scrambles into the car. He hasn’t even got the door closed before the tires are spinning, gravel from the shoulder of the road goes flying, and the car fishtails before finding purchase on the asphalt, accelerating at a speed that suggests she’s trying to reach orbital escape velocity.

“When did you learn how to drive?” Tyler asks as he struggles to buckle his seat belt.

“About two hours ago, when I stole this car.” She answers without taking her eyes off the road.

He grabs the “oh shit” handle above the door and braces his feet against the foot well as she adeptly drifts the car around a hairpin turn in the winding forest road at over 90 mph. Thing skids from left to right across the dashboard.

“Why are you helping me?” He asks as the road straightens out. Another sharp turn comes up far too fast and she pulls the parking break to slide through that curve as well. This time Thing goes flying into the back seat. “Or is this just a very inventive way to try to kill me?”

The car slows slightly as the forest fades away and the road aims toward the lights of a highway in the distance. The hand staggers up onto the center console and gives himself a little shake before settling.

Tyler has just about given up expecting an answer when Wednesday speaks. “When I wanted out of Jericho, you were the only one willing to help me. This seemed like an appropriate time to return the favor.”

Tyler scoffs, “Kind of a lot has happened since then.”

“I know.” Wednesday’s voice has an edge to it.

Tyler tries to find the words to say what he knows he should, but none of them are coming to him at the moment.

Fortunately Wednesday picks up the conversational slack, “I know everything.”

He feels something stir in his gut, but this time it’s not the monster. It’s hope. He quickly shoves it back down, because there’s no way she could actually know everything. He was the one living it, and he still can’t explain everything that has happened over the last… shit… has it really been over a year since Laurel Gates returned to Jericho and made him her play thing? He shudders at the memory of how she had used him and the Hyde against his will in more ways than one.

“What…” He doesn’t even know where to start.

“I had another vision.” Her voice is preoccupied as she focuses on changing lanes and then merging onto the highway. “It was somewhat more… comprehensive.”

“Oh.” It’s all he can think to say. Her visions didn’t exactly bode well for him in the past.

Easing into the middle lane and setting the cruise control, she finally turns her head to speak to him directly. “I saw everything that happened since Laurel’s return to Jericho. Usually my visions are just brief flashes or watching a scene from the past or future as an out of body observer. This one was different. I could tell what everyone was thinking. It provided additional insight into the Hyde-master-host dynamic.”

That pathetic ember of hope in his chest flares back to life at her words. Is that why she was here? Had she really seen everything that had happened? That she’d captivated him before he had any idea she was part of his twisted master’s plan… that he had taken great pleasure in maliciously complying with his master’s order of “Keep the brat alive until the blood moon” to attempt to help her escape Jericho the night of the fair… that when Laurel had realized he actually had feelings for Wednesday after the dance, when he managed to keep the beast from killing her friend, she had forced even more drugs into him… that he fought like mad to keep control of himself… that he had spent every moment they sat together looking over that dusty old book that spilled his secrets to her wishing that he could tell her, that he could yell at the top of his lungs that it was him, that he was the monster she was searching for, but that a single command from his master of, “Don’t you even think about telling that little witch anything about what you are or what we are doing.” Had silenced him more effectively than a gag… that he had raged at Laurel when he found out that she had used his date with Wednesday as an opportunity to ransack her dorm and nearly kill Thing, and how, in response, she had used a dart gun to inject him with an even more potent chemical cocktail that finally succeeded in doing what she had hoped for all along – letting the monster take full control even while in his human form… that being forced to impotently watch while the Hyde said and did horrible things to Wednesday with his body was a worse torture than anything Laurel had ever done to him in that cave… Was there really a chance that she could know all that?

Before he can ask, she continues, “I assume the extra sensory awareness in the vison had something to with the trigger being a more potent source than my usual inanimate objects. Laurel’s still cooling corpse made for an excellent psychic conduit.”

“What?” He sputters.

“You are atypically monosyllabic tonight. I’m going to assume some level of sleep deprivation psychosis is starting to take hold.”

“Sorry, I’m just having trouble understanding what you just said. ‘Laurel’s corpse’?” He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge something. “Did you…”

“No.” There is a tinge of regret in the word. “I merely incapacitated her that night and handed her over to the proper authorities. Turns out that she only enjoyed nonconsensual  captivity when she was forcing it on others.” A bitter yet triumphant darkness shines in her eyes. “She killed herself after a single night of incarceration.” She quietly scoffs, “Pathetic.”

“So I’m… free?” Tyler can’t believe it. But it makes sense. The monster’s rabid frenzy on the day of his escape… it must have known she was dying and wanted to try to save her. It also explains why the Hyde has gone essentially dormant.

“For the moment.” Wednesday answers. “And only if you manage to stay away from any local Law Enforcement.”

He melts back into the seat. The wave of relief washing over him is palpable. It recedes and takes with it so much of the anger and fear that had overwhelmed him for the past year.

Wednesday registers his relief. “It will be a few hours before we stop anywhere. You should get some sleep.”

“Are you sure? Do you need me to drive?” He can barely keep his eyes open now, but he feels like he needs to offer, “What if you get pulled over? You don’t even have a license.”

Wednesday snorts, “I am actively aiding and abetting the escape of a wanted fugitive. I doubt the status of my learner’s permit will be of any great importance to the authorities.”

Tyler smiles and pulls the handle to recline the seat back. He curls up into a nearly fetal position with his back against the car door. It’s the best he can do to try and fit his lanky frame into the awkward space of the seat. He has just closed his eyes when he feels something moving in the small space on the seat next to his chest. His eyes dart open to see Thing crawl about in a small circle a few times, scratch at the seat with a fingernail, circle once more, then collapse into a loosely balled fist. The hand shifts a little then relaxes and appears to go to sleep snuggled against Tyler’s chest.

Tyler gives Wednesday a concerned look.

She sighs, “Thing has liked you since the beginning of all this.”

Tyler remembers that despite initially trying to clobber him with a baseball bat, by the time he had disconnected the Facetime call with Wednesday, the hand had given him a solid fist bump and then a cheery little wave before scampering off into the night. Not to mention the whole Rave'n invite debacle.

“I have typically found him to be a good judge of character.” Wednesday lowers her voice slightly to not wake the sleeping appendage. “He won’t admit it, but your perceived deception hurt his feelings. He knows now that you had no intentional role in his attempted murder, but he would likely still appreciate an apology at some point.”

“Noted.” Tyler whispers back. “But I’ll just let the little guy sleep for now.”

“If his proximity bothers you, just shove him away. He has a tendency to get a bit handsy in his sleep.”

Tyler’s not sure if that was a legitimate warning or Wednesday attempting to make a bad dad joke. Either way, he has a smile on his face as he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s eyes blink open and he experiences a moment of disorientation. Every muscle in his body feels like it has a cramp, his left ankle is throbbing, his stomach is growling louder than his alter ego, and he can’t remember where he is or how he got here. It’s not the first time he’s woken up in pain with no idea what happened, but he’s still got his clothes on, so he figures this isn’t a Hyde thing. He blinks and tries to focus, but something is obstructing his vision. He paws at the object, only to be met by the feel of a cold clammy hand lying on his cheek with the fingers dangling over his nose and in front of his eyes. He freaks and slaps the startling object off his face and into the dashboard without thinking. Now able to see, his eyes settle on Wednesday in the driver’s seat next to him, smirking, and everything comes back to him in a flash.

“I did warn you.” Wednesday snarks before turning her attention back to the road.

Tyler sits up, adjusts his seat back, and reaches down to give Thing a hand up from where he landed on the foot well. “Sorry about that. You just startled me.”

The hand tentatively crawls onto Tyler’s outstretched palm. Tyler lifts him to the top of the dashboard and Thing clambers onto it. He looks a bit unsteady on his fingers, but shakes it off and gives a little shift of his knuckles that Tyler interprets as, “No worries. We’re good.”

A look out the window shows a foggy sunrise just beginning over a late fall landscape of pines trees and barren deciduous trees. Some quaint little New England or upstate New York looking town is off in the distance. “Where are we?” Tyler asks.

“Just outside Poughkeepsie.” Wednesday answers. “You slept for about four and a half hours.”

“Ok.” He’s confused. “Why are we going south? I assumed we’d head for Canada. Isn’t that what they always do in movies? Try to make it across the border?”

Wednesday looks annoyed. “Because in the real world, an inspection at a heavily patrolled international border crossing when we have no passports or documentation and a wanted fugitive in the passenger seat will definitely go well.”

“You might have a point.” Tyler cedes. “So where are we going?”

“Florida. The Florida Everglades, to be precise.”

“I guess that’s a choice…” He doesn’t seem thrilled at the prospect. “Isn’t that where they have all those pythons that took over after people let their pets loose, and now they eat crocodiles and shit?”

“They eat alligators. And the alligators eat them. It’s an ecosystem based entirely around an abundance of apex predators.” She gives him a look he can’t interpret. “You should fit right in.”

Tyler feels about as far from apex predator right now as possible. Road kill would be a much more appropriate comparison at the moment. He should probably tell her that the monster has gone dormant or whatever, because he doesn’t like his odds of surviving on his own in a reptile riddled swamp without preternatural assistance.

Before he can speak up, she continues. “It’s also where my Uncle Fester spends his winters. He has agreed to provide you refuge until the media attention and public scrutiny around your case die down.”

“This is the uncle I met, right? The one that also robs banks? And really likes ketchup…” He shakes his head at the memory.

“Correct. Typically Uncle Fester prefers to live and work alone, but he is willing to do this as a favor to me. And there are occasions where he could use some assistance in his criminal endeavors.”

“So now I’m supposed to live in a swamp and become a bank robber?” Tyler’s not loving the sound of his prospects.

“How did you think this was going to turn out?” Wednesday asks. “You did actually kill six people. You and I know you weren’t technically in control of your body when it happened, but as being a Hyde is not a recognized psychological condition in the DSM-5, the best you could have hoped for via the court system was a lifelong internment at a maximum security psychiatric facility.” She gives him a disappointed look. “Did you think that with Laurel dead, everyone would just forgive and forget? That maybe you’d come to Nevermore like any other outcast? Win the Poe Cup next year then head off to college?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” He mutters dejectedly.

Wednesday’s countenance softens slightly. “Any chance you had at a normal life was destroyed the minute Laurel Gates realized you were a Hyde.”

He’d felt like his life was out of his control for a long time, even before Laurel. Going all the way back to the stuff with his mom, even. Why would his future be any different. “I guess I know that it won’t really help, but would you mind telling that to my dad at some point? Maybe he’ll call off, or at least dial back the hunt if he knows it wasn’t all my fault.” Tyler feels miserable, and doesn’t try to hide it.

“I already told him.” Wednesday admits cautiously. “Who do you think let me in to see the body? He was there when I had the vision.”

“What did he say when you told him?” If his father had known everything from shortly after the time he was busting out of the armored transport, why had the pursuit been so brutal for days after?

“He said that my visions weren’t evidence, and that in the eyes of the law you would still need to be held accountable for what you did.”

“That sounds like him. If slightly more calm and rational than usual.”

Wednesday scowls before adding, “He then muttered that he ‘can’t deal with this shit again’, and as far as he was concerned, ‘From here on out, the only good Hyde is a dead Hyde.”

“That’s more like it.” Tyler shakes his head.

It’s quiet in the car for a minute before Wednesday speaks again. “I know your relationship with your father has always been… contentious, but I imagine that was still difficult to hear.”

“I’m not even surprised.” Tyler admits sadly. “I wish I was, but I’ve gotten used to it. Probably a good outlook to have, because I never got the impression that things end well for people like me.”

“My research into Hydes has produced similar conclusions.” She might be trying to sound clinically detached, but Tyler can hear the trace of sadness in her voice she probably thinks she’s hiding.

Tyler can’t stand the idea that she might feel pity for him after everything that has happened, so he tries to force the conversation in another direction. “So, in the grand scheme of things, becoming a notorious crime lord in sunny south Florida might not be too bad of a gig. It will definitely beat taking coffee orders from pretentious hipsters and under-caffeinated douche bags.”

“You really have nowhere to go but up.” She nods at him in agreement.

His stomach chooses that moment to growl loud enough that everyone in the car can hear it.

“We have to stop for gas soon. Can you wait another fifteen minutes to get something to eat? I’d rather not risk making multiple stops until we’re further from your last known location.” She’s being logical, as always.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” It’s been four days since he’s had anything to eat, another fifteen minutes won’t make any difference.

At this exchange, Thing pops up and points an excited finger in the air, kind of an “ah ha!” gesture. He then scales down the front of the dashboard and grabs the handle to the glove box. The edge of it hits Tyler’s knees as the disembodied appendage dives in, shuffles between registration papers, owners’ manuals, and unused fast food napkins to emerge holding a somewhat crushed granola bar.

“Thanks.” Tyler accepts it with some skepticism. The snack bar looks like it is well past its prime, but then his stomach grumbles again and he decides, what the fuck, right. He rips open the faded wrapper and bites into what the packaging claimed to be “oats and honey”. Cardboard and Gorilla Glue would be a more appropriate description, but he manages to chew the wad of material in his mouth enough to swallow it. His stomach registers instant disapproval, but he keeps it down and forces himself to eat the rest of the bar.

A few minutes later, Wednesday switches into the right hand lane and Tyler recognizes the large green sign announcing the gas station and amenities available at the upcoming exit. A solitary gas station appears to be this rural one horse town’s only attraction. A Taco Bell had clearly been too much to hope for.

As they approach the exit, Wednesday issues instructions. “You should stay in the car while I get the gas. Then we will go into the store together. The less time you are exposed and visible, the better. Thing, you stay and guard the car.” Tyler and Thing both nod at their orders.

They pull into the station and Wednesday puts the car into park next to one of the pumps. They are the only car in the lot, and everything seems quiet as she turns the vehicle off. She fills the tank without incident and starts to walk toward the convenience store. Tyler opens the door to get out and follow, but nearly topples out instead. Days of overexertion followed by trying to sleep in the car have left his leg muscles protesting, and his injured ankle can barely hold his weight. Wednesday turns around to see what is taking him so long and looks annoyed. He forces his limbs to work again and eventually makes it across the parking lot.

Tyler opens the glass door and walks in to find a sight he did not expect. Wednesday is standing by the swiveling rack of imitation designer sunglasses, using the little mirror to inspect how her reflection looks in a pair with retro oversized movie star lenses. “Not exactly your usual style.” He smirks as he walks up behind her. She turns and places a pair of aviator sunglasses on his face. A look in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he looks ridiculous. He pulls them off and reaches for a more subtle pair. He tries on some plastic horned rimmed glasses and thinks they actually don’t look half bad.

“You’re getting the other pair.” Her voice suggests this is not optional.

He gives her a confused look. She was the last girl on Earth he expected to have a Top Gun fetish.

He can’t see it because the sunglasses she’s wearing cover almost two thirds of her face, but he is certain she just rolled her eyes at him. “The bigger lenses will do a better job obfuscating facial recognition software, should we be caught on any traffic cameras.”

“Oh. Good idea.” He tosses the glasses into the shopping basket she picked up and follows her deeper into the small store. It’s one of those little mom and pop convenience stores, not the giant corporate travel centers. There are no options for fresh or hot food. Tyler is not willing to dignify the desiccated room temperature objects on the hot lamp roller thing by considering them to be hot dogs. It takes a minute before he realizes that while he’s been lazily perusing the small rack of Poughkeepsie   tchotchkes at the front of the store like an idiot tourist, Wednesday has been systematically winding her way through the store picking up essential supplies. He decides to get his ass in gear and goes to grab a few drinks.

Tyler barely registers the tinkle of the little bell above the front door as he internally debates the merits of Mountain Dew versus cherry Coke. As soon as he turns around, cherry Coke in hand, he definitely registers Wednesday quickly getting far too into his personal space. He steps back in surprise, and slams into the glass door of the cooler behind him.

“Kiss me.” She commands.

Tyler gives her a very concerned raised eyebrow.

“Do it now.” Her tone leaves no room for dissent.

He leans down and tentatively brings his lips to hers. Without warning, his mouth is all but devoured. Her hands cup his cheeks and keep his face pulled down against her, as her tongue invades his mouth. The kiss is brutal in its ferocity, and he can’t help but start to reciprocate the effort. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, all he can do is try to keep up as Wednesday shoves him back harder against the drink case. He feels the cold seeping through the glass and his threadbare t shirt, penetrating his skin. It’s a shocking contrast to every other part of him that feels like it is ready to combust at any moment. She’s hooking her knee over his hip now and he drops the soda in his hand to grab at her waist. The plastic bottle goes skittering across the linoleum as he pulls her even closer against him. It’s primal animal instincts that have nothing to do with the monster still slumbering inside him. He has no idea what triggered this, and he doesn’t care. Every petite curve of her body fits against him like they are two broken pieces of the same dark object, and he wants nothing more than to make them whole again.

His body is starving for oxygen and straining against the clothing between them in all the inappropriate places, as she just keeps kissing him. He definitely doesn’t notice the bell over the door jingle this time, but he can’t miss her suddenly pulling away from him. The unexpected absence of physical contact leaves him disoriented and he looks around trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

 Wednesday’s focus is laser sharp and directed out the front window at the pair of police officers getting back into their patrol car.

“I don’t think they recognized you.” She monotones as the car pulls away.

“What… was that?” Tyler pants as Wednesday picks up the shopping basket and returns to casually perusing the snack aisle.

“Subterfuge.” She answers, inspecting the sell by date on the bottom of a Twinkie package. Seeing that it is still in date, she replaces it on the shelf.

“Huh?” Words are not his friend at the moment as his brain is stuck in some kind of blue screen reboot mode.

Sighing as if she should not be having to explain this to a seasoned criminal, she points out, “The BOLO on you is for a young male traveling alone. Those cops clocked you as soon as they walked in.”

“So dry humping me in the soda aisle seemed like an appropriate response?”

She rolls her eyes. “Making you appear to be a young male with a companion removed you from their radar. And people are conditioned to look away from others engaging in acts of a sexual nature. It kept them from looking too closely and recognizing you.”

“That's... very rational.” He’s pretty sure he hides his disappointment from his voice.

“Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.” She shakes her head at him and turns to toward the front of the store. He can’t see the wicked grin plastered on her face.

Her expression is back to stoic as they approach the disinterested teenager manning the cash register. He’s so absorbed in whatever is on his phone that he probably wouldn’t even notice if they just walked out. Wednesday pays cash for the gas and snacks, and they make it uneventfully back to the car. Thing looks to be in a near panic as they arrive and get back into their seats.

“It was fine.” Wednesday attempts to assuage her anxious little sidekick. “I saw them coming a mile away. We were never in any danger.”

Thing quickly signs something that Tyler can’t make out.

“We hid in plain sight.” Wednesday responds. “I know what I’m doing. Give me some credit.” She pulls the car back onto the road.

Thing looks back and forth between Wednesday and Tyler a few times before slowly and intentionally turning his attention to Tyler’s face. He is busy shoving a whole hand full of beef jerky into his mouth, but freezes under the hand’s intense stare. Which feels really weird because Thing doesn’t even have eyes. But yeah, he is definitely staring at Tyler extra suspiciously. “What?” Tyler asks around the mouth full of dehydrated meat.

Thing’s glare intensifies.

Tyler swallows the jerky, but doesn’t say anything. The reanimated appendage clearly knows he just made out with Wednesday and does not approve.

“Enough.” Wednesday chides the hand.

Thing responds by turning away from Tyler and finding a nice warm spot in the sun on the dash. He settles down but then turns slightly. He’s obviously keeping one eye on Tyler. Which, Tyler realizes, is made all the more intimidating by the fact that he doesn’t actually have eyes.  

Tyler lets out a deep sigh. This is going to be a long drive.

Chapter Text

Tyler, Wednesday, and Thing drive in silence through rush hour traffic along a secondary highway meant to avoid New York City proper by skirting around it to the west. Traffic still sucks, and the silence isn’t helping.

They had tried the radio after leaving the gas station, but it became apparent very quickly that the only thing they could agree on was that they hated pop, country, and rap. Those genres comprising at least ninety percent of the available radio stations. NPR made Tyler wish for the sweet release of turning into the murderous beast just so that he might not have to be conscious. A sports talk show had turned Wednesday homicidal faster than any command from his former master had ever worked on Tyler. And they had both threatened to throw Thing out the window of the moving vehicle when he insisted they would learn to appreciate smooth jazz if they just gave it a chance. Ultimately they had just turned the radio off. It’s a shame that neither of them has a phone, because Tyler feels pretty confident that he could find something that he and Wednesday would both be able to tolerate if he had access to Spotify’s extended musical database. Or there were always true crime podcasts. Those might be a little too on the nose for this particular road trip, but they would probably be better than the silence.

Speaking of noses, they have been sitting in an unmoving gridlock for about ten minutes when Wednesday sniffs the air. Her face crinkles, suggesting that whatever she smells is unpleasant.

“Yeah, sorry. That’s probably me.” Tyler offers sheepishly. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen the inside of a shower.” He sniffs the front of his shirt and winces. “And some of these clothes might have been sourced from some less than savory situations to start with.”

“You definitely smell unpleasant.” Wednesday agrees. “But it’s not that. I smell necrosis.”

“Is that anything like infection? Because I don’t think my ankle’s in great shape.” The throbbing pain from his wound has been getting worse, but he hasn’t wanted to take his boot off and look at it.

“How did you injure it?” She asks, concerned.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He groans and starts unlacing the construction boot that’s probably the only thing holding his left ankle together based on the pain he’s feeling.

Wednesday gives him a look suggesting he’s drastically underestimating her familiarity with implements of torture and dismemberment.

He rolls his eyes at her then hisses in pain as he slides the boot off his foot. He hadn’t been able to find any socks, so the three days of running in work boots two sizes too small had left him with numerous blisters in addition to the line of deep jagged gashes where the bear trap’s teeth had penetrated flesh and sinew just above his ankle. The tissue around the wounds is a horrific blend of red, purple, and a greyish color that he is sure is not good.

“Bear trap?” Of course Wednesday would be able to identify the wound, he realizes.

“Courtesy of dear old dad.” Tyler quips.

Wednesday ignores his self-pity and focuses on the issue at hand. “That is going to require antibiotics if you don’t want to lose the foot.”

“An ER is going to ask too many questions.” Tyler has already been weighing his options.

“A course of Augmentin should be sufficient and is readily available at any basic pharmacy.” She supplies.

“Do I want to know how you know that?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“My little brother is clumsy and our family is not always meticulous about cleaning up their toys when playtime is over. Accidents happen. Frequently.”

Tyler can’t actually imagine what her house looks like. He starts to picture some gothic Victorian mansion decked in black from rafters to floor boards with swords and medieval torture implements as statement pieces in each room. But that’s ridiculous. He looks at her eyeing his wound with far more interest than is reasonable. Maybe it’s not that big of a stretch. “But I still don’t have a prescription.”

“Leave that to him.” She tips her chin toward Thing.

He gives a Vanna White style flourish then nods his wrist.

Traffic starts finally creeping forward again.

“When we get further away from the city we’ll find somewhere to get the medication.” Wednesday proposes.

Thing points at Tyler.

“And get you some new clothes.” Wednesday agrees.

“And some bandage material for these wounds.” Tyler adds. “Some food wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Maybe pick up a burner phone for some internet access.”

“So we need to find somewhere that sells pharmaceuticals, medical supplies, clothing, toiletries, food, and electronics.” Wednesday sounds dubious that this can be accomplished.

“Oh, I know just the place.” Tyler’s face lights up with malicious glee. “But you are very much not going to like it.”

Two hours later they are standing in a parking lot, looking at the big illuminated blue sign.

“You’re certain this is necessary?” Wednesday’s expression is one of utter disdain.

“You’re the one that said I could lose my foot if we don’t get those antibiotics.”

“I hear biomechanical engineers have made monumental advancements in the field of prosthetic limbs.”

When she continues to hesitate, Tyler grabs her wrist and drags her into the big box store.

“Welcome to Walmart!” A little old lady calls out as they pass.

Wednesday veers away from the elderly greeter like the woman has something contagious.

“Thank you.” Tyler smiles and nods politely while grabbing a shopping cart. He pushes it up to where Wednesday is mutely standing a few yards from the entrance.

Her eyes are wide as she takes in the accumulated “people of Walmart”. She leans over to Tyler and whispers, “I think that woman over there isn’t wearing pants.”

Tyler lets his eyes follow her mortified stare.  Yup. She’s right. No pants at all. Just a pair of discolored and moth eaten granny panties and a whole lot of cellulite. He looks away from that horrific site only to have his eyes settle of the prolific hairy ass crack exposed on a man riding one of the electric shopping carts. Lifting his eyes only brings into focus the man’s t shirt, which proudly advertises “Free Moustache Rides”.

Beside him Wednesday deadpans, “I don’t think I have ever truly known fear until this moment.”

Tyler snorts out a laugh and smiles. “Then let’s hurry and get this over with.”

They walk to an empty aisle near the pharmacy and Wednesday unclasps the flap on her back pack. Thing quickly climbs out onto her shoulder.

“You know what you’re looking for?” Wednesday needs confirmation that the hand is going to return with the proper antibiotic, and not some medication for high blood pressure or erectile dysfunction.

Thing hops from her shoulder to the nearby shelf. He signs out the name of the antibiotic Wednesday thinks will be the most appropriate. She gives him a swift nod, and he takes off on his mission.

“Divide and conquer?” Wednesday suggests.

“I’ll go get some clothes and a burner phone, you get food and bandage material?” Tyler offers in return.

Wednesday agrees and they set off to different ends of the expansive store. This suits Tyler just fine, because despite whatever there was between them before, whatever the hell that was this morning at the gas station, and the fact that her visions of the past year undoubtedly included images of him being butt ass naked for any number of unsavory reasons since it happened to him so god damned often, he’s still not entirely comfortable with the idea of her helping him shop for underwear.

Tyler and Wednesday reconvene half an hour later at the front of the store. She pushes the cart toward the self checkout area. As they pass a display of holiday themed throw pillows, Thing wiggles out from between two of the garish cushions on the lower shelf, a plastic amber colored bottle full of pills is tucked between two fingers. Without missing a stride, Tyler leans down, scoops him up, and deposits him in Wednesday’s back pack as they continue walking. They pay in cash, again – all small bills, nothing over a twenty, no sequential serial numbers. Tyler’s starting to feel like he might do ok in his new life of crime after all.

Then they get to the parking lot and, for the life of him, he can’t find their car.

“It’s this way.” Wednesday directs him toward an aisle two down from where he was looking.

“How can you tell which one is ours?” He bemoans. “The car you… chose looks like literally every third car in this lot.”

“That was exactly the point.” Wednesday explains. “Yes, a black and chrome convertible 1960 Lincoln Continental would have been much more to my taste, but it would have drawn attention as well. As much as I detest conformity, in this scenario it proved a useful means to my end.”

They reach the car and Tyler appreciates her dedication to the hide in plain sight concept. She’s right. Nobody is going to look twice at this thing. It was the smart choice. But damned if it wouldn’t have been epic to drive along the coast at night, the two of them in that classic convertible with the top down. The fantasy has a real Bonnie and Clyde vibe to it. Then he remembers that Bonnie and Clyde both die in a shootout with police. That’s the ending he’s really hoping to avoid.

“Want me to drive for a while?” Tyler offers as they finish loading their supplies in the back hatch. He grabs a bottle of water and the package of Advil from the bags before closing the trunk.

“You just want to pick the music.” Wednesday glares suspiciously at him.

Tyler shrugs guiltily, but steps around to the driver’s side anyway. Once inside the car, Wednesday releases Thing from her bag while Tyler pops four of the over the counter pain relievers in his mouth and chases them with some water. Thing brings Tyler the bottle of antibiotics before crawling up to his favorite spot on the dash and getting comfortable. Tyler downs one of the antibiotic tablets, then rips open the plastic packaging to their new phone. Sure, it could technically possibly be traced to them and give up his location. But what are the odds of his father and the goon squad hunting him in Vermont randomly checking all the closed circuit camera footage from the Walmart in Woodland Park, Delaware? Even his luck isn’t that bad. Tyler takes a few minutes to connect the Bluetooth and set up a fictitious gmail account, which he uses to create a new Spotify account.

“All this just to listen to music?” Wednesday questions.

“We’ve got…” A few screen taps and google maps provides him the information he needs, “just over seventeen hours of driving left. Would you rather spend it talking?”

“Fine.” She cedes. “But I get veto capabilities if whatever you choose is too abysmal.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He shoots her a lopsided grin before realizing his mistake. It hasn’t even been a week since the monster he shares his body with had utterly demolished the bit of trust she had placed in him.

She doesn’t give any form of definitive response.

He takes that as a rather good sign. Anything shy of a sharp object penetrating his carotid artery is probably a relatively friendly response for this situation.

He enters a few key words into the music app’s search feature, scrolls through some playlists, and smiles at one of the options. After a few taps on the screen, he drops the phone in one of the center console’s cup holders. The discordant violin chords at the beginning of Rasputina’s Transylvanian Concubine blare from the speakers as he backs out of the parking spot. They’re over halfway through the song by the time he guides the SUV onto the highway on ramp, and she hasn’t made any move to change the music yet.

“I don’t see blood pouring from your ears yet.” Tyler grins at Wednesday triumphantly.

“Your musical selection is not terrible. So far.” She looks as if giving that small admission causes her pain. “Though I would not have guessed that this would be your genre of choice.”

Tyler hesitates before answering. “It normally wouldn’t be, but my mom really liked this one.”  He half expects that saying the reference out loud will summon her ghost or trigger some sort of apocalypse. But nothing happens. Wednesday’s face is as impassive as ever, easing his fear that she would be shocked or overcome with morbid curiosity. With a slight sense of relief, he continues, “She always had this thing for edgy eclectic music. It’s one of the things I remember best about her.”

“Considering the genetic gifts she did bestow upon you, it’s unfortunate that her taste in music is the trait that skipped a generation.” Wednesday smirks at him. There’s no malice in her voice. If anything, the teasing sounds almost playful.

“She started having issues when I was pretty young.” Tyler admits. “And her good days were pretty rare after that, so I don’t have a ton of great family memories from my childhood.” He has no idea why he’s telling her this. He’s never voluntarily told anyone stories about his mom. He and his father certainly didn’t reminisce about her. His former friends had always just thought she was crazy and given him shit about it. He’d even specifically avoided talking about her in therapy. A stab of guilt hits him at that thought. He pushes forward with his story to force the memory of Dr. Kinbott’s ripped apart face from his mind. “But she had this biting sarcasm and really dark sense of humor. You two probably would have got along. As much as you can get along with anyone.” It’s his turn to tease her now.

Wednesday doesn’t seem as off put by the presumption as he expected her to be. It makes him wonder what she actually knows about his family.

As if in answer to his thoughts, she tells him, “I doubt it will surprise you that I may have done some research on you and your family after… everything.” She turns her face away from him, as if slightly embarrassed. “Despite their reputation for being notoriously unreliable, I did have access to first hand accounts of your mother’s time at Nevermore. I was intrigued that, despite being on the same fencing team for years, my mother had little recollection of yours. No one had the slightest clue that she was a Hyde. And for her to evade the snares of my mother’s extensive social network, she must have been exceptionally aloof from her peers. I respect that.”

Thing has been sitting on the edge of the dash, fingers dangling over the corner and swaying as he intently listened to the story. He then looks back and forth between Wednesday and Tyler a few times before signing something to Wednesday.

“What’s his issue now?” Tyler asks. The hand has been awfully judgey today.

Wednesday sighs, “He says, and I’m quoting this directly, ‘you Galpin men sure do have a type’.”

The comment causes Tyler to nearly swerve into the car in the lane next to them before correcting. “Not funny, Righty.” Tyler glares at the hand.

Thing stares back, unapologetic.

Tyler groans internally. The most annoying thing about Thing is that he’s not wrong.

Chapter Text

“That’s it. On the right.” Wednesday concludes her navigation duties.

Tyler hesitates to pull into the parking lot. “What in the Bates Motel is this place?”

They are in some rural stretch of northern Virginia, and Wednesday has directed them to a single story mid-century motel that looks to be straight out of any B rated horror movie

“It got two point six out of five stars from something called Trip Advisor.” Wednesday holds up the phone as proof.

“That’s not actually good.” Tyler informs her.

“It’s close enough to the highway to get sufficient traffic that we won’t stand out, but not so busy as to be swarming with people that might recognize you. The parking lot is out of direct view of the main road, which decreases the small likelihood of our stolen vehicle being identified. It is not part of a nationwide chain and does not take reservations online, suggesting registration and security features will be low tech at best. All rooms are ground floor, ensuring the ability for rapid egress in the case of an emergency. All those factor make it an excellent fit for our specific needs.” Wednesday sounds like she’s getting tired of having to explain how to do crime.

“That also all makes it an excellent place to get murdered.” He’s still skeptical.

“Convenient then that we brought our own murderer, freak, and dismembered body.” Wednesday glowers at him.

She has a point.

Tyler pulls into the parking spot near the office. Wednesday walks in and reserves a room for the night. While she’s filling out the registration paperwork inside, Tyler turns to Thing in the back seat. He’s digging through a bag of supplies that Wednesday brought with her. “You think this place is creepy as fuck too, right?”

The hand emerges from the small black duffel holding a wicked looking boning knife. He nods in complete agreement. Tyler reaches back and extends his hand. “You get it.” They bump fists. “Got any more of those in there?”

Thing looks slightly puzzled, then he curls his fingers and slashes at the air with imaginary claws. He wants to know why Tyler needs a knife when he’s got his own built in weapons.

“Those aren’t exactly working at the moment.”

The hand gives a confused tip of his wrist.

“It’s complicated.” Then after a second’s consideration he adds, “I think. I’m not really sure.”

Thing pantomimes a few gestures. He makes a slashing motion then what looks like cracking a whip, pauses, then slashes the air again followed by the claw gesture.

“No master, no Hyde?” Tyler makes sure he’s getting the interpretation right.

Thing nods at him.

“I don’t really know. It’s not gone. I can still feel something’s there, but it’s not like before. It’s not trying to take over anymore.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if that’s normal when a Hyde loses a master, or what.”

“It’s not.” Wednesday’s voice as she opens the car door and slides in causes them both to jump. They hadn’t noticed her approach. “We are around back. Room 112.”

Tyler puts the car in reverse, backs out of the parking spot and starts driving around the building. It only looks creepier as they get a better view of it.

“Hydes without masters typically succumb to the beast and lose their minds.” Wednesday continues.

“Great. Glad I have that to look forward to.” Tyler deadpans as he scans the numbers on the doors to find theirs.

“You, however, appear exceptionally lucid.”

“Aww. You say the sweetest things.” He grins at her mockingly as he pulls into the spot in front of their room.

She narrows her eyes at him. “It is a bit of a mystery. I have a few hypotheses, but testing them could prove problematic.”

“Why’s that?” Tyler asks as they exit the vehicle and start to collect their bags out of the back of the car.

“Because your father still has my kit of torture implements locked up in evidence from the last time I tried to get answers out of you.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry about that. By the way.” Wednesday does actually sound contrite. “It seemed necessary at the time.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He subconsciously rubs at the side of his neck before reaching up to close the trunk.  “I wasn’t really there by that point. If that makes sense.”

“My recent vision suggested as much.”

“Then you know I didn’t… it wasn’t really me that said and… did things after that?” Tyler can only stare at the ground as he tries to stammer out the explanation he had never expected to be able to give her.

Wednesday nods.

Thing makes a few agitated gestures from the roof of the car.

“Thing is right. Let’s get inside before this becomes even more awkward.”

The hand, carefully wielding his boning knife between two fingers, hops onto Wednesday’s shoulder. Tyler follows her to the door, arms loaded with shopping bags. Wednesday swipes the key card and the door swings open. All three of them stand frozen in the doorway at the sight before them.

Thing’s grip goes slack and the knife clatters to the floor.

“I think it just got more awkward.” Tyler mumbles, staring at the solitary queen sized bed in the middle of the dingy room.

“Perhaps requesting a room on the back side of the hotel without discussing the specific accommodations of said rooms was a mistake.” Wednesday admits.

“It’s fine.” Tyler sighs. He had really been looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed after half a week on the run, but he is tired enough that he doesn’t even care. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

Thing shifts his gaze down to the less than savory looking worn hunter green shag carpet then looks at Tyler questioningly.

“We can discuss sleeping arrangements later.” Wednesday decides for the group. “For now, you need to get your wounds,” she sniffs in his direction and grimaces a bit, “and the rest of you, cleaned up.”

“Not going to argue with you about that.” Tyler cringes at the sight of himself in the mirror on the wall across from the bed. He drops the bags on the foot of the bed, rummages around to find the one containing some of the new clothes he’d just bought, and heads to the little bathroom.

He flips the light switch and the overhead light bulb flickers for a second before becoming fully illuminated. The light sends a pair of cockroaches scuttling for cover. Tyler lets out a very dignified and manly yelp at the sight. Wednesday is at his side in an instant, just in time to see the roaches burrowing into the gap between the cabinetry and the flooring.

“Just some cockroaches. Startled me. That’s all.” He tries to explain. The words are out of his mouth before his brain has a chance to sound the alarm over what he was about to say. He cringes as the memory of what he... the other version of him… had said to Wednesday in the woods just before attempting to choke her to death.

“As we are now just south of the Mason Dixon Line, I believe it is customary to refer to them as Palmetto bugs.” Her voice gives away no hint of emotion. “Fascinating creatures, honestly. As a species they have endured for over 280 million years without requiring any significant evolutionary changes. The will eat their dead, can survive months without food, and can even live for over a week after decapitation.” She gives him a sly glance. “Your alter ego clearly knows how to give a compliment. Perhaps you could learn something from him.” Then she turns and walks away.

That potential land mine diffused, Tyler exhales the breath he’s been holding with a slight laugh. He closes the door, turns on the shower, and strips out of the ratty clothes he’s been wearing for days. Those things are going straight into the dumpster when he’s done here. The water pressure is crap, but the water is hot, and he lets the scalding spray wash away more than just the filth he’s coated in. He feels better than he has any right to as he steps out of the shower and towels himself off. The bullet wound in his right shoulder, yet another memento of father son bonding, has mostly healed. That was one benefit of the brief transformation while he escaped transport. The monster’s physiology did trigger accelerated healing when in that form. He sure could use some of that on his ankle. He reconsiders that thought. Even if he could do it, unleashing a rabid killing machine so that his little boo boos would get better faster would be kind of a dick move. He’ll just heal the old fashioned way. He sits on the edge of the tub and inspects the wound now that all the mud and grime are cleaned off of it. It still hurts like hell but it already looks a little better than this morning.

He tries pouring some antiseptic solution over the wound and doesn’t manage to fully stifle a howl of pain at the burning sensation that reaches into his bone marrow.

“Are you ok?” Wednesday’s voice is right outside the door.

“Yeah. Fine. Just trying to clean out my ankle.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

“Let me help you.” Wednesday insists.

Tyler hears the doorknob start to turn and blurts out, “No need. Don’t come in here. Still naked.”

The door knob stops moving immediately, but Wednesday still sounds irritated, “Nothing I haven’t already seen.” At his silence, she explains, “In the vision. You spent a disproportionate amount the last year naked.”

He laughs because it was true, and only she would hone in on how much that had annoyed him. Concerned that she probably will barge in on him at any second, he pulls on a pair of sweat pants. Then, because the Hyde’s ability to make him do and say terrible things pales in comparison to that of typical teenage male hormones, he quips, “You like what you saw?” He pulls on a plain white t shirt and opens the door.

Wednesday is standing right in the doorway, her expression more menacing than usual. “Not in the least.” Her voice cuts like shattered glass, and it’s crystal clear that she’s not just dissing his slightly gangly physique.

Tyler knows now that she really did see everything in her visions. “You… uh… mind if we don’t talk about that?”

“I would quite prefer that, actually.”

They both just stand in awkward silence for a moment, the uncomfortable weight of everything they aren’t talking about looms like a specter in the room between them. Her eyes look as dark and haunted as he has ever seen them, and he knows what she is likely rewatching in her mind. Great. Now they could apparently both vividly relive the memories of him being coerced and violated by Laurel. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“You should let me look at your leg.” Wednesday finally breaks the thickening tension between them.

“Yeah. Sure. Where do you want me?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him.

“To sit.” He quickly amends his previous question. “I assume I’m gonna need to sit down for this.”

“On the bed.” She says it with the slightest hint of an upward turn at the corner of her lips. She’s enjoying making him feel like an idiot.

He tentatively sits on the side of the bed, next to the headboard, then turns so that he’s leaning back against it, his injured leg outstretched along the edge of the mattress. He pulls the hem of the left leg of his sweatpants up above his calf muscle to give her a full view of the wound. She sits down on the corner of the bed next to his foot and goes to work inspecting the wound. She grips the lower portion of his ankle and starts probing and prodding with clinical interest. If she notices the goosebumps running up his leg at her touch, she doesn’t mention it.

“You were lucky.” She announces after nearly jabbing her thumb into one of the wounds. “Some muscle tearing, but none of the crucial connective tissue structures or neurovascular bundles were severed. Complete function should be preserved once it heals.”

“That’s great news.” He smiles in relief. “Thanks Doc.”

“I can suture some of the larger wounds if you would like. It will speed tissue healing, but it will also decrease the prominence of the resultant scarring. I’m sorry, that can’t be helped.”

“I guess chicks really do dig scars.” Tyler calls to Thing, where he’s sitting on the dresser.

The hand puffs up slightly, accentuating some of his prominent suture lines, and looking pleased with himself.

“It’s good to see you two getting along again.” Wednesday acknowledges as she drops a threaded needle into a cup of rubbing alcohol. While that soaks, she pours more of the wound disinfectant onto a washcloth in preparation to give the deeper gashes a thorough cleansing. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

He almost laughs. It sounds like she’s asking permission to torture him this time. “Go ahead. I can take it.” He’s been through much worse than this.

Her eyes meet his. “I know you can.” Her voice is low and something smolders deep in the dark depths of her eyes at that acknowledgement. She holds his eye contact as she blots the rag into the largest of the open wounds on his leg.

The pain is excruciating, but it’s nothing compared to his desire not to lose this unexpected moment of primal, almost ritualistic, connection. He grinds his teeth and grabs fistfuls of the tacky comforter, but he doesn’t make a sound or look away. He doesn’t even blink. His nostrils flare and his breath comes in staggered gasps as she digs the chlorhexidine soaked cloth around in the wound, all the way to the bone. But it’s the look in her eyes that penetrates deeper still. She’s looking all the way through him. She sees the pain and the trauma, the monster lurking beneath the surface, and all the imperfections that can’t be attributed to the monster. She’s seen how damaged and broken he is, and for some reason he will never quite be able to fathom, Wednesday has decided that he is worth saving.

Her eyes dart down occasionally to inspect her work, but always return to their mutual stare. He never takes his eyes off hers, and the pain doesn’t even register any more, he’s so intently focused on her. Then, without warning, she stands up. “Finished.” She announces and goes to rinse the blood tinged wash cloth out in the sink.

Tyler looks down and is shocked to see four lines of tidy stitches ringing his lower leg where the open wounds used to be. He hadn’t even felt the sutures, he’d been so engrossed in whatever had been going on between them.

Wednesday is still out of sight, but her voice echoes from the small bathroom, “Your tolerance threshold for pain really is rather… exceptional.”

“Thanks?” As seems to be his constant state of existence around Wednesday, Tyler is still more than a little bit confused about what the hell is going on. He looks to Thing, still sitting on the dresser.

If the hand had eyeballs, Tyler is certain that they would be rolling right now.

“What?” He silently mouths at the sassy appendage.

Thing looks him in the eye, tracks his stare south a bit, then back up, giving Tyler a flick of the fingers that clearly asks “How are you not seeing the problem here?”

A quick glance downward reveals the issue. Apparently the monster isn’t the only part of him to get excited about pain. Face now red with embarrassment, Tyler tries to adjust how he’s sitting. That does zero good in the loose fitting sweat pants, so he grabs a pillow from behind his back and pulls it into his lap. There. Just act natural. She won’t suspect a thing.

Over on the dresser, Thing shakes his wrist and frustratedly signs something Tyler can’t make out, the hand equivalent of grumbling to himself.

“What about ‘teenagers…’?” Wednesday questions Thing as she walks back into the room.

Tyler just shrugs and grabs the remote control off the nightstand. He turns the TV on and starts flipping through channels. The five o’clock news is on and he is relieved that his life is not going to be one giant cliché. The main story is about some new baby hippo born at the local zoo, and not an ill-timed full screen view of his mugshot with a “breaking news” caption.

Looking back and forth between his human companions, thing flashes some rapid sign language to Wednesday.

“You’re right. It will be dark soon, and some reconnaissance could prove useful. If you haven’t returned in thirty minutes, we’ll presume you’ve met a grisly end and will endeavor to avenge your death.” Wednesday assures Thing.

He gives his version of a weary sigh, hops off the dresser, and trots over to the door. Wednesday opens it and lets the little guy out into the mostly empty parking lot.

Wednesday grabs her bag from the pile of crap still sitting on the foot of the bed and announces, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Ok. I’ll be here. Watching TV.”

“Might I recommend that you find some televised monotonous sporting event to watch?” Before Tyler can even question if she’s really some sort of closeted college football fan, she continues, “I have heard that men find such a distraction helpful when attempting to resolve the… situation… which you are not at all concealing with that pillow.” With that, she steps into the bathroom and closes the door.

Tyler takes the pillow from his lap and attempts to smother himself with it.

Chapter Text

Tyler abandons his attempt to suffocate himself with the pillow. Given the state he’s in, the authorities would probably attribute his death to autoerotic asphyxiation, and that would be just one indignity too many.

He tries to distract himself by watching some TV, but finds nothing of interest. Everything is news, game shows, or reruns of shitty old sitcoms at this hour, so he turns it off. Then all he can hear is the sound of cascading water from the shower on the other side of the paper thin bathroom wall. His brain is all too eager to remind him that Wednesday is in that shower, and therefore naked, no more than ten feet away from where he’s sitting. That’s not helping his… situation… at all.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with him? She had been rendering relatively painful first aid and somehow his dick decided that was a turn on? If Wednesday had any respect for him before this, it’s definitely gone now. Though she’s not exactly shy about the way she discusses enjoying pain. Has some of that rubbed off on him? That would be a better option than the more likely one he’s trying real hard not to think about. He doesn’t want to be some kind of fucked up victim. He can’t think of anything Wednesday would find less attractive. The monster inside him manipulates and tries to kill her, totally forgivable. Hell, she actually kind of respects him for it. But she’s seen what Laurel did to him. He has no idea how she can look at him without the disgust he feels for himself.

Suddenly, it’s like that thought has summoned the memories he has worked so hard to repress. He feels them just below the surface, trying to overwhelm him. The feeling is eerily similar to when the Hyde is preparing to take over. Except this isn’t the beast inside him, it’s just good old human emotions threatening to overtake him.

Perhaps it’s the exhaustion from getting almost no sleep for days, or the unusual quiet in his head with no master giving orders and the monster still snoozing away like Elvis on the couch after a long hunt, but Tyler’s having a hard time keeping everything he worked hard to compartmentalize and shove out of his mind from rushing back at him.

Tyler gets up and paces around the room, trying to find anything to focus on to take his mind off all the fucked up things he’s done and been subjected to in the past few months. On his fifth or sixth circuit of the room he’s just starting to feel the anxiety begin to ebb, when he turns suddenly and almost crashes into Wednesday. “You and your… hobbies…” He falters before he can finish the teasing reference to their first surprise meeting. He’s not quite sure what he’s seeing.

Wednesday is standing in front of him with nothing but a shabby white hotel towel wrapped around her. Seeing her in white is actually tripping up his brain more than the fact that… holy shit she’s basically naked. Nope, that’s definitely the bigger issue.

Wednesday takes a step towards him, and Tyler instinctively takes a step back. The back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress and his momentum lands him sitting on the end of the bed.

Before he knows what’s happening, she is on top of him straddling his lap. She’s clearly trying her hardest to look sexy, but she seems to have some trouble trying to figure out what exactly to do with her hands. Ultimately she places them on his shoulders like it’s an awkward middle school slow dance.

“So this is happening...” He has no idea what “this” is, or if it’s arousing, funny, or terrifying.

“If you want it to happen, you should probably begin removing your clothing. Thing will be back in roughly twelve minutes.”

“Wow. Twelve whole minutes.” Tyler blinks at her, not sure whether to laugh or be insulted.

“Is that not sufficient time?” She looks concerned. “I assumed that there was no need to budget for extended foreplay, as you were already clearly aroused.”

“Thanks for bringing that up again.” Tyler groans and scrubs a hand through the still damp curls hanging half into his face. He wants to be into this but, why now? Why when he feels like a hot mess inside a dumpster fire?

Her hands start lightly tracing down from his shoulders along his chest, and the sensation is all it takes to push him over the edge and trigger a flash of memory he would have given everything to never think of again.

He’s sitting on a couch in Marilyn Thornhill’s small faculty housing apartment attached to the Nevermore conservatory. He’s got a book open on his lap and he’s scouring it for any mention of this Hyde thing that he’s just learned about. This outcast thing that his mother was is somehow also what had killed her. He wants to know more about it, needs to know.

Marilyn sits next to him on the couch and hands him a cup of tea. His favorite Weathervane regular customer is the reason he’s been able to fill in this huge gap in understanding what happened to his mom. The normie Nevermore teacher is the only person from the snobby boarding school to actually have the decency to tell him the truth about his family. He takes a sip of the tea as he flips the page in the book. It tastes nasty, but she said it’s some special blend she made herself, and he doesn’t want to insult the one person that’s actually helping him. He swallows the rest of it as he reads through the very old book from the outcast school’s library. So far it hasn’t mentioned these Hyde things directly, and he’s starting to wonder if they need to find a different book.

He can’t believe his luck. Not only was Marilyn willing to show him his mother’s file, violating some kind of school privacy policy, but she’s even giving him access to all of Nevermore’s resources to learn more about her condition. His father won’t even admit his mother existed at this point, let alone that she was an outcast with a terrible affliction. That thought makes anger flare inside him.

His head is swimming with rage at his father, sadness for his mother, and concern that there’s a chance he could have what his mother had. He needs to know. Why was Marilyn the only one willing to tell him about this? She took a big risk telling him all this. He’s probably not supposed to be here either. She must really care about him. He can barely remember what that’s like, having somebody care about him. It makes him feel kind of warm inside. And fuzzy. Everything feels kind of warm and fuzzy actually.

He looks up from the book. He’s been staring at it long enough that the print is starting to look blurry and he’s having trouble focusing on it. Marilyn is standing there looking down at him. She takes the book from him and places it on the coffee table behind her. Then she kneels down in front of him.

“Tyler, are you ok? I know this is a lot to take in.” She reaches out and places her hands on his shoulders. It’s comforting.

He closes his eyes and leans back against the couch, causing her hands to slide from his shoulders down along the front of his chest. That felt… nice.

Her hands keep trailing downward, coming to rest on the top of his thighs.

“Tyler.” His eyes open at her voice. “You know you’re very special to me, right?” She’s looking into his eyes like she really means it. Her hands start moving in small circles on his legs. “You care about me too, right?”

All he can do is nod. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

She moves her hands to his wrists, which are sitting limply at his sides. She stands and pulls him up with her. “When two people care about each other, there are… things… they can do together.” She bats her eyes at him. “Would you like that?”

Again, all he can do is nod.

“Good boy.” She leads him by the wrists toward the open door to her bedroom.

Tyler comes back to himself with a start and reaches up to grab Wednesday’s hands before they can move any further. He scrambles out from under her, and Wednesday gives him a curious look.

He thinks he knows now what it must be like for her when she has a vision. He drops his hold on her hands and starts to mumble an apology. Yeah… his first time ended with him passing out right after and waking up chained in a cave. So maybe it’s not entirely his fault that he has some issues.

Something goes suddenly dark in Wednesday’s eyes as she takes in his distress. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you just had a vision.”

He averts his eyes. “PTSD is just fun like that, I guess.”

“You are racking up quite an impressive collection of psychiatric conditions.”

“You did say I’m pretty much destined to go nuts.” He shrugs.

“Destiny is a concept for those that are too weak or unwilling to accept the reality that their actions have consequences.” She chastises him. “But I think it is unlikely that you are currently succumbing to the violent impulses of the Hyde.”

“So I’m just normal crazy.” He scoffs. “All that court ordered therapy must really be paying off.”

Wednesday smirks at him.

Tyler has to admit, the sarcastic banter is helping put him at ease. Something about their shared gallows humor has always been comforting and enthralling to him. He’s sure that’s not how Wednesday has ever intended for her blunt honesty to be perceived, but here they are.

“On the topic of sudden onset insanity,” He tries to delicately address the elephant in the room, “What’s, uh, going on with all this?” He waves his hands in a circle indicating her current state.

Apparently he wasn’t delicate enough, because she stiffens ever so slightly and he can see her walls go up. “It is unlikely that I will ever see you again after we part ways the day after tomorrow. This situation provides an excellent opportunity for sexual activity without the possibility of messy emotional attachments.” She won’t look at him anymore. “Given your earlier responses, I had assumed that you would be inclined to participate.”

Tyler feels like he’s taken a punch to the chest. He knows she’s always going to be more logical than emotional, but this hurts. After all they’ve been through, does she really just see him as a warm body she can use to scratch an itch? Is that really all he’s ever going to be good for? There’s no stopping the next horrible memory that claws its way to the front of his mind.

He’s in the basement of the Gates house as his bones and flesh contort painfully back to his normal form. It’s the pain that comes with the transformation that usually triggers his consciousness’s return to control over his abused body. He’s naked, as always, and coated in blood, mud, and other fluids that leaked from the chunk of dismembered human body that the Hyde has dragged back for their master to dissect as needed. His head is swimming and he begins to retch.

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Laurel admonishes him without looking away from her dissection.

A glob of congealed blood slops from the table where she is cutting up a liver or something, and lands on the floor with a grotesque splat. Tyler can’t stop the bile rising in his throat and gags.

“I told you to stop that.” Her voice is sharp and commanding.

Tyler obediently swallows the vomit in the back of his mouth. His head is throbbing, his body aches, and it’s all he can do to avoid looking at the remains of his latest victim. He remembers nothing after receiving a text message to meet her at the derelict mansion that morning, but it’s painfully obvious what has happened. He hopes it wasn’t someone nice, that there won’t be a family missing them. He doesn’t think he could deal with that again. The first one last week had been a co-ed from Boston that had stopped by the Weathervane for coffee before heading out into the woods on a backpacking trip. He remembered her, had seen her parents pleading for answers on the evening news the next day. He looks up and sees her kidney in a jar on the shelf. His stomach turns again, but he can’t even vomit. He hates the woman sitting at the table and humming to herself as she drops a gall bladder into another formaldehyde filled jar. He hates what she’s turned him into. He really hates the part of himself that doesn’t hate her, the part that makes all of him do whatever she commands.

He slowly staggers to his feet and tries to find something to cover himself with until he can find his clothes. They’re probably somewhere upstairs. The best he can do for now is a musty old painter’s drop cloth. He wraps the stiff paint splattered canvas around his waist as Laurel places the jar on the shelf next to the other two and turns to him.

“We are so close!” Laurel nearly squeals. She’s more excited than usual. “Everything is falling into place. Can’t you just feel it?”

“I feel like I want to go home.” Tyler tries to brush past her toward the stairs.

“Don’t be like that.” She reaches up and grabs his face. Her nails dig into his cheeks. Seeing him wince, she loosens her grip. “Baby boy did good this time.”  She looks his nearly naked form up and down and actually licks her lips. “Don’t you want to celebrate?”

“Not particularly.” He sneers at her.

She pulls her hand back and slaps his face hard enough to leave a mark.

He barely flinches.

“You know better than to talk to me like that.” Her voice becomes almost childlike and she starts gently tracing her fingers along the red spot on his cheek.

He closes his eyes and silently chants to himself and any sort of deity that might be listening, “Please just let me go. Not again. Please just let me go.”

“Mama wants to celebrate. You want to give me what I want.” She almost growls at him.

A shudder passes through Tyler and his eyes quickly morph from hollow and haunted to something manic. He reaches up and grabs her face, pulling her into a brutal kiss. His hands rake over her body and start pulling at her clothing as he shoves her back toward the table. The canvas sheet around his hips falls to the floor as he lifts her so that she’s sitting on the edge of the table where she just cut up a dismembered torso. His mind is there, but not really, as his body pushes up her skirt and settles between her thighs.

“Tyler?” Wednesday’s voice pulls him from the haunting memory.

He’s shaking as he makes tentative eye contact with her.

“Another flashback?” She asks, her posture clearly uncomfortable.

“Is it that obvious?”

She raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

An awkward moment of silence fills the room. “I need to know something.” Wednesday looks at him with concern, “I realize that I am to blame for triggering your obvious distress. I feel compelled to do something to console you, but words alone seem inadequate, as does extracting vengeance on someone that is already dead. What does one typically do in these situations?”

“It almost sounds like you want to give me a hug.” He smirks at her.

“This is a common response then?” She questions.

He snorts, “For most people, yeah.”

“Well, that’s unpleasant.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to…” The air is instantly forced from his lungs by the vice like grip of her arms encircling his thorax. He’s never going to understand how someone so tiny can be so strong. Cautiously he relaxes his arms and wraps them gently around her bare shoulders. She allows the embrace, even leaning her head against his chest slightly.

“Is this helping?” She asks after a few more seconds.

He leans his cheek against the top of her head and sighs, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Wednesday mumbles into his chest, “For good measure, I’m still going to desecrate her corpse.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiles into her hair.

They sit like that, holding each other for much longer than Tyler expected she would tolerate.

“Thing will be returning soon.” She breaks the comfortable silence.

“It will probably end better for me if you have clothes on when he gets back.” He grins as he reluctantly pulls back from her.

“That is a safe assumption.” She agrees and gets up from the bed. She heads into the bathroom and emerges a few minutes later wearing a black and dark grey oversized knit sweater and a pair of black leggings. She returns to the spot next to Tyler on the bed without a word.

They sit there silently, each absorbed in their own thoughts. She looks like she’s about to speak when there are three sharp knocks on the door.

“Thing’s back.” Wednesday announces and gets up to let him in.

The hand enters cautiously, looking around like he expects to find evidence of debauchery.

“Nothing happened.” Wednesday rolls her eyes at him.

He climbs onto the dresser, turns to Tyler, and shrugs his thumb slightly when Wednesday isn’t looking. Kind of a, “Bro, I leave you two alone for half an hour and you don’t do anything? What’s wrong with you?”

“What, you’re my wingman now?” Tyler hisses at him.

“You have no idea.” Wednesday shakes her head at the pair of them. Then she reaches for the cell phone. “I’m going to order a pizza. What do you want on it?”

Forty minutes later, Wednesday pays the delivery driver and shuts the door. Tyler and Thing peek out of the bathroom, ensuring the coast is clear before they join her at the small table in the corner.

Wednesday flips the box open and shakes her head in disgust. Tyler grabs a slice from the side that is clearly his. An errant pineapple piece falls back to the box. He grabs it and pops it in his mouth along with the bite of pizza he’s already chewing.

Thing is looking at him with concern.

“Some people just really enjoy watching the world burn.” Wednesday glares at him.

“Mmmmm.” Tyler enjoys his abomination of a pizza.

They end up all lying on the bed watching TV. The pizza box is in between Tyler and Wednesday, and Thing is down at the foot of the bed on Tyler’s side.  Some cable channel has randomly decided to celebrate the start of December with a horror movie marathon. They are consuming their meal and animatedly commenting on the stereotypical inaccuracies of the different monster species in the basement in Cabin in the Woods.

“Yes, clearly Kent would be the most terrifying creature of the bunch.” Wednesday scoffs. “Merman...”

“Should I be insulted there’s no Hyde?” Tyler quirks an eyebrow.

The movie eventually ends and they get up to clean the mess from their dinner. All their trash is gathered into two of the left over shopping bags, and Tyler volunteers to take those bags and the one containing his old clothes to the dumpster across the parking lot. To his surprise, Thing clambers up his arm and onto his shoulder. Clearly the hand wants to tag along.

Tyler is half way across the dark and poorly lit lot when Thing taps his shoulder. He turns his head to look at the hand. Thing gives him a shrug, obviously wanting to know what happened earlier.

“It's complicated.” Tyler hopes that will be the end of the discussion.

Thing taps his shoulder again as they approach the dumpster. Tyler tosses the bags into the refuse containers then gives Thing his attention. The hand raises his pointer finger straight up, then lets it limply curl down.

“You’re well aware that’s not the problem.” Tyler glares at him.

Thing shrugs, like he had to ask. Then he waggles his knuckles. He really wants to know what the issue is.

Tyler sighs. “She tried. I just kind of freaked out.”

Thing points his wrist towards their room and then gives a helpless gesture which Tyler interprets as, “She has that effect on people.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Tyler laughs, then sobers. “I just never really know where I stand with her. And with some of the… stuff that has happened, it just… that matters.”

The hand pats his shoulder sympathetically. They walk back toward their room, but Thing stops Tyler before they reach the door. Tyler sits on the front of their car and the hand scampers down onto the hood. He points at Tyler, traces out a heart shape in the road dust on the car, then points at their room.

“Yeah. I care about Wednesday. You know that.” Tyler admits somewhat sheepishly.

Thing tries again. He makes the same set of gestures, but his heart drawing is slower, more deliberate, and much more emphatic.

Tyler quickly catches on and rubs his hand through the dust, obscuring the evidence of what Thing had been implying. “Why would you say that?” Was the disembodied appendage trying to get him killed? Because that was probably the only realistic outcome if Wednesday happened to overhear him admit that he is utterly, stupidly, and unconditionally in love with her, that he has been for a while.

Thing looks like he’s getting frustrated as he points to the room, to the smeared heart on the hood of the car, and then at Tyler.

“What?” He can’t hide the shock in his voice.

All of Thing’s fingers go up in the air in an expression of irritation. Then he gestures in an arch encircling them, indicating everything going on around them.

Tyler gets it now. The daring rescue, the seventeen or eighteen different laws she’s broken already on this insane road trip, calling in a favor from family on his behalf, nursing his wounds, hell, even going into a Walmart are all things Wednesday Addams would not do for just anybody. Whatever this is between them it’s real.

Thing pats his hand in a friendly manner, pleased that Tyler is finally working out what he’s been trying to tell him.

Thing was right, as usual. He’d been afraid. For all that his previous experiences may have left him with some serious damage, Wednesday’s the one that could really break him. She has his heart in a way that his pathetic excuse for a master never could. The thought that all Wednesday wanted from him was a meaningless quicky in a skeezy motel before she ditches him for good in two days, was more painful than anything Laurel ever did to him. Except there had been more to it than that. She’d just been as hesitant to admit her feelings as he had been. He was just too hung up on his issues to realize it. And now he’s probably blown his chance.

Seeming to somehow know that Tyler has had a chance to figure things out now, Thing hops up a slaps him on the hip in a, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” kind of way.

Tyler rolls his eyes at the hand and stands. “Wednesday’s lucky to have you around.” He admits as he lifts the little guy to his shoulder and closes the short distance to the motel room door. “I am too.”

Back inside their room, Wednesday is sitting on the edge of the bed in a pair of black silk pajamas and adjusting one of her braids.

“Your little bromance is becoming nauseating.” She scoffs at their return.

Tyler deposits Thing onto the dresser then heads straight to the bathroom. It’s going to be a minute before he’s ready to face Wednesday after his recent realizations. Going through the motions of getting ready to go to sleep seem like a reasonable distraction. He actually looks at himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth. First time he’s been able to do that in a while. He doesn’t see a monster looking back at him, but he's still not sure what Wednesday sees in him either.

He walks back into the main part of the room and quickly notices that their five fingered chaperone is absent. “Thing?”

“Wanted to sleep in the car.” Wednesday answers. “Claims he noticed bed bugs and doesn’t want to risk any skin irritation. His vanity is boundless.”

Tyler works to hide a smirk. He really is the best winghand ever. Then he looks around the less than savory room. “Are there bedbugs?” Because gross.

“None that I’ve seen. Unfortunately.” Wednesday pouts. She’s in bed, leaning against a stack of pillows and the headboard, covers pulled up to her chest.

She’s still positioned distinctly off to one side of the bed, and Tyler lets himself hope for a minute. “So… about the sleeping arrangements we were going to discuss later…”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“Cool.” He tries to sound casual as he very tentatively sits on the edge of the bed and slides under the sheets. They’re in the same places they were earlier in the night watching the movie, but it feels different.

Tyler knows he should be exhausted, but there is no way he could possibly sleep right now with her so close. “Want me to turn out the light?” He asks, trying to break the tension.

“Fine.” She agrees. “Unless you’re too afraid to watch Freddy vs Jason in the dark.” She raises her eyebrows at him in mock challenge.

He hadn’t even noticed the campy slasher flick still playing on the TV. “Somehow I think I’ll be ok.” He teases back and turns out the light on the nightstand. The flashing glow from the TV screen is the only light in the room, and the darkness feels almost palpable. Tyler has no idea what to do next, so he just leans back and stares at the small screen, not really noticing anything that is happening on it.

“This movie is quite terrible.” Wednesday breaks the silence after a few minutes. “I mean, look at his knife work. Strokes that sloppy wouldn’t cut butter, let alone disembowel a teenager.”

Tyler likes where her head is at. “Not like Krueger’s doing much better. Keep slashing vertically at that rib cage and let me know how that works out for you, buddy.”

“Explain.” She’s looking only at him now.

He reaches toward the TV and makes a vertical slashing motion with his hand. “Claws are gonna get caught up on the ribs every time that way. He won’t hit anything vital.” And then he realizes that they aren’t talking about the movie bad guys any more. With a cringe, he asks, “Was that too much?”

“Never. Show me more.” Her eyes sparkle with morbid curiosity.

Well, this is dark as fuck, but what the hell. Tyler knows an opening when he sees one. He shifts position, rolling so that he’s resting on his side but slightly looming over her prone form. “You aim for just below the rib cage.” He traces an imaginary line along the top of her abdomen, his finger hovering an inch above making any physical contact. Her eyes are locked on his. Her gaze never wavers as he continues, “The first slash opens the skin and muscles.” He drags the tips of his fingers along the silk of her nightshirt in a quick but feather light slash from left to right. “The next goes as deep as you can, all the way to the spine.” His fingers rake back across her body right to left, the pressure firmer this time. His hand comes to rest along her side, the lingering touch tentative.

“Severing the vena cava, descending aorta, and portal vein.” Wednesday finishes for him.

He never knew the names for the big vessels, just how to claw through them to make death come swiftly for his victims. Convincing the monster to finish it in two swipes was all he could do for them when he had been forced to watch from inside his own body.

“Death will come in seconds. Not painless, but given the short duration of suffering, a much more humane ends than most of the options at your disposal.” She looks him square in the eyes. “You did what you could.”

And now he has his answer. He knows exactly what she sees in him. She sees everything, the monster and the insecure teenager trying to fight against it, the darkness that has nearly consumed him and the small flicker of light that was never fully snuffed out. She sees him more fully than anyone ever has before, and she’s still here. She’s still laying half beneath him, without a trace of fear.

“Wednesday.” It comes out barely above a whisper, but even he can hear the amount of emotion in that one word. His hand that had been cautiously next to her side shifts to grip her waist. He lowers his forehead to rest against her temple and murmurs into the skin just in front of her ear, “I need you.”

She hums as his fingertips clamp down on her flesh. “You’re just now realizing this?”

He laughs as he drags his nose along her cheek until their lips are barely touching. “You are clearly the brains in this relationship.” Then he kisses her.

Before he can deepen the kiss, she pulls back slightly. “Suddenly we’re in a relationship?”

That’s the kind of thing that would have sent him into a tailspin of self doubt before, but now he knows better. She’s completely relaxed, nearly boneless in his arms, and there is a glimmer in her eyes she can’t hide. She’s just giving him shit, purely because she can, because that’s who she is. Two can play that game. “Well, if we’re not…” He starts to push away from her and acts like he’s going to get up off the bed.

She grabs his shoulders and pulls him back down on top of her. “I agree to your terms.”

“Messy emotional attachments and all?” He keeps his mouth just out of her reach.

“So long as you mean messy like a brutal crime scene, and not like some awful romantic comedy.” She hesitates.

“Definitely like the crime scene.” He can’t stop the ridiculous grin as he kisses her. He’ll never make her admit it, but he feels her lips pull into a smile against his as well.

They kiss until hypoxia starts to set in, then it’s two gasping breaths and they are back at it. At some point they turn the TV off, because the sound effects are “too glaringly unrealistic” to be appropriate background noise for what they are doing. Two guesses whose opinion that was…

Tyler’s hands are on Wednesday’s face, thumbs intricately tracing the line of her jaw, attempting to commit every fine detail to memory. Her hands have been all over, like it’s a race to touch every inch of him. She shows no hesitation sliding them up under the hem of his shirt and scraping nails along the lines that define his abdominal muscles then up over his chest.

Figuring he better take it off before she tears it off him, he breaks their kiss, sits back, and pulls the t shirt over his head. She’s staring as he drops it off the side of the bed.

“You certainly appear to have resolved your earlier reservations.” She smirks and starts undoing the buttons along the front of her top.

“A friend gave me a hand with that.” He knows his grin is stupid and goofy, but he doesn’t care.

She rolls her eyes and flings her shirt at his face. He tosses it aside and she pulls him back down to kiss her before he has a chance to stare at her exposed chest and make it awkward.

His hands dance over her pale skin. They take their time exploring each other. At his touch along each, she gives explanations for the few scars that mar her flesh. The healing arrow wound in her shoulder being the freshest and the most uncomfortable to explain, while the small round scar from “the great Addams family lawn dart incident of 2011” was definitely the kookiest. She doesn’t ask the origin stories for the healed slashes on his back, as she saw the wounds inflicted clearly enough in her vision of his time in that fucking cave. She just ghosts her fingers lightly over them and mumbles under her breath a list of increasingly gruesome things she plans to do to Laurel’s corpse.

This experience of just being with someone like this is entirely new to Tyler, and as much as he is enjoying it, part of him also yearns to move this along and get to the really good part.

“For someone who spent so much of the last year naked, you are still wearing an awful lot of clothing.” Her fingers are playing with the waistband of his sweat pants.

Probably should have realized Wednesday, not exactly know for her patience, was feeling the same. He smirks at her, reaches under the covers, and pulls off his last remaining article of clothing. Wadding them up and holding them where she can see, he tosses them toward the accumulating pile of discarded clothes on the ground. “Your turn.”

Wednesday does the same, holding his eye contact the entire time as she tosses her pajama pants off the bed. Then she rolls them over until she’s on top on him. She sits back, kneeling over his thighs and taking the covers back with her. She stares down at his naked body like she’s appreciating some kind of artwork.

“I thought you’ve already seen enough of me naked?” He teases. It’s weird. He doesn’t feel awkward or embarrassed. Maybe that’s because he’s too busy staring back at her body straddling his.

“I like it better like this.”

“Like what?” He grins and reaches up to trace a finger along the top of her black slightly lacey underwear, the only thing she’s still wearing.

“Under me.”

He has to laugh as he reaches up and pulls her back down on top of him. “You’re seriously jealous?”

“I suppose it is beneficial that at least one of us will have some practical experience.” She admits.

“So you haven’t…”

“No.”

“I was going to say…”

“Whatever you were about to ask, the answer will still be ‘no’.” She looks like she doesn’t want to discuss this further.

“Ok, so first time for everything then. No pressure.” He takes a deep breath.

“If you’re concerned that my inexperience will make my performance suboptimal, you should know that I accidentally found my mother’s Kama Sutra when I was thirteen. The idea that withholding sexual gratification could cause agony intrigued me. I endeavored to learn what I could on the subject. As you know, I am a quick study.”

Tyler’s never read the book personally, but he’s pretty sure that tantric sex is not actually meant to be a form of torture. But leave it to Wednesday… “That’s not at all what I’m worried about.”

“Then why does this make you uncomfortable? Isn’t claiming a female’s virginity considered to be some pinnacle of virility and masculinity?”

“I’m not uncomfortable. It’s just… I’ve heard it can be… painful for girls… women… the first time. I don’t want…”

She looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind if he thinks the prospect of pain is going to be a deterrent to her.

Ok. He probably should have known better than that. He decides to admit his true concern, “It’s a big deal and I don’t want you to think back on your first time and remember being disappointed.”

“So if you were my second sexual partner you’d be ok with disappointing me?”

“Fine. Fuck it. This is what I get for trying to be considerate.” He rolls his eyes and kisses her hard, dragging her back beneath him and slamming her back down into the pillows.

“Keep this up and you don’t have to worry about disappointing me.” She says as he moves to suck and bite along her throat.

She grinds up against him and he moans into her neck. “These need to go.” He growls and starts pulling at her underwear. He has to roll off of her so she can finish slipping them off her legs.

They lie next to each other, completely naked and vulnerable, looking into each other’s eyes.

“You’re sure?” His knuckles trace lightly along the front of her hip.

“Get on with it already.”

“Ever the romantic…” He teases as he pulls her under him.

She grabs a fist full of the hair on the back of his head and pulls him down into a kiss that steals the breath from his lungs.

As soon as she releases his face to catch her breath, he pushes into her. Her eyes roll back and she fights to keep them open, her body going tense beneath him. He’s barely inside her, but she’s impossibly tight and he hopes this isn’t hurting her too badly.

Tyler buries his face in her neck, breathing into the hollow just above her collar bone as he uses all the restraint he possesses to keep his movements gentle. Her muscles clench and quiver under him every time he inches incrementally further into her, and it's driving him mad with want. The more he is inside her, the more he wants, like he can’t ever possibly get enough of her. After what feels like an eternity, he’s all the way in. They both lay unmoving and slightly nervous.

“Are you… is this… ok?” He hopes he doesn’t sound like as much of a clueless idiot as he thinks he does.

She nods at him, her eyes closed.

“You ok if I move?” He rocks his hips ever so slightly, and her grip on his shoulder tightens painfully. “Ok. We’ll… uh… give it another second.” It bothers him that this is so painful for her, but his usually deflated ego does get a bit of a boost from what that implies about his size.

He tries moving again, and she only flinches slightly. He rolls his hips a little more and she bites down on his neck to stifle a whimper. He jerks in response to the unexpected pain, and crashes hard against her. She cries out in return.

“Sorry.” He cringes.

Her eyes lock onto his. “Don’t be sorry. Do that again.”

“Oh. Ok.” His surprise is overcome by excitement. The first few thrusts are still tentative, but soon he can discern the subtle difference in the small yelps she can’t fully contain. He picks up a rhythm, and it’s not long before she is matching it.

Tyler would love to say that they spent the rest of the night having such wild and inventive sex that they’re going to need to add a few chapters to Wednesday’s Kama Sutra. In reality, they are two relatively inexperienced and hormone fueled teenagers. They barely get beyond missionary position, and Wednesday’s previous estimate of twelve minutes was actually a bit generous. His ego takes that one on the chin.

As much as he would like this moment between them to go on forever, it’s not really under his control. Especially if she keeps doing whatever it is she is currently doing on top of him. “I’m close.” He mumbles, flat on his back, hands on her hips, watching her ride him like one of those horses she never did obsess over the way she did him.

When she gives no response, he reaches up, grabs her braids, and uses them to roughly pull her down to kiss him. If she minds the slight show of aggression, she doesn’t give any indication. “Been wanting to do that since the first day I met you.” He murmurs against her lips as soon as they break the kiss.

“What took you so long?” She taunts him.

He pulls her against his chest and rolls them over, narrowly avoiding rolling them right off the bed. On top again, he tries to slow the pace and regain some control.

Wednesday is having none of that and moves needily underneath him. “Harder.” She’s commanding, not begging. “Do you want to get me off or not?” She growls at him.

He hadn’t thought she was close, but maybe he needed to give himself some more credit. “Challenge accepted.” He smirks at her.

Tyler throws himself headlong into the endeavor. Wednesday has developed enough confidence to start telling him what she wants, and he’s only too happy to comply. The friction and pressure that she craves are also driving him ever closer to the edge. He knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he can’t hold it together any longer. Then she cries out and clamps down on him so hard his whole world goes black at the edges.

He has no idea how some part of his brain is still functioning, but in the split second before his own release, it dawns on him that he is not wearing a condom. In a frantic ‘oh shit’ moment, he rolls off of her and onto his back, just in time to cum into the sheets. The orgasm rips through him like nothing ever has before. It’s like every cell in his body is on fire. The sensation fades and he can’t stop panting, his gasping breaths feeling like they are rocking his whole body. His vision is blurred as he stares up at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

He rolls his head to look at Wednesday, assuming he’s going to need to explain his hasty withdrawal. But she’s not in bed any more. She’s standing on the far side of the room, a look of terror in her eyes as she grips the bed sheet to her chest with one hand and brandishes a knife at him with the other. He can’t even imagine where that knife was hidden, but that’s probably not the important issue at the moment.

“Come on, I couldn’t have been that bad…” He sits up and tries to talk to her, but the words don’t come out as words, just a muffled growling sound.

At his guttural noises, she shifts like she’s about to stab him.

What the hell is going on? He throws his arms up in a defensive posture and sees large grey limbs with jagged claws flash in front of his eyes. His head snaps to the left and towards the mirror on the far wall. He sees what he was afraid of. A vicious looking nine foot tall grey monster is crouching on his side of the bed.

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

Tyler more or less falls backward off the bed, curling into a fetal position on the floor in the space between the bed and the bathroom wall. He pulls himself into as small of a ball as he can with his grotesquely oversized upper body. His claws start to dig into the skin of his arms he is gripping them so tight. He likely doesn’t have more than a second or two before the monster inside him takes over. He’s honestly surprised he’s been left conscious as long as he has. There’s nothing he can do to restrain the beast in this form, and he has no idea what the Hyde’s reaction is going to be to seeing Wednesday. At least she’s on the side of the room with the door. Hopefully she’ll have a chance to get away if the monster feels like trying to follow through on their former master’s last commands, despite her death. He’ll do everything he can, but he’s never been more than a relatively impotent copilot once he has transformed.

He’s sure he’ll be forcibly ousted from control any second now. Any… second… Nope. He’s still in control. Huh.

He slowly releases his hold on himself and sits up onto his haunches. He peeks over the edge of the bed and sees Wednesday still standing halfway between the bed and the door. She has turned on the lights, wrapped the bed sheet around herself toga style, and is still holding her knife in a defensive posture. She still looks murderous, but there is a trace of doubt on her features.

Tyler stands slowly, keeping the bed between him and Wednesday. He tries to speak again, but again, nothing but growls come out.

The noises seem to aggravate Wednesday and everything about her stance becomes slightly more aggressive. Stab first and ask questions later is definitely her M.O. so he probably needs to find a way to explain the situation ASAP.

He squeezes his eyes shut, drops his head, and turns it to the side submissively. He also slowly raises his arms up in front of him with his palms out, in the most defensive and non-threatening gesture he can manage. He even waves his claws a little, like pathetic monster jazz hands. After a few seconds pass without a knife puncturing his flesh, he opens one eye slightly and peeks at her.

Wednesday’s demeanor has shifted to pure confusion.

Taking that as a good sign, he gives her a little wave and his best approximation of a smile.

“Tyler?” She asks, disbelief and concern on her features.

He nods emphatically.

“You’re still in control?”

He nods again and taps his claws against his chest, trying to indicate that it is him in there.

“How?”

He lifts his hands, palm up, and shrugs his shoulders in a “your guess is as good as mine” gesture.

Cautiously she steps around the bed and approaches him.  She inspects his face carefully for any signs that this could be some kind of trap. He just blinks his big bugged out eyes at her placidly. Apparently convinced that it is in fact just Tyler, she lifts her hand to tentatively touch his face. He leans his cheek into her palm and his eyes flutter closed with a content sigh, which comes out almost like a deep purr.

After a long moment, she steps back and he follows her out of the cramped space between the bed and the wall. She reaches out more assertively this time and touches his chest. She lets her fingers trail around his shoulder and then along his back as she circles him, studying everything she can about his alternate form close up. He just sits quietly and looks at himself in the mirror. He's never really gotten a good look at his body after a transformation. He's making faces at himself in the mirror, amused by the way the face he sees is him, but not him at the same time. As she makes her way back around to the front of him, she lifts his lip up and traces a finger along the edge of his serrated teeth. Her inspection feels a bit intrusive at this point, so he jokingly snaps his multiple rows of teeth at her finger.

She jumps back and gives him a shocked look.

He winks one giant eye at her.

She glares at him.

Suddenly they hear a frantic pounding on the window. In the very bottom corner where the cheap curtain doesn’t quite block out the view entirely, Thing is losing his shit. The lights coming on in their room must have alerted him that some sort of drama had transpired.

Without taking her eyes off Tyler, Wednesday backs to the door and opens it to allow Thing entry. The hand is armed with his boning knife and comes charging in at full speed. He is about to launch himself at the giant monster in the room, but Wednesday catches him by the wrist as he takes off.

“Calm yourself.” She looks sternly at the appendage in her grip. “He transformed, but it’s still Tyler. We are still trying to figure out what happened.”

Tyler gives Thing a little jazz hand wave, and the hand seems to settle. He looks back and forth between the monster and Wednesday then hops down onto the bed. He scuttles over toward the beast and Tyler puts an enlarged clawed hand down on the bed for him to inspect. In a flash of motion Thing pokes Tyler’s hand with his knife.

The jab barely breaks the skin, but Tyler pulls the arm back and tries to suck on the finger where a small drop of blood in starting to well up. He has trouble keeping it in his mouth without jabbing himself with his talon or accidentally biting the finger with his extra teeth. He throws his other hand up in a “What the fuck was that?” gesture.

Thing shrugs in manner that says, “Sorry. Had to be sure.” Then he signs something to Wednesday that Tyler can’t keep up with.

She considers what the hand has said for a second before responding, “It would appear that Faulkner’s list of methods for unlocking a Hyde was not as comprehensive as we believed.”

Thing looks to Tyler like he needs more information.

Tyler understands what Wednesday is implying as the cause for his transformation. He stares back at Thing, makes a circle with the claws on his thumb and fingers of his left hand, then repeatedly thrusts the claw on the pointer finger of his right hand into and out of the circle.

Thing slaps the mattress in an expression of amusement.

Wednesday stares blankly at her two mute companions. “You juveniles apparently need a minute to get this out of your systems.” She grabs her clothes from where they are strewn across the floor and stomps into the bathroom.

Thing immediately gives him a questioning tip of the wrist that asks, “So did you really?”

Tyler’s only response is to extend a giant clenched fist. Thing bumps it with respect.

Wednesday emerges fully clothed from the bathroom a few seconds later. “Are we all ready to investigate this like adults?”

Tyler hangs his head and Thing crouches down slightly, the pair of them looking appropriately contrite.

“I suppose we should start by determining if we are in any potential danger.” Wednesday looks at Tyler. “Is the Hyde trying to gain any level of control?”

He thinks about it for a second. Nope. Still not a peep from the Hyde. It doesn’t give a crap that Tyler is using its body for once. He shakes his head.

“That is another mystery worthy of investigation on its own.” Wednesday looks at him with unanswered questions burning in her eyes. “But for now we should focus on the almost literal elephant in the room.” After a moment of consideration, she asks, “Can you change back?”

Again, Tyler has to think about this. If there’s a way to trigger the change, he doesn’t know it. Thinking “change back” and clenching his muscles does nothing except make him look constipated. That’s all he’s got. He was never the one to trigger the change in either direction. That had always been the Hyde, lurking just under the surface, waiting for its chance to take over. All he ever had to do was stop trying to hold it back. It did everything else, ceding his body back when it was done with its tasks. With a huff, he shakes his head again.

“What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed in this form before?”

That one he knows the answer to. He flashes one then two claws then taps at his wrist where a watch would go.

“One to two hours?” Wednesday confirms.

He nods.

“So it’s likely that you’ll change back at some point in the near future.” She looks away from him and casually adds, “Once you do, we will have to test if this is a repeatable phenomenon.”

Tyler perks up at what she’s insinuating. Before he realizes it, he’s making the monster purring sound again.

Wednesday turns and gives him a startled look.

He silences the almost involuntary noise and looks away bashfully.

Thing waves to get their attention. They might be getting distracted, but the hand still has questions. He points to Wednesday, pantomimes putting a key in a lock and opening it, then points at Tyler. Then he points at Wednesday again and makes the cracking whip gesture Tyler recognizes from earlier.

Oh shit. The hand’s got a point.

Wednesday realizes it too. She looks at him and asks, “Could he be right? If this was a form of unlocking, does that mean that now I’m…” She’s too revolted to finish the thought.

Tyler has no idea and shrugs in response. There’s only one way to find out. He extends a hand and flexes his claws, urging her to give him a command.

Wednesday hesitates, clearly disturbed by this turn of events.

It’s more comforting than Tyler could ever express to see Wednesday’s instinctual response. Her vision has let her fully understand what having a master means for him better than almost anyone else could. Instead of lusting over the subjugation and power she could have over him, she’s offended by it. The realization has him purring again.

“Stop that.” She groans at him.

He just keeps making the endearing noise. He realizes what that means before she does. Tyler lets the contented hum vibrate through his misshapen body even louder and presses his forehead into her chest.

“Restrain yourself.” She swats at him halfheartedly. When he makes no effort to move, she suddenly gets it. “Well. I suppose that answers that question.”

Tyler backs away a step and looks down at her with the monster version of his usual sappy grin.

“Unless, the commands need to be more specific or particularly violent.” She questions.

Tyler shakes his head. If she were his master, she would be able to control absolutely everything he did.

He remembers writhing on the floor in Laurel’s basement, trying to force air into lungs that wouldn’t obey him after he’d stopped the monster from killing Wednesday’s friend in the woods after the dance. Furious with him and terrified that he had somehow managed to deliberately defy her orders, Laurel had simply told him to “Stop breathing.” as punishment. She’d allowed him to inhale again only as he had started to lose consciousness. As a teaching moment, it had been fairly effective. She’d still shot him up with a bunch more chemicals as he had lain gasping on the cold concrete, to ensure his future compliance.

He’s relieved that he remains free of a master, but some little part of him does wonder what kinds of terrible fun they could have if Wednesday did have that level of control over his body in certain situations. His imagination starts to provide some interesting scenarios.

Suddenly Wednesday is snapping her fingers in front of his face and he turns his attention back to her. Apparently she had been talking while his mind had been wandering. Oops.

“As I was saying,” She glares at him, “There is very little known about Hydes. The evidence is entirely anecdotal with limited sample sizes. Most case reports are also abruptly truncated, owing to the subjects’ tendencies to kill the researchers mid-study.” Wednesday looks suspiciously at Tyler, then shakes her head. She’s locked in a small room with a Hyde in monster form and she’s probably never been in less danger in her life. Tyler realizes that she’s probably a little disappointed by that fact. “While Faulkner’s work gives more detail than most about the transformation and unlocking process, his data was gained primarily from the masters rather than the Hydes themselves, and that leaves a significant selection bias in the results. While he focused on the use of negative or adverse stimuli to create an emotional response that triggers the change, it seems entirely plausible that a positive reinforcement scenario could produce a similarly strong emotional response. Perhaps a less violent stimulus evokes a less violent change.”

Thing signs something at Wednesday that makes her look both contemplative and embarrassed. Tyler’s gotten better at interpreting the hand’s sign language over the last day, but sometimes he still can’t keep up with the shorthand, no pun intended, that he and Wednesday have. He looks at Wednesday questioningly.

“He agrees that the theory makes sense.”

Tyler suspects there’s more to it than that based on her response. He raises an eyebrow at her.

She sighs. “Fine. What he actually said was, ‘If torture gets you the Hyde, meaningful sex apparently gets you an overgrown Labradoodle.’”

Tyler slaps his hand at the spot on the bed where the hand is sitting and smirking. Thing easily dodges the blow by hopping to the side, but doesn’t see it coming when Tyler uses one of his oversized claws to flick him into the stack of pillows at the head of the bed.

It’s Tyler’s turn to smirk as the hand crawls out from amidst the pillows. Who’s the doodle now? Ass.

Wednesday chooses to ignore the altercation. “Honestly, we need more information before we can form any valid conclusions.” Wednesday seems to think of something and then looks to Tyler, “Your existence implies that we do, in fact, know someone that has firsthand experience with Hyde mating behaviors.”

He’s not following.

“It’s unfortunate that we can’t speak with your father without giving away your location or my involvement in your escape…”

Oh fuck no. Tyler throws his hands up over his ears and growls to block himself from hearing Wednesday casually discuss the fact that his parents had sex. Even worse is the thought of actually speaking to his father about it. Their version of the birds and the bees talk had occurred when he was thirteen. His dad had walked into his room, tossed a Playboy on his desk, and told him to figure it out for himself. Good talk. Tyler can't even imagine the kind of conversation Wednesday is suggesting.

Wednesday is glowering at him. When he tentatively removes his hands from his ears, she continues, “Believe me, I am intimately familiar with the depravity of parental coitus, but…”

Nope. Nope nope nopity nope. He clambers onto the bed and buries his head under the pile of pillows as best he can in this form.

Eventually Wednesday pulls away one of the pillows he has been attempting to cram into his ear canal. “You’re being quite dramatic.”

He gives her a solid side eye as he calmly plucks the pillow from her grasp and puts it back over his head.

“Fine.” He hears her muffled voice concede.

Tyler chances looking out from under his makeshift earmuffs.

She’s shaking her head at him as she re-situates the sheets on the bed from the giant tangle they’d become after everything that had happened. “We’ll continue this conversation when we have the opportunity for it to be a bit more two sided.”

He rolls onto his side to look at her better. He’s surprised to see her start crawling under the covers next to him.

“We really should get some sleep. We still have a lot of road to cover tomorrow.” She lies flat on her back under the covers and crosses her arm over her chest. “Thing, the lights.”

The hand scampers up onto the table by the wall and hits the light switch. The room is bathed in darkness again as he crawls and hops his way back to the foot of the bed.

Tyler tries to get comfortable, but it’s difficult in this form. Creaky motel beds weren’t designed with Hyde physiology in mind. He’s trying not to disturb Wednesday, but his size makes every movement jostle the mattress like a trampoline. No matter what he does, he just can’t get settled enough to relax. He flops onto his side, facing Wednesday and tries closing his eyes. All of a sudden he feels a tug on his arm and a warm body is pressed against his chest.

“Will you settle down already?” Wednesday huffs at him as she drapes his protuberant arm over her torso and molds the back of her body against the front of his.

And just like that, he is completely at ease. He curls around her protectively and nuzzles his face against the top of her head. In this form all his senses are heightened. The usual vague scent of her shampoo now fills his nose with its unique herbal tang. As expected, there’s no hint of sickeningly sweet flowers or fruit in the formulation. It combines with whatever distinct but indescribable smell that he just recognizes as her. His pounding heart nearly skips a beat as he realizes that amidst the familiar bouquet, he can smell himself on her from earlier. Dammit, he’s doing that purring thing again. This body that he’s apparently now got some sort of time-share arrangement on definitely has some quirks.

He focuses on the tiny patter that he feels against his chest radiating from Wednesday’s pulse. It’s slow and steady, rhythmic proof that she does in fact have a heart, no matter how much she tries to deny it. She’s lying unguarded in the clutches of a monster known in general for being violently unpredictable and in this particular case, one that has even tried to squeeze the life from her with the same hand now curled around her. Her somnolent heart rate and palpably low blood pressure confirm that she’s not the least bit afraid of her situation. The awareness of the trust she’s placed in him helps him finally drift to sleep.

Chapter Text

Tyler wakes up naked yet again. And for once, he’s actually pretty thrilled about that fact. He’s back in his normal body and what had caused him to wake up is Wednesday’s hand slowly gliding over the flesh of his lower abdomen and continuing on her way toward the part of his anatomy that has apparently already been awake for a while.

“Good morning.” He mumbles into her hair.

Her roving hand immediately freezes in place and she stiffens, the proverbial kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“By all means. Don’t let me stop you.” He grins as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake. I was concerned I’d started to develop a taste for necrophilia.” She deadpans at him.

He chuckles as he leans in to kiss her. A few seconds into the kiss, her hand reaches its previous destination and he can’t stop himself from moaning into her mouth. He starts pulling at her clothing as she teases him mercilessly. He’s got her half undressed before he realizes that he’s forgotten about something rather important. He pulls back from her and sits up to look around the room.

“Your BFF took a walk.” She smirks at him, knowing exactly what had disturbed him. “Left a little while ago. Said to find him when we are ready to leave.”

Damn he owes that hand.

With no further distractions, he buries his face in her neck, nipping and sucking anywhere he can put his mouth. Wednesday gives as good as she gets, and it’s not long before they are rigorously applying the scientific method to her hypotheses about what triggered his previous transformation.

This time Tyler manages to last eighteen whole minutes. He might have checked the small clock on the nightstand to be sure. Overall he’s pretty proud of his encore performance, and Wednesday certainly seems to have enjoyed herself, if her blood curdling screams were any indication. He’d never expected macabre sarcastic banter during sex to be a thing, but he’s pretty sure he never wants to do it any other way ever again. And as an added bonus, he didn’t shift into a hideous monster afterward. Tyler has only been awake for about half an hour, but he’s already fairly certain this is the best day of his life.

Tyler’s pleasantly surprised to find that Wednesday, while not exactly cuddly, does not insist on immediately getting up once the deed is done. He’s not sure if she’s just taking some time to collect herself, or if she actually enjoys the feeling of being pinned between his dead weight and the mattress. Either way, he has no problem spending a few minutes draped over her in a satisfied haze, feeling her heart beat against his chest as their bodies come down from their exertions. Eventually she shifts beneath him and he rolls off her to the side.

She sits up and not so subtly wipes her inner thigh with the bed sheet before standing. In their attempts to determine if he might transform again, his withdrawal had been even more of a close call than the previous time. Yeah… they probably need to address the condom issue today at some point. He does not want to think about what Thing’s reaction to that particular purchase will be.

“I’m going to take another shower.” Wednesday announces while giving Tyler a look that insinuates that this fact is entirely his fault.

“Ok.” Tyler sheepishly replies as he tries not to stare at her naked body walking across the room.

He hears her let a deep breath out through her nose. “Are you going to join me, or not?”

He nearly trips himself on the tangled bed sheets as he scrambles to get out of the bed and catch up to her. By the time he gets to the bathroom, she’s got the shower on and warming up while she undoes her braids. Tyler can’t help himself and has to run his hands through her long loose hair. He leans down to catch her lips and grabs a fist full of the black strands, pulling her face even more forcefully against his. She breaks the kiss to lead him into the shower. The water is scalding hot, but that’s fine with him. He pulls her whole body against his and the sensation of wet skin on skin has him ready to go again in seconds. One of the few benefits of being a seventeen year old male, he supposes.

Having sex in a shower is much more technically difficult than internet porn has led Tyler to believe, and their significant height discrepancy does not help matters. They eventually figure out that it works best if she wraps her legs around his hips and he pins her against the back wall of the shower. They’re just starting to get the hang if it when Wednesday suddenly goes still.

She taps his shoulder, suggesting he should look behind him. “We have an audience.”

Confused and concerned, Tyler turns his head quickly, the movement almost making him slip on the slick tub floor. Through the clear plastic shower curtain, he can make out the larger of the two cockroaches from last night sitting on the edge of the sink staring in their direction, antennae twitching. Uncertain whether to be disgusted or amused, he groans, “I’m picking the motel tonight.”

Wednesday shrugs in agreement and pulls his face back around to kiss her.

A minute or two later, Tyler pauses raking her earlobe through his teeth to ask, “Is it still watching us?”

“No.” She answers after looking over his shoulder for a long moment.

Tyler lets out a relieved sigh and returns his attention to the patch of skin just behind her ear.

Apparently Wednesday hadn’t finished her reply, “The other one joined him and, if I am not mistaken, I believe they are currently engaged in the same activity we are.”

With that, Tyler’s already precarious footing gives out beneath him, and he barely manages to catch them before they crash to the shower floor.

“Maybe we should finish this later.” He finally admits as Wednesday gets her feet under her.

“That seems prudent.” Wednesday agrees.

They finish showering, dress, and pack up their few belongings without saying much. They can’t help sneaking sidelong glances at each other as they go through their morning routines, both of them looking away shyly when they get caught at it. It’s awkward and ridiculous, and the most wonderfully normal thing Tyler can remember experiencing. Not that he wants things to be normal all the time, he’s actually rather enthralled with the crazy turn his life has taken in the last 36 hours. But a few moments of not having to worry about the usual monsters and outcasts and fugitives and masters and trauma and killing is nice.

The morning outside their door is bright and crisp, causing Wednesday to sneer and put on her comically out of character sunglasses. Tyler takes one last look around the little motel room. Mostly he’s making sure they haven’t forgotten anything, but he’s also trying to commit the scene to his memory. It might be a disgusting, roach laden dump, but he’ll look back on this place fondly. He pulls on his tacky aviator sunglasses and announces, “I feel the need… the need for speed.”

“Then perhaps I should drive.” Wednesday takes the car keys from his hand as they put their bags in the back of the car.

Thing is sitting on the hood of the car when they walk back around to the doors. He’s leaning back, looking like he’s been lounging comfortably all morning waiting for them.

“Good morning, bud. Enjoy your walk?” Tyler smiles at him and extends his forearm for the appendage to climb up onto his shoulder.

Thing goes through a few exaggerated stretching motions, then scrambles up to his new favorite perch. They settle in the passenger seat and he taps Tyler’s shoulder. Once he has his attention, he makes the claw motion and raises a knuckle in question.

“Nope.” Tyler shrugs. He extends his arm and the hand skitters across it to his spot on the dash board.

Once settled, Thing crosses his fingers and rubs them against each other suggestively then tips his wrist in question.

The blush creeping up Tyler’s neck and cheeks is all the answer Thing needs, but he still responds, “Yup.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes at them for the eight millionth time. “I’m right here. Just because Thing can’t speak doesn’t mean I can’t hear the two of you.” She turns to face Thing specifically. “If you are that interested, we established that orgasm alone is not sufficient to trigger the transformation. Some sort of specific emotional or hormonal trigger must have also have contributed to that particular episode.”

Tyler gets it. It is uncomfortable when two people in the room discuss your sex life like you aren’t there.

Thing gesticulates a flurry of signs and Wednesday scoffs. Assuming that Tyler will want to know what was said, she emotionlessly reiterates the hand’s statement. “He’s concerned that if we need to continue with this line of experimentation, the Addams family manor will soon be overrun with a pack of juvenile psychic Hydes.”

Tyler laughs. That mental image is kind of cute. He also kind of cringes internally. He’s got enough to feel guilty about, an unwanted teen pregnancy and being an absentee father are not things he wants to add to that list.

“His concern is ridiculous.” Wednesday admonishes. “There is no indication that the monster form of a Hyde exists in anything other than the fully mature state. That actually ties into a hypothesis I have developed regarding why your experiences have been rather atypical.”

“Atypical?” Tyler asks.

Wednesday hesitates slightly, apparently considering how much to tell him or how to word her next statement. “Laurel relied on chemical inducements to control you far more heavily than is typical for Hydes. Despite this, you were still able to intentionally override her order to kill Eugene. Not to mention the fact that in the absence of a master, your Hyde has gone essentially dormant and allowed you to use its form rather than it overtaking you.”

“Oh. That.” Tyler grimaces.

Wednesday looks at him briefly before returning her attention back to the road. “May I be blunt?”

“Wait. You mean we’ve had conversations where you actually think you weren’t being blunt?” He grins at her.

She sighs in annoyance. “Do you want to hear my theory or not?”

“Please continue.” He restrains his teasing smile.

“You were too young to be unlocked. You still are far too young by Hyde standards.” She keeps her eyes on the road as she makes the announcement.

“Well, thank you for making everything feel even more gross and creepy.”

Wednesday pushes on, “It is a well-established fact that the human brain’s prefrontal cortex, the center for rational thought, is not fully developed until roughly age twenty-five. Until that maturation is nearly complete, thought is processed through the amygdala, which is more emotion based.”

“Which is why teenagers are emotional idiots that do stupid things.” Tyler shrugs. “Apparently our shared court ordered therapist liked to give the same lectures to all her patients.” He suddenly feels a stab of guilt that he has to intentionally force out of his mind.

Wednesday nods curtly before continuing, “Most Hydes I have found reference to begin experiencing manifestations of the alternative persona in their mid-twenties and are unlocked in their late twenties to early thirties. Combine that with the fact that, after unlocking, the master’s commands override all rational thought, and it is a reasonable conclusion that the prefrontal cortex is the neurologic seat of the Hyde’s influence.”

“You think the Hyde lives in the part of my brain that’s not fully developed yet?”

“A gross oversimplification, but generally yes. That is my assumption.” Wednesday confirms. “It would also explain why the Hyde has become inactive in the absence of a master forcing it to emerge.”

“So maybe I don’t have to worry about going insane without a master?” It’s the first thing Tyler’s had to feel optimistic about since learning what he is.

“Unlocking an immature Hyde is entirely without precedent. I suspect the results will be highly unpredictable and largely based on the individual’s psychology.” Wednesday shrugs.

Thing also shrugs from his spot on the dashboard.

“You’re saying it depends on me. That should end well.” Tyler groans in self-deprecation.

“You have a rather unique opportunity.” Wednesday sounds thoughtful. “Unlike most hosts, you have the chance to learn to control the Hyde’s physical manifestation without him attempting to wrest control from you. If managed correctly, it should provide you with a significant advantage when the Hyde personality has matured.”

“Do you really think I could end up being able to control it?”

“It seems possible.” Wednesday is clearly intrigued. “There are a number of situations I would be interested to see your responses to.”

“Why do you sound like a child that’s just been given a new toy you can’t wait to test out?” The grin on his face is almost infectious.

Wednesday turns to look at him briefly. Her eyes meet his, then suggestively track down his body and back up before she gives a noncommittal shrug and turns her eyes back to the road.

Shiiiit. The thought of Wednesday putting him through his paces in human and monster form has Tyler suddenly yearning to finish what they had started in the shower.

He is pulled from his very dirty thoughts by Thing making some emphatic gestures toward the cell phone in the center console. Tyler starts to hand the device to the eager looking outstretched fingers, but then quickly pulls it back. “You remember our warning about the smooth jazz?” Tyler clarifies.

The hand scowls at him then nods.

Only then does Tyler hand over the phone.

Thing quickly goes about setting up his own playlist. Tyler instantly recognizes the spooky intro of the first song and laughs out loud. “Should have known you’d have a theme song.” He fist bumps his friend as Nick Cave’s classic, Red Right Hand, blares at full volume through the speakers. Even Wednesday smirks at the musical selection.

Chapter Text

The day’s drive is relatively uneventful. There’s nothing like driving nine hundred miles due south on I-95 to really bring the boredom. But, given the strange company, the long miles pass without becoming tedious. They tell stories about family, fight over control of the musical selection, discuss theories about the Hyde, muse over Wednesday’s inability to control her visions, guess at who will take up the vacant administrative positions in Jericho and at Nevermore, and animatedly debate the merits of different road trip snacks. Tyler’s assertions that they NEED to stop at South of the Border, a kitschy Mexican themed tourist trap just off the highway at the junction of North and South Carolina, is overruled.

Wednesday explains that there is not much room in their itinerary for sightseeing. She is scheduled to take the red eye flight from Miami International back to Newark the next night. The ruse that she had needed to spend the past few days in San Francisco with Enid, helping the werewolf deal with personal issues related to her first transformation and PTSD from the recent events, is flimsy at best. If she doesn’t return home via the same airline she left on three days ago, her parents will become even more suspicious. It had been a simple matter for Thing to fabricate a series of fictional text messages, supposedly from Enid, requesting her best friend’s emotional support during her period of crisis. Her parents had been skeptical, but were so excited at the prospect of Wednesday actually developing a close friendship, that they were willing to overlook the inconsistencies in the story. All that had been required was to book a flight that connected through Logan International Airport in Boston. She simply left the plane during that layover, made her way to the long term parking lot, and illegally availed herself of their inconspicuous getaway vehicle. It was a relatively short drive to Jericho from there. The trickiest part had been timing her arrival at the location on the winding road out of town with the exact moment her vision had shown her that Tyler would arrive at the spot.

“Wait. Text messages? Since when do you have a phone?” Tyler questions as Wednesday describes her bout of subterfuge. Yes, that was the shocking part of this whole elaborate and well executed plan.

It gets very quiet in the car all of a sudden, and even Thing is evading making eye contact.

Eventually Wednesday offers an answer. “The insipid device was forced upon me at the time of my departure from Nevermore.”

Thing glares at her and taps his fingers judgmentally on the console.

“Fine. Xavier gave it to me.” She admits, clearly uncomfortable.

And suddenly Tyler feels like he’s back in the alley behind the police station talking about the Rave’n and signals and priorities. Then she looks over at him, and he can tell that she is embarrassed, possibly even nervous about how he will react. The knot in his gut unravels, as he realizes that after last night, he knows exactly where her priorities lay and her signals are now crystal clear. Also, what idiot thinks he’s going to win over Wednesday Addams with an expensive gift? With a cell phone of all things. Has Xavier ever actually spoken to Wednesday? What a tool.

“Are you currently using it as a paper weight or a door stop?” Tyler smirks.

“The screen dimensions lend it to function as an excellent coaster for my morning cup of espresso.” She seems to relax at the realization that he’s not upset.

The conversation casually turns to what type of fast food they want for lunch.

During one of their regularly scheduled pit stops, Wednesday pumps the gas and Tyler jogs over to the CVS next door to the gas station. He hadn’t realized that Thing had tagged along in his back pack until he feels the appendage squirming to get out while he stands frozen like a deer in headlights in the middle of the pharmacy’s aisle of awkwardness. The hand is clearly unbothered by the wide array of condoms, lubricants, feminine hygiene products, yeast infection treatments, and adult diapers lining the shelves around them as he climbs out of the bag and hops over to the shelf. Tyler stares at the brightly colored boxes of prophylactics and feels his anxiety ratchet up a few notches as he attempts to determine if Wednesday might have some preference for ultra thin, or ribbed, or… flavored? Then a package hits him in the chest. He catches it and notices Thing shaking with laughter as he reads the label “Extra Slim for Smaller Sizes”.

“Very funny, asshole.” Tyler snaps at him and tosses the package back at the hand.

Thing replaces the box on the shelf then scampers along, looking very proud of himself for the joke.

Tyler grabs the hand and shoves him back in his bag. Then he just picks a random package of regular condoms and heads to the cashier before he can put too much more thought into the purchase and psyche himself out entirely. Buying condoms is making him think about using the condoms, and there’s still a fairly long stretch of road to cover before they have any time for that.

…..

“Come on.” Tyler whines. “It’s the happiest place on Earth.” They elect to stop for the night once they reach Titusville, Florida. Realizing they are not far from Orlando, Tyler has begun suggesting they take a trip to Disney World.

“What about that statement makes you believe I would have any interest in visiting such a place?” Wednesday gives him a raised eyebrow.

“Good point.” He concedes.

“I’m far more interested in finding a secluded locale where we can use our time together to help you develop control over the alternative form you can now access.” Wednesday admits as they carry their things into their hotel room. This time they elected for something a bit more modern and a lot cleaner. They also sprung for a suite so that Thing doesn’t have to spend the night in the car or out on a walk while they utilize the bedroom.

Tyler drops their bags on the bed and steps into her personal space. He’s close enough that he can feel the minimal heat of her body but he isn’t actually touching her anywhere as he leans down and teasingly whispers in her ear, “You just want to have sex on the beach, don’t you?”

“Where else would you imagine we would experiment after your transformation? In here we’d likely damage the furnishings.” Her voice is deadly serious.

Tyler starts suddenly choking on air. She wants to… with him like that… Is that even possible? Shit. Maybe he should have bought some of those Magnum XLs.

“Tyler, I’m joking.” She admits with a nearly imperceptible uptick at the corner of her mouth.

He manages to start breathing normally again.

“Unless that’s something you are particularly interested in exploring.” She looks up at him through her long lashes and dark bangs, her face the picture of innocence. Like she hasn’t just suggested the most insane and depraved thing he’s ever heard.

He closes the tiny gap between their bodies, wraps his arms around her, lifts her off her feet and essentially tackles her onto the bed.

Thing closes the door and makes himself comfortable on the couch in the living room area with the TV on and the volume turned up high enough to mostly drown out the noises coming from the bedroom.

It’s over forty-five minutes later when the pair eventually saunter into the kitchenette area and start discussing options for where they can actually go test out Tyler’s transformation abilities.

Thing joins them with the smart phone in hand. He pulls up Google maps and teases the screen until the nearby Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge is centered on the view.

“Excellent work, Thing. That should serve our purposes.” Wednesday praises the hand.

“But that area’s just supposed to be for protecting wildlife.” Tyler questions.

Wednesday shrugs. “Hydes are an endangered species.”

Tyler gives in without much fight.

…..

It’s just Wednesday and Tyler in the car as they park at a public boat ramp that doesn’t seem to see much use, especially after dark. Thing has decided to stay back at the hotel and avoid the abrasive beach sand and awful humidity they are sure to encounter on this outdoor outing. They hike along the shore line for about half a mile, until they are well ensconced in the off limits wilderness of the refuge. In the far distance across the bay they can make out the heavily illuminated structures of the Cape Canaveral’s rocket launch pads.

“Uh, Wednesday, are you noticing something weird about this water?” Tyler points out as they drop their supplies near the tree line along the narrow stretch of beach.

Wednesday looks at the faint blue glow illuminating from the water whenever the small waves crash onto the shore. “Bioluminescent dinoflagellates.”  She answers.

“Gesundheit.” Tyler responds.

“No.” She scowls at him and walks over to the water’s edge. She drags a finger through the water and a trail of eerie turquoise glow follows the digit. “The water here is filled with microorganisms that emit light in response to being agitated. It’s the only location in the United States where these creatures thrive. Typically they are not present in such numbers at this time of year. Yet another indication of global warming.”

“Or aliens.” Tyler doesn’t sound convinced. “You can’t tell me that the only place in the country where the water glows like we’re in that Avatar movie is around the spot where they launch space shuttles, and aliens aren’t involved.” He cautiously pokes the water and marvels at the resultant illumination. He splashes his hand a little more aggressively in the water and the light is even brighter. “So, anything moving in the water makes it glow?”

Wednesday’s eye roll is audible in her voice, “You want to have sex in the glowing water, don’t you.”

He cringes at the fact that he is so transparent, but then decides to just own it. “You don’t?”

“It could definitely be an interesting endeavor.” She remarks. “Especially since this bay is also known to be teaming with bull sharks.”

Tyler retracts his hand from the water so quickly he lands backward on his ass in the wet sand and scuttles away from the waves.

Wednesday is smirking down at him when he bumps into her legs. “Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand.”

“Right.” He agrees as he stands and dusts himself off. “Figuring out how to transform into the monster. Here we go.” He looks around aimlessly for a few seconds. “Yeah. I’ve got nuthin.”

“If you want to survive as a Hyde with no master, you are going to have to figure this out.” She chides him.

“I don’t know where to start.” He shrugs.

Wednesday spreads a blanket out on the ground and takes a seat, motioning for Tyler to do the same. Once he has joined her, she looks him square in the eyes. “We know almost all outcast abilities have some root in emotions. That is the best place to start. However, if we are to have any chance of success, it will require you to be completely truthful. Not just with me, but with yourself. Given your past, some of this may prove to be quite uncomfortable for you.”

He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. She’s right. He knows what they are going to have to explore, and it is not going to be pleasant.

“Know that I will not judge you for anything you divulge.” Her face looks as impassive as usual, but there is something in her eyes as she says it. She means it.

“Ok. What do you want to know?” He rests his chin on his knees and looks at her.

“Let’s start with the physical aspects of the transformation.” She pulls a familiar book from her bag along with a small flashlight. Thumbing through pages, she opens Faulkner’s diary to the section on Hydes. “The anatomic changes are well documented – humeral and antebrachial elongation, muscular hypertrophy, thoracolumbar kyphosis, etc. But what does it feel like?”

“Usually it feels like someone is ripping every joint in my body out of its socket and cracking every bone in my chest and arms while they peel my skin off.” He admits.

Wednesday’s eyebrow quirks up. “You said usually. Are there times when it doesn’t hurt?”

“Last night. I didn’t even realize it had happened.”

“What were you thinking about at the time?” She asks.

He raises an eyebrow at her.

“I mean very specifically. At that exact moment.” She clarifies.

“Nothing.” Off her annoyed look he continues, “Like literally nothing. I just kind of let go, mind went blank, that kind of thing.”

 “Were there any other times that were not excruciatingly painful?”

“Some I don’t remember, so I don’t know about those. But that night during the Harvest Festival… in the woods… That was the first time I was still kind of there. I don’t remember feeling anything then.”

Wednesday’s brows pull slightly closer together, as if a theory is starting to take shape in her mind. “Was there anything else special about that transformation?”

He takes a few deep breaths before exhaling the words, “I wanted it.”

Wednesday is silent, but her eyes tell him to give up more.

“I saw what that kid was doing to you. I wanted him to hurt more than I knew I could make happen like this.” Tyler nods at his body. “I didn’t remember anything from the kills before that, but I had pieced it together, knew what I was. I gave the monster control and it let me watch.”

Still Wednesday says nothing, but he sees her breath hitch in her chest and hears the small flutter in her exhalation once she does breathe again. He’s worried that despite her promise not to judge him, she’s scared or disgusted by his admission. Then she licks her lips, chewing on the bottom one slightly as she continues to stare straight through him. Right. He should have known better.

“Were there times that it was particularly painful for you?” She seems to be choosing her words before continuing, “The night of the blood moon… You were rather vocal as you transformed.”

“Yeah.” He admits. “That was bad. Part of me was fighting that really hard. For obvious reasons.” He gives a self-deprecating snort with the last part. “That night at the Gates mansion wasn’t fun either.”

She hesitates. “Tell me about the first time.”

His arms grip his legs tighter, his body trying to fold in on itself. The air outside is eighty degrees and over ninety percent humidity, but he starts to shiver. “That was the worst.” He hesitates to go on.

She scoots over so that she is sitting next to him, their sides just grazing each other. It doesn’t seem like much, but he recognizes how meaningful the gesture is coming from her.

“I had been in the cave for three or four days. Everything was a jumbled mess. She had injected me with so many things… so many times… I lost count. She had this… cattle prod.” He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the memory. “I couldn’t do anything. I was chained to the wall. There was just so much pain. I just wanted it to end, would have done anything for it to end. Then it got worse.” His eyes are glazed over and he is staring at nothing in the distance. “I woke up naked, blood everywhere, still chained to the wall, part of a dead deer near the entrance to the cave, and Laurel was standing over me, petting me and talking like I was some kind of dog that had just done a trick.”

“Tyler, get naked.”

“Not really in the mood now.” He looks at her, a little offended.

She shifts her gaze very pointedly to where his hands are gripping his knees. His nails have extended into talons and the flesh of his hands and forearms is becoming grey and bulging.

“Oh!” He jolts himself up into a standing position. His hands return to their usual size.

Wednesday stands and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You’re ready. Unless you want to tear your new clothes to shreds, I suggest you take them off.”

“I still don’t know what I’m doing.” He lets her pull his shirt off over his head then he starts unbuttoning his jeans.

“It all ties into my theory about the frontal cortex and the amygdala.” She folds his shirt and places it on the blanket where she had been sitting. “Your emotions control the Hyde. More precisely, they suppress it. When you let go intentionally or get completely overwhelmed, it allows the monster to take over.” He looks like he is going to interject, so she continues. “The more you fight, the more painful it is.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” He tosses his jeans and boxers on top of his folded shirt.

She shrugs. “Let go of any emotions. Try logically wanting to change.”

He closes his eyes and concentrates. Nothing happens.

“If you want to control it, you need to embrace it. Disregard any feelings you have about the monster – any resentment or fear. Picture it like a tool you can use, a weapon you can pick up and discard as needed.” If anyone should know about dismissing emotions, it’s Wednesday Addams.

She’s right. He is having a hard time separating from all the pain and trauma he associates with the Hyde. But the monster is not the one that made him do those horrible things. Like Wednesday said, it’s just a tool. A tool that someone else has been wielding for too long. Now it’s his turn.

He looks down at Wednesday. Way down. She smirks up at him. “Nicely done.”

His eyes glance at himself, confirming that he has transformed into the beast. He smirks back at her.

“Let’s see what you can do.” It’s the most excited he has ever seen her.

It does something to him knowing that he brings her that much exhilaration. And now he’s purring again.

 “We already know you can do that.” She rolls her eyes at him. “Go test your speed and strength. Figure out your limits.”

If she insists. He darts off, running along the beach, kicking up a spray of fluorescent blue water with every stride of his giant feet in the surf. He kind of hopes a bull shark decides to try something while he’s like this. On his way back, he darts through the trees. He jumps up and slaps at branches more than fifteen feet from the ground, slicing them to mulch. His claws cut gouges six inches deep into tree trunks. This kind of power is intoxicating. He forces himself to slow to a walk, then halts. With a deep breath and very willful intent, he shifts painlessly back into human form. After taking a moment to congratulate himself, he takes off at a jog that turns to a run, which shifts into a gallop on all four monstrous limbs without missing a stride. He spots Wednesday standing where he’d left her a few minutes before. She sees him coming and looks utterly amused. That’s until she realizes that he’s barreling toward her at full speed, tongue hanging out of his grinning maw and flapping in the breeze, no indication that he is going to slow down or stop. He launches himself at her from almost ten feet away. Mid-air he encircles her in his oversized arms and protectively pulls her against his chest as they crash to the ground. The momentum of the heavy beast sends the pair rolling through at least four full revolutions before they come to a stop in the sand, Tyler fully human and naked on top of her.

“I’m pleased to see you have honed your transforming skills, but this demonstration was a bit excessive.” She sounds displeased, but Tyler instantly notices that she’s content in his embrace and making no attempts to escape the dead weight of him lying on top of her.

He leans down to kiss her and she eagerly returns the affection. When they pull apart he grins down at her. “So, are we going to have sex in the shark infested magic glowing alien water, or not?”

…..

The next day they cruise down A1A along Ft. Lauderdale beach with the windows open. It’s not quite the same as their admittedly shared fantasy of cruising the strip in that gothic classic convertible at night, but the breeze carries the smell of salt and decaying seaweed and they can hear the waves crashing on the beach to their left. Tyler is driving with his left arm draped over the open window frame, the sun cooking his exposed skin and the sea breeze blowing his hair back out of his face. He could get used to south Florida at this rate.

He hears a noise from the passenger seat that almost sounds like… a laugh? He turns to see Wednesday biting her fist to keep from laughing. Thing is holding up the phone, showing her something on the screen.

“What?” Tyler can’t imagine what could possibly have caused such a reaction from her. They pull up to a stop light and Thing turns the phone so he can see the news story reported by the associated press: Florida Man, Arrested for Selling Bath Salts, Claims to Have Photographed a Chupacabra Attacking a Girl Near Cape Canaveral. Below is a blurred and pixelated photo that if you squint just right is still an indistinct blob. But they all recognize that it is actually him and Wednesday on that apparently not so secluded beach.

“Who are they calling a Chupacabra?!?!” Tyler’s indignation at the misclassification sends Wednesday over the edge and Thing drops the phone to start slapping at the center console in an uncontrollable fit of hysterics.

…..

The mood in the car has been getting progressively more somber since they stopped for lunch. This is it. It’s the last leg of their road trip. They are all saliently aware that when this epic journey ends, Tyler will be left in a swamp, while Wednesday and Thing will return to their previous lives. She’s still right next to him, but the impending sixteen hundred mile separation is already making Tyler feel lonely. He knows that whatever this is between them is more than capable of surviving as a long distance relationship. He doesn’t like the idea of being so far away from Wednesday, but obsessive devotion is literally coded in his DNA and Wednesday’s reverence for loyalty puts most blood oaths to shame. They will be fine. But he’s really going to miss having her in his bed at night.

Tyler doesn’t want to think about how long it will be before he gets to spend another night holding her, buried in her, just feeling her body against his. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t really going to miss the sex, but it’s more than that. He wants to be there when she latches onto her next big mystery, because of course she will. Trouble follows her like a shadow. He wishes he could be there to see the excitement in her eyes as she finds a new clue, to protect her when she goes rushing headlong toward danger without giving a thought to her own safety, to be able to assist her instead of being ordered to distract her, to help her plot her intricate revenge schemes. He wants to be her partner in crime, because if this road trip is any indication, there’s definitely going to be crime. Instead he’ll be helping her uncle do way less fun crime and entrusting that Thing and Enid, and those other Nevermore kids they hang around, including Xavier Thorpe, will have her back. This sucks.

“You look exceedingly distressed.” Wednesday, as usual, seems to be reading his mind. He hadn’t even noticed her take her eyes off the road to evaluate his mental state. “What’s troubling you?”

“I think it’s just really sinking in how things are going to change for me today.” He shrugs.

“I wonder sometimes…” Her voice is cautious, “Would you prefer that we had not met?”

“Never.” His response is instant.

She ignores him and continues, “I have often considered what our lives would be like had you not been working that first time I entered the Weathervane. After my vision, seeing what Laurel did to you in retaliation for how you felt about me… seeing the pain you are feeling now… Would you be better off if you did not care about me?”

He laughs at her insecurity. Apparently he’s not the only one worried about their imminent parting. “I knew you were going to wreck my whole world from the second I handed you that tri-winged screw driver.”

“So you do regret…”

He cuts her off, “My world… where I was at that exact moment you showed up… it needed to burn, and you showed up like a flame thrower... Yeah, it got a lot more complicated after Laurel realized there was something going on with us. But having something to care about… something worth fighting for… that saved me.”

Wednesday focuses on her driving and purses her mouth into a thin tight line. Discussion of emotions is clearly making her uncomfortable.

“Do you regret us?” He asks, suddenly a little concerned.

She snorts. “As you once pointed out to me, I rather immediately developed a near-total obsession with the monster prowling the woods between Jericho and Nevermore. My only regret is that it took me so long to realize it was you.”

“Hey, I tried to drop hints when I could.” His face looks like that of a guilty Golden Retriever.

“I should have realized that the fact that I felt an attraction to you was a clue rather than distraction.”

“Yeah, I kept waiting for you to admit that you’d known all along.” He grins at her then leans in to whisper into her ear, “I mean, I couldn’t see you being interested in some boring normie, no matter how clearly irresistible I was. Figured you knew something was up.”

“Clearly irresistible.” Wednesday deadpans. “That’s what you call that?”

“It worked didn’t it?” He lets his lips ghost over her ear as he says it.

She swats at him. “Distracted driving causes approximately thirty five hundred deaths per year.”

“That not how you want to go out?” Tyler teases as he places a hand on her leg and starts sliding it suggestively toward the upper part of her inner thigh.

She grabs his hand and begins twisting his fingers into uncomfortable positions. “I refuse to have my death lumped in with those of idiots that can’t tear themselves away from their phones for the span of a seven minute commute.”

“Fine.” Tyler pouts as he sits in the passenger seat very clearly keeping his hands to himself. Suddenly he feels the car shift lanes and looks up to find that Wednesday is taking the exit for a rest stop. She pulls into a parking spot at one of those rest areas that are basically a large parking lot with a bathroom and a vending machine. It’s nearly deserted at this time of day.

Wednesday says nothing as she unbuckles her seat belt and starts to open the car door.

“Bathroom break?” Tyler questions the unplanned stop.

She gives him the look. “I said not while I was driving. I’m not driving anymore.”

Oh. OH! Tyler is scrambling out of the car to follow her fast enough that he gets hung up on the seat belt.

She just shakes her head at him as she starts walking toward the small concrete building.

Yup. They are totally going to do it in some nasty truck stop bathroom. This feels like the intro to at least a dozen bad horror movies. Which is probably what has piqued Wednesday’s interest in the adventure. As always, Tyler is more than willing to just follow along.

He catches up and trails her to the door leading to one of the unoccupied unisex bathrooms. They enter and the smell is only about half as bad as Tyler was expecting. Which still isn’t great. He’s hesitant to touch any surface in the small lavatory, but then the door shuts behind him and Wednesday shoves him up against it. She locks it with one hand while reaching for the button of his jeans with the other.

Her mouth is on his as he tries to mumble, “I’m not complaining, but what brought this on?”

“Want you… one more time.” She says between kisses and nips she trails down his neck.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” He whispers into her ear before grabbing her hips. She tugs his pants and boxers half way down his thighs before he pulls her against him. He pushes off the door and backs her up until she hits the sink. The industrial countertop looks clean enough, so he lifts her to sit on it. Their mouths and tongues collide as she fishes in a pocket and pulls out a small foil package. She removes her other hand from where it had been pulling on the curls at the base of his skull to tear the packet open. Despite the setting, he’s fully aroused as she reaches down and sets about applying the condom. He uses the opportunity to lift her skirt and pull her underwear down to her ankles. Their tasks both completed, he pushes her knees apart and steps up to her. She clamps her thighs around his hips as he pushes into her. She’s looking up at him, her eyes unblinking, her lips still on his, as they share this most intimate goodbye.

It’s been the same thing since the moment he first laid eyes on her. Their eyes meet and nothing else matters. Everyone around them, whatever their surroundings, even the voices that had been in his head, it all just fades away until it’s just him and her.

Tyler might be feeling like an emotional sap at the moment, but he still knows what Wednesday likes. There is an air of desperation to the act, but they are still playfully biting each other, clawing, and tugging on anything they can. They both know this will be the last time they do this for a while, and it is a bit of a shame that the setting doesn’t allow for anything particularly adventurous. It takes a good deal of effort, but eventually Wednesday directs Tyler through exactly what she needs him to do for her to finish. His orgasm quickly follows hers.

They are exhausted and the bathroom’s pitiful excuse for air conditioning can barely temper the Florida heat and humidity on a good day. The excess body heat from their exertions have turned the restroom into a sauna. Tyler’s legs feel like jelly, and he’s leaning against Wednesday, letting her and the counter support him. Sweat is dripping from his forehead where it is pressed against hers. Eventually their heavy breathing calms and Wednesday breaks the silence, “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them sound like they really mean it, but they pull their clothes back into place and head back to the car.

Thing has awakened from his cat nap in the back seat. He glances back and forth between them and wags his wrist in a “What am I supposed to do with you two?” gesture.

It’s only another thirty minutes of driving before they arrive at the entrance to Everglades National Park. A few detours away from the more heavily touristed areas eventually lead them to a sketchy looking log cabin next to a marina. This is apparently not Wednesday’s first time visiting this creepy convenience store full of shellacked alligator heads and a variety of squirming live fishing bait options. She secures a rental of an airboat for the afternoon, and the guy running the marina has no qualms about handing over the keys to the flat aluminum skiff with the giant enclosed prop engine on the back.

“You actually know how to drive one of these things?” Tyler questions.

“It is the only reliable means of reaching Uncle Fester’s cabin this early in the season. He taught me during a visit once when I was seven.” Wednesday grins at him as they toss his bags into the open space between benches. She climbs up into the elevated driver’s platform at the back. “If you enjoyed my driving as we fled Jericho, then you will find this even more exhilarating.”

His voice is drowned out by her firing up the large spinning turbine engine. “Wait. What? No. I did not enjoy that.” She pulls away from the dock and the boat fishtails a bit in each direction before rocketing forward under full power. Tyler is slammed down onto the seat by the acceleration and the gale force wind created by their speed sends Thing airborne. Tyler catches him before he can be sucked into the giant rotating blades powering the boat.

They haven’t had to travel for more than five minutes before Tyler gets his first look at the apex predators he’ll be hunting along-side. A massive bull gator at least fifteen feet from nose to tail is sunning itself on a patch of raised earth extending out of the murky swamp on the far side of the shallow waterway. A few yards away, three smaller alligators are clustered at the water’s edge. They pay the speeding boat no mind, clearly convinced of their place at the top of the food chain.

“They really do taste like chicken.” Wednesday yells over the noise of the engine when she catches him eyeing his new neighbors.

They speed through canals and estuaries for the better part of an hour. The landscape is a bleak and uninviting expanse of reedy grass and dark colored water, but also kind of beautiful in an understated way. Thing is clinging to Tyler’s forearm, and he is gripping anything he can as Wednesday drifts the boat around sharp bends in the waterway and powers through meandering canals barely wider than the boat itself at top speed.

They coast around a bend in the river and the waterway shrinks to a small path overshadowed by a forest of slash pine and cypress. Wednesday slows the engine and after some tricky maneuvering, they emerge into an open bay with an amazing view of open water and a sea of sawgrass. Off to one side on a raised spit of land sits an enormous cypress log cabin. Tyler’s jaw drops as they approach and beach the airboat. He had expected some creepy shack. This looks like it could be straight out of some high end travel influencer’s Instagram.

“Your uncle lives here?” Tyler surveys the peaked tin roof, huge windows overlooking the private bay, and the wrap around porch. It’s all darkly stained logs and natural stone.

“I’m sure the accommodations are not what you were expecting.” Wednesday shakes her head. “I apologize that you’ll be forced to live like this. Fester has always been the black sheep of the family. His aesthetic choices are consistently… unusual.”

“I think I’ll manage.” His sarcasm is overshadowed by his amazement.

Just then Fester comes barging through the screen door and onto the porch. “Wednesday! You made it!” He throws his arms out in excitement and then darts down the few stairs and over to where they are starting to unload Tyler’s few bags of possessions out of the boat. The path he takes to approach them is not a straight line and looks as if he is intentionally avoiding certain areas of the yard.

Wednesday catches Tyler’s questioning look at her relative’s approach. “There are land mines.”

Of course there are. Tyler shakes his head.

“And this must be the Hyde.” Fester looks him over excitedly. “Hey! I remember you!”

“It’s, uh, nice to see you again.” Tyler stammers.

“You too, young fella.” Fester claps him on the shoulder.

“Thank you for agreeing to help me. I promise I’m not a danger to you or anybody anymore.” Tyler tries to push the horrible awkwardness of this situation aside.

“Are you sure?” Fester smiles. It only makes him seem creepier. “It would be a lot more fun if you were.”

“I informed you about the situation when we spoke a few days ago.” Wednesday addresses her uncle very seriously.

Fester huffs. “Yes, yes. Poor thing doesn’t have a master any more. Not even the slightest residual desire to go rampage and dismember people. Terrible shame.”

“You two are definitely related.” Tyler mumbles under his breath. Then he remembers something and rummages through his bag of supplies. “I wanted to show my gratitude for everything you are doing for me. I know it’s not much, but…” He holds out a bottle of generic brand ketchup.

Fester’s eyes light up. “See Wednesday. What did I tell you? This one’s a keeper.” He eagerly takes the bottle and holds it like a sommelier would inspect a bottle of fine wine. “I hear this is an excellent vintage. It should pair nicely with the wild boar gumbo I’ve got on the stove right now. You and Thing are staying for dinner, aren’t you?” He addresses the last part to Wednesday.

“Regrettably, I must decline, as I have a flight to catch.” Wednesday informs her uncle.

“I still don’t know why you want to keep this from your parents.” He questions. “They would likely be more than happy to assist in this little adventure.”

“Plausible deniability.” Wednesday answers. “Given the recent history, our family will almost certainly be questioned to determine if we have any knowledge about Tyler’s escape or whereabouts. You’ve seen what happens when my father attempts to lie.”

“Ugh, that winking thing he does. Dead giveaway every time.” Fester sympathizes. “I can’t argue with your reasoning.”

“So you will keep this between us?” Wednesday confirms.

He pantomimes zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.

She nods. “As always, I appreciate your discretion.”

As Wednesday and Fester discuss plans for some upcoming family reunion, Tyler feels a tug on the leg of his pants. It’s Thing, sitting on the raised edge of the boat, trying to get his attention. He looks sad. Tyler sits on the ledge next to the depressed hand.

“’Sup buddy?”

Thing points at Tyler then waves as if saying goodbye.

Tyler sighs. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Thing scoots over so that he’s leaning against Tyler’s leg.

Tyler reaches down at pats the hand. “I can’t imagine how this trip would have gone if you hadn’t been here.” They sit quietly for a minute before Tyler speaks up again. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any real friends, let alone an actual best friend.” He glances down at the hand. The appendage looks up at him in surprise. “What? You think I’d talk about me and Wednesday with just anyone?”

The hand does his best to hug the side of Tyler’s leg. Tyler rests his hand on Thing’s wrist. It’s the best way he can figure to return the gesture.

“Should I be jealous?” They hadn’t heard Wednesday’s approach.

Tyler scoffs. “You? Jealous? Wednesday Addams, are you implying that you might actually experience an emotion?”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me goodbye.”

Laughing, he pats Thing one last time then stands. He closes the distance between him and Wednesday in two short steps. His eyes lock onto hers and he pulls her to him. Their lips meet and all his concerns fade away. There’s no worrying about what’s to come or how long it will be until they are together again. It’s just the two of them in that moment. It lasts indefinitely and not nearly long enough.

They break the kiss, but he keeps her pulled tightly against him. “What am I going to do without you?” He rests his cheek against the top of top of her head with a sigh.

“Masturbate frequently.” She deadpans.

He laughs. “You probably aren’t wrong, but not what I was talking about.”

“You’ll be fine. You once told me that you were tougher than I thought. Perhaps you should apply your own warning to yourself.” She steps back out of his embrace and gives him a small but honest smile that reaches all the way to the depths of her eyes. “Goodbye Tyler.”

Tyler tries to smile back, but ends up pawing at his face, hoping he can play off the moisture welling up in his eyes as the effect of blowing sand. “Bye Wednesday.”

“Aw, cheer up, kid. It’s not like we don’t have a crystal ball around here. You two lovebirds can chat all you want every night.” Fester attempts to console Tyler by draping an arm around his shoulder.

Fester gives Wednesday an enthusiastic wave goodbye as she steps back from the pair. Tyler tries to smile as he gives a more subdued wave, but the bit of concern he’s feeling about being in her weird uncle’s grip shows through. He realizes that he probably looks as awkward and confused as the day they met. Not the best final image for her to remember him by, but considering everything they’ve been through, it could be a lot worse.

She takes a moment to commit the scene to memory, then turns around and climbs onto the airboat. The engine starts and she speeds away without a backward glance.

Chapter Text

2 years later

“We are legally adults now and this is our last spring break as roomies. We need to do something epic.”

Wednesday gives Enid an annoyed side eye.

“Ooh. We should take a road trip! Go somewhere fun.” She grimaces at the ice still crusting the panes of their dorm room’s big window. “And warm.”

Wednesday suddenly appears more interested in this conversation. “I hear Miami Beach is considered a prime location for vernal inebriation and debauchery.” 

“You want to go to Miami Beach for spring break?”

“Perhaps your influence over these years has convinced me that I should take part in some traditional adolescent rights of passage.” Enid doesn’t seem convinced, so she adds, “I may also have a personal matter that I could attend to in that general vicinity.”

Enid’s eyes go wide. “O! M! G! You want to go down to Florida to meet up with a guy!” Not waiting for Wednesday’s confirmation or denial, she continues, “That’s it! I can tell. You need to tell me everything.” She grabs Wednesday’s arm and steers her toward her bed so they can sit and discuss this revelation.

Wednesday immediately extracts herself from her roommate’s surprisingly strong grip and balks at sitting down to discuss boys.

Enid pouts, but recovers quickly. “Would this mystery boy happen to be the same one you’ve been having crystal ball conversations with late at night when you think I’m asleep?”

“If I say yes, will you stop invading my privacy?”

Enid’s squeal nearly penetrates Wednesday’s ear drums. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need more details. No judgement, I promise. It’s just, I’m so happy to see that you put yourself out there. After everything that happened with Tyler Sophomore year, I was worried you were never going to let anyone else get close to you again.”

Wednesday is certain that her face remained perfectly emotionless and unchanged as her roommate spoke. But Enid’s gaze abruptly hyperfocuses on Wednesday and her expression goes from glee to shock.

“You didn’t let anyone else in, did you?” She looks equal parts scandalized and ecstatic. “I knew it! The increased sightings all over social media of a giant hairless chupacabra roaming the Everglades and fighting crime in Miami. I knew the description sounded too familiar.”

“Fighting crime is a blatant exaggeration.” Wednesday sighs. “He systematically dismantled one human trafficking ring he found operating through the Everglades. He needed a hobby.” She grins wickedly. “But do be sure to bring up the chupacabra description when we see him.”

“Oh…” Enid shakes an angry finger at Wednesday’s face. “You have got some serious explaining to do.”

“Then you should get packing.” Wednesday grabs the empty duffel bag from Enid’s bed and shoves it at her. “I’ll tell you everything once we’re on the road. It’s a long drive to Miami.”

The End…