Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jersey wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

Rather, it felt overly saturated. She’d spent enough of her time here: this coast, this State, this city, that house. It served her well enough in her time there, enough to  rear her ugly head into a society that she’s not even necessarily fond of. For the most part anyhow.

She can admit to something like sentiment for her kinfolk or formidable allies she’s made in her journey. Peers, or what have you that still try to contact her well after graduating from institutions she’d prefer to remember even less. She chose not to pursue higher education for a reason—the real passion came in trades, or crafts that came from word of mouth like tales. Her family had told her plenty when she was coming up.

No, she preferred to throw herself further into her investigative work as it tended to find her. Not always in well spirits, (though, was she ever?) but they dug her out of her dwellings soon enough. Her visions had only come to expand the older she’s gotten. She didn’t think something like college was a necessity when she had such clear hindsight.

Give or take a few bloody mistakes.

She didn’t go keeling backwards anymore every time she had a premonition, or saw another’s demise. Granted, she’s only blessed with such wretched visions every blue moon nowadays. In garnering more control, it made the ‘randomness’ of her black outs no longer a factor. She specialized in her ability to find stories in objects—in cold hard evidence. Bloodstained and/or not.

Recently she’d switched coasts—her intention being to reside somewhere just as dreary if not more than her hometown. And, of course, her personal space.

“But just remember—we’re always a crystal ball away my little storm cloud…” Her father crooned, cupping her face like she’s still a child. Right before she took the last of her things down to the hearse to prepare for her move.

She had sneered at the sentiment and pried his grubby hands off.

She’d miss things like the unknown browned stain that was most likely blood or bile on her bedroom ceiling. Or the nightly ventures she’d take in House’s dungeon to hear the moans and tragic cries from the spirits yet to cross over. But, never her family—she already had their DNA coursing through her veins. This kinship that deemed them ‘worthy’ to bombard her peace and quiet.

Pugsley gifted her the bent baseball bat they’d used to hit fire crackers and scare travelers in the woods. Pubert, ever the over achiever, had given her a bear rusty bear trap he’d ‘found somewhere’ while exploring the perimeter. Suffice to say, they aren’t the least appealing things that sit on her mantle.

Oregon was a compromise. Far away from her demons, not nearly as populated or hot as California or Arizona, but dreary and rainy this Spring. If not even more so than her home—the rain and frequent storms were like music when her fingers were distracted with her writing.

More of a passion project nowadays. After graduating and going full throttle into her own investigations, a majority of her writing was battling with the ‘legality’ of her profession. Because, first and foremost she is not a cop. The US justice system left entirely too much to be desired for her to adhere to such.

Thats why she has her own private investigative office. Just her and Thing, she had been mulling over cold cases for the better half of her early 20s. Turning the drinking age only gave her something to wash down the more garish crime scenes she uncovered.

But that was Jersey. The law was entirely too familiar with not only her, but her family name. The Addams were known in Jersey.

On the West coast, there were other outcasts. Other families and pockets that she’s too proud to mingle with. She’s aware the state is familiar with things like serial killings and dead ends. And she would much rather be dealing with them.

Not these insignificant domestic cases because someone had made her ‘Ad accessible.’

“Thank you so, so much miss!” A young brown skinned girl holds a fluffy white cat that looks just as enthused as Wednesday. “I never would’ve found Mr. Flufflekins without your help.”

Wednesday feels the corner of her eye twitch, hearing such a humiliating and degrading name. An apex predator buried in such a small body, reduced to such…such fluff.

She sniffs, eyes going to the two accompanying adults and the blinding smile from a child with half her teeth missing. Suddenly, she missed her mother asking too many questions about what she’s doing.

“Don’t mention it. Genuinely,” Wednesday replies with arms crossed. She nods at two sheepish parents before walking back to her office space. She usually left Thing with the burden of ‘goodbye, have a horrid day.’

The building was two stories, tucked between a corner store and one of those places that repair phones. She lives upstairs out of practicality, along with her habit of never truly leaving her work at work. Theres a ceiling fan whirring, keeping it a crisp below 70 degrees. Her steps are easy, but with a culprit in mind.

She finds him inside her office rather than the lobby. He tended to stay away from those he thought scared easily. Even though this was entirely his fault—still he twiddles his fingers about as he flips through Cosmo, radio going in the background.

“I hope your satisfied with yourself—though you certainly look it,” Wednesday condescended as she rounds the desk. She shuts off the music roughly, “This is entirely your fault.”

The limb looks confused, off put then genuinely offended. Wednesday only narrows her eyes.

“That God foresaken Advertisement you put online!” The seer growls through gritted teeth. “I went from solving decades old cold cases and illegally examining remains to rescuing….Mr. Fluff-and-overfed.”

Her lip curls with disgust at her situation. She moved to create more opportunities for her criminal investigations. She could’ve been going over the Zodiac Killer’s cyphers, but instead she was analyzing cat nipped filled toys all morning until she saw a familiar landmark in her visions.

Thing tries to be what he believes to be reassuring; he gestures softly, pleading with her.

“Its no matter if we’ve only been here a month,” Wednesday stubbornly retorts. “I’m well aware of my own skillset and even more so—my worth.”

Her time was precious to her. Speaking of, it was getting about that time; when she winds down for the day and types up her notes. Some of which still became short stories, especially the more gruesome cases that made it hard to sleep. Her mind mulling over each strand of DNA and every clue.

While Viper’s adventures came to a close, her personal ventures only just began. 

She waits for Thing to finish his spiel. His meaningless pitter patter that translated to nothing more than drivel about her ‘wellbeing’ or how not every case has to be bloody. That maybe it felt good to put a smile on a little girl’s face—tuh. Thats what roadkill was for; when she was little girl the only pets she had were dead and on her make shift autopsy table.

Well, aside from Kitty Cat…but she hardly tended to his litter box. That was a Pugsley and/or Pubert chore.

“Yes, yes…I’m sure it was very fulfilling for the little cretin.” Wednesday waves him off, going to grab the paper she’d half read that morning. “A better lesson would’ve been in keeping a proper eye on things you don’t want to go missing. A shock collar for starters.”

She says it very pointedly, making the hand gesture tiredly. Like he’s over her for the evening too. He drags his magazine with him as he throws in the metaphorical towel, likely heading up to her apartment space.

“Don’t wait up,” She absently tosses to the slighted limb. She sits at her desk with her newspaper rolled up, waiting for Thing to leave entirely before she rolls her eyes to herself and sighs.

She should probably eat something. She spent a majority of her evening chasing the ungrateful furball up a tree. And subsequently shaking a bag of treats at the stump for an undisclosed (for her pride and sanity) amount of time until it was enticed to come down. In her mind she’d seen the little thing scared—too high up and looking down at herself.

She felt the pitiful thing shivering, days having passed of needing to burrow away from the rain. Desperate and lost without a hand to aid it.

Such malleable creatures…so weak, She thinks to herself.

☾

When she does finally drag herself away from her work, its after rifling through police reports she probably shouldn’t. While she’s not in-tune with the vapid intricacies of social media, she has become more adept at using the computer. If not only to have a leg up on the surveillance state she lived in.

She preferred her crystal ball of course and she has found that in the grander scheme of things that magic and technology do in fact coincide. A little charm here and there for luck and she can see just about anything she wants, passwords and encryption be damned.

A majority of what she’d been viewing all evening was meaningless to her. The main focus of the local branches being lower class individuals and breaking up student protests, when there were actual things that needed solving. She’s deciding whether or not she wants to look through the police archives again when she notices that putrid ad. Leave it to the insolent hand to have his bases covered.

Apparently he’d been advertising her ‘services’ much more than she thought.

She had no real interest in assisting others. She didn’t do this for other people to benefit. If she wanted to ‘help’ people she would’ve taken Alchemy class more seriously; or perfected her lobotomy technique. Regardless, it was placing a damper on her more important investigations.

—

*beeeeep* “Um, hello, my name is—-and I could really use your help…”

Or, 

Subject: Re: Craigslist Ad

Good afternoon,

My name is —— and I saw the ad you put up the other day offering your private investigator services and was wondering about…

—

Wednesday could no longer stand it. She’s not running an operation of petty observation. She’s not a care in the world about the whereabouts of the father of another’s children…why on Earth would she? Certainly its not hard to install tracking devices nowadays.

Her visions were glimpses into man made horrors beyond her wildest dreams—it was reality that could not be escaped. Rescuing a cat from a tree was practically insulting to herself at this point.

She brings in a pile of mail that promptly gets left on a console that sits by the door. She kept her taxidermy squirrel in the electric chair at her entrance right next to it. She doesn’t see Thing, figuring he must have retired to his hole for the evening; maybe he never even came up and he was sulking elsewhere.

I hope he doesn’t expect an apology, Wednesday thinks to herself with faux amusement.

She doesn’t feel particularly peckish, but she does have a glass of something stiff before she finally crosses her arms and lays her head to rest. As always in anticipation of her final.

And the morning, its stale on her tongue.

When her eyes shoot open; she never blinks awake, or finds herself well rested and stretching her limbs. Its always abrupt, her body raising like an awfully lively corpse in need of caffeine lest she lay back at her wake. Thankfully, she had her own espresso machine—nothing too expensive, but enough for her prudent tastes. Pretentious even, as her younger brothers like to call her.

Pugsley could drink one of those frozen abominations, drenched in chocolate and sugar from one of those fast food establishments. She sipped it before only to have her lips purse and her gag reflex tested.

She shivers to herself like a spirit had passed through her body at the memory. She much prefers to ritualistic actions of making her coffee every morning. She didn’t go out for things she could do better herself. Especially now that she no longer inhabited a dorm with no kitchen space. She doesn’t like to ponder her stint in Ophelia Hall often, (as it wasn’t even that long ago) but when she did it felt strange.

Thing called it nostalgia or sentiment. When he was bold he’d even insinuate that perhaps she ‘missed a certain someone.’

Wednesday preferred to forget just like the other schools she’d been subjected to. Regardless of if her classmates still tried to include her in things like ‘group chats’ and email chains. She ignored them as she was establishing herself.

Her work always came first. She’d been described as single minded and obsessive for good reason. Anyone that truly knew her understood that.

She has a bit extra ‘oomph’ in her tamping of her shot. Its a single slot machine, so she gets to do it twice. The first shot pours like rich syrup, the layers satisfying to her eyes enough to do the next. Both poured prompt over a glass of ice, melting water to cut some of the acidity and bitterness. She certainly wouldn’t be adding milk or sugar.

She takes a slice of toast with it, nearly black with the ghost of butter and a fair bit of arsenic spiked jam that her mother had made. Theres a tang to it that she enjoyed in tandem with the treat. She figured she earned that much, already dreading descending the steps and entering her office for another day of dodging petty requests.

She already noticed Thing still wasn’t back. She’d be worried but she’s seen him sulk up to a week before—she’d try to remember the top coat he likes next time she’s at the store. The key word being try, as she’s assed to do it at all.

She takes time to enjoy her silence. She liked the stillness of her early morning.

Mundane, perhaps, all things considered. And when she’s back down in her office she’s expecting much of the same. Though, today she finds that she’s already got a guest at the door before she can unlock the front. She doesn’t do walk-ins per say, but she knew Thing would be back sooner than later most likely.

And she’s correct—the second she opens the door to collect the paper and check the temperature—Thing is there when she opens the front door. Only, he’s not at all what catches her eye.

Rather, what’s strangely just above eye level.

“Howdy, old roomie,” Comes the ever cheery voice of her previous dorm mate. Blonde hair in a half bun, she almost looks shy, “Long time no see?”

Chapter Text

Thing likely ‘meant well.’

Thats what she’s often told, as the hand was just that, yes; he was also older than her Grandmama and parents’ ages combined. Surely, he must have some sort of ancient, effervescent knowledge that she’s not privy to. Surely, this elder vessel had her best interests in mind. 

She glared down at him like he may as well had damned her; in fact she’d probably prefer that.

“Now, I’m going to ask you a very easy, very obvious question…” She said as she cornered the limb. She had him against the wall, eyes boring into his trembling palm. “Why—“

A firm knock on the door of the closet she was stuffed in cuts her off.

“Is everything ok in there?”

A loaded question and one she’s not at all expecting from one Enid Sinclair. Rather, in this phase of her life, its strange to hear. Its eerily familiar and makes her think of the past—silly sentiment that she had long decided she was above.

“One moment!” She yells out, without leaving Thing from her sights. The hand twitched pitifully, probably wishing he could properly speak. She clicks her teeth, “I’ll only be a few seconds more.”

And Thing does value his remaining life. He tries fruitlessly, ranging from the cheeky implication that he had simply ‘run into’ her old roommate on the street; to some spun up malarky about ‘accidents’ or mere coincidence.

——

“Enid.” She’d uttered the name with wide eyes. Hadn’t said it in over a year now—at least not out loud.

Just as she’d stopped replying to texts altogether since she left Vermont. Stopped indulging things that weren’t her work.

Enid had tried—had fought tooth and nail, even when she did in fact break her cellular sometime in the last couple years. In a chase, she’d had no choice but to comprise it as she swam away. The damned things were expensive enough, she’d figured perhaps they could withstand her stake out.

Enid had been at the top of her notifications when she picked it up from the phone repair.

“So you haven’t forgotten me, then?” It was with a the corner of her mouth twitching up just so. Then those eyes, blue as the sky above she often cursed; they give her a once over. Its not judgemental—aside from the stint in pseudo-journalism the blonde had called her blog, Enid was never judgmental.

Wednesday clicked her teeth, as if the meaning of Enid’s words took that long to sink in.

“Don’t be foolish,” She dismissed. Her eyes rolled, if not only for an excuse to not face her properly. “As I’ve said before—fishing for compliments is unbecoming of you.”

Enid giggled at her, cheeky and telling of some silly memories she likely had of the two of them. Because some people missed the ‘friends’ they made high school.

The wolf had hands behind her back, pressed up on her toes and looked an awful lot like she wanted to do something foolish, like hug her. Enid knew better though, she always tried to respect that boundary. Physically restraining her limbs to keep the moment from spoiling too soon.

“I was at least expecting you to tell me my outfit was an ‘assault on your eyeballs.’ Or something like that…” The blonde teased with mimicked words that she’s probably said too many times to count. She grins, “I have this top in pink too.”

She did that thing she always did—when Enid would run hands down her torso like its meant to be tantalizing. Even though she knew good and well that the bright yellow crochet top was less appealing to her than a shot to the head would be. And that Wednesday never needed the flashy outfits to find her captivating. 

(Granted she never said that last part out loud…nor would she that day.) 

Wednesday huffed, something exasperated and breathy. Her arms cross, stubborn as the wolf was planted in her space. A much too common theme between the two of them, even (evidently) in adulthood.

“How did you find me?” She asked, clipped and with no more room for games.

Enid looked briefly taken aback, like she wasn’t the one out of place. She looks to Thing who was on her shoulder, sheepishly shrugging.

——

“Just what the hell are you playing at?” She spits at him, getting close enough that her breath is hot on his fingers. She’s half a mind to bite them or gnaw them to stubs.

A more firm knock raps against the closet door.

“Wednesday, you promised not to hurt him in there!”

The seer narrows her eyes into thin slits where nothing but her murderous intentions could be seen. And Thing continues to cower, having wedged himself under a metal shelf like a timid cat. She points at Thing with her nail tips, in place of the knife she should’ve packed in her boot. She made the mistake, apparently, of taking it out to polish later.

“You’re a very lucky, lucky, lucky limb…though perhaps you already knew that,” She jibes at his current state; that of being broken down into just a sentient hand. She raises from where she’d been crouched and wipes dust from her black pants. “I’m just about finished!”

She raises her voice to call back out to the vigilant wolf. Not that she had forgotten that part of her former roommate—no, she had always liked the excuse to be extra stealthy and learning to be feather light on her feet, like a killer. Lest she woke the slumbering girl during one of her late night escapades. Its simply been a while since she needed to be so thoughtful of her foot steps.

Or volume of her threats.

She emerges from the closet, squinting eyes at the light and the expectant look on Enid’s face. Hands on her hips like she’s authority to scold her or something.

“We talked about this…” The werewolf pouts, “He’s your family!”

It tickles her ears in familiarity. She feels a few years younger and much more naive. It makes her feel strange.

“Then he should know better to stay on my good side.” She crosses her arms and stubbornly doubles down. “I told him not to make that insipid advertisement in the first place. This was never meant to occur.”

She emphasized with her eyes flitting between the two of them. Then, she circles around the huffing blonde girl to head to her chair.

“If it means anything—I really liked it!” Enid garners her attention in form of a brow raising. The blonde clears her throat, “I totally figured it wasn’t you that wrote it though, since it was so inviting and all, but…you’ve done really well for yourself out here.”

Wednesday already knew that, though. She didn’t do anything with the intent of failing. The way Enid says it—it sounds awfully cozy. Like she wanted to know too. And that wasn’t going to happen.

Not again. Enid’s involvement in my endeavors always lead to, too much…her thoughts trail somewhere that has her jaw tensing.

“Just what exactly did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait for reply by my device?” She questioned, wishing this was as easy to push to the side. There wasn’t a mute button on Enid in person, she knew all too well.

“Oh, so your phone does work?” Comes the snark that she knew very well from the blonde too. Like any dog, there was a bit of bark to accompany the rest of the yipping.

Only, perhaps its not entirely unwarranted. There were more than a handful of texts from Enid that have gone unanswered. She got in habit of leaving it all up to Thing.

“Yes, and I’ve designated time to devote to the damned thing,” She defends herself thinly. She knows good and well she certainly does not look at it the ‘damned thing.’ Still, she retorts, “I’ve just been busy with establishing myself here. Its a far cry from Jersey—more than you’d know or understand.”

“Not like you’d let me try…” Enid murmurs it, but she doesn’t exactly look like she didn’t want Wednesday to hear it.

“Did you come here to make an attempt at scolding me? Truly?” The brunette questions next, sounding increasingly exasperated with the circumstance. She settles at her desk, sitting in her chair and eyeing Enid’s every move.

“Not entirely…. But, I mean I do have a proposition for you. Something I think you’ll be very interested in.” It’s spoken as she sauntered to her dark wood desk. Akin to after class, when she’d be leaning against it while Wednesday pretended she could still focus on her novel while Enid yapped about her day.

This lacked some of the more juvenile aspects of course, but her peace was no more in tact.

“Dare I ask to hear it, then?”

“I need your help—obviously,” Enid rolls eyes at herself. “And you’re the most analytical person I know. Almost to the point of it being invasive—“

“Depends on who you ask. I get the job done.” Though you’re hardly one to talk about invasive right about now, she thinks to herself.

She shrugs in withheld self satisfaction instead. Had she not been such a sleuth and left well enough alone, their old high school would’ve been torn to pieces by ancient pilgrim spirits.

And Enid knows this well, cracking another smile that looks way too fond for the subject matter. Palms on the desk and vibrating with all she was.

“Exactly! Thats why I need your help stalking someone,” Enid exclaims only to back track with a wince. “Or—I guess, maybe stalking sounds kinda bad…lets say tracking!”

Wednesday looks at her strangely, which isn’t something new between the two of them at all. The blonde doesn’t flinch or look off put by this, however.

“Excuse my stating of the obvious but aren’t you a werwolf?” The seer questions slowly. “A natural born hunter? A nose that could track unsuspecting prey for miles out?”

Each inquiry makes the wolf fidget. She backs away from the desk just so, body turning to the side as if it would hide away her trepidation. Her mouth working but not exactly talking, she sniffs and pokes her lip out before she sighs.

“Thats…kinda the problem,” Her blue eyes flit to nothing then back up to her. “The person I need info on is also a wolf. They would know I’m coming, if not for my scent then the fact that their nose is just as functional as mine.”

A mostly solid explanation, yes. However there were still too many holes for her to trust she wouldn’t fall through. And she’s never known Enid to be secretive—she liked her silly surprises or grand gestures, sure; countless birthday parties or holiday tokens of her ‘gratitude.’ But, never to lead her truly astray.

And Enid wasn’t a good liar by any means. Call it proximity, but Wednesday could tell something was off. Had known since the girl decided to show up unannounced.

“And why would a human messing about in wolf business look any less suspicious? I recall your kind being rather secretive when it comes to your customs and such.” She asks another thing, like setting out a bridge to the other side. Hopefully whatever the truth was, wasn’t far off.

But with how Enid’s still subtly uncomfortable, trying desperately to play coy even with her leg bouncing; perhaps thats asking for too much.

“Because, they won’t know who you are. And its less suspicious when its you.” The wolf says eventually, like it took a lot out of her to do so.

She’s tiring of this game very quickly. She placed her palms on the desk, leveling the wolf girl with a serious look. One that darting blue eyes try to avoid.

“You’re being uncharacteristically cryptic…” Wednesday calls out. Her head cocks, “Not that I’m not somewhat impressed at the amount you’re managing to withhold from me. However, if you truly want my assistance you’ll have to give me a bit more incentive, wolf.”

Enid inhales sharply, but doesn’t falter all too much aside from sucking her lips in for a moment. Like choosing her words best she can—like Wednesday couldn’t possibly handle whatever it was that vexed a werewolf much stronger than she.

“It’s…it’s really, really complicated,” Enid cringes at her own deflection. “And I wanna tell you everything…”

There’s a ‘but.’ A wordless thing.

“Surely you didn’t travel all this way just to gossip, actually—don’t answer that,” Wednesday sighs. “Regardless, while I have more patience towards you than I do with the average individual that comes into this office, I suggest you not continue to push it. My services are appointment only. No exceptions.”

“Aw, don’t I get a ‘totally saved your ass multiple times’ veto?” Enid’s almost smug with the implication. Though, the threats on her livelihood, followed by hulking wolf tracking her scent after being gone for a few too many hours was a scene she’s more than familiar.

In the right circumstances she could even admit its one she’s fond of.

Its with the memory of Enid’s blood covered maw that she starts scribbling on a piece of paper from her type writer. She certainly wasn’t doing this (whatever this was) today. But, she was far too intrigued by a mystery and indebted to this creature to say no.

(Another thing that hasn’t changed…it was always just a bit harder to say ‘no’ to Enid.)

“Tomorrow. This address,” Wednesday hands off the scrap paper. Enid slides it towards herself with pursed lips as she reads.

“Anything not to text back, mm?” The blonde rolls her eyes. “Fine, what time?”

Wednesday stares at her for a moment, as if there’s still some chance that perhaps she’s dreaming. A maladaptive day dream. Only, in glancing at the wall clock and back, the blonde wolf doesn’t disappear or shift.

Nor does the tone of disappointment.

“They open at 7—“

“Ew, thats so early,” Enid makes a face. Like she tried to sip on Wednesday’s espresso again.

“—Its best to strike at dawn. Surely, a predator such as yourself should know?”

“Full moon was last week, actually.” Enid murmurs, before relenting with a sigh. “Ugh, fine…you’re the only person that’s ever been able to get me up that early anyway.”

The blonde trails with an unspoken memory…or two. The most recent being a far more formal, more pleasant meeting. She recalls standing on the other side of their dorm, the one that had once been blocked off by mere duct tape and stubborn nerve.

Watching the wolf breathe softly, her cap and gown hung up outside of her closet. Blankets half on the ground and blue eyes shrouded in rest, after they’d been up for so much of the night before.

Reminiscing.

She doesn’t know why she lingered so long that day, before finally shaking Enid awake.

In the present, she finds herself wondering the same. And just as back then, its much easier to lift her nose and push it to back of her mind with a roll of her eyes.

“And its still just as concerning.”

Chapter Text

She expects Enid to be late. Its a quality her former roommate never seemed to grasp, the importance of being timely. It used to vex her to no end; Rather, she came to expect it. One could say she accepted a lot of things from Enid that (on anyone else) would normally piss her off.

Not that she wasn’t ever on time, of course.

Wednesday doesn’t think she’s ever seen such haste in an individual, as when the girl was battling on her phone for concert tickets. Or, any of the asinine ‘drops’ of over priced merchandise that came with being a fan of so many pieces of gimmicky pop culture and media. It was only rivaled by the couple of times the wolf had graced the door step of her family home.

“You expect me to be late to a literal ball?” Enid had scoffed upon arrival. In a gaudy pink gown with sparkling shoes and make up, she grinned.

In the present, things weren’t quite so simple. Nor were they meeting for pleasure; at least she doesn’t believe so. The unannounced visit had her more on edge than some of her most gruesome cases. 

Enid was a lot of things she didn’t and wouldn’t ever understand—this trepidatious thing was certainly not one of them. And while it could be argued that her personal narrow, yet exceedingly short view often didn’t include her so called ‘loved’ ones…she was genuinely lost.

Enid hadn’t given any indication that she would be visiting. Granted, they hadn’t seen each other in…a while. Give or take a year (or so) in person. Had she truly missed that much? The wolf tended to be rather dramatic, but something had her feeling uneasy.

“And you’re certain there’s nothing out of the ordinary? Nothing at all? I don’t believe she didn’t chat your thumb off walking all the way from the corner store.” Wednesday questions the hand she called a partner before her leave. Its about an hour til she’s meant to meet her old comrade.

Thing plays dumb, twiddling his fingers and pretending he cares about the morning paper. Gestures something akin to his own innocence that makes her eyes narrow more.

“You didn’t spend the whole time talking about her drive—there must have been something she was rambling on about? She was always quick to come to you first.” She tries again, but Thing gives her a look to the contrary. Because, while far fetched, it was technically on brand for the wolf. She huffs through her nose, “Whatever. Continue to prove where your true loyalties lie and see if she’ll take over your salary.”

An obvious bluff, but she’s not above it. Thing sticks to his guns, not a nail out of place as she interrogates him with her years of growing experience.

“Regardless—I’ll find out soon enough.” She concludes, not giving him satisfaction of her attempting to siphon him further. Instead she deflects, “Did you get those documents I asked you to?”

As punishment for weaseling his way into her life in ways she did not ask, she gave him a task better suited for his meddling fingers. The hand gives affirmation and taps to confirm what should be on her desk. A stack of some cold cases that had been neglected in the drawer of the ever incompetent police chief. She swears every branch of those pigs are the same—what are they even being paid for?

“Excellent,” Wednesday murmured between a sip of espresso. “Seems you’ve some worth in accompanying me across the country after all.”

Thing waves her off and implies something about ‘time’ and ‘stalling.’ She clicks her teeth.

“That would imply I have some kind of hesitation, aside from my work schedule being interrupted.” She adamantly denies any and all implication that Enid’s presence had to mean something; something other than a minor annoyance.

She doesn’t hate Enid by any means. As much as she teased the girl throughout their time together, she doesn’t think she could ever hate her. The close proximity spent together forged something like a ‘bond.’

And Wednesday doesn’t have ill will either, she just…got busy. Occupied with matters beyond the realm of maintenance of her so called ‘relationships.’

“Anything not to text back, mm?”

At the time she wanted to roll her eyes, something defensive creeping up her throat that almost escaped through her mouth. They’re not children anymore—though, its not like she had the gall, or time to lallygag on her phone back then either. Nor did she particularly want to. It was just less easy to avoid the dreaded notifications, beeps and vibrations when they were constantly in eye sight of the other.

Harder to ignore Enid, when she was but a few feet away, she remembers the duct tape again.

She especially doesn’t enjoy the sentiment laden thing she feels brewing at the thought of back then, either. She blames Enid and her ill advised attempts at surprising her. The asinine need to try to and garner a reaction out of her that wasn’t mere apathy.

Enid, Enid, Enid—always far too easy to blame her instead. Like a puppy who didn’t know any better.

“And no you will not be joining us, either.” Wednesday states very point blankly when the limb dares to follow her down the steps. At his indignation she only stares, “Are you quite finished? Your theatrics are ‘stalling’ me right now more than anything else.”

The hand makes a display of falling over, like he’s exasperated with her. Quickly, with looming threat of her tired sigh, he flips back over and drums up something about getting started with the new murder suspect board.

“Yes, that will be far better use of your time. Less annoying as well…” She mumbled the last bit to herself as she shrugs on her coat. A leather trench that went down to mid thigh, while her skirt fell below, down near her ankles. A stark white dress shirt tucked into the inky black material.

A thin, black bow tied around her neck completed the look. She felt fit for an early grave. And in a way she was visiting one; her ‘relationships’ built back at the academy were more or less like ghosts. Spirits lingering in her energy that hadn’t moved on. Clinging to something with a feeling, as if possessing a found object.

The last point of contact being Bianca attempting to invite her to some gathering to ‘celebrate’ their first year as adults post graduation.

Thing had seen the message and bugged her about it for weeks, before he finally found something better to do. That being assisting her with a serial stabbing in Jersey that she solved alone and with far more competency than the so-called homicide detectives. Suffice to say, the siren quickly gave up on trying to siphon her presence.

But, Enid knew no bounds. Rather, her former roommate had taken said indelible mark and spread the stain wherever she could.

The only person that could get a text back from Wednesday Addams with minimal groaning.

During class, between periods when they were separated. Wednesday had fount herself anticipating these messages on some days. Expecting them on others; had even allowed a FaceTime during her writing hour. Juvenile activities that took from her once hardened and precise schedule.

Distractions that she used to allow with naively open arms.

But, then they were no longer under the same roof. Not even the same state. Different obligations and circumstances that allowed an hour late response to turn into weeks. Which soon become 12 months out of a year. Or more.

She stopped feeling a type of way about leaving the wolf unanswered in justification of her actions. Literal justice, as each case had her nose deep in evidence. She didn’t have time to assuage Enid’s doubts. The ‘Are u mad at me?’ Or the ‘Did I do somethin wrong?’ She simply commanded Thing to cease in attempting to get her to respond.

The doubts were unwarranted. Its not like she could ever actually forget Enid. Just as she couldn’t stop a rainbow after the clouds she preferred begin to break with sunlight.

And that was the problem.

And Enid had to have known her well enough by now to understand that. Wednesday was deeply intelligent, but that did not occur with study—its with investigation that soon became obsession. That meant no room for distractions like friends or collegiate antics. While her abilities proved to aid in her endeavors in the past, Enid also had habit of derailing her.

Irrelevant things like her sleeping and eating habits. Working herself ‘too hard’, as if there was someone else that was going to solve things.

“Take care of yourself back home…”

She remembers when she would answer those prodding FaceTime calls. Back when their breaks were sanctioned and the wolf would be waiting back in their room to attempt to scold her into taking a break.

She was much more naive then. Yes, that's what she’s decided to call it.

The place she sent Enid was in walking distance. A fairly new business in a ‘developing’ area that was soon to be victim to even more acts of gentrification; at least they made decent coffee. When she didn’t feel particular enough to make it herself, or on days she found herself rushing.

It was quaint, with a very posh looking man that often took orders on slow days like today. Wednesday would truly do anything for a good coffee, but today she’s only using their location. Figured Enid would enjoy the atmosphere here versus the usual dive bar she liked to lurk in for leads.

They sold pastries they called ‘artisanal’ but still looked way too sweet for her taste. She remembered seeing a muffin the wolf would probably like the last time she’d been by. Full of berries that were said to be organic, yet topped with cinnamon and sugar. She opts for a plain croissant, if not only to have a reason to be sitting alone indefinitely and not be bothered.

People do change with age, however. They grow in the same ways they stay same.

“Good morning! I’m doing well, how are you?” Wednesday hears the werewolf’s sugary sweet pleasantries before seeing her.

The equally gaudy pastel of the pale blue puffy coat and tote bag slung over her shoulder with tiny all too happy cartoonish animals. Her hair half up, falling a bit lower past her shoulders. The way she still did her make up in a way that made her cheeks glow against the brightness of her eyes.

(A distraction indeed.)

Just as quickly as her eyes scan the wolf in subtle admiration, she receives it back ten fold. Enid didn’t do subtlety; the wolf perks up, ignoring the cashier entirely to wave at her before she’s apologizing at the clearing of his throat. Wednesday narrows her eyes at the balding man, but finds herself simultaneously grateful for the moment to prepare herself.

(As if that’s something she could ever do with someone like Enid.)

“So…” Its drawled with a grin pulling at the corners of glossy lips. “How was the rest of your night? You slept terribly, I hope?”

For a moment its all too familiar. To be sitting across from Enid while she pries about her day. Winking at her when she managed a quip. Only thing missing was an annoying vampire and her tolerable girlfriend.

“Fine,” Wednesday answered shortly. Then, with roll of her eyes, “Thing made himself useful and brought me some important things I need for my latest investigation.”

“Anytime for me to squeeze in there?” The blonde questioned coyly, only to bite her lip in Wednesday’s silence. She drums fingers onto the table, “Look…I promised I’d tell you more about things.”

“Cutting to the chase so soon?” Wednesday pulls no punches, “What changed?”

Enid sips on her iced matcha. Then her fingers are plucking at a muffin; Wednesday had felt something oddly smug at the how well she knew the girl. Even if presently they felt further apart than not. With Enid looking so genuinely hesitant to talk to Wednesday of all people.

The seer finds herself suddenly not so eager to run back to her desk and start combing through all of Thing’s findings.

“Sitting on it alone for another night, honestly,” Enid blows out a humorless laugh. “And well…you know my mom, she’s—…she can be kinda…”

The words trail sheepishly, but Wednesday’s already scowling at the thought of the elder werewolf.

“Incredibly vapid, yet somehow holds an equal amount of self importance?” Wednesday finished the sentence for her. She had met the woman a handful of times and while not all unpleasant they more often than not left Enid out of sorts.

Even now, the youngest Sinclair tears at the edges of the muffin wrapper as she thinks of her mother.

“I was going to say intense, but more or less—“ Enid cringes to herself, pulling a face. She falls back in her seat, “Selene’s sake, I don’t even know where to begin. Did you…did you really not read any of my messages?”

Its with shimmering eyes so vulnerable she remembers just how easy she had started folding to these whims. Why she had started to distance herself and why that became so crucial.

“I was busy solving nearly every cold case in Jersey,” Wednesday defends herself. “I couldn’t—rather I had no room for distractions.”

Enid scoffs, eyes flashing a brilliant blue. The wolf was no more pleased with her either it seemed.

“I put my phone on DND to study for the weekend—you haven’t talked to me directly in a whole year.” She blows bitter air from her nose, “And I still had to book an appointment.”

You also turned up unannounced, insisting yourself into my life—again. She wants to be petty. An immature part of herself that she could’ve sworn she left across the country urged for it. Instead she steels her expression, not letting the one person who slept beside her see her tells.

Even if that in and of itself was one.

“One you’re wasting dwelling on that insipid device,” Wednesday retorted. Its in stubbornness towards something she doesn’t know anymore, but regardless its the wrong thing to do.

Enid growls, enough that a few heads turn. Enough that it makes her pulse race.

“Well maybe if you looked at your stupid ‘device’ once in and while you’d know I’m engaged!”

Wednesday blinks.

A stilted movement that accompanied her inhale. Her lips drawn taut to stop herself from saying too much in the wrong place; her eyes dart to the now irritated looking owner/cashier glancing in their direction at the commotion. She imagined such admissions would typically be welcome here under much different circumstances.

Far different circumstances.

“Perhaps its best we discuss this in my office after all.”

Chapter Text

If you squint, perhaps theres some type of correlation.

Once upon a time. At this very hour, many years ago, but still in arms reach. Under the same sun, breaking past the moon.

“Marriage?” She had scoffed, standing in her black graduation gown. Enid was adjusting the hat so her braids could sit comfortably under. She only ever let Enid touch her hair.

Only ever really let Enid touch her in general.

And the wolf was so soft that day, as if she was afraid her breaths alone would’ve pulled strands from the roots.

“My brothers were all engaged by their first year of college,” It was with a shrug. Enid tended to do that with her mom and her whims. Ever since she had ‘proven herself’ those fateful few years ago—Esther Sinclair treated her daughter like a doll, or more accurately her puppet. Enid could do little other than stand it, “Its not as weird as you think. A little bit dated maybe, but—“

“Extremely so. You’ve still your whole life ahead of you,” Wednesday had stubbornly interrupted. Then, softer when she noticed the way Enid shrank, “Why do you even listen to her? She obviously needs you more than you need to adhere to these silly, ancient obligations.”

There was a time where she remembered Enid’s disappointment at the lack of inclusion in ‘wolf business.’ When her mother wasn’t giving her s crash course in what was apparently, the natural order of things.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, I guess. You know I love love—I actually kinda miss Yoko and Divina letting me help plan dates.” Enid rolls her eyes fondly, “Even if being a third wheel got old pretty quick.” 

It didn’t get much further than that at the time. The subject was shifted, almost like the wolf had intended so. Knowing how good the girl held such a gift of gab, she probably did. Just as she always shut Wednesday down when she tried to bring logic into werewolf ideology.

Enid would never betray her pack. Not after working so hard to gain their acceptance.

Wednesday merely learned to swallow: her tongue, her feelings, (and hardest of all) her thoughts and opinions. Besides…once they split and Enid went back to California to attend college, it became easier. Much, much easier.

Without seeing those baby blue eyes, those glossy lips that spoke her name with the farthest thing from damnation. She couldn’t process with these hindrances. She needed to be alone.

To compartmentalize.

Worrying over someone who didn’t want it…it was the biggest distraction of them all. It was much easier to dissect bodies; to watch them fall apart in her place. To pick at literal bones, vs. the one she truly cared about.

The only one she couldn’t lay to rest.

Her hair was a bit longer nowadays. So was Enid’s. She felt like pulling it all out. She felt like an empty vessel, walking beside the apparent ‘bride to be.’

“I can drive us,” Enid offers, once they gather their things and silently head out the door. The blonde’s smile was tight as she half heartedly shouted ‘have a nice day!’ on the way out.

After they had sat in near painful silence after her outburst of a revelation. Their ‘client meeting’ coming to an abrupt pause as the veil got thinner. Soft cafe’ music playing indie hits atop her pounding heart. Her jaw clenched so tight she feared she’d break her teeth.

It was best to leave. She didn’t want to deal with this privately, let alone publicly.

Wednesday doesn’t say anything. Just raised a brow in question; not one of the ones she needed answers to, but one much more easy. Enid shrugs her shoulders, drawing attention to the neck she’d been covering with her clothing.

It felt awful convenient to show up this time of year, with excuse to wear layers.

Internally, she could admit she had been sneaking glances. Pretending to look at decorations or the light fixtures instead of asking; her eyes greedily trace every surface she can, (her neck, her wrists, her fingers) ever since she had learned—

“I know you hate driving,” Enid solved the smallest mystery between them currently. The awkward standing in the small parking lot. The werewolf holds her hands behind her back, “You were always spoiled like that. And I need to move my car anyways.”

It’s teasing, but it rolls off her shoulders like white noise. She can’t be expected to trade back and forth conversation like nothing’s changed, when a very important thing apparently had.

Not that it should matter, She tries to convince herself with reason. She’s here as a client. We’re not children anymore.

Because, nothing was ever meant to stay the same.

Except for the small tan Honda, littered with bumper stickers that Enid still owned.

”I made sure to clear out the seat for you,” Enid mentions as she rounded to the drivers side. Wednesday lets her hands linger atop the door.

She remembers getting an excited FaceTime from the dealership at the time. One of their soon to be last exchanges, actually. She had nearly been late to her stakeout that evening. One of the final nails in the coffin that was her waning commitment to her life’s cause.

Enid had wanted her to visit and go with her, back then. She was firm in her need to be in Jersey for the time being.

She had to force herself off the phone that day. Often found herself having to do so, when the blonde beckoned for her time. Her decision was made that day, but in haste. Perhaps so much so, that even she missed a clue.

Perhaps she had bid goodbye, only to leave her to his care.

Had she been talking to him then? Was he merely somewhere out of frame? Had she been too preoccupied with herself to notice?

“Did you come all the way here just to hand me my invitation?” Wednesday asks after a stint of silence, willing her mind back to the present. She’s obviously taken aback to some extent—though she’s not expecting the trace of venom in her own tone.

Almost like she can’t control it. Hm.

“I thought I was propositioning you?” Enid replies easily, but its nervous. Its with a smile thats not humored and eery silence in the car.

Wednesday suddenly can’t stand the lack of noise. No irritating pop music on the radio, or endless chatter from the driver. Just tapping fingers on the wheel like she’s waiting for the address she should already know.

Not like she didn’t practically stalk her location.

“The wedding,” Wednesday says it like a reminder. As if she herself had been privy, though her words become increasingly bitter. She crosses her arms in her seat, barely facing the werewolf, “The ‘big day’…it must be soon, isn’t it? Thats why you’ve barreled into my place of business unannounced.”

Enid has audacity to scoff at her. It nearly sets her off, but the blonde is shaking her head as if she’s been the one rendered incredulous.

“For such a brilliant, successful detective—you can be so…” She sighs out a humorless laugh as she parks the car. With her hand on the clutch, she kills the engine and blue eyes look to her hard, “I’m not—I don’t want to get married, Wednesday.”

It’s frustrated, the words spilling from her lips like she’s tired of saying it already. Wednesday observed the subtle extension of nails at the mention of matrimony. A far cry from the Enid who used to beg to watch those bridal reality TV shows in their room once upon a time.

“Since when?” She’s skeptical, enough that her brown cocks. Her eyes studying every inch of those pale cheeks as if she’d find something otherwise. “You used to show me those pallid proposal videos and cry.”

Enid pulls out and on the road the handful of blocks back to her office. She gives a half hearted shrug, more like a strange looking flinch.

“Since I didn’t have a choice, maybe? Have you not been paying attention to a word I’ve said?” She sounds exasperate, but Wednesday doesn’t feel inclined to agree. Her expression just as hard, Enid bites her lip before explaining. “My mom just-just sprang this shit on me! I barely even knew Bruno, before he’s suddenly in my living room and asking my parents for permission for my hand.”

Wednesday feels bile rise within her, at the mention of a name. And one so simple…but a few syllables.

And Enid’s eyes are ahead, but she doesn’t look like she’s paying much attention to the people walking by the car, either. Wednesday sits still and silent next to her, nails digging into her sleeve.

“They want me to marry into this huge pack in Oregon,” Enid continues after the lull. “They think it’ll help with ‘pack relations’, but I already knew its all about politics and optics with her. Dad too…I just thought that things were finally different, you know? That they were finally ready to just accept me being…me.”

Wednesday clenches her jaw with her teeth taut.

“You’re not going to go through with it then, surely?” She finds herself talking before she’s processed. She also finds Enid quiet next to her, as if she didn’t have an answer to that. It makes Wednesday’s already rapid (far more so than usual) heart rate spike all the more. She turns her head more fully to face the wolf, “Are you?”

Enid gives her a look. One with glowing eyes and tight lips.

“Do you think I’d be here if not? Its the only option I have,” The werewolf retorts. Then, more angrily, spitefully, “And you obviously didn’t want to see me otherwise…”

It makes Wednesday’s breath catch, before she huffs down something she doesn’t mean. Rather, something she wishes she had more time to mull over. She yearned for the time in which she had none of the information coursing through her body like bugs under her skin.

Like a parasite starved and finally having found something to feed on.

“Did you merely come here to reiterate my apparent short comings, then?” She can’t rein in her snark, even if she’s swallowing down spite. “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have bothered to book your appointment.”

She hates this new type of banter between them. Detests the way it was no longer easy, yet engaging. Couldn’t look at Enid when her eyes were blazing with genuine resentment.

“I came to you because I’m desperate and have no where else to go. And since apparently I’m ‘just a paying client’ now,” Enid rolls her eyes. She parks right in front of Wednesday’s office, leaving the car silent. Her puffer jacket crinkles as she turns to face her. “I need your help catching my fiancé in the act.”

The way the title rolls off the blonde’s tongue doesn’t taste pleasant to either of them. The context surrounding the unnamed, faceless werewolf boy had Wednesday’s blood boiling. Her mind full of every way she knows how to harm another person; meanwhile Enid sat strangely calm.

Wednesday tries to keep her voice level.

“He’s been unfaithful to you?” She questioned evenly. The urge for blood in back of her head for now.

Enid chews at her lip again.

“No…but I need it to look like he is.”

Chapter Text

Enid liked doing her make up. Always liked the glamor and feeling of it. 

It was ritualistic, along with giving her the time to create; to mold herself into whatever she wanted to be that day. She still remembers begging her mom for a palette that smelled like chocolate when she was a kid. The impracticality of it was only half the fun.

A knock sounds against her door frame. It still felt weird calling it that…like this house was soon to be hers too.

She hums with a pencil to her brow, close to the mirror and thankful to have excuse not to perform just yet. She still had the excuse of ‘getting ready.’ Still, she lets her eyes flit to see the boy standing behind her.

He leans against her doorway cooly, in nice jeans and a clean button up shirt.

“You almost done?”

Enid pauses to turn with her pencil in hand. One brow was a tad more well loved than other.

“Does it look like it? A full beat this good takes time you know,” She still manages to be playful. Can even find something fond in the way the boy snorts.

Bruno often found her silly; thought her tastes made her ‘charming’ in her own way. Enid didn’t know how to tell him she was putting on more than just her makeup.

“Yeah, and my dad is real big on that,” He rubs back of his neck. He has that growing trepidation in his eyes, same as he often did when he brought up his sire. The elder Yuson held him to standards that rivaled her mother's.

“Its him and your mom you said?”

“Of course it is,” He says mockingly. Its not towards her though. “Try not to be too long, again? I’m really not trying to hear it if we’re late for the reservation.”

“I won’t,” She turns back in her make up chair. Once more occupied by fixing her face, because its gonna be a necessity for today’s brunch.

She feels him before she hears him.

Its so…sporadic. She doesn’t quite remember the first time he grabs her a little too enthusiastically. She just knows it becomes more frequent under certain circumstances.

“I mean it, Enid,” Bruno looks down at her sternly. His hand on her shoulder becomes painful very quickly; along with it, his frustrated breaths. “He chewed my ear off about how late we were last time! Told me I needed to ‘keep you in line.’”

Enid shrugs his hand off, grateful that he doesn’t place it back.

“Jeez, what year is it?” She doesn’t hide her distaste for that kind of thinking. Like she’s only meant to be kept until she’s bred and/or a den wife.

Bruno clicks his teeth, still behind her. She can feel his eyes boring into her at having dare say something against his father. The elder wolf had a very firm grip on his children—especially his oldest son.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Bruno eventually replies. “You have a bad habit of talking back.”

A very, very firm grip indeed. Enid barely conceals a scoff, turning to face him again. His hands stuffed in his jeans, he looks down at her in more ways than literally. She shakes her head in disbelief.

“Bruno, please be serious. You’re better than that Alpha male crap,” She implores. She’s tired enough of her mother’s outdated ideals, under eye of her own parent.

Its why she’s here in the first place. She knew good and well her obligations.

“You don’t respect me.” Bruno concludes, or at least the way he said it didn’t sound like there was room for change. He had made up his mind about something.

Enid can sense the flex of muscle of his skin. The wolf beneath not liking the perceived blows to ego. She exasperatedly places the eyebrow pencil back down.

“Of course I do, I—what am I getting ready for if I didn’t?” She’s begging him to take a breath. To not make this harder than it already was.

For both of them. She dares reach out to him, like she thinks she could dress this up in glitter pink too. He jerks his hand away and looks to her coldly. Then, as if coming to his senses, he shakes his head and stalks out her door.

“Just hurry it up.”

☾

She doesn’t remember when they met. At least not very well. That’s probably the first red flag in all honesty; the way she’s learning to forget so easily. Or, maybe it just wasn’t that memorable to begin with.

They were only kids, mingling around the wider pack meetings.

Both living on the coast and designated To the ‘pup’s table’ while the adults discussed politics. He told her that he remembers thinking she was ‘different’, even back then. Enid just sheepishly smiled, as the sentiment didn’t feel the same coming from his lips.

—

“I still think you’re weird as shit, though.”

“The feeling is incredibly mutual.”

—

Enid sighs to herself, before she catches her own breath. Nows not the time to be thinking about what could have been. Even if sometimes her only comfort is scrolling through conversations from over a year ago and old pictures that probably only existed in her personal storage.

Only ever existed in ways that weren’t tangible. Maybe they were never real at all. 

She hasn’t talked to Wednesday in so long…

“Look, I don’t know whats up with you today,” Bruno whispers in her ear as they wait behind another couple being checked in. His hand was strong around her arm, “But fix it. I told you I can’t do this today.”

Enid tensed her jaw, opting to inhale sharply and nod rather than make a scene. It doesn’t feel any better to pretend. Its not what she would tell her to—its not what someone like Wednesday would do.

Maybe thats why she stopped replying.

Maybe she could see how weak I truly am all along, She thinks to herself. Meanwhile, her lips quirk up forcefully in form of a smile. As the host greets and lets them know Bruno's parents are already there.

She’s had these meetings with her fiancé’s family before. Its hard to call them outings, when they were so formal no matter the time of day. The only silver lining being that this kind of money and status brought good drinks to keep the conversation flowing. Not that Enid said a whole lot.

She knew how Bruno's father saw her. Nothing but something pretty, blonde and blue eyed to stand next to his pride and joy.

The future Mrs. Yuson. 

It doesn't make her full body recoil to think it as much anymore. She's heard it enough to let it brush past her like a fly in her ear. Maybe she's just numb to it.

“I see you’re holding down the fort with a bit more dignity,” The man clapped his son on the shoulder. Likely because Enid had learned quickly to stifle her ‘loud and unladylike’ sparkle.

She doesn’t wanna rehash the way Bruno raised his voice that particular day. She imagined his father did the same to him. All because she had the audacity to have an opinion on politics of her own. 

She straightens her back and nibbles on a croissant. Its all she can do to hold her tongue.

Her dress a boring white, because the pinks and pastels she preferred were ‘childish.’ Especially in a place like this—brunch with such a high ranking family.

Bruno's mother barely speaks, but she doesn’t often unless spoken to. Enid compliments her jewelry, her husband decked her in lavish things to compensate for being such an asshole. At least thats how Enid could only assume the situation was. She can’t imagine stomaching the man any other way.

Dress up the things that don’t quite sync up with the optics you want the world to see.

“The council has been buzzing about the two of you,” Bruno's father mentions between a bit of egg’s benedict. He gestures a fork at his son, “You need to start deciding on a date. The council will want to begin the pack merging process sooner than later.”

“Yes, father, apologies for the delay,” Bruno nods dutifully. He sips his water to clear his throat. “Classes have been demanding and I’d prefer these matters to have my full attention.”

“Good. Your grades were lacking last semester,” Its all his sire says. Its almost dismissive and damn near laughable; Bruno was a brilliant student. He’d been groomed to go to school for fur/wolf law and he was so good with numbers Enid had asked for help with her own schooling more than once.

“Of course, sir,” Bruno says a tad bit lower. Smaller, like she often feels nowadays.

She thinks thats the most significant way in which they’re compatible. Sometimes it feels like the only way.

☾

Enid liked class sometimes, if not only for the excuse to leave the house. Her friendship circle was being slowly limited to only wolves and it was killing her inside, in multiple ways. She was a social creature at heart.

Imagine her surprise, when she’d become so lonely, she’s making plans with her once upon a time rival.

Bianca Barclay needed a change of pace after Nevermore. California had beaches a plenty and became something like an escape from her family’s whole cult situation. A story for another day.

Right now she was facing her own dilemma.

“I take it brunch was a bust” The siren commented, as Enid slips into a seat next to her in a lecture. She was almost late, having been kept up by Bruno schmoozing all night at a gala.

Enid pushes her hair back, bangs falling in her eyes. She gives Bianca a Look.

“That wasn’t even the half of it,” She wines and if not for her make up she’d press the heels of her hands into her eyes. She groans instead, “The brunch was to prepare for the gala that happened last night. We were out late as fuck.”

“Aren’t your kind supposed to be most active at night?”

“Yeah, when I’m wolfed out! Not on a random Tuesday,” Enid rolls her eyes. Did rich people simply have nothing better to do? I guess thats the luxury in luxury, she thinks.

Bianca doesn’t judge her—at least not outwardly. And not nearly as harsh as she had been when they were kids. She just traced Enid over with those eerily blue eyes, likely holding back from saying something too honest.

They didn’t fight like teenagers anymore, but Bianca’s estrangement from her family made the girl feel she had a leg to stand on.

That she ‘knew better’ when it came to meddling family. And she certainly knew a strained relationship with one’s mother like the back of her hand.

“Well, thankfully you’re probably not missing much if you need to dip out early,” Bianca mentions. She drums her fingers on her keyboard, before pulling up notes from the last lecture she had missed. “We barely got through this section, because the professor for this class barely even knows what he’s teaching. I’m convinced he doesn’t actually know what class this is.”

“You forget some of the people in this class are still humans,” Enid reminds. Bianca puffs out air of disbelief.

“Psh, excuses honestly…”

Class goes on with not much of any substance. Bianca was right about that much. Only, as usual, it was at cost of something of her’s. Namely her dignity—more specifically her stupid, heart.

Her pining heart that started to urge and ween with a familiar face around. But never the one she missed the most. She has to actively stop herself from checking her messages; she knows there won’t be any.

There never were.

Those stopped so long ago, she probably looks crazy going over chat logs from high school. From someone who otherwise wanted nothing to do with her. Even after….sigh.

“I saw something that might peak your interest, Sinclair.” Bianca mentions at sound of her wistful sighing. Enid hadn’t even realized she was brooding out loud, but the siren looks amusedly at her.

“Depends what it is. Apparently I have to start wedding planning this weekend.” Enid knows Bianca’s gonna have a visceral reaction before she even says it. The siren’s eyes but out, almost comically. She even places a hand on her to steady herself.

“Damn, didn’t he propose like yesterday?”

“Only a few months ago, but who’s really counting.” Enid rolls her eyes, sounding faux enthusiastic.

She always thought planning her wedding would be different. Never out of obligation or duty, aside from devotion to the love of her life.

Nowadays she began to wonder; were those only childhood fantasies? That the princess is saved by her knight in armor. That the wolf protects the raven—that they could cohabitate.

God, I miss you so badly right now…more than ever.

“Take a look at this,” Bianca’s elbow brings attention to the phone shoved in her face. She had been looking straight through it.

She may as well have been looking directly at it.

It was an online ad. On Instagram of all places to see those doe eyes again.

///////////////////////////

Addams_PI: Addams Private Detective. We Get the Job Done and Please, No Questions Asked. #Ad

////////////////////////////

Well, she knows Wednesday herself wasn’t in charge of this.

“Is this supposed to cheer me up? Because its kinda doing the opposite,” Enid pushes the phone out of her face. Bianca clicks her teeth.

“Oh, get over yourself—this is obviously some kind of grand sign from the universe thats also tired of the both you moping around without each other.” Even in their hushed volume, the know-it-all tone that she hadn’t lost in graduating high school came through.

It boiled her blood as much as it did when she was sixteen too. Because, Bianca has no idea what she’s talking about. Wednesday had made every attempt not to contact her.

To ignore her very existence as if Enid hadn’t ever…

And honestly? Seeing her current business address is not only on the same coast, but more than a few property lines away was just the icing on top. It may as well be her Moon forsaken wedding cake.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to me…or see me probably,” Enid crosses her arms. “She made that very clear.”

“According to five very nosey stitched together fingers, that might not actually be the case.” Bianca reveals without really saying much of anything. Enid still looks defensive and disbelieving, to which the siren nudges her again. “C’mon, you know good and well Wednesday Addams couldn’t even type the word ‘please’ without vomiting.”

Just because her and Thing think one way doesn’t mean anything at all. Wednesday was gonna do what Wednesday wanted to do. No regard for anyone else. She knew better than anyone not related to her—she was her best friend. She knew when Wednesday made a decision it wasn’t something she easily went back on.

Not that she ever let me try.

And…Enid had to be ok with that for sake of her remaining (but quickly waning) peace.

“What am I supposed to do?” She asks in exasperation. She doesn’t even care that some of her classmates were obviously listening in. “Just barge in and demand she speak to me again? She probably has the place booby trapped for walk-ins.”

She hates the way the thought of it makes her feel fuzzy. Memories of the girl being so proud to show her the ways in which she’d rigged up a contraption to keep people out of their room. Or, the delight and peak of dimple on those angular cheeks, when Pugsley would fall into one of her pit traps.

But, they were only memories. Only in her head.

Bianca gives her a final look, one that told of her final play before she even started speaking.

“Didn’t stop you the first time from clawing your way into Addams’ little black heart.” She states very matter of factly. Nearly coos towards the end, ignoring the way her eyes flash in warning. Instead she shrugs it off, “You don’t have to do anything, but…just thought I’d put it on the table.”

“Yeah, thanks but…” She murmurs sarcastically, before something makes her pause. Try as she may she’s a terribly sentimental person. “I’ll think about it.”

In more ways than one. So many she’s probably gonna have a hard time sleeping.

“Thats all I ask,” Bianca relents. Then, she smirks, “And you know I won’t more than once.”

Chapter Text

A lot of things in her life were caught in this web of lies.

Tangled so bad that it didn’t even matter where reality was. So long as she made it to her proper place in the morning. It wasn’t hard to make an excuse to leave the State suddenly, especially with Bruno's family having such pull. 

It’s laughably easy, how he’s not the slightest gripes about being away from her when he doesn’t need her.

She wonders if people just look at her, eyes, freckles and skin to mouth and map their way out. It felt like no one who’s lived with her has wanted to stay for very long. 

“You wanna go drop off the campaign shit for me?” Bruno had initially sounded confused. Skeptical enough to make her nervous. Then, he hums on it, “Actually, I’m not gonna look this gift horse in the mouth. If you go for me, then I can actually have time to study for this Econ exam.”

Enid had only smiled and bid him good luck. Happy the boy was so self centered—he hadn’t even noticed the way she’d been crying more recently; more often in times of privacy. She didn’t make a show of it, but anyone that truly knew her could tell she hasn’t been well. Hasn’t even been decent.

She’s only coasting.

In her little car, with a wad of cash that was supposed to be for gas and food.

“You can stay in my place up there. We have a cabin…big backyard, all woods. I had already sent to have the fridge stocked, thankfully.” Bruno had tossed it at her on his way out; it was one of the only ways in which he was attentive. Money for clothes, to get her hair and nails done. 

Being a good provider for what would be his ‘future pack.’

Anything to make her look ‘good’ at his side.

She doesn’t like to think about the ring. The gold band that only encased a single finger, but sat heavy like shackles. She hardly even wears it unless she has to.

“Make sure you’re wearing the ring I spent all of that money on when you get to the office up there.” He alluded to the weight of her burden. Narrowed his eyes at the fact that her hands were bare, save for acrylics on her way out. “Matter of fact, you need to start wearing it more in public so people don’t start to think things.”

Again, she had only nodded along. Made a noise of affirmation, dreading the hulking diamond that meant the end to her life as she knew it. She kept it in its box, tucked in her duffel bag and tossed in the back seat.

In another light she could find it pretty—gorgeous even, as the rock was several carats and fitted to her perfectly.

Almost like she was meant to be his wife.

The word has the hair on back of her neck raising. The wolf inside restless, it knows something isn’t right. It’s instinct.

These things were meant to be fated. At least thats what she was told as a pup.

Fated by the moon.

“Selene will bring you your match some day too,” Her mother used to tell her. When she’d ask for the story of how she met her father again. It was so romantic to her back then.

She wonders now…in lieu of everything.

Though she wants so desperately to keep believing in things like fate.

She does have to stop for not only gas, but some kind of food by the time she makes it into town. She hasn’t been up here in a long time, but she’s vaguely familiar with the area. Her nose would lead her if anything was truly wrong.

And at first she thinks its playing tricks on her.

That her brain knows that Wednesday is near, so its conjuring that smell of ash like a crematorium. Like funeral florals, pollen blown forward by mourning breeze; heady rose that tickled her nose and almost made her sneeze.

She can’t help it.

She finds herself leaving her car at the gas station and walking a few blocks down to some corner bar. She only hesitates for a moment before stepping in, bell jingling and door littered with flyers for local events.

Its dark with soft punk music playing and some artsy looking students not too far apart in age from her. Its mainly booths, kitschy decor and probably a go to with a university not too far off.

“Just you, today?” Enid looks to a hostess, holding a menu. Her hair a vibrant pink and arms full of tattoos.

She gapes for a moment, mouth opening and closing.

“Has, um—you guys get a lot of outcasts here?” She’s not expecting the place to be prejudiced. She just knows not everyone wants spotlight on their particular gifts.

The hostess thankfully doesn’t take offense, nodding in confirmation.

“Of course we do! The owner’s a Fang who’s had this building for longer than my parents have been alive,” The hostess laughs. “We get all kinds of your type.”

She looks Enid up and down. Its not with intention, more so acknowledgment. The smile never becomes anything more than kind.

It feels underhanded in a way, because she knows she’s about to take full advantage of this stranger’s hospitality.

“Odd question, but you ever see any of them—um…walk in, in all black, shorter than me with pigtails?” Enid decides to throw subtlety out the door. Short of pushing past the girl to sniff it out herself.

The hostess makes a face at that. One that looked to be filled with trepidation, like speaking the name was an omen.

With it, Enid grows impossibly hopeful.

“I have yes, but fortunately its just her partner today,” The girl explains. She sounds comically relieved this, actually. “Lovely guy—somehow he has more manners than his full bodied partner, but I digress…did you want to be seated, or—“

Her eyes widen at the confirmation.

Theres only one faithful hand that matched that particular description.

“Just a hand you said? Can you take me to him, I’m—I’m meant to be meeting with him, actually. That’s exactly why I’m here,” She grows more confident in her lie by the end. The girl nods, as this must not be a far fetched scenario.

“Oh! That makes sense, you must be a client, its just up here,” The girl talks as she leads. Theres an upstairs area, holding a pool table and some other games. More tables and people lounging with drinks and food. “Lots of people like to do business here—can’t imagine why. I guess we have a decent happy hour, but also I’m not gonna complain about the tips.”

Enid smiles politely, wishing she had more of the heart to engage. Instead it was racing as she sees the hand, before it notices her.

Thing was deep in a game of what looked to be pool. He’s only with a few other people, but they looked more angry than not. Enid fights the fond smile that wants to creep up at the sight. And fails of course, especially when she is spotted.

He looks like he’d seen a ghost. And that was saying something considering his lineage.

She waves, shyly and with fluttering fingers. The limb drops his pool stick, ends his game and collects his cash soon after.

He buys her a drink. Just one since she’s driving and its more fluff than liquor. He doesn’t immediately start questioning her, like she knows a certain someone would.

She appreciates that he still remembered her taste, even though the last time they’d seen each other she hadn’t been of legal drinking age quite yet.

(Not that she hadn’t had her fair share of semi legal shenanigans growing up.)

“So…Its been a while,” She says, when her grin starts to hurt in conflicting ways. He starts apologizing, but she shakes her head. “I know its not you. You’ve never said you hated me.”

He defends her. Tries to explain without telling her anything new.

She can’t be mad at that, its his family. She does the same with her mother. Still, it doesn’t do much to know that Wednesday may not always mean what she says.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less—no matter how many years she has to get used to it.

“I’ve been so alone, Thing…I really needed you two. I-I still do, who am I kidding,” She’s such a lightweight. She blames the tiny bit of tequila swirling in her head. She feels extra pathetic being so affected by the absence, even in front of Thing.

Especially knowing why she’s here.

Thing asks.

He looks concerned, so much so he’s patting her hand and handing her napkins to dab at her eyes. She’s thankful she went with a waterproof palette for her face today; she had the foresight things would go South.

“Bianca showed me you guy’s flyer,” She replies instead of spilling her guts. Even though she really wants to. She just can’t be sure someone here doesn’t know her fiancé. Enid says a little quieter, “And I just…I just really, really missed you guys.”

Thing of course still has a million questions. He’s overjoyed that she’s here. He missed her too. He just doesn’t understand. She’s surprised it takes so long for him to ask why she’s here.

What took you so long?

She didn’t know she had a choice.

“I need your services. I-I’ll pay and everything. Plus, I can…give you a ride back to Wednesday’s.” She hasn’t said her name out loud in a while. It burns more than her drink. She swirls her straw around the glass, “Assuming that’s where you’re going after this?”

He pauses at that.

Enid fears she may be truly flying too close to the sun. But, apparently she’s not the only one here lost in her feelings. And definitely not the only one affected by Wednesday Addams patented apathy.

Part of her feels slighted enough to comment. Aside from nodding in understanding, because she ‘knows how Wednesday is.’ But, in all honesty she’s tired.

Exhausted of this.

“And here I thought I was special,” She deadpans. But, Thing tells her its ‘not like that.’ She waves him off, grabbing her keys off the table. “Ready to go give Wednesday an early heart attack as payback? Actually, who am I kidding? She’d probably enjoy having her heart stop.”

Not like she cared to use it, She doesn’t stop herself from thinking it.

She used to feel worse thinking negatively of her once closest friend. Guilty, because she felt like she was pushing boundaries or asking too much. She thinks the lack of contact makes it harder to see what she used to.

Thing, for his part, doesn’t look enthused but he’s too happy to see her to dissuade her any longer. He was a perceptive little hand though, she knew he could tell it was bigger than some unanswered texts.

But she waits til they’re in the car.

“Promise not to freak out or…or judge? Until you hear absolutely everything?” Enid pleads with him. Waits for confirmation and the tremble of nerves at the way she opens her overnight bag.

Just a tiny slit on the side. She had a few other pieces of jewelry and her charger in the pocket. The main thing was the ring box.

She places it in front of him softly. Lets him observe it curiously before he opens it. He nearly falls over.

But, the last thing she expects is him asking if that is why she wants to see Wednesday.

“N-No! I-I’m not—I don’t even want this damned thing!” She feels her face heat up at the thought of her journey having a different motive to her destination.

As if she was visiting Wednesday with a ring tucked away in her bag for reasons she’s pretty sure died along with her enrollment in high school.

“I don’t know what to do, Thing…like at all.” She whines, head thumping against the back of her seat. “And I thought maybe…Idk—you and Wednesday are some of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

She can’t deny that much. Even now she can’t help but speak well of her former roommate.

“Because thats what friends do! And the fact that you don’t know that…”

She had been furious then. Angry, but juvenile; lacking a bit of back bone that she slowly started borrowing from her ‘roomie.’ She demanded respect from Wednesday Addams once upon a time. And lived to tell the tale.

Saved her life, even.

So…who’s to say she can’t do it again?

Its with memories of the past, so far, yet tangible enough to make her pulse race as if it was yesterday; its with a heart so heavy the thuds threaten it to further break.

She heads towards Wednesday.

Chapter Text

Bruno.

That was her targets full first name.

So simple and still so short she could spell it with eyes closed. She’d spend hours picking it apart if she never had to address his surname. The family behind it—the pack.

Yuson.

(What could soon become Enid’s...)

It took a long time to leave the Honda. Going inside the office meant getting to work. Normally she’s no issue getting straight to business, but this time she finds herself lolling.

“This place really does suit you,” Enid mentions after a while. Her voice cracks just barely, likely from the gruffness of her wolf prodding into their conversation earlier. The blonde looks at her carefully, “I wasn’t just saying that.“

Wednesday only stares back, unblinking and eyes saying more than she ever would. She gets out of the car first.

When she barrels inside, she tosses her keys on the hook; her aim impeccable as always, her trench coat hits the rack next. She’s not surprised Thing is already standing near the door, likely waiting for her to get back.

The terribly sentimental Thing he was, thinking they could ‘catch up’ and chat afterwards. Wednesday gives him the harshest glare she can when he dares move a pointer to ask her ‘how it went.’

When she initially had Enid back in her office, she had made space for the wolf to spill its guts. And, with Enid, it never took much. She tells her everything.

His name passes her lips and with it Wednesday’s breath.

A name to the man that held her hand. Even for sake of building a profile, she finds herself having a hard time stomaching it. As if she’s not analyzed crime scenes with blood and disembodied parts.

Somehow this sat worse in her gut. Unsettling.

“And my mom’s obsessed—with Bruno, I mean…almost like he’s the son she should’ve had.”

Enid sounds more resigned than disappointed, or angry. She’d taken a brief pause from pacing; Her head leaning on her hand while she sits on Wednesday’s office couch. Black polished leather, swallowing her brightly colored form in further melancholy.

Wednesday sat at her desk, Thing’s laptop in front of her along with the limb typing away. He pulls up the werewolf boy very quickly, pointing at his curly brown hair and ‘charming’ smile; the article’s words not hers. While werewolves kept to themselves, they did still mingle with other outcasts when needed. Like in sharing accolades.

Apparently this Bruno and his pack were quite the local philanthropists in these parts. Marvels, like royalty on the West Coast. A waspy family from Portland, the boy was one of just a few other siblings.

“They’re a ‘purebred’ family too,” Enid mentions with a distasteful tone and expression. Like it disgusts her to even say it.

She remembers that word having particular connotations with some outcasts. She personally never gave it much thought, as the Addams’ had bred with so many species its a wonder her own abilities narrowed down to simply her mother’s. Pugsley was practically fireproof by the time he could speak.

Some people didn’t see these things as marvels. Or fondly kooky and ooky as she came to know her own kinfolk. No, she knew racism seemed to exist no matter what the context; ironic with beings that already weren’t taken seriously. The average normie didn’t believe in werewolves to begin with.

And yet…

It came as no surprise, that even under guise of acceptance of their daughter, Esther Sinclair wanted something more. Always a little bit more—Enid would merely call it meddling, or wanting whats best.

”You know how my mom is…”

She thinks the matriarch Sinclair would have more merit as a mantle piece. Her words were laden in only ever wanting control.

Looking at this Bruno character, Wednesday can guess exactly what that was. 

The Yuson's had an impressive resume.

They even had pack members branching close enough to them that she wonders just how out of her way Enid had come to visit. Famous for ‘outreach’ amongst the community as well. Young wolves looked up to them like superheroes; the pack elder was one of a longer running bloodline. A lot of eyes, ears and (probably) snouts were on this family.

And it more than painted the image of desperation that the wolf had admitted to. A runaway bride, with a wad of cash and car full of secrets. Enid was an extremely cunning individual and down right devious with the proper push. 

Another pulling such nefarious acts from her…

A formidable foe, She thinks to herself. I would need to drench my silver dagger in wolfsbane to make a dent.

Not that she was planning on this getting violent. It probably shouldn’t, anyway. Not like this Bruno person would be easily hurt from the looks of it.

(It’s been far too long since she’s practiced her shot at long range.)

Broad shoulders and lean body—a perfectly healthy werewolf boy in his prime. He was much more of the picture perfect image of a husband than Ajax had been. He was someone to settle down with; enough assets and familial pull to allow for comfort.

Although, if it’s merely money and stability she wants…Wednesday pauses that train of thought.

Blames her father and his love of locomotives for even allowing it.

Blames…

Tsk.

Enid would actually live a life of ease, at least financially so. And the heartfelt testimonies from the boy and his family would lead her to believe that he could fulfill her emotionally as well. He seemed to have no issues with expression.

He smiled in every picture. Just like Enid liked to.

She probably didn’t have to beg or scold him about it, either.

“Still cyber stalking him?” Enid asks from beside her. She had stopped talking and ranting about her mother’s infatuation with the boy. Somewhere along the way she finds herself standing by the desk.

Wednesday makes a noise of affirmation. Willing her brain to focus on the investigation at hand.

She doesn’t let it show on her face, covering it with fingers like she’s thinking of something else. Like she’s not picturing the tall, muscular boy next to Enid in an all white gown.

“He seems to be quite the local celebrity,” Wednesday mentions instead. “I understand what you mean about politics. I see his father held public office?”

She rattles off another anecdote from an outcast publication. Enid takes it as an excuse to lean over, humming at the picture of her fiancé.

“Technically he still does, just not in anyway that’s recognized by normie government. At least not at the moment. He’s part of the State’s representatives in the country’s werewolf council.” Enid explains while she twirls her phone in her hand. “My grandfather is one for California and…well, he’s not getting any younger.”

Enid murmurs the end bit if not only to be tactful; she doesn’t sound like she’s mourning anyone. Wednesday doesn’t remember her former roommate’s grandparents welcoming her with open arms when she couldn’t wolf out yet, either.

At the end of the night, it was always just the two of them. Much like now.

“Anything to have a say in silly government affairs,” Wednesday replies bitterly.

“Its not silly, its what my people believe in.” Enid defends pertinaciously. Like she still feels a sense of duty, even in trying to escape it. She shrugs, “Sure, sometimes it feels more like a false sense of democracy than not—“

“Not so far off from normie politics after all then,” Wednesday slides in under her breath. She knows Enid can hear it.

“—In our defense, my grandad is one of the only elders in the council nowadays.” The werewolf girl defends while crossing her arms. Then with less conviction, “But, they still have influence enough that it makes it hard to get rid of the more…’out dated’ traditions.”

Enid used air quotes and rolls her eyes as she sounds like she’s parroting someone else. Wednesday blows semi-amused air from her nose, head leaning on her palm.

“Like forced political marriages?”

“Like…a lot of shit, actually,” Enid deadpans. “But, yeah. Mom would howl my ear off if she heard me calling it ‘forced’, though. She thinks I just need to ‘warm up to idea.’”

Wednesday lets a laugh escape; one that was hardly humored, but condescending to someone who couldn’t hear it.

“Well its a dreadful thing then, that I’ve no regard for that woman’s opinion.” She says with faux apology in her tone, watching Enid’s eyes narrow.

The bit of satisfaction in throwing jibes at Esther Sinclair at cost of her daughter’s loyalty. While wavering (however slight) it was still prominent enough to show in the glow of her eyes. Not willed by the moon, but flesh and blood.

“Right now, I don’t have a choice,” Enid reiterates harshly. Then with a frustrated sigh, “I just need to get out of this. And I can’t pull out, or just say ‘no.’ Trust me I tried.”

Wednesday could guess. Fairly confidently actually.

She could inch her fingers over to Enid’s right now and see everything with a mere touch of her hands. Part of her felt self sacrificial enough to chance it; she just didn’t think she could stomach it. She didn’t think she could be impartial in the way she needs for a proper investigation.

(Though if anyone asked…she’d simply blame her hate for most forms of touch.)

“You want me to stage a public scandal, then?” She asks, keeps trying to remain as professional as possible. If her feelings had no place before, they definitely did not now.

They couldn’t.

“I didn’t say that…” Enid denies slowly. “I just need to make him look bad. Like he’s not an honorable mate in front of the elders—my mom cares more about appearances than anything. If I can convince the powers that be that he’s not ‘fit’ for marriage, then I can get out of this. Its the only way…they can deny me, but not tradition.”

Enid gets a spark back in her eyes as she talks of her freedom. It reminds her so much of the girl she met at sixteen she can hardly look at her head on.

Wednesday holds her tongue, the muscle tensed and poised to remind her that it wouldn’t be forever. As long as Enid remains loyal to her family, to her pack.

She would never be free in any way that was not temporary.

“And then what do you expect to do exactly?” She queries, as if she thought she was going to get any real answer. Amidst the rest of these half truths. “You’re positive your fiancé won’t be looking to clear his name? Being such a public figure I don’t imagine this sort of thing would simply go under the rug.”

She’s always been the one to poke holes in Enid’s silly fantasies. Her pipe dreams poorly welded and needing her hands to piece it back together. These ones were already well rusted upon arrival.

So were all the others, when you’re sifting through a yard of scraps.

Where all it does is rain.

“They’d never let it get any further than that. Not over me of all people,” Enid simultaneously sounds sure and also bitter. “A lot of people consider me ‘lucky’ to be a marriage candidate for someone like Bruno in the first place. Of course, if not that then they’re secretly calling me unworthy for being one of the only living Blood Moon wolves.”

Wednesday had some choice words about that statement, but again she opts to swallow saliva and her opinions. Time and place, time and place, she repeats it like a mantra.

(Until the next suitor is introduced. Until the next pack meeting. Until she’s called again to duty.)

As if further tormenting her, the blonde leans away. The body heat dissipates, but the lingering smell of florals remain. Enid always smelled like flowers.

Blooming petals and pollen that made her scrunch her face, lest she sneeze. Or show some sign of just how much it still affects her.

“I can give you his work schedule if that helps? Doesn’t that help you know when to do your stalking stuff or whatever?” Enid pivots, although Wednesday has a sneaking suspicion that she’s not the only one fighting these past demons.

Enid avoided with words. Wednesday did with actions.

“You know…” Wednesday prompts instead. She waits for Enid to tilt her head, to look down at her like a puppy waiting instructions. “You never did tell me how exactly you ended up here.”

A beat. Suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” Enid questions back, though its more curious than bothered. At Wednesday’s insistent stare, she scoffs, “I told you everything. Bianca showed me your ad on Insta and…I snuck here. Nothing else to it.”

“Whats your alibi?” Wednesday asks directly, seeing the blonde gain a bit more understanding. A quick inhale that has her eyes narrowing, “You’re not stupid enough to tell them you’re merely visiting a friend from school.”

Its a statement, not a question. Enid was and could very well be just as conniving as even she. A fact that she knew personally and very well. There was a time she could call herself a victim—rather, a woefully willful participant. When Enid would bat her eyes and beckon her with words.

Such asinine, childish requests.

-

“You’re always cooped up and writing—come eat outside with me for once,” Enid had tugged at her sleeve. And kept her paws perfectly intact, having gotten only a glare from her. The wolf grinned when she leaned in close, “I’ll make it worth your while…”

She knew the second she looked up, her will would be taken. 

”A dangerous thing to promise an Addams.”

-

Dangerous last words. They always did her in.

“I may be here under guise of political reasons…” Enid admits coyly. Even Thing looks a bit more than skeptical, gesturing at the werewolf. She pouts at him, “Its true! I told Bruno I’d pick up stuff from his storage unit up here. Thats also where I’m staying by the way—his parents have this swanky place not too far from here. I can totally sneak you in so you can get as much dirt as you can.”

The thought of it makes her chest lurch.

Herself in Enid’s space…her place with him.

Even in his physical absence. She can’t stop the thoughts of her with him. In his room…in his bed.

“According to these publications thats easier said than done,” Wednesday still holds caution. Knows that being too hopeful lead to nothing good. “There’s still remaining threat of his extended pack smelling a human on the premises. Would that not raise questions?”

“Well duh, I was getting there, if you let me build up to it a little,” Enid snarks. Its more defensive than not, the wolf looking like she is genuinely trying to bide her words. “Theres plenty of ways to block a scent—I’m surprised someone so obsessed with killers and murder cases that they ignore everyone wouldn’t know that.”

Well that makes her feel less bad about what she wants to say. Grinding her teeth and standing from her seat, Wednesday takes a breath before responding.

“Exactly why I was checking to ensure you also knew that in planning this desperate and hastily pieced together scheme of yours.”

Enid actively growls at that. It makes her heart leap, but not in fear—something much worse.

Something that makes her want.

Her lust for blood. She’s going to keep calling it an urge for something else—anything else

Luckily, Thing’s enough fingers to break the tension. He mentions the time. The fact that this isn’t the only thing she has to do today. She had built a schedule around avoiding things like this in the first place.

Enid finally looks away from her long enough that Wednesday can breathe again.

“You’re right, this meeting has gone over,” Enid agrees, haughtily. She grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, just barely looking back at her before leaving. “You have my number if you wanna set up the next one.”

Its spiteful.

It’s with a faux smile and enthusiasm that makes her blood boil for more reasons than over killed positivity.

She waits for Enid to leave, slamming the door shut before she exhales. Harshly and with her fists clenching at her sides. She turns on her heel dangerously, looking to Thing with manic eyes. The limb nearly shakes in place, but doesn’t dare ask her to calm herself.

“Follow her.” Wednesday directs angrily, then eerily more calm after another breath, “If she wants a full on Addams investigation? She’s got one.”

Chapter Text

Ok, so her first meeting with Wednesday after a year of silence wasn’t…well, it wasn’t terrible.

Sure, she left without actually establishing any sort of concrete plan, but at least they didn’t kill each other! And hey, she didn’t cry like she thought she would either. Granted, its because Wednesday’s forced apathy pissed her off to no end, but…

Progress! Right?

“How you holding up, girl?” Is the first thing Bianca asks when she’s finally touched down at Bruno's place.

She’s laid her bags in the master bedroom (because of course their ‘spare property’ had more than one) and finds herself in the den area. A big TV and expensive couch fit for a family. She doesn’t feel like sinking into it, though.

She’s restless. Thats why she called Bianca instead of trying to decompress. The siren had texted to make sure she got into town ok, but she hits call instead of the reply box.

“Well, she didn’t kick me out, or tell me to leave.” Enid tells her, hearing a snort on the other end.

Meanwhile she peaks in the fridge. Lots of meat in the freezer (to be expected) and protein packed below as well. She’d squint extra hard, if not for the fact that a werewolf boy and his political buddies could definitively crush it all over span of a few days.

The displays of riches just made her feel so slimey, in spite of her enjoying the comforts herself. Its not like it was truly her's.

Everything was temporary. Her plan to escape be damned.

“Thats probably just Addams speak for ‘Oh my gosh, Enid, I missed you so much! I'm just too emotionally constipated to tell you how much I've been being a pussy about it...’” The siren teases, but Enid can’t begin to entertain it.

Not when she's already feeling cut open and raw. Eyeing a bottle of unopened champagne, tempted to drink more. The cocktail Thing bought her had worn off on the way to Wednesday's office.

“Doubt it, but…” She trails with a faux sense of hope. “She told me to come back tomorrow. I think thats when I’ll tell her about…you know. The ring and stuff.”

She waits for Bianca's reaction. The laugh she hears doesn't sound like its in good humor; she sounds baffled. Better than her own reaction based on her thinning patience with her old 'friend.'

Part of her didn't say anything because she fears Wednesday's reaction would break her the most.

“She really doesn’t know?” Bianca asks incredulously, “I find it hard to believe anyone could be that chronically offline. But, knowing Addams and her one track serial killer mind, she probably doesn’t even know what month it is.”

Enid doesn’t attempt to defend her.

She finds something in the fridge to eat, instead. A healthy portion of fruit was stacked at the bottom, to which she helped herself to some berries. She didn’t feel much in the mood for real food.

She barely gets a wink of rest that night. Anticipating their meeting in the morning after.

In sheets that were too white and a bed that expensively soft, in ways that made her feel even more unworthy and out of place.

☾

When she walks out of Wednesday’s office the second time, she doesn’t have anywhere to go.

'Desperate and hastily put together'….tuh.

Their brunch conversation turned argument in office still had her reeling--seething. A guttural noise settled in her throat, that she disguised with the most condescending and nauseatingly wide smile she could. Wednesday didn't deserve to see her otherwise. 

And she doesn’t want to go home. Thats not her fucking home.

It never would be if she had a say.

Her phone's been active non stop since she woke up. Bruno decided today of all days he wants to check on her. Make sure things are ‘running smoothly’. Really, it felt like a warden making rounds to a prisoner, just to ensure they stayed captive.

She slings her car door roughly, hearing the handle break at the end. She snarls at it, planting herself in the seat with a huff. Her eyes look feral in the rearview, flashing like a bulb losing power; only she was just getting started. She tossed the piece of her door behind her in the back seat.

She buries her head in her hands and growls. Until she realizes her body isn’t the only thing vibrating in anger.

She pulls her phone out in irritation at the newest messages. Some older, but the last two most recent.

Bruno: U good on cash?

Bruno: need you to drive storage boxes to the boys @ HQ

Bruno: dont forget the ring. Ur meeting very important ppl and u need to act like it.

Enid sits in her car with harsh breaths.

Me: Send me the address.

She’s surprised he replies so quickly, but she supposed the subject of his reputation made him worry. She’s under no delusion he actually cares when he asks.

Bruno: WYD? Normally ur glued to this shit

She rolls her eyes at it, not wanting to be even more pissed off than she already is. She didn’t like being angry. Negative emotions had their place, yes, but she never wanted to be with them long.

She looks back at Wednesday’s building in her rearview. The feelings that swirl in her chest write her reply for her.

Me: Was just getting breakfast and sightseeing srry. 😣

Me: Nothin important tho 

Sending that last one...it gives her a sick bit of satisfaction that made her feel bad again just as fast.

*

Too neutral..too beige...Ugh. 

Who the hell came up with the idea of an office dress code?

Enid holds up her outfit choices with distaste. She’s not opposed to simply wearing white, but she urged to put on something more…lively? Fun? Not corporate, business casual and boring?

Why on Earth do they sell this false idea of nobility dressing well?

She settles for a blue dress, with long socks. She feels like she’s in a school uniform all over again, with how banal it is. A sweater, waspy on her shoulder, she looks fit for a country club. Bruno would swoon over it, surely…

Not like he touches me…unless he’s pissed. Enid recalls, bitterly.

She’s kissed him before, but it was always under multiple eyes keeping watch. Or better yet, a camera for photo op. Her mother told her the most beautiful she’s looked is standing next to him. And she didn’t say that verbatim, but she didn’t have to.

And whats worse—she keeps smelling her.

That scent of mortary halls, like ash and burnt memories; shreds of text of the past. The only place they existed other than her stupid heart.

She sniffs her arm again. She had showered after getting back, finding the scent both offending and maddening.

But, it won’t. go. away.

Its when she angrily goes to leave her room that it spikes. Strangely and pointed.

She sniffs once. Then again much more deeply with her eyes shut.

—

“You will tell no one.”

Wednesday commanded it, but its not very intimidating. Far from harsh, with sleep trailing her every breath. With Enid right beside her.

She woke up shaking, teeth bared and her claws sunken into her mattress. Wednesday had stood over her; she wanted to apologize but the seer shook her head.

Another nightmare. She wasn’t fast enough. She couldn’t find her wolf fast enough. And Wednesday, she…

They’d moved to the seer’s bed. Her own torn and springs popping through in her nightly struggle. Wednesday makes space on her side.

Still…she’s close enough that those braids almost tickle her cheek. Splayed out against a pillow, it smelled like a floral arrangement.

The wreath you hang upon a casket.

“Never.” Enid remembers whispering back. Makes a show of sliding a claw across her torso, "Cross my heart."

On her side and smiling softly at the girl that kept the bad dreams away.

She slept soundlessly that night. And many more.

—

Her eyes snap open again and the growl she'd been suppressing reached the top of her throat; she can't swallow it. Its instinct--she heard something.

She's not alone.

Theres no full moon during her time here, (she made sure of it) but she felt her wolf on alert. Emotions already high and heart of both her plus the beast within scorned.

Her claws unsheathe.

She turns slowly, squinting eyes at the closet. Her ears perk up, because she swears to the Moon above, she just heard something. It was faint, like the brush of fabric on wood.

Or fingers on…

Enid walks slowly, lowering herself just so instinctively. However when she gets to the door the smell is so overbearing she flings it open without much care for what lay behind.

And she catches the tail end of something shuffling. Right where a box full of old books and magazines. The closet was more for storage than anything, with no one here. Mainly full of jackets and a few suits Bruno probably kept on stand by.

Although she should say she catches the stump end.

Because theres no good reason for her fiancé’s second home to smell like a graveyard.

“I swear to God if there’s a disembodied hand in here I’m gonna be really…”

Enid narrows her eyes as she makes easy work of the spare boxes and pairs of shoes in the corner. She claws her hand around until she feels a hand fidgeting against her own, pulling it out like an owner scolding a pet.

“Are you serio—“ Enid cuts herself off to take a deep breath, pinching bridge of her nose. She dangles Thing in front her with her finger tips, “I need you to be so for real with me right now Thing…whatever-your-middle-name-is Addams!”

She plops him on the bed next, watching the hand nervously turn about. He probably wants to escape, but those chances are slim to none if her werewolf strength and agility would have any say.

Enid kneels a bit, at edge of the bed and expression set and determined.

“Wednesday sent you to follow me after our meeting ‘went over’…didn’t she,” She doesn’t ask a question. Its a statement, because she knows Thing wouldn’t just do this for fun.

At least not to her if all people. Not like this.

And the limb, for his part, he’s loyal as ever. Shaking his fingers and sealing his ‘lips’ in a show of obstinance. Clear symbol that once again Wednesday wasn't being honest with her, either. Enid pokes her lips out, pretending to mull it over with a tap of her claw against her chin.

“Not even for some of the rose hip oil made fresh by moi?” She questions coyly, knowing the hand’s weakness in vanity. She quickly procures a vial of oil and makes sure he sees it.

Sucker. 

Her mother was a lot of things, but one thing the elder wolf knew thoroughly was herbal remedies. Hunting and gathering a pass time that gives ease to experimenting with beauty products. Passive aggressively leaving serums on Enid’s desk, rather than simply telling her she’s gotten a new blemish. After the initial scarring from that faithful battle with Crackstone, she'd left new experimental ointments damn near every day.

Nevermind that last part, though—she’s pissed off enough.

She sees Thing perk up just so, but just as fast he’s denying her again.

Playing hard to get was apparently an Addams thing, too.

“And depending on how long this business relationship goes on…I could throw in more than just this tiny, oz sized bottle…?” Enid continues to entice. She has the trigger right in her paws, “Did I mention I got really good at working with shea butter since the last time we hung out? Remember that whipped lotion I made you back at Nevermore?”

At this point the poor hand looks so conflicted Enid’s almost worried she’s actually broken him. But, as she planned, the hand fans himself out in defeat. It garners an amused puff of air from her in spite of everything.

The begrudging taps against the comforter telling her that Wednesday did in fact tell him to tail her home.

“Not like she has my number, or any other way to contact me, huh?” Enid crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Or, like I didn’t literally invite her over…”

She angrily stomps over to one of her packed bags to grab a different bottle. Technically still meant for beauty purposes, but not in the way she was intending for the moment. She walks over with her signature perfume, spraying it directly on the hand and making him flinch like a bug.

“Sorry! But you gave me like, no choice! You reek of non-wolf,” Enid scrunches her nose up and spritzes him twice more for good measure. She stands back with a hand on her hip. “That way you’ll at least smell like me too. Ugh, this is exactly why I wanted to talk about things first! Like…like what if I wasn’t here alone? What if we had a visitor I wasn’t expecting? She never thinks of anything or anyone outside of that stupid—“

She cuts herself off again, practically close to ripping her hair from the roots.

Its certainly not out of respect for anyone. Not anymore.

She slides her hands down her cheeks, minding the high light she had meticulously put on. Even that—she still had to leave and drop off Bruno's campaign supplies.

She can only imagine if Thing had followed her there. If any of Bruno's connections caught Wednesday’s scent before they could even put their plan into motion…

Thing stays quiet for the most part, aside from meekly interjecting something about ‘Wedneaday’s way of showing she still cares.’ At least thats what he’s probably going for, but her eyes shut him fast.

Its not fun being so mean to Thing of all people. She doesn’t like being angry. He’s not the one who ignored her on purpose.

Who was desperate to forget about her. He didn't deserve to be thrown in the line of fire.

“Well, you can report back and let your boss know once again, she can text, or call me if she’s serious about helping me. Hell, at this point I’d settle for an email ‘finding me well.’” All the while, she shrugs her overcoat on. This one was knee length, cream colored and wool. She ties it at the front and addresses the hand a final time, “Otherwise, I’m about to run some errands for my dear fiancé.”

She's says the title faux sweetly, as she's dreading this part of her excuse. If nothing else it would be good for gaining information on Bruno's plans without alerting the boy directly. Not like he ever entertained her political views, but it would surely be suspicious if she suddenly wanted to listen to him go on about him and his dad's campaign 

The hand on her bed gets up with a start at that. His gestures telling her that he wants to come with her for more reasons than a ride home. Enid’s eyes briefly widen in surprise.

“I dunno if thats a good idea, Thing,” She tries to deter him softly. “My perfume will help, yeah, but we’re quite literally going into the wolves’ den, here.”

He points at her then, but not her face. Nor eyes, mouth or nose. Not even her bright blonde hair.

Slightly lower, making her pull her jacket collar up just so, defensively. She often forgets that Thing was much older than she and likely even the eldest wolf in her pack.

That he often knew a lot more than he let on.

“I was…considering that, yes…” She places a hand cautiously on her neck. Where her scent glands were—her smell was strongest there. Prolonged contact with her would make it rub off like oil. She exhales, “Low key thats where I was going with things, before Wednesday started being…you know.”

She laughs half heartedly. Her mind too busy half way down the gutter to be petty.

The idea of cloaking the Addams in her scent to throw off the other wolves lay in back of her head in unknowing trepidation; longing to stretch its limbs—Enid feared the way it settled inside her. Feared how (much more) vulnerable it would make her if she let it get too comfortable.

This was a temporary fix. Yet, still...

The thought of Wednesday pressed against her for the first time since—

Enid inhales, sharply.

“Ok…ok, I can do it. I’ll scent you,” Enid decides, clapping her hands together. Thing looks surprised at how easy she’s folding, but better that than notice her mind going places it shouldn’t.

Places it couldn’t.

Not if she wants to leave here with her heart still in tact.

Chapter Text

Driving was something she had always found herself gravitating towards doing. 

Wide open road, traveling with full autonomy. When she was younger it was a method of personal control; a way to feel useful when she was too weak to do anything. else. Driving friends to the mall and her roommate's unofficial getaway driver. A symbol of her apparent knack for escaping.

Its something she’s been doing plenty since her engagement left her not much else in regards to coping. Late nights and early mornings; she didn’t sleep after the day she got her ring. And not at all due excitement–anticipation, maybe. But, thats still her being hopeful.

This circumstance was equally familiar (an Addams in her passenger seat) and all the more dangerous in tandem. Thing was a lot more chatty than some other members of his family, of course. 

He’d been catching her up, likely trying to ease her anxiety.Telling her anecdotes about him and Wednesday's short time on the West Coast so far. It just makes her stomach knot, knowing she'll never get any of this in words.

She’s been tense ever since she’d placed him against her neck to catch her smell. The always incredibly soft skin, in spite of the sutures. She doesn’t exhale until she’s placed the last of the campaign signs in her car. Thing places his thumb on her hand when she goes to put her car in drive.

She nearly bursts into tears. If she was a bit younger…less hardened, maybe then she would’ve. 

“We’re going to meet some of Bruno's buddies from the exclusive, stupid expensive and  private academy he went to growing up,” She explains. Once she’s buckled in with the car running. “Davey, Connor and Russ. All from old money packs, all wolves of course and so far up Bruno's ass, I’m surprised I’m the one marrying him.”

They didn’t dislike her. Not all three of them at least. She’s met them separately and dealt with them together–they did the whole country clubs and golf thing periodically. Really, they’re all products of their parents and uppity werewolf politic. 

Thing asks, lacking filter just as the rest of his kinfolk; If proving his infidelity would be so simple…

She breathes heavy out her nose, smiling.

“Lets just say I’m not the only one in unhappy matrimony,” She says faux sweetly. Then, more contemplative, “I dunno, though…I mean we don’t really touch or whatever. We’ve kissed before, but its only ever for a reason. And we’ve never…”

Enid stops herself, only because she’s definitely bordering on TMI; if not painfully overt in how little outlet she truly has nowadays. Thing used to be a go-to stump to cry on and she knew she missed him, but in that moment, somehow, she feels the most desperate she has all week.

He calls it a lavender marriage. 

She doesn’t disagree.

*

Its funny, how easy they fall in step. Back to scheming together ‘like old times’, or something else Wednesday would probably scoff at for being too sentimental. 

But, the way she doesn’t do much aside from nod at Thing once they park and he understands immediately is insane. Its muscle memory, as if they'd still lived together.  A clear symbol of two people with history. The hand sneaks itself in her tote bag, making some of the charms jingle with his efforts to burrough. He makes a comment on how it smells even more like her at the bottom. 

“Trust, the only way they’d smell you is if you took a crazy long and exfoliating shower.” She assures him, because stuff like this was innate to her. Scenting stuff, especially her personal items, it was unconscious–-instinctive in the same way her haunches raised at unfamiliar sights and smells. “Hopefully,  this won’t be a drag since I’m going in alone. The only one that usually cares to carry a conversation is Dave, but that's just cause he knows my brothers. So, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep them talking. This should just be an easy in and out–-that way you can do your ‘thing.’ Ha!  I missed making that joke.”

She giggles to herself in memory of the way Wednesday would give the most exaggerated eye roll and groan whenever she’d make her little puns. It only entertained her all the more. 

So not the time, she has to scold herself, when she catches her grin growing too wide. Get up, Enid…jeeze. 

“Ok!” She exhales, grabbing the box full of branded junk and adjusting her tote. “I’ll do my best to get as much info out of them as I can–-you just lay low and remember to hit record.”

Their plan had two key parts: The electronic recorder that Thing had originally been planning to use on her (apparently) and the limb’s ability to fit in tight spaces. 

"You were gonna bug my house?" Enid shrilly asks, staring at Thing incredulously. The hand weakly spins up some bull about her 'safety' and 'reasonable suspicion', making her growl lowly. "I swear--at least she hasn't changed all that much In some ways, I see."

She's being sarcastic, but Thing defends. Mentions how now they at least have a method to better trap her fiancé and his friends. She half heartedly agrees, but still feels annoyed at the seer's apparent need to creep on her instead of simply speaking to her. Considering she's otherwise fine to pretend that she doesn't give a damn if Enid's alive.

Not the time, Enid...

If she thinks about it too much she won't be able to get through this meeting without raising suspicions. Instead she briefs Thing on the rest of what she knows about where they're going.

That way he could nose around quickly for any extra information while Enid keeps the boys distracted. She’s thankful she can at least talk sports if everything else goes to shit. The office here was on the 3rd floor, in a building with multiple suites. The area she’s meant to go was mainly office space and cubicles. The receptionist looks younger than her that directs her up–they’re all in Connor’s office since he’s head of communications. 

They wanted to revamp the old signs and wanted the extras to break down and go over. Logistics she didn’t question in her rush to leave. 

Thing peeps from the top of her bag when she’s on the elevator. He hears her sigh and gives her a thumbs up that she gives a weary smile to. 

She gets off with her tailored smile. She fluffs her hair and has a bounce in her step, like a caricature of herself; her exaggerated bubbliness what was expected of the future wife of a councilman. With a touch of demure, lest she look like she has too much free will. She doesn’t know if the fact that the receptionist being younger than her and even more (platinum and freshly touched up, as a fellow blonde she could tell)  blonde made her happy or sad—she was probably being paid a pretty penny with all those donations coming in this time of year.

But at the cost of being surrounded by Bruno's elitist friends. 

The young receptionist looks up at her the second she hears her heels. She perks up like a puppy–she feels like she’s looking at a version of herself in some type of Twilight Zone-y way. Big blue eyes akin to her own meet hers and a manicured hand with acrylics reaches to shake as she stands.

“Good afternoon! You must be Enid--Mr. Clarke is expecting you! Also, I love those shoes by the way, omg,” The girl shakes her hand enthusiastically and Enid feels her guard go down just so. She could totally work with this. The blonde nods, “Name’s Hannah! I can help you with those by the way too.”

Hannah very promptly takes half of the bags full of campaign and branding junk. It leaves her feeling less weighed down; physically, at least.

“Omg thanks, I had my eye on them for a while and decided to splurge last Black Friday. I paid like, less than half retail…” While she’s gabbing she’s sure to gesture enough that Thing is able to seamlessly slip out of her bag. She feels the limb slide carefully down her leg. She keeps up her beaming smile, even if it kinda tickles her calf.

“You have to tell me what site your using! Also your skin, girl, your highlighter is so pretty, but I never feel like I like any of them.” The receptionist rounds the desk at this point to begin actually leading her. “Also sorry for the third degree, they like never have any girls here.”

Hannah snorts and it makes Enid force out a hum of laughter that she hopes doesn’t sound too uneasy. She can see Thing slinking around the corner a couple steps ahead of them; the receptionist way too busy getting her skin care routine to notice him. Enid makes sure to stop and pretend she feels a rock in her shoe just in case. If anything, the segue back to her red bottoms leaves her less anxious. 

Another plus to the lavish gifts Bruno's black card brought. Only, it was for sake of making sure she looked ‘presentable.’ The perfect kind of eye candy on his arm. 

He was big into aesthetics. She thinks the boy missed his calling in design and direction—he sure loved to be in control of everything enough. 

Which is why he hired all his buddies to work for him.

Connor's office had frosted glass by the door, showing silhouettes of the men inside. If she couldn’t already smell them, she could probably guess. 

“I think they're at the tail end of their meeting, but they’re probably just talking shop,” Hannah rolls her eyes playfully. “You know how boys can be…”

And thats what serves to minutely bum her out; the complacency the women of her kind often felt the need to default on. Instead of scoffing or telling her how much better she could be doing, it becomes easier to smile stiffly and hum. Not in agreement, but…

The office door swings open and out comes a portly man that looks straight off the Monopoly game cover. Grey mustache and all, he only vaguely acknowledges the two of them. Likely because he saw them as in the way. 

“Great meeting with you gentlemen,” Mr. Monopoly man says. He tips his hat, “I’ll be touching base with your colleague as well. Lets hope you can keep your money where your maws are.”

Enid watches Russ step out, sans the other two boys. He nod dutifully, with hands at his sides. His hair slicked back, black like oil and eyes icey like the cold, stiff atmosphere of his business. She’s only really surprised he’s alone. The other two nowhere in sight.

“Of course  Mr. Berkshire,” Russ agrees. He gets a final firm handshake from the oil tycoon-looking man. Then very eagerly, “When should I expect to hear your answer?”

“We’ll be in touch,” The man confirms. If she had less tact, she'd laugh at how open ended and dismissive it sounded. 

Enid observes silent, but—well, observant. She’s half a mind to change her major from journalism and writing to psychology. Social interactions often played out with more ease than not on her end. People were varying, but everyone has their tells.

She knows Russ wants this man’s approval and desperately so. And just as much, if not more, said man was extremely aware of this. 

“Excuse me ladies, you have a wonderful day,” The man eyes her and Hannah approvingly on his way out. Enid politely nods and smiles, thankful he’s not leering or worse–trying to touch.

“Actually, Hannah here can grab your coat and walk you out,” Russ gestures to the other blonde girl. 

“Oh! Of course—right this way,” She stands straight at her call to duty and bids Enid a smile and wave on her way. 

Even mouths something about following each other later online. And while she’s all for it, now is a rare time she’s not jumping at the chance for a new mutual.

“You’re here early,” Russ comments the second they’re out of sight. Her hands curls protectively around the multiple totes she’s once again holding. 

“Well, I am the fiancee of a very important man now, aren’t I?” Enid drawls, “What would it look like if I wasn’t punctual?”

Its under-handedly mocking–otherwise sarcastic; A skill she learned to perfect from her old roommate. Mainly, she liked the way it made Russ inhale, cause he probably wants to say more but knows he shouldn’t.

“Well, the guys are out grabbing lunch,” Russ replies back much the same. Then he nods at her bag of goodies and his open office. “Better get comfortable.”

*

Russ had known the Bruno the longest. 

Russell Lunarton, of another high ranking wolf pack off of this coast. He was an only pup and the only boy—Enid knew that enough to give him his attitude and entitlement. And why Bruno was his match made in hell.

“Hope it wasn’t a hassle finding parking,” The man says as she sits her bag on the desk. 

“Nah, but also I don’t mind walking,” She replies absently. Really she’s taking in the decorations and accolades lining the walls and shelves. Sports trophies, certificates, and all sorts of plaques. “Nice place you got here. Bruno told me you guys finally got settled in?”

Innocent, trivial small talk that she’d make even if she wasn’t of her current status. A reflex for when she’s nervous or has an inanimate hand scuttling about the building for clues while practically wearing a wire.

“So, did our future councilman get cold paws?” Russ asks a counter question, hands in his pockets. His eyes trail her face, like he’s looking for something. “What made him stay behind?”

She laughs easily, because the interrogation was comical considering Bruno definitely set this up. On top of the fact that it’s unimportant enough of a task that he hadn’t batted an eye at her askance to go in his place; exactly why she chose this as her opportunity. Its almost like Russ didn’t trust him as much as Enid didn’t. 

Something clicks in her brain as a new side mission of finding out why appears on her mental checklist. 

“He said he wanted the time to catch up on school,” She explains with a shrug. “Did he not tell you I was coming? I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

They told each other everything. Enid was ignorant on many aspects of male on male friendship, but she knew Russ was smoking the same junk that everyone else on Bruno's team was. 

Part of her starts to get nervous that maybe he can smell Thing somehow. If not for how she knew better; knew the nuance of his tone. 

“Just odd is all…you’ve never shown much interest in this kind of stuff. I figured you preferred to sit pretty,” He snarks, but his delivery was blase. Like an after thought. He liked to throw jibes that he could easily hide his hands from after. 

(Because otherwise it might sound a little too much like envy).

She returns her practiced, faux polite smile; something she wonders if she shares in solidarity with others in her position. 

“If I’m going to be the wife of a politician,” She makes sure to emphasize that title. She takes note of how his jaw works when he hears it.  “I think its a bit expected that I have something to add aside from my appearance. Bruno seems to like it enough.”

Enid’s aware she’s bluffing at this point. Knows that he’s seen the extent of their intimate life and probably knew even more from the man himself. The point here wasn’t getting facts out of herself, though. Russ just needed to confirm things she’s already suspected. 

“That rock on your hand sure is something, huh?” He mentions next. Enid indulges him with a flash of her hand and steady eye contact.

“This old thing?” It gives her sick satisfaction to see the twitch in his face. Wolves were territorial creatures–she could relate in a way. Rather, she knew the feeling. “It was so romantic the way he proposed…but, I’m sure you saw all the pictures Bruno had taken of us. The gondola was a nice choice.”

Pretending you’re happy for someone else that has exactly what you want.

Russ listens tight lipped, pacing near the window to lean next to. Like an anchor, or most likely, an excuse to not show the resentment. The expressions and accompanying feelings that wouldn’t make sense for him to have.

“You know, I helped him pick it out?” He says to her surprise. She was expecting a smooth subject change, but instead Russ looks…wistful. Looking out at traffic and cloudy skies, Enid doesn’t entirely feel like he’s speaking to her. “Never thought I’d see the day he took me ring shopping…”

She twists the band on her finger and almost feels sympathetic. The double meaning not lost on her, but she knows that its not meant for her to unpack if she wants to play her cards right. This was just another Ace in her hand. 

In spades…and hearts.

A knock sounds at the door, before the tell tale beep of the lock on the door opening. 

Enid whips, hands behind her back and catching the familiar scent of her fiance’s other two business partners. Dave and Connor stand in the door way with mutually surprised looks. 

“We interrupting something?” Dave speaks first, a strange smile on his face. “I thought Yuson was bluffing when he said we had a special delivery. Whats up, Sinclair?”

Dave was the oldest out of all of them. Enid thinks thats maybe why he’s the most tolerable between the three of them. He greets her with a polite shake of her hand and half hug. He was normally the only one of the three that addressed her respectfully when they were alone. He also knew her older brother, having been on the same parks and rec teams growing up. 

“Do we need to tell Bruno you’re having private meetings  with his girl?” Connor jokes next, him being the more mischievous of the two of them. Enid didn’t care for him much–he was kind of a pig. 

The way he talked about the girls he bedded always made her roll her eyes. If not for the place they were standing, he'd probably have some poor girl on his arm, talking her ear off with all his accolades and family funds.

“Please—I was just making sure he didn’t bail today on purpose,” Russ clicks his teeth. "He doesn't usually do last minute shit like that." 

More like someone’s worried about their place, she thinks to herself. Shit, he can have it.

It’s not long before it becomes a boys club. When she’s sat next to Dave on the opposite side of Russ’s desk and simply listening as they talk logistics. How much xyz is gonna cost and whose favor they’re desperate to gain. Target counties and packs that they want to meet with for sake of creating a treaty–which is just werewolf rhetoric for schmoozing.

“What about the Moon-Walker association?” Dave mentions in terms of searching for organizations to garner support from. Conner snorts at the mere mention.

“Eh, thats more way more charity than not,” He condescends. “They have a half-breed running their city’s branch.”

She subtly  inhales at the way they say it like a slur. Because it apparently matters to have mixed blood–even worse, possibly human genes. 

Enid knows better than to interject too much; A. it would get back to Bruno quicker than she could come up with an excuse and B. She’s content to let them babble for sake of Thing lingering with his recorder. She’s no idea where he is and she’s been vigilantly checking to make sure that no one else knew either. The scenting was working overtime, considering it didn’t smell like human, or Addams.

Which was probably for the best due to multiple reasons…

Theres more than once (or twice) that she finds her attention waning. The closer it gets to her leaving especially, because she knows she has another far more challenging meeting to follow up with after. 

*

“We’re gonna send some stuff back with you,” Dave lets her know before she leaves. “We can bring it by the house if that makes it easier? You're at the place by the woods, right?"

He walks her out because she knows the other two would rather die; Connor maybe not, but she doesn’t feel like dealing with his thinly veiled flirting, either. They get down to the first floor, the elevator ride much more quaint going down. 

“Yeah, that's where I've been staying. Also, I’m fine with whichever,” She passes the decision back to him. “Honestly, this was a good excuse to not stay home and watch TV all day.”

Dave nods, but she can tell he has more to say.

“What made you come today, anyways? I didn’t think you had much interest in all the political stuff,” Dave inquiries. He sounds more curious than interrogating. 

“Just wanted to get out of the house, like I said... nothing that deep, really,” Enid repeats with a shy chuckle. Demure, polite and non confrontational.

Dave only hums, hands going in his pockets.

“Well, thank you for deciding to lend us a hand in your boredom,” He smiles at her. Enid looks at him strange, unsure of what he’s getting at. “I’m happy Bruno went with you in the end. The other chick he was talking to before you had a major stick up her ass. You could totally tell she just wanted to be a trophy wife, or something.”

Enid doesn’t know how she manages to keep her face straight. How she doesn't burst into laughter at the very thought.

“Yeah…well, I guess thats the bright side to me ‘not caring about politics and stuff,’” She jokes. Thankfully, Dave doesn’t say much else aside from audibly laughing at his words being parroted back at him. 

"Tell your mom I said hi and thanks again for the card!" The boy shouts at her from the entrance. Her smile is tight as she confirms, not looking forward to recounting any of this trip 

She exhales when she finally collapses back in her car. A deep one, as she feels all the stress and tense anxiety leave her shoulders. She sits in silence, up until she turns to face the hand that conveniently sat next to her, unharmed. She didn't have the energy to guess how he made it out (or got in her locked car), but she’s relieved nonetheless. 

"Welp...how'd you like the groomsman?" She prompts, sounding exhausted as she observes the evening dimming light. Thing just complains about the excess of testosterone and machismo. Enid just breathes out a humorless laugh, "Welcome to my world...now you know how I learned to hold my tongue."

He doesn't say much to that. He's definitely noticed, though. Her spark remained in rebellion, but had not much energy for much else nowadays. She had no choice but to listen and observe.

He’s tentative, asking her if she has everything. Switching gears, he tells her he got some good dirt and snagged some souvenirs. Tells her he forwarded the recordings he took to Wednesday already. And how they could try again and meet in her office tomorrow, this time after lunch. 

Enid pretends that that doesn’t excite her more than the ring on her finger ever could.

Chapter Text

Her dart board had gained an abundance of use over the past 24 hours. She takes the time in between to sharpen and polish each knife, near meditative, before she’d get to the tip; sharp as fangs.

Rinse and repeat…give and take.

The only shift in her routine comes in form of Thing finally doing something worth his dinner. She was starting to become suspicious that the hand had been made, or even worse–snitched on the both of them. The sensitive creature always had a terribly soft spot for her former roommate, like an gaping, hollowed out chasm in the palm of his hand.

It makes her ansty. She’d rather stab herself than call it concern; or even blame the espresso she drinks for making her pulse race. And how quickly she folds and grabs her phone the second she hears the tone Thing had set for his messages.

“About damn time,” She murmurs to herself. Finally, she’s the information to possibly incriminate her former friend. Or, confirm her real reasoning for turning up on her doorstep unannounced.

She clenches her teeth at the message of—

Thing: Youre gonna wanna see this

*Voice Note Attachments (5)*

Of which have her brows going well above her fringe.

She does hear Enid at first. She'd recognize her voice anywhere.

Wolves had distinct howls.

Its unmistakable, the way each decibel makes her chest expand. Her eyes almost lid; she could pretend she was on the phone with her, back when things were much more simple. Only these…feelings that still ruminated inside her told her that perhaps it never was.

Its always been much more than what lay on the surface when it came to the two of them.

She knew Enid well–-its why her stomach sinks in the silence. Anticipation, like a thriller or horror film scare that could shake a better person than she, was encroaching. Aside from meaningless chatter from an assumed receptionist, Enid barely speaks in any of what was sent. Unless addressed, or otherwise prompted.

Like she was ever meant to be in the background. As if Enid Sinclair, walking sunshine personified, was someone you could easily miss.

In a room of men in suits, their words full of racist, classist jargon and decorated prejudice as they dare mention terms like ‘charity’ or ‘community.’ She’s familiar with the type, growing up with such a wild card investor such as her father. Philanthropists, rich only in bank account, as his attitude had always been far from entitled or posh. Their manor was decorated in classics, but never had they ever been conservative.

Its against every fiber of her being as an Addams.

And…everything she knew Enid Sinclair to be.

She was loud, opinionated and if not her mouth, her presence spoke volumes in form of hues of protruding rainbows and blinding pastels. Unapologetically and with little to no shame. Wednesday could attest to it first hand, having dealt with the wolf cementing her place as an equal. Demanded it, even.

“But I don’t apologize for it,” She had stood tall in center of their dormitory. “Not anymore.”

Enid had snatched her self respect (and heart) from her cold, dead hands.

Its haunting, how she only hears the wolf speak of her ring. Of her duty and devotion–loyalty to something that would never return it.

(Not like Wednesday could...not like she still did. Despite it all...she still did.)

She has to pause. Several times she has to stop the playback to simply breathe.

She’s thankful that Thing sent it ahead of his arrival. It takes him well over an hour to make it back to the office, long after the sun has gone down. The hand walks into a scene thats not exactly uncharacteristic or strange; on the surface, she was only blowing off steam, or maybe mulling something over.

Target practice was a time for contemplation. However…her target being the smiling face of Enid’s fiance was a tad off in her normal routine.

She’s only vaguely startled by his appearance. Mainly, its the way he looks between her and her new ‘target.' Accusatory, but without doing much other than turning his wrist to look between. She knows how it looks. Its just becoming harder to act like she doesn't care.

Wednesday clicks her teeth and hides her flustered face, turning her back to him like she’s going back to tend to her knives.

“Back from your playdate, I see,” She greets him sardonically. Places her blades back in their resting place and wipes her hands of it. “Surprised you and your butter fingers weren’t made twice today.”

She refers pointedly to the original mission of following Enid undetected. Turns the tables, along with the attention and overlying blame.

Thing gets defensive. Paints a picture of pure memory mixed with fantasy. Thinks that ‘open communication’ with Enid and working ‘together’ will help them in the end.

“You’re showing your lack of brain in that stump of yours,” Wednesday retorts. At his exasperation she presses, “Obviously she’s still hiding something.”

The hand pauses. He hesitates, likely knowing just how much his insolence would anger her. The way he tries to defend her former roommate; gesturing about how msybe this is something that could be remedied with ‘trust.’

“And trust her blindly simply because we used to live together?” She makes a generalization that doesn’t support her case. If the way Thing looks at her means anything. Wednesday exasperatedly rolls her eyes,“You don’t find this the least bit suspicious? Listening to those recordings—I hardly even recognized her. No interjections or quips, coming from the same girl that used to call me to tell me the most inane details about her day.”

The Enid she knew wasn’t quiet. She didn’t simply sit back politely with no comment or complaint. Even for sake of gaining evidence. In but a years time, such s change was still fairly drastic. Wednesday had an eery feeling when she lets the way Enid sounded ring in her ears.

When she’s around that man’s friends.

In stark comparison to her behavior—her spark of life and subsequent flame roaring behind her eyes when she entered Wednesday’s space. Untamed, like something no longer accustomed to being let loose.

“She’s different with him. That-that Bruno character…” It vexes her to speak his name. Her palms against her desk, she leans back on it and tries not to show her frustration. Crosses her arms, “I’ve been doing this a long time. Heard more confessionals than phone calls with my parents this year alone. Something here…isn’t right.”

And she can’t put her finger on it.

(Or, maybe she simply doesn’t want to.)

*

Theres no real way to prepare for a client. Irregardless she hated talking to people, even if she’s being paid. It was often viewed as means to an end, or something she had to do like speaking to a cashier. A necessary evil in receiving goods for service, or vice versa. Really, she chose to go to dive bars for more than just being discreet. The drinks for one, smoking indoors another; not to mention the fact that no one looked at her sidewise if things ever got physical.

Its an adjustment, preparing to meet this particular evening. She goes for pants today, well tailored and black along with her dress shirt. Its frilly and Victorian, but she liked not looking capable of the acts she committed. People underestimating her was her bread and butter.

Her client today had done none of the sort. Rather, she embraced the things that made the young Addams so spooky and kooky.

So…she feels a tad off as she gets ready that day. Its early evening, after a brief bout of phone conversation that had her reeling. Mainly, because the last sent message between them had been the wolf desperately calling out for communication. She types quickly, so she didn’t have to look at it too long.

For some reason…she’s been having issues pushing this particular distraction to the back of her mind.

(Part of why she stopped responding in the first place.)

Enid beats her there, which is somehow the most jarring thing when she enters. The hostess keeps it short, as she preferred and mainly spoke to Thing who was perched dutifully on her shoulder. One thing he was good for, ironically, was conversating when she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to. Her head was full enough and her throat was strangely taut already.

Like she’d been screaming out all that plagued her about today.

The familiarity of it all; Enid sitting in a booth with a cup of something that looked sweet as the pink that still lingered on tips of her hair. Much paler and more contained, even the way the wolf expressed color was dulled. Dimmed, almost as if it didn’t belong.

A half wave, not nearly as enthused as it may have been once upon a time. Bright eyes alight in recognition but not much more. Wednesday knows her own eyes reflect the same.

“Howdy,” Enid greets. She looks exhausted up close and to add another anomaly, Wednesday finds herself missing the glitter.

The spark.

“Howdy.”

Her bravado disappears as she finds her seat. As they sit in controlled silence, because this isn’t a scenario they’ve ever faced together. Hydes, monsters and man made horrors; laughter, light cascading from stained glass and grand declarations—and so many more.

“I take it you heard the campaign master plan,” Enid starts. Wednesday thinks she preferred her anger. Her bitterness with traces of the past she was so sure she didn’t need.

Her current smile lacked much of anything but resignation. A humbled bow.

“Sounded like a gathering of overgrown fraternity brats.” She replies very plainly, remembering the alpha-male mentality. The blatant racism that left their mouths with what she just knew was a smirk. “Your paramour or what have you, left enough to be desired on his own. Though, I suppose an ego like that needs yes-men.”

Enid does seem to find some sort of humor in that. Amused air leaving her nose and the lack of attempt at defending any of it.

“They’re all his buddies from prep school. And of course, one of them knows my brother so I extra have to ‘watch my mouth.’” The blonde recites the last bit bitterly. It makes her chest lurch seeing a glimpse of fire that remained.

A riled up Enid was always one she was dangerously fond.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” She quips. Out of memory of a girl that refused to give her the time to write out of stubborn will.

Still there in the way she gets a glare in return that rivaled her own.

“Yeah, Wednesday, because I enjoy being the kinda girl thats ‘seen but not heard’ behind her oh, so doting man.” Enid rolls her eyes and struggles to keep her tone low. “Or would you rather I blow my cover? I thought you were supposed to be good at investigating.”

Its aggressive in a way that ticks her buttons. She fears she’d somehow forgotten that quickly just how good Enid was at doing so. 

And she’s out of practice in letting it go. Although that implies that she ever could. If she could ignore Enid Sinclair then she wouldn’t be here at all. 

Her heart wouldn’t be pumping adrenaline to her clenching fists under the table. 

“Brave words from the person begging for my assistance.”

Thing desperately tries to mediate, tapping and gesturing in center of the table to redirect attention. Tells them they have common enemy and goal in mind. That once upon a time they worked together as easy as they clashed.

Things weren’t always like this.

“You’re right, they weren’t,” Enid agrees. Though, she looks at Wednesday directly, eyes boring into hers very intently. “And who’s fault is that?”

Its cooed at her like she’s a child. Like Enid thinks her as ignorant as she teased. Wednesday feels slighted, if not only because she never acted without method. She didn’t do things just to do them. It wasn’t an easy choice to make.

Leaving Enid left her with nothing else…she had no choice but to throw herself into her work.

“I did what was necessary.” She stands on her hill, the one she painstakingly climbed to complete her life goals. Goals that existed before they did.

Before she knew what it was like to want anything else. Or, lose it.

“Yeah?” Enid prompts, cocking her head. She palms hands on the table top, standing up and grabbing her coat. “Well…so am I.”

She doesn’t spare another glance as she grabs her tote too. Makes a show of pushing her chair in and slamming cash for tip, making Wednesday scoff.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The seer questions. Enid does look at her then, though part of her wishes she didn’t.

She looked so…

“I decided your help was no longer ‘necessary,’” Enid condescends. Its harsh and so terribly final. Not on her terms this time, when the wolf is walking out of the door.

“Sincl—Enid! This walking out act of yours is fast becoming outdated!” She tries to call out, half out of her seat. The eyes on their display from other patrons a separate nuisance, but not nearly as pressing. Her voice cracks and she sneers to no one at the way Enid doesn’t even turn around. She chances a glance at Thing, seeing the hand’s judgement at his fingertips. “Oh, don’t give me that look.”

He shrugs, as if to say what he couldn’t and technically didn’t.

Only Wednesday could.

Her body takes to action before her head can catch up. The incessant beating in her chest, adrenaline as she runs outside to catch up with the angry wolf.

For some reason…its not as easy to let her walk away this time.

(Although that implies its ever been. Perhaps its become one too many.)

“Enid,” She calls out, seeing the blonde unlocking her car. After eyes darting about a moderately empty street. The blond and her cream colored coat were pacing fast down the block. Wednesday’s running towards her once. “Enid!”

Her own trench swishing behind her, the wolf doesn’t turn or pause at sound of her voice. Only angrily goes to round her car and open the door. Wednesday pushes it shut, panting after her unexpected jog and feeling flushed at the way Enid bares her fangs.

“What?” She snaps in irritation. Wednesday breathes out hard, the smell of sweet coffee on the girl’s hot breath tickling her nose. “Leave me alone, Wednesday.”

There so close. Closest they’ve been in a while.

It didn’t used to be this easy to make Enid leave. She always came back, like a boomerang or the plague. A virus that adapted to every remedy she tried. The mucus clogging her throat and stealing her voice. Its hard to find the nerve to open her mouth.

Enid takes it like medicine; scrunching her face in disgust and yanking the door open again. She doesn’t hesitate to start the car and put it into gear. Wednesday watches with heavy breaths, before she finds herself in line of the horn.

Honking directly in her face. She sees Enid’s fanged mouth ranting, gesturing for her to move. Exasperated hitting at the wheel, before she rolls the window down as it still hummed with life.

“Move! I swear to God—” She honks again, but Wednesday doesn’t budge. The wolf huffs and puffs, claws visible against the wheel that double in size as they make eye contact again.

She shuts the car off. Looks to be at war with herself for a long moment before she steps out of it. Wednesday doesn’t blink once.

Yet, she still gets the air knocked out of her when Enid’s picking her up by the shirt and pulling her into an alley. Her back hits brick and she’s eye level with glowing blue eyes and growls that reverberate through both their bodies.

“Do you think this is funny? Do you think I-I like walking away from you, because you make me so…damn…angry?” Enid asks, directly in her face. Her body boxes Wednesday against the wall, trembling with the rage of the beast. And the heart of the girl it inhabited. Her eyes blue and glassy, like geodes polished by ocean water. “Is it another one of those sick, stupid Addams family things that no one else could possibly understand, because you refuse to let anything in that isn’t a threat to your life? Is that what you want?”

Wednesday doesn’t flinch. All that was, happened inside. The deep seeded feelings of regret, that reflected in eyes shimmering tears. The voice echoing through the alley way. 

The talons that scrape against the concrete of the building she was pinned against. Her body warmed by more than just her trench coat.

“This proves how little you do understand,” Wednesday husks. Enid looks exasperatedly at her, head shaking in disbelief.

“I should rip you apart. Claw your heart out the same way you did mine…” The wolf laughs, incredulous and devoid of humor. It makes her heart skip, seeing the clawed hand move closer to her throat. Only for the blonde to scoff, “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wednesday almost chokes. Claws longer the length of her face leave her breathless.

She doesn’t know what possesses her. The ghost of whatever’s past, the spirit of what once was.

Her hands and body move against all logic. Her pounding heart much louder than the alarm bells in her head. Her brain, stuffed full of cold cases and overflowing with repressed memories and so many feelings…they both learn very quickly why Wednesday so desperately pushed it away.

She pulls Enid’s mouth to her own. Realized how little of the rope she’d released to begin with. It doesn’t take much to find herself back in line of the sun, scorching against her skin and yellow strands between her fingers.

When Enid’s fang catches against Wednesday’s lip. The seer licks the blood with dilated pupils before they’re connected in flesh too.

Chapter Text

They had a lot of ‘almosts’ throughout the years.

Thats what Enid had always likened them to.

Almost like…accidents. Something either or could apologize for and brush off. Something Enid could chuckle about, good natured because that would be so silly...

(Wouldn't it?)

It helped make everything make sense, when she’d find her heart hammering a little too hard after. When she’d repeat the scenario to friends, trying not to sound increasingly hopeful each time. When she didn’t want to deal with how bad it hurt, inevitably when she’s proven wrong—again.

She remembers graduation. Their last weeks at Nevermore.

Champagne at the Addams estate, after the seer had unexpectedly allowed them all over. The effort she put into herself that night, even though she was single and not at all interested in getting her ex, Ajax back. The fact that she went there instead of the obvious set up to mate her off to someone that her mom had invited her to. The way she felt her nerves on end when she greeted Wednesday’s parents, as if she’d never met them before.

Morticia had a way about her. Wednesday said she was a seer too; only her visions were ‘good’. Messages delivered on a white pillow stuffed with dove’s feathers. The way she looked at Enid, one would think her future was bright.

That...maybe when she found herself on the balcony that night it would be different. That when Wednesday held her hands and whispered to her that night that her lips would close against her own.

But it never did. They never did. Never would.

Wednesday Addams didn’t do love. She didn’t want a relationship.

(She didn’t want Enid.)

“I refuse to be like my weak minded parents. I would never bind myself to another.” She had stated so more than once.

No exceptions.

She told herself this enough times to fill a journal of emo, desperate and pining entries that were somehow less embarrassing than her steady begging over the phone.

(Still, her heart broke a little more each time.)

So, color her shocked; the whole rainbow of surprise, exasperation, dumbfoundment, etc.

That Wednesday Addams is kissing her.

Had initiated it.

Grabbed her by her flustered, angry red cheeks after getting a little bit too close to simply call each other old friends. After years of Enid wishing either she’d get the nerve to face rejection or that the seer would wake up one day and finally see her.

The way she always had—Wednesday had always seen her through dark tinted lenses that drew focus to all the light Enid brought in the world. In a way no one ever had before. In a way only an Addams could.

“I’m an Addams,” Wednesday would say. Very plainly, because she couldn’t pretend to be anything else. "Its in my bones. Invasive as a tumor."

And Enid had accepted that. Made her (fragile and ever waning) peace with it.

But dammit…

She can’t help herself, when she kisses back grabbing desperately at the girl’s neck and face. Pinning her against the wall and connecting their mouths roughly. Years of ‘what ifs’ and ‘will they/won’t they’ jokes from friends that she had to pretend to laugh along with.

A year of pretending she was (and could ever be) fully over Wednesday.

Pretending she didn’t urge to know if her lips were as soft and plump as they looked. If she really ran as cold as she claimed to or if her morning espresso’s taste still lingered on her tongue. It had only been a thing of fantasy and dreams that left her lingering in bed and looking forlornly to the other side of her dorm room.

And it feels all too much like a dream. Over just as quickly as it started, because of course.

Enid finds the lips against her own going slack, soon after the rest of the body she was conveniently holding up did too. Its instinctive, to catch Wednesday when she falls, as she’s been doing it for years now. When they were still teenagers, it took the seer longer than she’d admit to no longer succumb to fainting spells every time she had a vision. And Enid wasn’t always there, (it was impossible to be without resorting to tracking or putting an air tag on the girl), but more often than not she was.

Like she had a natural inclination to Wednesday being in life threatening situations.

“Shit!” She hisses, holding the seer up to affirm that yes, she was out like a light. Completely unresponsive and ignorant to the fact that they’re technically still in a very public alleyway.

Enid bites her lip, looking around and ensuring theres no passerby before she’s puppeteering the girl into her car. She settles her in the back seat, allowing her to lay because theres no way she’s sitting up on her own right now. And she would prefer to not look like she’s driving a dead body in her passenger seat.

She sprints back inside the bar and barely gives Thing the chance to flex before snatching him from the table.

“We have to go—no time to explain!!” She’s more than a bit frazzled, so excuse her tone. She even forgets to tell the staff to 'have a good one!'

Of course Thing starts asking questions, confused about not only the whereabouts of his relative but how Enid ended up being the one coming back for him after storming out. He'd obviously missed quite a bit of plot. Which, has her even more flustered because that meant thinking about just what they were doing to set forth this sequence of events…so to speak.

And that meant addressing the feelings that came with making out with Wednesday. And mind you, she’s still processing that whole thing by the way.

“She had a vision and passed out on me—you know, typical…” Her sarcasm is palpable. Thing tells her that Wednesday’s been rubbing off on her again. That just makes her almost trip over her feet, because…well, he’s not too far off. She clears her throat, “I left her in the back of my car cause I started panicking about looking like a serial killer when I’m already plotting my way-too-in-the-public-eye fiance’s downfall.”

She lets him see into the back seat to the girl still knocked out. He mentions how this hasn’t happened in a long time. How Wednesday had better control over her body and her visions passed ironically easy considering their subject matter. Normally, the most the seer would do is enter a trance like state and become eerily still.

All the while she’s placing him in the passenger seat and buckling him in.

“It must be something important, then.” Enid tries not to let her worry show any more than it should. There was a time in which she could justify being hopeful and naive when it came to her former roomie. And right now there wasn’t a lot of it.

Its far easier to simply put the car into drive.

“I’m taking you two home,” Enid speaks as she processes. Hand through her untamed hair, remembering how Wednesday’s nails felt on her scalp—she takes a stuttered breath. “Well…at least we’re not arguing, eh?”

Thing doesn’t look any more at ease with her barely there joke. He’s also not stupid, in spite of not having a brain. He’s suspicious, but he’s not asking.

And Enid doesn’t do herself any favors; hand going to her lips absently only to force it back to the wheel. Force her eyes ahead and not fifteen minutes prior when she learned that Wednesday’s lips were warm as her hugs and softer than the seer would ever admit to. That the scent of funeral lilies bloomed bouquets in her chest so close to the source.

It wouldn’t be the first or most elaborate lie she’s told.

Thing’s just worried ultimately; she can see it in how she catches him looking back at Wednesday’s slumbering face just as often as she does. And Enid knows the journey to the office isn't far, but it’s not reassuring whatsoever to see the seer still passed out cold by the time she pulls up to the front. Enid exchanges a look with Thing, before he tells her that Wednesday sleeps directly above her office.

“Of course she does. Workaholic living in the same building as their job, fork found in kitchen,” She quips, mumbling to herself. Really she’s building up to touching Wednesday again, even if it was just to carry her slumbering body to bed.

It felt like cheating. In every definition—both ironic, because she’s supposed to be making Bruno look like the unstable one. And painful, because taking Wednesday to bed and laying her down was where it had to end.

“She’s really out of it…” Enid whispers, as to not wake her prematurely. Thing leads her through a hall she’d not been down yet and a quickly unlocked door that led to steps. Enid takes note of the stark change into the Addams abode.

The way it looked as anciently gothic as their dorm, but somehow even more mature. Decorations left her at varying levels of queasy or unease, because a bear trap hanging on the wall isn’t exactly welcoming. Nor is the taxidermy that always remained a staple in the girl’s questionable home decor choices.

And she’s rushing, taking quick scans as Thing skitters ahead towards Wednesday’s bedroom. Still, she sees a familiar thing—

---

She never liked killing animals.

An anomaly of a wolf, her nightly activities were often kept separate from who she was when she awoke in the morning. In the sense that she didn’t like digging her nails in the dirt; her brothers likened her to a prissy half-breed. She just didn't wanna ruin her manicure prematurely. So many years thinking she would never wolf out at all left her to cherish simple pleasures in her own human girlhood. 

However…instinct had a funny way of working. Working overtime, actually.

Waking up in bed and spitting out black feathers that didn’t come from her roommate’s pillow that morning was strange. To say the least. Nevermind that she was naked under her bathrobe in bed, probably having tugged it on half asleep after dragging herself back at dawn. 

She sat up, wrestled with her blankets and found herself eye to eye with her roommate. A brow raised and arms crossed, like she had been up waiting.

“Uh—g’morning roomie?” Enid had awkwardly stated, absently wiping at her mouth for drool and more feathers. Then, forced out a way too chipper, “Slept ok?”

Wednesday hadn’t said much, before she’d hopped out of bed. Subtle and anxious in how she searched her covers for more feathers and a possible carcass. And absently at her mouth, still dry from the impromptu bird watching her wolf apparently enjoyed the night before.

“Terribly. I take it your hunt last night was fruitful?” The seer had prompted, caused her spine to straighten up and her blood to go cold.

Oh gosh…

“Y-yeah, um—still getting used to the whole killing and maiming thing, cause literally ew, but I think…” It took her entirely too long to realize that Wednesday had holding something.

Granted, it was as a black as the girl’s hoodie and t shirt, so it blended in really well.

“I believe you’re picking things up just fine…” The seer revealed a dead bird in her arms. Tucked close to her in eternal slumber.

Oh…OH!

“OMG—I am so sorry, I swear on the Moon herself I don’t even remember—“ Enid shut her mouth at the sight of Wednesday having raised her hand. Her cheeks pinken and her head drooped, like a scolded pet.

She always did take her ‘bestie’s’ approval a little too close to the chest.

“No need for silly apologies—this will fit handsomely on my desk after I finish preservation,” Wednesday reassured. She stroked the feathers of the lifeless animal with a pleased hum. “A flawlessly clean kill…the body is in impeccable condition.”

Praise that should’ve made her stomach churn; she didn’t like talking about dead things. The taxidermy in her childhood home was something she was only used to out of familiarity. The thought of dissection or surgery made her quiver in place.

But, Wednesday’s words tickle her ears and travel down her spine. Make her feel fuzzy—her chest puffs out in what she realized later to be wolfish pride. Because, Wednesday was one of the few people that talked about her like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. That her nature was simply who she was.

That it was ok to simply be Enid. Not a half breed or late bloomer.

Just Enid.

“Ah…you’re welcome, roomie.”

---

And there it remained. Black and feathered as the day she brought her faithful trophy back from her hunt. On Wednesday’s mantle like it was made of gold too.

Enid stops snooping and keeps her eyes forward after that.

The bedroom is much the same. Same as their dorm, same as the estate or even the downstairs office. Dark wood walls and barely any lighting aside from unlit candles and a few shaded lamps. Decor that ranged from gore to historic, all colorlessly gothic and glaringly Addams; specifically Wednesday. All her quirks and favor littered the walls and tables, a pair of fencing sabres sat above the entry way.

She places Wednesday softly onto her mattress, watching the girl unconsciously cross her arms like a corpse. It makes her sigh in relief—that meant she truly was only sleeping.

Thing mentions how it must have taken a lot out of her. Again, he repeats just how long its been, since the last time the seer had had a vision so intense.

“Yeah…” Enid murmurs. Awkwardly rubs her arm, before the walls start to feel like they’re closing in. The room stuffy and a feeling of urgency in her gut. “I should…I should probably head out soon.”

It’s probably silly to feel guilty...is that what it is? The coiling inside that feels like she’s outworn her welcome. That she’s out of place and in over her head, she licks her lips and still tastes a drink that she didn’t order.

Like she doesn’t…belong here.

“Bruno is probably wondering why I haven’t texted…” She trails, because there's not much to it other than that. She knows he doesn’t give a damn so long as she's not making him look bad. Little did he know…ahem. She swallows, “And I know how Wednesday is all about her personal space and all that.”

She chances a humorless laugh and glance at Thing. He looks wary; the way he does when he’s judging her. Wordlessly saying he can see through her every move and nervous tick. She regrets a couple of those heart to hand girl talk sessions.

“What do you want me say, Thing?” She whines, exasperated. He tells her to try being honest. She huffs at him, “Yeah and you see where that’s gotten me over the years…”

Thing dares to ask if she cares about Wednesday. About her current state. Enid knows her eyes flash with the beast.

“Of course I do! How could you even ask me that…its—“ She takes a breath and looks to ensure that the subject of conversation is still knocked out. Still, she lowers her tone, “Its her that doesn’t want me here, in case you missed the last couple years. And I’m sick of putting my neck out to get burned—I just…I just can’t do that anymore. I’m not the one thats the masochist.”

She holds herself when she crosses her arms. Looks away from both Thing and the slumbering girl in discussion. Thing hesitates, but he says that its not what she thinks; that Wednesday was just bad at expressing herself and didn’t like to be vulnerable. And Enid knows this better than anyone else. Had been on the receiving end of these self righteous silent treatments and solo journeys more than once.

And in tandem with the ‘love’ she knows in the present–-her engagement built on politics and parental approval with a man who didn’t care what she did so long as she didn’t embarrass him. Who handled her cruelly, while she secretly still urged for a girl who made it clear she wasn’t anything other than a someone she went to high school with.

“Theres only so much a girl can take,” Enid retorts meekly. “I can understand, but…that doesn’t mean I have to deal with it. Especially, when I already—”

She lingered in the room too long.

Neither of them are expecting the way Wednesday shoots up out of bed; gasping and eyes wide and feral as she searches the room. Thing’s crawling up the bed with the quickest reaction time, trying to calm the girl as Enid follows close behind.

“Hey, hey...you’re ok—its ok…we’re back in your office—you're home,” Enid makes a face at her own awkward wording. While concerned, she still feels wary about getting too close or daring to touch. Especially with the way Wednesday was inspecting her unblinking, almost unsettling—even for Wednesday. Enid swallows, before continuing to explain, “You sort’ve, uh…you passed out on me outside. After…”

She bites her tongue. Very literally, as to not reveal pain she’s not prepared to heal.

She doesn’t want to say it out loud. If she gave it a voice or a name, she gave it power; and the ability to inevitably hurt her more.

If she thinks too hard about that kiss…

However, she’s not expecting (amidst the million other things Wednesday’s done to jar her over the past couple days) the seer to grab her face and starts examining her. She desperately pulls up her sleeve like she’s searching for something specific with her frantic eyes and movements. It makes Enid choke on her previous concern and spit out something flustered and anxious instead.

“Wha—What the heck are you—”

“I’ll skin him alive.” Wednesday’s eyes were like nothing she’s ever seen.

They always had a sort of intensity that she genuinely had to get used to, but this was way more than that.

They were cold, standing in a freezer ready for slaughter.

She wanted blood.

Chapter Text

Wednesday looked absolutely ravenous—no pun intended. No time to think at all, really. She's wide eyed at the way the seer raises from the bed with feral eyes.

“I’ll kill him. No…he deserves a bout of suffering first. To feel like the insignificant, maggot filled, rat bastard he is.”

She murmurs some not so nice sounding words in Spanish. And her knowledge is limited, but she's more than sure she knows what a 'puta' is. All the while she’s holding Enid’s cheeks like her head would fall off if she didn’t. Thumbs so soft against her skin and caressing in comparison to the harsh words spilling from her mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Enid’s brows knitat the bravado of it and just how angry the seer was. Like a complete 180 from how peaceful she looked in her sleep. Wednesday doesn’t answer, but keeps seething. Enid frowns, “Wednesday?”

It makes her all the more confused, slowly lowering hands from her face. When she touched them, she realizes that they’re freezing cold. That they were damn near trembling. But they hadn’t been anywhere cold, not physically.

Enid holds her eyes. Her stomach churns. A foreboding feeling settles.

“What did…what did you see?” She finds the strength to ask.

Wednesday takes a haunting breath.

“He's hurt you.... He's abusing you.”

Theres no question or inquiry…its a statement based on learned facts. Enid’s eyes go wide in recognition, even in anticipation of the inevitable. Then they lower in resignation, because its hard to look the truth head on sometimes.

Theres a moment of hang time; where its so silent and eerie that no one moves. Enid’s caught in a web of lies and forced realization of more than she knows how to cope with. Almost as if she’d forgotten, stagnant in her own prison so long her limbs felt lighter than they were. Or, maybe that was just her blood pressure dropping like a weight.

“O-Oh…” She whispers.

Of course thats what she meant—who else could it be? Have I normalized it this much? She ponders, to the point of near suffocation of words that wish to escape, but can’t find legs. She thinks its the shame in her own weakness.

She used to be able to stand up for herself much easier. To say no.

Thoughts rushing that make her want to burst out of her clothes and break through the trees with her wolf and nothing else. When normally she had no issue making her thoughts and opinions known.

Once upon a time.

It takes her far too long to realize Wednesday had started moving. But it only takes a few moments to realize she’s packing. Took out a duffle bag and had begun to fill it with weapons from her bedside drawer. Started shrugging through her closet and pulling out things that don’t look legal to own, let alone use; all the while the seer angrily barked orders at Thing, who was likely confused as all hell. Cause, Enid had told him more details, but not…not anything she already doesn’t like to think about.

How does she begin to explain? Her own mental gym and how she maneuvered through each act with good form. The pseudo nest built in the guest room of his home because she can't stomach sleeping next to him in any other capacity. 

There were times he raised his voice. Times he handled her roughly or left marks that weren’t in loving passion. More than just werewolf courting or rough housing like her brothers did. Its why she’s here in the first place.

Its why Wednesday’s silence until being forced had hurt so damn much.

Its why now she’s collapsing to her knees. Her body shaking and wracking with panicked sobs, because its all moving too fast. Wednesday’s moving too fast—if she killed Bruno it would only mean bad things for her. Best case scenario being another Alpha male shoved in her pathway to keep her from further disgracing the Sinclair name. From truly being an outcast amidst outcasts; a pariah with no family, barely any friends and—

“Enid…” Wednesday’s hands are close to her again, reaching out. Her eyes much softer than they had been when she was plotting bloody murder.

Despite the years long craving, Enid flinches away. Because, for once…she can’t handle being touched. For once, she's not lunging at the branch extended after begging for a lifeline for so long. 

And Wednesday’s care feels like heavy weights, with the memory of just how content she was to leave in back of her mind. And when so many people have made her feel expendable, its not a surprise. Even if it doesn’t feel good.

“I…I wanted—…I didn’t mean for you to see that. Not…not like that.” Enid’s voice grows small. She can only trace the floorboards and try not to think about the consequences. She takes a shaky breath, “Its not…its not as bad as it looks—and I know how that sounds.”

“He’s manipulating you,” Wednesday counters. It's not accusatory or angry; its surprisingly tender, it makes her shiver.

“You don’t think I know that?” Enid asks, trying not to cry again. She sniffles, wiping uselessly at her eyes, “I have a part to play. Its not that easy and I’ve told you that—so, so many times, Wednesday! Not everyone can just walk away like you.”

A blow, like an injured animal snapping back at the nearest thing. Wednesday reacts all the same, in tensed shoulders and breath catching. Almost like she had forgotten that quick in her rush to play hero. She wants to say something mean and tell her to leave her again. To let her go. 

Enid can’t stop the small sobs that escape, or the tears that well in her eyes. Her body remembers, even if she doesn’t want to; it always did and always would.

“It was selfish of me. Inexcusably so—to that I can admit,” The seer whispers. Enid scoffs involuntarily through her tears, making her former best friend sigh. “I…I thought being away from you would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. I never intended for it to be permanent, however—”

Enid pushes the hands away from her and backs away on her heels. She sits back on her butt, no longer able to look at her.

“Save it,” She counters. “You’re not saying anything I don’t already know…but its cool to know that you’re aware, I guess.”

She doesn't wanna see the possible pity. Or even worse--possible hurt that didn't feel deserved. 

“I could make him disappear,” Wednesday stubbornly presses. “My family is acquainted with many low people in high places. You know that.”

Letting Wednesday do too much would only lead to being disappointed again later. Trying to rekindle whatever she once had with her former roommate and best friend left her in worse shape than she arrived. Like Enid had a type. Like she only knew how to pursue what hurt her. What didn't want her. 

What would Wednesday do?

She would get bored again the second Bruno becomes a nonfactor. When she has no reason to talk to Enid other than pity. When the next cold hard case came across her desk that Enid couldn't stomach or assist with. Because she's not an Addams and Wednesday didn't think she ever could be. 

Thats why she's pocketing the ring of another. It would always have to be someone else.

“My mother would just have another 'well meaning' guy lined up for me to try it with.” Enid laughs hollowly with glassy eyes. She holds her legs to her chest, “If I tarnish his reputation...it’ll buy me some more time.”

At this point she was starting to question if it was worth it. If time was ever on her side. 

“You don’t truly believe your mother isn’t tactless enough to do whatever serves her regardless?” Wednesday challenged, near incredulous. And blame the situation for her high fluctuating emotions, but she can’t help the way she glares back at the seer.

“You just don’t understand.” How tired I am. How much I miss the way things used to be. 

“Then, make me.” Wednesday implored, unblinking and not backing down in face of her rage. Her eyes held more emotion than Enid knew she’d ever show.

The moment is interrupted by the phone; Enid feels her shoulders tense at the tone she picked out for him.

Bruno was calling. Of course, he picks the most inopportune time he can to decide he gives a damn about her whereabouts. She gives Wednesday a leveled look before she licks her lips and answers.

“Hey, babe,” She forces faux enthusiasm. Its not something she’s out of practice of, but its not any easier with those eyes looking her up and down—watching. She clears her throat, “What, uh–what’s up? I thought you had class this morning?”

Part of why it was easier to meet Wednesday when the sun was fresh in the sky. She didn’t simply prefer breakfast and pastries. It was practical; Bruno was busy until he paused for lunch or made the decision to micromanage her life instead of battling parents that did the same to him.

“I told you I had finals,” He drawls tiredly. “That means I’m not obligated to stay past turning my laptop off for the day. Not that I owe you the explanation.”

Enid’s fingers curl a little tighter around the phone and she fights urge to say something she would regret at the subtle dig. Its not like she wants to have to know where he is and when.

“Oh, silly me—I’ve been distracted up here I guess…” She keeps her tone light. She doesn’t dare look at Wednesday. “At least you didn’t have to make the drive so you could study?”

“That was your choice. Trust I don’t need you to do me any favors, babe.” He always made terms of endearment sound degrading. Enid reins in disgust at the way he loved to try to put her down. “Its cute that you’re starting show an interest in my campaign, though. Heard you filled in for me at a meeting…”

He chuckles to himself, because he doesn’t take her seriously. Doesn’t think she’s capable of much aside from putting a face of make up on. She has to count her blessings and be thankful he even allowed this part of her plan to have motion.

“I just wanted to be sure I don’t make a complete fool of myself when I’m next to you.” She runs a hand through her hair and bites her lip at the sound of his guffaw.

Like she just told the most charmingly funny joke of her life.

“Its not like it matters what you have to say, anyways,” Bruno condescends. Though he probably didn’t realize how he sounded. Probably. “I mean no offense, but I’m the one with the posters and campaign here. The people show up for a reason.”

Not her. Never Enid. She was just the arm candy; a pretty face to shield away the plethora of others that kept his company.

“Did you need me to do something else while I'm up here, or…?” She prompts, growing tired of the humiliation and forced humbleness.

“Trying to rush me off the phone, eh? You got plans with someone or something?” He jokes and it makes her blood run cold, but she catches herself.

Theres no way he knew. He never paid her that much attention. And she’s been so careful.

“You know me, ha…social butterfly,” Enid trailed uneasily. “But, I haven’t really talked to anyone aside from whoever’s at the register when I grab lunch or coffee.”

She holds her breath, up until he drops it just as fast.

“Well, don’t get too used to it. I need you back here by the start of the weekend.” Bruno reminds her and she exhales in relief. He takes it as defiance, clicking his teeth, “If I’m graduating soon then you’ll have to get something to wear. And have it approved this time before you show up.”

He’s referring to the last time she dared show up in a color that wasn’t neutral beige, grey or black. As if she’s preparing for a funeral. In a metaphorical sense it probably was; after graduation that just meant more free time in both their schedules for a wedding.

“Of course…” Enid agrees, breathing out in resignation.

The call is over as quick as it comes. Enid had paced her way to Wednesday’s living room. The seer stood just off, Thing at least pretending to look busy but still likely eavesdropping. Enid tries to ignore how angry she looked. How much she looked like she actually cared.

“I need to go,” Enid says after hanging up. "He...I don't wanna make him more suspicious, so..."

After a long pause of silence and just before the seer can open her mouth. She brushes past, thankful she didn’t bring bags inside with her that weren’t internal. Hand gripping her phone and trying to gain a semblance of control.

“Come back tomorrow.”

Enid stops before her hand can reach the door knob. Fingers flex, because her ears start ringing and her blood pressure drops faster than she can ground herself. Faster than she can tell herself not to take that to heart.

Or to not turn around.

“If I must stick with your terms and conditions in order to see his demise…so be it.” Wednesday stares her head on, pride at her feet. Enid inhales sharply somewhere during, not expecting…

Not thinking it possible.

Wednesday keeps her fists at her sides. Enid can tell just how much she’s holding back, but for once its not for selfish reasons. She finds herself nodding, bobbing her head.

“Ok,” Enid croaks. And Wednesday looks momentarily surprised, but she can’t blame her. She simultaneously can’t sympathize.

“I will make an effort to be more punctual in my communication going forward as well.” Wednesday recites next, albeit with a certain tone that she hadn’t heard in over a year.

That way Wednesday spoke to her specifically; a softness, a promise. Enid feels like a hopeful teenager again, even allowing a smile to slip. Barely there.

“Keep talking and I’ll start to think you just feel sorry for me.” Its a bad joke on Enid’s part. Wednesday stands a bit straighter.

“I’m willing to evolve and adapt if the circumstance calls…” The seer parrots a sentiment from the past. Her eyes cast down and back up like a light searching for the right thing to focus on. Until they eventually spotlight back onto Enid, “Or should I be proven wrong in my previous approach.”

Enid almost feels like crying again. 

Its not an ‘I’m sorry’, but at this point she doesn’t know if that would even be enough.

“Ok…” Enid whispers. She nods her head and sniffs away emotion at the tip of her eyelids. “We’ll try again. Tomorrow.”

She chances eye contact. Regrets it immediately after, because Wednesday’s looking at her in a way that might confuse her heart even more. She should leave. She needs to go back to Bruno's place.

“Have a good night, Enid.”

Enid finally finds strength to open the door. And with the last of it, she tosses over her shoulder—

“Goodnight, Wednesday."

Chapter Text

The sun always shined a bit brighter when she hadn’t slept. Like dawn was edging her as it crept up the horizon; climbing up her legs until it lit up her desk without her lamp. She slides her curtains a bit tauter. The one week in Oregon where it wasn’t raining. Clear skies and sunny weather.

She had sat in her chair and stared at nothing but blank, dark wood.

After spending majority of the night glued to a monitor while Thing sent her worried looks. She just didn’t want to close her eyes—she couldn’t do so peacefully. What sat behind her eyelids were memories that were not only not hers, but irreversible.

Exercise was a natural remedy.

Only, she’s ran drills enough times to wear a hole in the ground.. Blind folded herself and ran them again. The sun pierced the black fabric across her eyes til it burnt orange. Allows her eyes to close just to make the memory all the more clear; like black and white to technicolor.

A hand heavy and too strong—it shocked them both.

“I—sorry, it won’t happen again. I mean it…”

Wednesday feels the sweat on her brow. Phantom pressure around her wrist, making her jerk left. She has to duck as a target is sent her way, tucking and striking. It escalates, gradually as she works herself up.

A grip on her shoulder thats a bit too tight; shaking her like her frame wasn’t much smaller—not fragile but not at all prepared. Like these things came erratically, all at once.

Flaring nostrils, a hand wrapped around her throat—

It releases just as fast. His dark eyes look haunted. Like he’s the one who had the right to be scared.

“Don’t embarrass me like that, again. Do you fucking understand me?”

She sharpened her sabre to thin metal. Like an executioner with no muse. No target was ever the right one.

Even if she cuts out that smug face to attach to each one.

Writing proved futile. It just aided in her rumination. Catching up on old case notes or revisiting Viper. Until she’s tempted to do something silly like pine on paper. Or something awfully close. Instead,she starts writing out a plan.

She had to buy time. Be patient. Act in the dark.

Her device sat close, like she was nursing it to health. Checking on it for signs of life or changes in color. She had waited for the most appropriate time and opportune time to pose an invitation. A good chunk of the night saw her trying to remember how she ever flexed her fingers to ask Enid to ‘hang out.’ Not that that this was meant to be a coveted ‘girl’s outing’.

Those were for friends. Wednesday knew herself to not be a prime candidate for that title.

And if she’s honest with herself…she doesn’t want it. Hadn’t for a long time, simply because it stopped being enough to describe the weight of what she felt when she so much as thought of Enid.

The ache inside, like an internal contusion. Like someone had stuck the knife in to twist. It was far from friendly.

Enid held the other end. The hilt of the blade. Gaudy pink to match the organs and innards that she had unknowingly shifted to her will. Ironic, because she always knew the werewolf to faint at the sight of such a thing. Perhaps thats why she dug it so deep; lest blood start to pool.

Me: Greetings. I have time this evening if you wish to continue. I intend to keep my word.

Her espresso was a reset. Habitual and methodical. Drips and mechanical whirring prick her ears.

Thing’s terribly quiet. Wednesday almost wished he would instigate and fill the silence. When he does say something its only a reminder—a visitor. She had completely forgotten that merely a few days prior to the werewolf’s arrival, her brother had been on the end of the crystal ball.

Now a Nevermore student of his own right, smirking and twiddling the pencil mustache he was all too proud to start growing out. Something about feeling closer to their father—ugh.

Next he’ll grow a fixation on locomotives and start building model trains to stage wrecks. Her father said thats how his love for trains started, at first live crash.

“Pubert and his overgrown kitten,” She recalls mug in hand. School was out and the boy had been begging to come see her. “He’ll be arriving shortly. Like a fly to pile of trash.”

She had simultaneously offered to let him alphabetize her autopsy photo collection. It had grown exponentially since she left home.

A lot of things had grown since then. Like an infected mass full of puss and waiting to drain. A tick that fed and fed until it was swollen enough to burst. Wednesday stood in shade of the boil with her sabre. Rather, an iPhone of all things; slid on the island very pointedly. Thing looks at it strangely, because she doesn’t often pull it out like that unless he’s asking for it.

She crosses her arms, “I also texted Enid.”

Thing perks up at that, prompting her not so subtly to elaborate. Wednesday grumbles about it, pouring her shot over her glass of ice.

“She’s yet to reply,” She responds. If she sounds irritated by that its simply because she hates talking about these kind of things. Thing snarks about the time of day, leading her eyes over to her grandfather clock in the hall that read 6am. Wednesday just sips her espresso. “And I didn’t think about the factor of my all too curious and entirely too talkative sibling. My mind has been elsewhere, as I’m sure you could easily conclude.”

She had been rightfully distracted. Trying to stop herself from doing something that would alienate Enid from her more. Even if everytime she thinks about what she saw it makes her long for the barrel of her hunting rifle. And a taste for silver.

She could be in San Francisco before the sun went back down. It’d be too easy. 

She could casually be on a college campus, under guise of continuing her meaningless schooling. She could just so happen to sync her schedule to a certain someone. Use her good silver chains to practice on an unassuming specimen. She’d never done so before out of respect, preferring to keep some of her oddities for personal display and out of sight of her former Lycan roommate.

But Thing, like flood gates opening, keeps pressing. Tells her to message again. Offer Enid to come to dinner and a lot of things that sound entirely too promising.

Hopeful.

“You must think me desperate,” She scoffs. He points out how she hasn’t slept; she never came to bed the night before. And he could hear her tearing up the small training area upstairs. Her grip around the cup tightens. “I was merely practicing. Though…nothing will compare to the real thing.”

When the very knife that pierced her chest found its way through the heart of another. If he was meant to be the one to receive it—Wednesday would force him to be grateful. She’d twist it in herself.

Me: In lieu of continuing our discussion further, I must also mention the impending arrival of my sibling. Pubert is adamant on visiting me for the weekend following his release from school.

Wednesday lets her thumb hover over the keyboard. The clock ticks.

Thing looks at her expectantly. He can’t see what she’s written, but he’s known her all her life. Wednesday rolls her eyes and huffs.

Me: I could prepare us something to consume as we go over more findings. Your choice at the butcher.

She lets Thing read it. He looks wary, but he says its ‘good enough, coming from her’. He tells her Enid will appreciate her effort. But warns her against expecting too much in her impatience, all things considered. It strikes a nerve, but that was likely the goal.

“I’m not being impatient, I’m being realistic,” She denies. “She’s been brainwashed by shoddy politics and pack mentality. Enid—”

Her phone vibrating pulls her from her rant immediately and the speed at which she checks the damn thing should be studied. And then all records would be burned by her hands.

Enid: I already said yes u dont have to keep bribing me lol 

Enid: Itll be nice seeing ur lil bro 🙂 Its been a while… And I still owe him one

Well, then…at least one of them was in better spirits. Now, she merely has to keep herself from dwelling on for how long.

Wednesday stares at the responses for so long Thing taps her arm. She feels her face warm, before clearing her throat.

“She accepted the invitation as you had hypothesized.” She reveals, before begrudgingly adding, “Perhaps …you had a point about transparency.”

Thing looks smug so she just makes sure to accidentally knock him off the counter when she goes to get dressed. Lurch liked to get an early start and would probably have her brother here sooner than not.

*

Pubert was a menace to society. Theres no sugar coating or exaggeration, the boy had ended up at Nevermore for similar reasons to herself.

Wednesday was a woeful raven and Pugsley was a pyromaniac with a handful of lighting. Pubert decided to make the best of both worlds—he set the principal’s car on fire with his psyche. Yes, the child terror could explode whatever lay in close range with little other than thought and intention.

For the best, as piranhas had been more of thing of convenience. Its not easy to find violent animals that could swim on such short notice…

Pugsley had been more voluntary when he enrolled. He genuinely missed her and had issue standing up for himself even in his growth spurt and existence as a human taser. He wasn’t weak, but he was soft; Pubert wasn’t hard but he certainly wasn’t malleable. Otherwise the juvenile detention would have worked.

Mother got him the emotional support lion cub soon after the third visit. That was back when the boy was still at their knee height. Now he was around sixteen it had a mane of its own and barely fit through her front door. Thankfully, Enid’s case had swept her desk empty of any other affairs that week

Not that she preferred having to babysit a boy and his carnivorous safari animal. She flicks the lion on the nose for sticking his head near her organ cooler.

“Thats not a snack, its my life’s work,” She scolds. The lion makes a whining noise in back of its throat and goes to curl near the couch where her sibling sat. He was practically vibrating as he looked through records for a family practice doctor’s office turned townhouse that sat in town.

“Sister! Is it true that surfers are the number one victims of sharks in the country?” Pubert asks with curious eyes. He’s flipping through some gnarly looking pictures of such accident in the ocean. Wednesday heaves out a breath, the boy’s lack of discipline clearly extending to his pet.

“In California, yes. And while I imagine it’d be elucidating to see in person—the beach, sand, sun and particularly fun are things I’d prefer to keep at arms length. Miles away, actually,” Wednesday amends. “We have more important tasks at hand. You’re supposed to be in the kitchen earning your room and board.”

Pubert clicks his teeth and rolls his eyes as he stands. “Come on,” He whines. “I came here to not have to do stupid chores.”

“It builds tolerance and thick skin,” Wednesday quips. Then, she rolls some words around her head, deciding how to lay her cards. “We also have a client I’m preparing for.”

That peaks his interest, but his boyish, one track mind didn’t allow for much other than a grunt of affirmation. Really, he was just faster than Thing when she needed things handed to her. The hand was delegated to the office, doing some…’research.’

Some extracurricular activities. A work around Enid’s nerves and respectability politics.

“Pass me the cayenne,” Wednesday kicks her brother with the heel of her foot. He was on his phone and idling by while she cooked, after claiming he would be of some use to her. So far, all he’s done is cut eyes at her between scrolling. Not overtly odd, but…suspicious.

Pubert was much like herself in that way; extremely analytical. But, he still held a sort of bright eyed naivety that reminded her of their other brother. Though, Pubert did far better in the brains department.

“Wait—don’t you hate cooking?” The younger boy asks as he hands over the spice bag. She preferred grinding her own blends, as she used them for many reasons. Methodical work that signified a need for regaining control. Pubert pouts, “I remember when mom and dad went on vacation and Lurch was sick. You were so heavy handed with the anthrax sugar that Pugs almost threw it up!”

Its suspicious, so logically she chooses to make him regret even being vaguely thoughtful.

“Exactly—almost,” Wednesday agrees. “Keep bringing up my failures and I’ll be sure to add more than arsenic to your portion.”

She’s aggressive with the way she flips the rack of ribs over. She had two of them, recalling the elevated hunger level of her guest. It was tedious work to prep and season; truly she didn’t prefer to cook grandiose meals for herself let alone others. It took extremely special occasion, as her perfectionism spread to everything she did.

The pork’s blood that covered her palms included of course. She sticks a finger in her mouth to test for flavor; she recalled her roommate liking a moderate amount of spice. The wolf was impenetrable in a lot of ways, only to be brought to heel by a bit of ghost pepper.

She still remembers the lone time the blonde had determinedly tried for sake of trying to prove herself. How her face went red and she rolled her eyes good natured when Wednesday made a quip about caucasians and handling spice.

“Still, I’ve never seen you care so much about…” Pubert leans in a bit closer, only to widen his eyes, ”Are you grinning? Sister are we kidnapping someone?”

The boy grins maniacally, fists clenched in excitement and likely anticipation of getting to handle the ropes. Meanwhile, Wednesday’s tempted to slap herself—smiling? With no horrors in sight? She clears her throat, turning on her heel to take her cutting board and knife to the sink.

“I purposely never gave specifics. Your mouth is bigger than your circus pet,” She counters. “Nor is it any of your business who comes into my place of business. You’ve already likely tainted the records I was preserving by putting your grubby hands all over my files.”

All the while she goes to set both trays of meat into the oven. A good excuse to both not have to directly address the little twerp, but a place of blame for any warmth that glazed her skin.

“You said I could!” He retorts. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, showing their likeness in the worst way.

“They need to cook for approximately 2 hours at 350 degrees and no higher. A slow cook will give optimum texture,” Wednesday explains as she closes said oven with the meat inside. A flawless subject change, even if her sibling was showing his juvenile age and whining like a toddler.

As if taunting her, the universe chooses this moment to synchronize with the pseudo discussed arrival of their mystery guest. A buzzing sound, a putrid sounding thing like the wails of the damned. Her alarm for when someone was trying to get downstairs when she was up on the second story.

Pubert gets a sickening smile, all teeth—-silver caps included.

“I got it!”

The little heathen slips from her grasp and evades her attempts to hold him back. And Wednesday was not one to be so easily bested.

Thus led to the two siblings clambering down the steps trying to trip each other and/or cause serious injury. They both find themselves crashing to the ground at foot of the steps, grunting in both pain and dual annoyance.

“I said I got it!”

“You also got dropped on your cranium as child—I would know, as I was the culprit.”

“You’re so—”

Both siblings are brought to pause at the fact that Enid’s already inside. Inside and standing idle with her tote bag on her shoulder and a smaller paper bag in hand. Her hair was half up, bangs and stray pieces being swiftly moved with a finger.

“Sorry—Thing showed me where the spare key was last time…. Did I come at a bad time?” Enid asks, hand half over her mouth as she tries not to blatantly laugh in her face.

Chapter Text

The distance between them started soft. Like a game of telephone, or a mental illness; in the end it all became a bit jumbled what started it all. She just knew she had to separate the family first. Easy enough with the coastal difference.

She thinks its been ages since Enid last graced the Addams manor. Like the sun that stubbornly pushed beams through storm clouds.

And yet, here she is idling in her downstairs office, in her home away from Jersey. Looking eerily familiar as ever, as the girl who couldn’t help herself but throw on a pink tank top under her more adult cream cardigan. Jeans that looked smart and absent of tearing. Hair that held color, but not enough.

Wednesday’s never longed for it more. Maybe that's why she didn’t pick up the phone. It was never enough.

Both her and Pubert scramble to stand after their scuffle and subsequent tumble. Wednesday brushing herself off and her brother jumping through the ceiling and yelling—

“Enid!” Followed by an all too enthused hug. Pubert was taller than her and so he was well over Enid’s head too. It was almost comical, the way he still looked the little boy that was eye level back when they graduated. “Its been forever!”

Pubert was a lot leaner than Pugsley, but he also had to herd around a lion all day, so he had a fair bit of strength. It makes her drop the bag in her hand; Enid grunts at the way in which she’s picked up during the embrace, spun and then plops back on her feet with ease.

Wednesday tries not to hold it too close to her chest. To not allow this sight to be a fond one; though its just as woefully familiar.

“Pubert,” She scolds the boy with a scowl. “At least allow our guest a moment to breathe before assaulting them with your pleasantries.”

Her sibling blows a raspberry at her, making Enid laugh. Wednesday just narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Its all good, its not my first Addams family welcome.” Enid chuckles at the fact that she has to reach up to ruffle the boys hair like shne used to. “And look at you! Like, hello—can’t call you an ankle biter anymore, I guess?”

The blonde says it bewilderedly. She has to actually look up at him now too. He had of course taken after their mother in stature. Wednesday thinks she simply would have been too powerful at a higher stature so nature created equilibrium.

Like giving them all sharper senses. Her olfactory was heightened, just as Pubert’s tastebuds and teeth were—

“Oh no, I definitely still bite,” Pubert flashes his teeth. Much to Enid’s surprise and apparent awe. “I can’t believe you’re here! Wednesday doesn’t tell me anything, she just said she had ‘some client’ coming over so I had to help cook.”

His finger quotes have Enid’s brows raising in amusement, looking past his shoulder and at her. Wednesday huffs, feeling warmth and putrid color in her cheeks at being paraphrased.

“I told you it was none of your business,” The younger Addams corrects. “For good reason, considering your lack of self control.”

Pubert has audacity to mock her with his hand; mimicking her mouth yapping away as if she was spewing nonsense. He’s never been as subordinate as Pugsley and thats his fatal flaw. Before she can decide whether or not to strangle him, she hears Enid laugh at their bantering, airy and light.

“Typical Wednesday,” Enid jokes. Wednesday realizes in her glaring at their reunion that she’s being more than simply ‘looked at.’ She’s being observed, watched like her reactions held meaning she was unaware. She holds them, seeing something playful brewing. “She loves her secrets.”

Wednesday doesn’t interject or say anything to the underlying meaning there. Her jaw works, but she doesn’t break eye contact. Really, she’s thankful that Pubert seems to be ignorant to whatever…whatever was between them at the moment.

She wished she could share the feeling.

“Pfft, don’t I know it. She has all the cool autopsy reports locked up and won’t let me read them,” Pubert rolls his eyes. Miles away from the tension in the room. And, as usual, not realizing how his words made their more squeamish guest full body shiver.

“Lets not talk about pictures of dead bodies before dinner, yeah?” Enid dissuades the boy with ease. “Hows Nevermore treating you? Do you guys still do the Poe Cup and Spirits Week?”

Pubert snaps his fingers, a small flame like a fire cracker comes and goes.

“Yup! And Cali hall beat you guys for the second year in a row.”

Enid rolls her eyes good naturedly, “Yeah, yeah, we were down bad for a second when I was in school too, but then we had a comeback! So, you never know…”

And, akin to once upon a time, the werewolf girl was just as good as flawlessly rerouting the boy to a different subject. If she closed her eyes she could lose herself in memories—her own and not the ones that plagued her since she touched Enid. When her biggest worry was besting Bianca Barclay at some insipid game. It was only ever worth it for the feeling of smug satisfaction.

And...Enid's smile and fiercely competitive nature peaking through never hurt. Not until she allowed herself to think about what that meant. Just like now, eyes unconsciously finding sharp tipped teeth encased in glossy pink lips. She knew them personally. 

Intimately.

After she had kissed Enid in a moment of desperation—but that didn’t make it any less of what she knows she wants. Why she had originally chosen to leave.

Wednesday’s keen to let the two of them chat and catch up while she disappears back to the kitchen. Part of her feels…guilt.

No longer simply for just leaving. Again, assuming she knew best and getting Enid hurt in the process. Again, proven wrong in her stubborn pursuit of what she thought to be just. This time she didn’t need Tyler to steer her—she held the reins and charged.

How does it feel to lose?

Perhaps for lack of consent as well. Rather, the way in which Enid didn't push her away. The common theme here, of her own logic and carefully molded brain being susceptible to human error.

The way that its gone unspoken, but Enid’s made no attempt at addressing it either.

And trying to sort through her own ‘feelings’ to figure it out just leaves her more conflicted. Its better to distract, especially with the source of her mental dilemma so close. A place made at the table when she pushes past the dining area.

She walks in on a mischievous lion sniffing at the counter, so she snaps her fingers at it in scolding. Kitty Kat looks proper guilty, even in being double her size and more than that in weight. Whiskers twitching and licking at its chops; the type of pandering that would work on a person with a bigger heart and affinity to something like mercy. She places a tired hand on her hip, before pointing to the doorway.

“Out. Now—before I decide we need an appetizer,” She threatens. The lion whines and huffs like a human child, but it slowly makes its way out. She hears the incoming squeal of shock and happiness from Enid at sight of the animal.

Cats and dogs apparently share more traits than not.

Much different than herself. How she existed as such a lowly bird, despite the heights she tried to put between herself and everything that tied her to this Earth. She thinks Buddhists had the right idea with that, only she’s no interest in enlightenment or anything positive at the moment. Its hard to focus on hosting a dinner when their guest shares a face with everything thats been haunting her.

When she’s been in her head…seen Enid's memories…or possibly her future.

“Bruno…you’re hurting me—”

“Wednesday?”

She blinks. Once, twice. Enid’s in front of her—actually. Flesh blemish free and face devoid of pain. She just looks worried.

“Is everything ok?” She asks in lieu of no response. “I wanted to see if you needed help and…I brought wine.”

She gestures lamely to the paper bag she had been holding downstairs. A bottle of something red with a cork top. Wednesday remembers to breathe again. She sniffs, squaring her shoulders and turning away.

“I was merely lost in thought,” She pretends to wipe at something on her already pristine black counters. She opens the drawer beneath next to grab a small knife. She faces Enid again with it in hand, as if she planned on literally cutting the tension between them. Or maybe with intention to hand it over and sink herself to the hilt. “Taking the flesh off a few of these aught to clear my head.”

She refers to the bag of yellow potatoes that sat on the counter. Enid looks at the bag with a brow raised, then smiles at her warily.

“Fun way of saying we’re having mashed potatoes,” She jokes. Then more hesitantly, “Need any help?”

Wednesday pauses with a potato in her palms. She knows better than to look at her former roommate; she knows its all the more hard to deny her that way. When she’s in line of those glossy blues, pulling her in like a wave as she naively underestimated the tide.

In the warped view of water, she can’t see her regardless. She can only surrender and shrug.

“I’ve no ability to stop you.”

Its quiet in a domestic sort of way. Insidious, because it crept up on her. Settled itself at the island in front of her stove.

This warm feeling in her chest when she looks over to see that canine grin.

The two of them in the kitchen peeling potatoes for dinner; her little brother and his pet at the kitchen table, going between his phone and her x-ray scans collection. Interjecting with questions that got snarked responses from her and well meaning guesses from Enid. Its pleasant…in a way she can’t find herself vexed by.

It felt too easy.

Up until the boy takes a trip to the bathroom and leaves the two of them alone.

Its quiet for approximately one minute and fifteen seconds. The first minute she can slowly peel her way around the edges and rinse before tossing it to the bowl. Fifteen seconds is all it takes her normally less primitive brain to sneak a glance and realize the wolf is already looking.

She tries to play it off and look away as fast it as it happens.

“Sorry again about earlier,” Enid says suddenly. Wednesday doesn’t look up, because the last time she did she realized the werewolf was peeling with the claw on her pointer. And she couldn’t trust herself not to start projecting.

Envy over a potato was…

Wednesday hums, “What for?”

“Didn’t mean to just let myself in,” She elaborated. “I figured you guys were up here and I know you’re not the best at checking your phone.”

Wednesday digs the knife in a bit deeper.

“Right.”

“I don’t mean anything by it, I—” Enid pauses, biting her lip and deciding. “I can see you’ve been trying. And I…I’m sorry for being a bitch to you.”

Wednesday looks to her then. The wolf looks somber, half peeled vegetable in her hands and frowning. Wednesday shifts where she stood, like there was some way to make this conversation a comfortable one.

“I didn’t exactly give you reason not to be.” She can still feel the phantom presses of a larger hand on her wrist—adamant and domineering.

“Still, I know its a lot to put on you so suddenly…” Enid presses. Guilt marred her face alone, “I don’t even wanna deal with it. And here I am bothering you with my problems while you’re trying to do your own thing. When you told me you were busy…I should’ve just taken the hint.”

She hates this. Hates the weight of burden she can see from here, none of it deserved.

“But I don’t apologize for it. Not anymore.”

This isn’t…

Wednesday puts the knife down with force. It makes Enid flinch, eyes widening. It makes her chest burn.

“If you were bothering me I would’ve shut the door in your face the first time.” She sounds impassioned, full of rage for someone miles away whom she’s never met and hopefully never will unless its with tip of her sabre. Or barrel of her rifle. Wednesday steps closer to her former closest friend, already barely any space between the counter and island. Unconsciously, they drew lines in the same place and made their home. “You of all people should know what happens to those that truly ‘bother me.’”

A scoff and blue eyes soften, as if she had said something more. In a way she did—it was the closest she’s gotten.

“Wednesday—”

“Hey, where do you keep the extra toilet paper?” Pubert’s voice echoes down the hall with his footsteps.

The two women back apart—mainly Wednesday. She had practically backed Enid into the island edge, the werewolf holding herself up with both hands supporting her from behind. Breaths uneven and heavy like they had been running and caught. Hand nervously moving hair and licking glossed lips.

Wednesday remembers the texture too; sticky and sweet.

*

Chapter Text

“Just act natural—they already know to anticipate the...pink.”

Wednesday gave a quick once over to her outfit. The cropped vest she wore that was a mess of pink leather and fur. One of her latent additions to her wardrobe after living with a girl who wore the same fabric in black damn near everyday. Even in that moment, her chunky boots gave her a bit of height.

Made it easier to see her eyes. Dark, impassive and grounding. Sometimes th lack of anything in those void like pupils acted as a much needed palette cleanser. And if she squints—she thinks she can make out something almost comforting.

Not that she’d ever voice that. At least not then.

The very first time she was meant to have dinner with the Addams. Morticia had taught a class once Pugsley had also unrolled. It was convenient to set up shop not too far from campus.

Luckily, she hadn’t much time to freak out in the short walk over. Wednesday had looked more annoyed than not, but she also knew the girl’s blood ran thick. Her family was different. Unconventional. Loving. Everything her supposedly perfectly normal pack wasn’t.

“Just act natural…just be myself,” Enid repeated. Even though she felt like that was often the problem. Felt uneasy, but she knew how to put on for adults that expected something out of her. She nodded, “Got it.”

Wednesday grabbed her arm like a vice before she could walk away.

“That is to say….” The seer drawled. “They’re more enthused to meet you than not. Especially after your little stunt in the woods. Both of them.”

Enid snorts, “You mean all the times I wolfed out and totally saved your life?”

“The fact that the very first time you did so not knowing that would be the outcome.”

Enid’s smile doesn’t drop, but if softens. The mirth replaced with something shy at the way Wednesday says it. Like a declaration or confession; compliments weren’t something Wednesday Addams gave out easily. And admittance to Enid being the one to save her in the end; it settled like medicine. Soemthing hard to swallow, but it heals something inside.

Soothing.

Entering a dining room and having it get quiet because she’s the elephant in the room wasn’t new for her. However, the warm smiles that immediately follow from her elders almost feels strange. In a good way.

An Addams type of comfort. In oddity and strange hospitality.

“Enid dear, do make yourself comfortable,” Morticia stands from her seat near head of the table. She gestures her hand to two placemats that sat across from Pugsley and a rowdy Pubert that was sneaking his kitty table scraps. “We had Lurch set you a place next to Wednesday’s—I’m sure she’s absolutely vexed by it.”

She gives a mischievous looking smirk to her daughter. Enid only blushed, mouth opening and closing a few choice times at the way the older woman acted like she knew something. Always spoke like she'd flown  once too close to the sun, a twinkle of light still caught in her eye. Dove white.

“Peachy keen actually.” Wednesday beat her to it, then grabbed her by the wrist to lead her to sit. She doesn’t think she remembered to breathe again until she had to…

It felt like the first time.

Its been so long….

Enid doesn’t know where to put her hands, other than around the stem of her wine glass. Sips between Pubert rambling on about Gomez letting him borrow a train. How steam billowed through the manor and Kitty Kat was the conductor. Enid was stuck wondering about the physics of such big locomotives indoors, while another part of her brain (and a large portion of her pining, masochistic heart) was still lingering back in the other room. Wednesday had shooed them from the kitchen when all was said (well…not all) and done.

“...And then Kitty Kat ate half the cake mom got Pugsley for graduating,” Pubert recounts. She hadn’t realized how bad she zoned out until then, for a few reasons; not just the way Pubert looks at her but the context.

Oh…She thinks to herself, as the realization hits her like one of Gomez’s infamous trains. I really did miss a lot.

It stings…for lack of anything else to call it in the moment. Feels strange, sour on her tongue but different from the fermented fruit of the wine. Darker than the rich burgundy in her glass.  It leaves complex feelings that range from guilt to helplessness. Its not like she hadn’t wanted to come. Its not like any of this was her choice alone.

Had Wednesday genuinely told them differently? What did she say? What was the excuse?

And the way she’s addressed after just makes her head spin. “Sucks you had to miss. We thought you were coming, but Wednesday said—”

“The food is done,” Wednesday interrupts very pointedly. Enid looks caught, in spite of the fact that she hadn’t been doing much other than listening. The seer’s not looking at her anyway, “Make use of yourself and bring these into the dining room. Quickly.”

Enid’s not sure how much she heard of that tail end bit, but the way she continues to not meet her eyes says enough. Its both frustrating and not; Wednesday had habit of avoiding when things got too real. Namely, when feelings that weren’t things like anger, disdain or disgust were on the table. Feelings that could dare make the mighty Wednesday Addams appear as human as she undoubtedly was.

Prone to mistakes. Admittedly so—the only reason Enid hadn’t gone home by now.

Not to mention that kiss. And the way she has to live the rest of her life knowing what it felt like. Yet, knowing it may never happen again.

Its why she can’t help herself. When the two Addams return with the food and Wednesday tells them to help themselves to the slaughter. Aside from playfully turning her nose up at the phrasing, she decides to take advantage. Because, what would Wednesday do?

“Mmm, I haven’t had pork cooked this well in a long time…” Enid tried to upkeep table manners around non-wolves typically. Wednesday had made clear many years ago that it was something she didn’t mind—in fact she often caught the seer staring at her in pure fascination when she started eating more red meat for lunch. The primal instincts often took over, fangs springing out and gnawing meat from the bone greedily. She licks at her chops before addressing Wednesday, who had yet to do much other than pick up a fork. Almost like she was occupied… “My thanks to the chef.”

She gets more enjoyment out of the subtle flex in Wednesday’s jaw. Even when she knows she shouldn't. 

“Good to know Lurch’s recipes may be ancient, but not yet defunct,” She eventually says. She forks a bit of potatoes into her mouth, Pubert oblivious and digging into his own plate. Enid’s eyes flick to him next.

“So, what’d you guys eat at Pug’s graduation?” She innocently segues back, hearing Wednesday’s fork scrape against the plate. Pubert looks at his sibling weird, but goes to answer regardless.

“Technically we had mystery meat burgers, but he was too busy fixating on the cake,” Pubert explains. Then again, setting up Enid for a perfect pitch, “You should’ve seen it! It was like ten tiers and half chocolate.”

“Its nothing the little cretin doesn’t get on his birthday,” Wednesday adds, obviously uneasy. Enid doesn’t move away from her line of questioning, or this particular topic.

“I dunno, it sounded pretty fun to me…what was I doing that day again?” Enid makes a show of looking to the sky and pretending to contemplate. Like she has to think about why and how she missed such an important event on top of not being included to begin with.

“At first I figured you still had beef with Wednesday’s fangirl,” Pubert starts out. Unnknowingly making Enid’s blood pressure spike at mention of a certain red head who once held an unyielding infatuation on her roommate. Pubert shrugs, “But, didn’t you have some werewolf pack stuff—”

“Keep flapping your lips over dinner and your food will get cold.” Wednesday interrupts harshly. Enid sees the boy wince, almost like something had hit him under the table. Enid takes a long sip from her wine glass.

“Agnes made it but not me, then…” Enid trails, sounding more offended than not. Wednesday at least looks to be apologetic.

“She wasn’t given a formal invitation. She merely belonged to the same graduating class and snuck on the property,” Wednesday defends with an eyeroll at the end. Still, her body language tells of more unsaid than not, likely to protect more than simply Enid’s feelings. The seer amends, “If it had been my choice I’d have rather sat through such a rudimentary ‘celebration’ with a buffer.”

“A buffer, huh?” Enid replies with an eyebrow raise. “So, we’re gonna act like I’ve never caught you secretly enjoying a party?”

Enid teases her, making her former roommate’s face tint pink in memories of their senior year and beyond. The amount of times Enid had successfully goaded her into leaving the dorm room and mingling with their classmates. Always stuck to Enid’s free side and either glaring at who stood on the other, or pretending that it wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.

“I’d say you’ve been bleaching your hair too long and the fumes have made you delirious.” Wednesday retorts, no real malice behind her words. Even Enid can’t help the way she snorts in laughter, as Pubert pulls a face and looks between the two of them.

“Definitely didn’t miss you two’s weird flirting thing,” Pubert laments. That has both girls eerily silent and pulses racing at the boy’s implication. He waits to swallow before continuing, “It always feels like I’m third wheeling…”

He scrunches up his nose before eating more of his food like he hadn’t said anything at all. As if he hadn’t blatantly addressed the unspoken thing in the room that the other two adults could not.

And still couldn’t.

Dinner is…a lot quieter after that.

*

Its not her last day in Oregon. That was the next day—she didn’t have time to come see Wednesday before she leaves, though. Not without it not making sense. Bad enough she has to watch minor things like transaction locations and mileage on her car. Bringing her ring everywhere like a life line, despite the fact that it meant the very end of hers. She doesn’t have the heart to even bring it up, especially with Pubert around.

The younger boy was suspicious. In a subtle way, inquisitive and watching with eyes that were deep as his sister’s but more expressive. Somehow no less observant. The way he looks between the two of them akin to the way she remembered Wednesday would look at her parents.

Enid can’t stop thinking.

Was it really that easy? 

“Enid, come.” Wednesday gets her attention. She had been sitting in front of a TV set post dinner and watching some cable classic movie with Pubert and Kitty Kat. Thing is perched on Wednesday’s shoulder too, along with her expression, prompting her to rise. Pubert does too, but his sister gives him a look.

“Oh, come on! Why can’t I come?”

“Enid is a client and by technicality is entitled to her privacy.” Wednesday explains it, sounding annoyed she even has to make an excuse at all. “You can keep your overgrown pet out of the toilet while we discuss.”

Pubert rolls his eyes and Kitty Kat makes a noise as if offended, yet guilty. Enid pats the younger Addams on his head, much like she used to when he was shorter and just as eager.

“I’ll arm wrestle you again after, how about that?” Enid offers, seeing the boy’s eyes light up. Her super strength made the stats more than a little unfair, but she knew that was probably how the tiny sadist found his fun.

Wednesday rolls her eyes and starts towards the stairs that lead back down to her office. After the door shuts to her apartment area, she spares a glance back to ensure Enid’s following her down.

“You spoil him too much,” Wednesday mentions randomly. Enid looks at her and the seer adds, “Disappointment is good for the soul. He’ll be better prepared for this world’s increasingly bleak future.”

Being an edgelord was something the Addams did easier than simply saying ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’. Enid unfortunately had grown to find the charm in it. Which also meant she knew how to read between the lines and find the intention.

“Forcing it isn’t.” Enid counters without a beat between. Wednesday doesn’t falter, but she doesn’t respond either. Instead she just flicks the light on and walks forward.

“Tomorrow you take your leave…back to California.” Wednesday says as she rounds her desk to go sit, never once does she take her eyes off Enid. Under that heavy gaze, its hard to sit–-she opts to stand with hands behind her back.

“Yeah…feels weird, honestly.” Enid sighs, shoulders lowering with her breath. “I don’t really get to leave San Fran anymore unless I’m doing PR junk with Bruno, so…its been kinda nice  being out here on my own.”

Being here with you.

“You’ll have your freedom back soon enough,” Wednesday replies. Very determinedly, a decision already made behind her eyes. “I guarantee you that. And an Addams promise isn’t one broken without a fair amount of blood. Or a funeral.”

Enid nods slowly, like she still doesn’t know if she can trust that. Rather, she didn’t know if her poor heart could take it if it didn’t happen. Its hard enough being the one to leave this time. Its not nearly as satisfying, even in a petty, selfish way. Instead it just felt like a depressing inevitability, like anticipating grades on a test she didn’t study for. Like wanting someone so bad, but knowing the circumstances won’t ever allow it to work. Could never allow. 

Would never.

(But God, Selene and the Moon above does she want.)

“I think its safe to say I know better by now,” Enid says next. Wednesday’s attention caught and dangling on her every move. “But…working together with you is always a risk I’ve been willing to take.”

Wednesday’s jaw tenses, but she doesn’t reply immediately. No, she just lets her eyes fall downward…to her lips.

And for a naive moment, Enid thinks she’ll close the distance again; but the moment is over as fast as she glimpses it.

And Wednesday only nods.

But its strained. Fingers flitting at stiff sides, actively holding herself back. And…that gives Enid a silly bit of hope. A dangerous bit.