Chapter Text
Wednesday leaned against her desk, total concentration on the crime board. Seven years on as a detective for the Major Crimes Department, with the most solved cases under her belt. But these six major robberies in downtown L.A. over the past two weeks had her stumped for a possible suspect. Engrossed in the board, looking for case-breaking evidence, Wednesday ignored the emptying room of the department.
“Addams, give it a rest and join our colleagues at the congratulatory event for the graduating rookies at The Hive,” Lieutenant Weems spoke, standing at the doorway with her hands on her hips. “And that’s an order. You manage to finagle your way out of attending nearly every event.”
“Fine, but only momentarily,” Wednesday replied lamely, rolling her eyes hard enough to fall out of her head. Why would she bother congratulating newbies? They learned through those who lacked the capabilities to effectively be a cop on their own, let alone teach another individual. There were certainly more pressing matters to take her attention, such as these robberies. Granted, Lt. Weems had a point; perhaps some rest would do her good in her search for a suspect.
Pushing herself off the desk, she tightened up the paperwork on her desk and deposited its contents into her locked drawer. Securing her shoulder holster and off-duty weapon and putting on her blazer, she made her way to the car garage. Thankfully, she did not mind The Hive so much. Well, she minded the noise and bustling of people, but she liked the owner. Eugene and she were old friends from high school; she was forced to join a club for her extracurricular requirement, and the two bonded well. He continued his passion for beekeeping and used the harvested honey for his own house-made mead, which had gathered many to his bar, great for business for the man, but not for her peace of mind.
Entering her blacked-out SUV, she dialed Eugene.
“Hey Wednesday, what’s up!” His cheerful voice came through.
“Eugene, please tell me you are currently at The Hive? I have been unfortunately tasked with going to a work-sanctioned event there and do not intend to socialize outside of my usual coworkers.”
“Oh, I’m here! You’re here for that rookie graduation, no?”
“Yes, I am just arriving. I will be inside momentarily.” She hung up the call.
Stepping into the bar, she was immediately greeted by the lanky appearance of her friend, to her relief. The thought of being at this unwarranted event without Eugene might have killed her. The police department tended to have their celebrations here as it was nearby, and every time she evaded these events it was simply because she did not want to attend when Eugene wasn’t working.
“Wednesday!” he greeted. “It has been a while since we’ve hung out.”
“I apologize for that; my case is rather troublesome at the moment. But once I close the current case I am working on, I would like to visit and tend to the bees,” Wednesday said as they sat down at the bar, farther away from the chaos of the precinct but still able to see the stage that was typically used for live music from local bands.
A whiskey neat in hand and Eugene’s chatter about the state of the beehive filled the time until Captain Galpin took the stage.
“Ahem, everyone, it brings me great joy to see these ladies and gentlemen take off their training wheels! They have spent the last two years going through the academy and their probationary period to prove that they are ready to enter these streets on their own and protect our precious city along with you all,” he pointed to the area where most of the already-established precinct sat and applauded. “The first person I would like to welcome to the force officially is Enid Sinclair. At the academy, she passed top of her class, not to mention her training officer, Officer Barclay, had nothing but praise for her. Another upstanding individual, Bruno…”
No longer with the company of Eugene, as he excused himself to help tend the bar as more customers filed in, and not caring to hear Captain Galpin go on a spiel for each of the ten graduates, she tuned him out after the first person. Looking at the one person she tuned in long enough to hear about, she noticed she was similar in height to herself: short blonde locks, a slim, athletic-looking build, and an ungodly bright smile. She was young too, no doubt in her early twenties, as most graduates tended to be, with the occasional outlier. Wednesday watched as the girl introduced herself to the group, all smiles, and then jumped into the arms of a tall, thin man with a beanie, a gorgon, perhaps, and likely a boyfriend. Although he did not look as excited about her accomplishments as most partners likely would.
This job will surely wash this poor girl out. She seems too bright for police work; this line of work isn’t for the faint of heart. It doesn’t matter if she has top marks if she can’t function out in the field, and even if she can, can she handle the horrors she will see? Unlike Wednesday, who enjoys all things macabre. Not that it matters; she would likely never interact with any of these graduates unless forced to, and the likelihood of that is near zero.
“Whatcha thinking about, Addams?” Yoko said as she sat in the empty bar stool next to Wednesday.
Yoko Tanaka was one of the few Wednesday tolerated. She was a promising junior detective. Despite the vampire’s lax attitude and annoying humor, she was competent, and Wednesday could accept that. The times they assisted one another with cases, along with her partner Divina Watson, were bearable.
“Thinking about how half these graduates will likely wash out within the next year, whether it’s due to their abysmal performance or mental health associated with the job,” Wednesday responded dryly.
“Ouch. That’s bleak.” Yoko grimaced. “Anyways, I spoke with two of those graduates, Sinclair and Yuson. They’re werewolves. Didn’t talk much to the dude, though; he kinda rubbed me the wrong way. He’s a cocky little shit. The Sinclair girl has a good head on her shoulders from what I grasped, a little soft around the edges, though.”
“Well, I’m sure that mutt will have some sense knocked into him on duty,” Wednesday responded, taking little interest, as she would likely never engage with any of these individuals.
“You can’t say stuff like that! That’s an HR visit waiting to happen!” Yoko frantically replied, looking around to see if anyone heard.
Before Wednesday could respond, the tall, lanky figure of Tyler Galpin sauntered over, stopping in front of the two and completely ignoring Yoko’s presence. “Hey, Wednesday, can I buy you another drink?” he asked, nodding to her empty whiskey glass with a smile that Wednesday was sure was supposed to be charming.
With a twitch of her eye, “It’s Detective Addams and no, I am more than capable of purchasing my own drink.” Shifting her gaze to Yoko, she said, “I’m going to head out now.”
“Well, oh, okay, let me walk you—”
“Dude, read the room and look at her! She’s not into you,” Yoko said exasperatedly. “Sorry, Addams. You look great, just trying to emphasize my point.”
With a ghost of a smile, Wednesday nodded to Yoko, walking away and waving to Eugene, who waved back excitedly with a “Bye, Wednesday!” drawing the attention of those nearby.
Sitting down in her car with a sigh. Well, that wasn’t horrible. It was nice to meet with Eugene and fulfill her direct orders from Lt. Weems. Tyler, however, ruined the night out. Yoko was right: look at her! She doesn’t do men at all, in any capacity—not even relationships really, aside from the occasional fling.
Pulling into the driveway of her house, right beside Pugsley’s blacked-out Jeep, she opened the front door and was greeted by her favorite creature on the planet, Thing—a hairless cat littered with scars and half a tail missing. She had adopted him as a junior detective when she discovered teens torturing the poor cat, whom she immediately cuffed and stuffed into the back of a patrol car, rushing lights and all to the nearest vet. They’d been stuck together these last six years or so. Giving Thing a scratch behind the ears, she walked over to the kitchen with Thing weaving himself between her steps.
“Hey, sis! Perfect timing, I made camarones a la diabla, extra, extra spicy, just how you like it,” Pugsley said, opening a cabinet and pulling out plates.
“Hello, brother. How was work today?” she asked, sitting at the island bar and observing Pugsley filling plates with camarones, rice, beans, and a small side salad.
“Oh my god, you won’t believe what I had to defuse today!” he spoke excitedly, placing a plate in front of her and opting to stand across the island to eat. “Some guy planted four bricks of C4 onto a jewelry vault. I disabled it with three seconds left! It was so fun! Though I did get an earful from Lt. Dort for not falling back. He asked if I had a death wish. The guy doesn’t get that half the fun comes from working against the clock!”
“They don’t know that we Addamses actively enjoy explosives and danger.” Taking a bite of food, noting how far her brother had come along with cooking, she said, “The food is good,” and shoveled another forkful into her mouth.
“Thanks.” Pugsley grinned.
Finishing up dinner, they packed up leftovers for lunch. Starting to clean up the kitchen, Pugsley washed the dishes and passed them to Wednesday to dry, working in quiet harmony.
Pugsley worked for the LAPD as well, in the Bomb Squad Department, and he excelled at it. Being an Addams and having experience growing up with creating and deconstructing explosives helped. He was always more drawn to the devices than Wednesday, who had relatively basic knowledge of them. They opted to move in together so they were within city limits, as the family manor would be too far away for an everyday commute.
Bidding goodnight to Pugsley, she entered her room with Thing hot on her heels. Heading into her ensuite bathroom, she grabbed a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into some black sweats and an oversized shirt. Exiting the bathroom, she saw Thing passed out, belly up, in the middle of her bed. Contemplating heading to her office to work on the robberies, she decided that Lt. Weems was still correct about tackling it with a fresh head. Pulling back the covers and settling on her back stirred Thing, who moved to stick himself against her side, using her arm as a pillow.