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“Finally.” Enid grumbled, collapsing into the passenger seat; not even letting her girlfriend open the door for her as she usually does.
So that's how Wednesday quickly noted the first sign of something being wrong. And if she was right, the evening was going to be quite a challenge, to please her stormy girl. Good thing, she was definitely used to those.
“It wasn't even ten minutes, querida.” She said calmly, testing how far she could go.
Enid let out an irritated huff.
“Am I not allowed to say a single word without meaning anything?”
Oh, that was it. Better not push it any further.
“Not my words.” Wednesday pointed. She chose to concentrate on driving further down the street and pulling onto the road quickly. Otherwise, she doubted she would have managed to escape those manicured claws without losing her head at very least after saying it. She needed her eyes to properly admire the vivid pink displeasure beside her and her brain to memorize the beauty of it, so that'll be a pity.
“What was that?” Enid tilted her head in warning, reaching for the seatbelt.
Wednesday ignored the meaningful look she received.
“I said, turn on those disgusting sounds of hell or whatever you would like to listen to now.”
Rather than firing back, Enid focused on her phone, tapping until she found something that matched her current mood. Wednesday didn’t even sigh.
After about four Halsey songs and a few skips they stopped.
They rode in silence, not counting the noise of the road and the quiet music playing. Wednesday was sure, Enid hadn’t managed to eat anything during the gap between her morning university classes and the doings she was busy with afterward. As unfortunate as it was to acknowledge, Wednesday needed to fill her up with sugar as quickly as possible, before she ended up being eaten instead of proper dinner. Primarily due to her unfiltered mouth, which was even worse when it comes to Enid.
“Wait here,” Wednesday told her, as softly as she could. She quickly grabbed the bag from the back seat and got out of the car, followed by her girlfriend's furrowed gaze.
Entering the nearly empty coffee shop, the scent of caramel mixed with something sickly sweet almost made her wince. She decided on a strawberry milkshake, piled high with whipped cream. She insisted on having two shots of espresso added to it, a recipe Enid had discovered on Instagram and had been somewhat obsessed with for the last two weeks.
She glared at the barista, who handed her the drink with a clearly forced smile, and rushed out, wanting to get away before she had an allergic reaction to the disgusting couples at the tables.
Wednesday returned to the car, carefully carrying a pink sweet bomb to ensure it didn't stain the black leather seats. Enid didn’t look at her at first, but when she finally did, she let out a gasp so loud Wednesday briefly wondered if she had made herself dizzy.
“Oh my god,” Enid breathed, eyes going impossibly wide. “Is that for me?”
“No, I just decided to overdose on sugar.” Wednesday replied, starting the engine again.
Enid ignored her, hands already reaching for the cup like it might vanish if she hesitated. Before handing her the drink, Wednesday leaned in, clearly hoping for a kiss now that her girlfriend was no longer on the edge of meltdown.
Enid blinked at her, studying her face, then brightened.
“Oh, right," she said, already about to give in to Wednesday before she stopped herself. “Wait, did you take your pills today? That lipstick—no, I just—”
She didn’t even wait for an answer, already digging into her bag for wet wipes to rub off the pink lipstick she knew wasn’t safe for her girlfriend.
Wednesday caught Enid’s wrist with practiced precision.
“I took them,” she said flatly. “Eight hours ago. I’m not planning on anaphylaxis today.”
Enid froze, then slowly looked up at her, eyes wide and worried in the way that made Wednesday feel like she’d just kicked an innocent puppy.
A moment later the tension in Enid's shoulders eased, just a little, like a knot finally starting to loosen. She settled down and tugged Wednesday closer, her hand laying gently at the back of her neck.
Enid’s expression softened into that fond, melty look that always made Wednesday feel like she’d won something she never meant to compete for.
Their lips met in a brief press, carrying all the affection Wednesday wanted to share with only one person. It was simple, but warm and familiar, making Enid smile into the kiss.
Wednesday pulled back first, of course.
“Your beverage,” she said, placing the milkshake into Enid’s hands, quickly buckling up before leaving the parking lot. “So tell me, what's the matter of the sudden storm cloud over your head, mi vida?”
Enid took a sip, nearly melting at the tenderness in her girl's voice. She sighed in relief, enjoying the sweetness of the drink, and lazily licked the whipped cream from her finger, entirely unconcerned by Wednesday’s disapproving click of the tongue.
“People suck, weather sucks,” She began to explain, all while continuing to eat the cream. “I’m exhausted. I slept like crap, and don't ask why I have no idea. Also was late to literally everything– Yes, even more late than usual. And now I kinda want to burn something down and maybe kick someone's head. Not sure if that’s your influence or just my hormones.” She toed off her shoes and practically collapsed across the seat, trusting Wednesday to handle the driving. “On top of that, every inch of my body hurts and I feel an urge to sharpen my claws on the nearest tree," Enid licked the straw clean, then pointed it at her. “Do we still have the cheesecake? I remember putting it in the fridge but I don't know,” She frowns. “Please say yes because I might actually cry if not.”
Wednesday flicked her eyes toward Enid for half a second, long enough to catalogue the slumped posture, the way her shoulders curled inward, the faint of discomfort at her face. She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, focusing her attention on Enid.
“There is one piece left,” Wednesday reassured her. “Not before you eat something less crammed with synthetic additives, though.” She added.
Enid hummed, satisfied, and slumped further into the seat like a cat finally finding a warm patch of sun. Or a dog, in her case. She sucked noisily on the straw again, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“I'll make the dinner,” She mumbled.
“You won't.”
Enid felt a pleasant warmth as Wednesday gently scratched her head with a free hand, making her lean into the touch. She was only able to respond with quiet ‘Okay’, when every sensible sentence just slipped away from her mind.
That was a nice end of today's torture, Enid thought. Or at least she made it a little bit more tolerable.
By the moment they made it home, Wednesday knew her girlfriend was seconds away from passing out right in the hallway.
She took Enid’s coat and scarf as the girl vanished into the bedroom in silence. Wednesday carefully placed the clothes in the closet and, taking her time, set the shoes back in their proper places, sure that Enid was just lazily changing into her comfortable pajamas for a nap she definitely wanted.
Thing jumped out of nowhere, springing at her in a polite greeting.
“My day was awful, thank you.” She replied calmly, heading for the kitchen with Thing running after her. He had been staying with them for two weeks now, ever since his sudden appearance at their window. Again.
However unpleasant Thing knew it was to acknowledge for Wednesday, he truly loved all the Addams younglings equally, and the decision of whom to follow weighed heavily on him last summer. He could neither just peacefully stay at home with the youngest nor be torn in two for the oldest ones.
With Wednesday, he shared a bond that was rough yet profound— she had been the first child to ever fall into his hand as well as the one and only heiress he was loyal to no less; his own reckless pain in so many meanings —but the thought of remaining so far from Pugsley gnawed at him almost even stronger than he cared to admit. He absolutely did not trust any of them, though at least now he had two extra color-nailed hands he could place his trust in.
Luckily, his youngest charge, Pubert, currently was at the age to only terrify his parents and just slightly the society, which at least spared him that concern.
Thing never made his decision official, even after the girls moved into their own place to continue the studies they wanted, far enough from home. He simply appeared here and there, no one really needed to know how, spending time with each of his favorite little leeches. And the nice bubble-wolf menace, of course, but she was in a package to his great delight.
“Most likely, yes, she’ll be sleeping. I’ll check on her later, but you can go in and say hello, you know she'd appreciate.” Wednesday nodded at his signed question, looking for something in the fridge.
Thing was about to sneak out of the room when she called him back.
“Hang on–” Wednesday picked up a pack of painkillers from the counter and passed it to him. “Give it to her and take a glass of water as well.”
He quickly went along with her instructions while she sorted out the ingredients for their dinner.
Mushroom pasta sounded good enough, given that Enid probably wouldn’t want anything more complicated. Wednesday had noted earlier last evening that it could be a difficult day for her girlfriend, simply counting the days when Enid complained about her legs aching recently. Usually, in addition to the exhausting pain, her periods were accompanied by nausea from anything that might…well, anything that didn't match with her current mood or inner desires. Wednesday decided it was a safe choice. If not Enid can always order whatever her whimsy soul wants. As long as she's happy and eats something Wednesday doesn't care.
She worked in efficient silence, the kitchen filling with the low, comforting sounds of routine: the tap of a knife against the cutting board, quite hiss of butter melting in the pan.
Thing returned a few minutes later, hopping up onto the counter and giving her a quick thumbs-up before tapping twice in a familiar rhythm. Wednesday nodded once in acknowledgement, a silent thanks passing between them, not even asking for more information. He made it clear that pills were swallowed, water consumed and a girlfriend at least marginally stabilized. Nothing to worry about for now.
Wednesday didn’t slow her movements, but something in her shoulders loosened at Thing’s report. She finished slicing the mushrooms with surgical precision, sliding them into the pan where butter and garlic were already beginning to brown.
Even though the silence was pleasant enough, they occasionally spoke about this and that. Wednesday was not usually one for gossip, but perhaps that was something that came with living alongside someone like Enid for almost four years now.
Thing eagerly told her everything about how cousin Gehenna’s ‘perfect’ son had tried to sneak onto someone else’s property—and completely failed thanks to a tiny, stupid mistake. He ended up dangling from a wrought-iron fence by his expensive coat while the owner’s pet basilisk took a personal interest in his ankles. Thing mimed the scene with great enthusiasm, fingers scuttling dramatically, then freezing in a clawed pose that clearly represented the basilisk’s jaws.
“Amateur,” Wednesday allowed herself a small, sharp exhale through her nose, blooming into a satisfied smile. “I assume she blamed the fence.”
Thing rolled his wrist in a so-so gesture, then signed something elaborate that involved a lot of flailing fingers and unmistakable parody at the cousin's bruised pride.
“That tracks,” Wednesday stirred the mushrooms, adding cream and pepper with a careful hand. “She always preferred denial to accountability.” Gehenna had obviously found boasting far more engaging than the tedious task of actually raising Wednesday’s unfortunate nephew properly.
Thing clapped once in agreement and hopped down, skittering toward the living room.
Wednesday finished the sauce, letting it thicken to the precise consistency Enid liked. Creamy but not cloying, coating the pasta without drowning it. She tasted it, frowned, added a touch of salt, then nodded to herself. Acceptable.
By the time dinner was ready, the sun had slipped fully below the horizon, leaving the kitchen awash in the soft, yellow glow of the overhead lights. Wednesday plated the food carefully, sliding a heaping portion onto the table.
She wiped her hands on a towel and listened. The apartment was quiet as expected. Quickly checking the time on the clock, she confirmed that about an hour had passed since they’d returned. Considering whether to wake Enid, she decided to slip into the bedroom anyway — if nothing else, she could at least get changed.
What she found there made warmth echo in the very tips of her fingers, even after so many similar scenes. The dark green curtains were closed, most likely with Thing’s assistance, and jeans along with a crumpled purple T-shirt lay abandoned in the center of the room. She’d tidy it up later.
Enid herself was curled into the middle of the huge bed, looking incredibly small and cozy. Only a spill of blonde hair and the faint rise and fall of her shoulders betrayed that she was anything more than a particularly mound of black blankets. She absently noticed her pillow was gone, no doubt Enid had stolen it to hug in place of a stuffed animal.
Wednesday stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind her with the barest click. The scent of Enid’s perfume lingered in the air, strong enough to make her hold back a sneeze. It was one of the reasons she insisted Enid put it on near the open windows; she tended to use too much.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle Enid too much, although experience told her that even an earthquake wouldn't wake her girlfriend once she’d sunk into sleep. Enid’s face was half-buried in the pillow she’d stolen, lashes resting against faintly flushed cheeks, probably overheated from being covered with both of their blankets. Wednesday reached out, not even thinking once, to brush her knuckles lightly against Enid’s face. She clicked her tongue quietly at the warmth.
With careful efficiency, she peeled one of the blankets back, before standing up. Giving Enid a few more minutes to rest, she moved toward the wardrobe to slip out of her dress and change into something more comfortable. Eventually, she would have to wake Enid and make her eat, even if it was a bit later.
Wednesday changed quickly, trading her stiff dress for a soft black sweater and loose pants. She considered picking one of Enid's worn, comfortable t-shirts, but decided she could borrow one later, before going to bed.
She grabbed Enid’s white hair clips and quietly slipped out of the room, making her way to the bathroom.
Contrary to popular belief, while Wednesday openly and aggressively rejected the beauty standards imposed on women by society, she was not opposed to the use of makeup, viewing it as yet another legitimate form of self-expression rather than submission to something. She adhered to a style she found fitting for herself, the subtly lined eyes and dark violet of her lips simply reinforced what was already there.
Her stuff did not even amount to a third of what filled Enid’s makeup bags, and although she despised her girlfriend’s persistent tendency to hide anything that she thought wasn't perfect enough on her beautiful face, one Wednesday wanted etched into the backs of her eyelids, she could not judge her for it. What she could do, however, was plant gentle kisses and shower adoration on every single feature every day. And she didn’t miss a single opportunity.
Wednesday gathered a few products out, and set about thoroughly taking care of her skin. Finishing a couple of minutes later, she spent some time tidying up the slight mess on the shelves that was causing this morning.
Only then did she register the faint tension pressing against her scalp from tightly wound braids. She knew she’d be scolded for such carelessness towards herself, so she took some time to undo each one methodically. Once freed, she misted slightly wavy hair with unscented oil and deliberately ran a comb through it. Not wanting to risk unwanted dents or damage to her hair’s natural structure, she just left it free.
Wednesday nodded at the mirror, satisfied, shut off the light and returned to the bedroom. As much as she dreaded dealing with whiny werewolf, she couldn’t allow Enid living off nothing but pain meds.
Enid had shifted in her sleep, now sprawled diagonally across the bed in blatant violation of any spatial agreement they had ever established. One leg was kicked free of the blankets, bare skin flushed and warm, toes twitching slightly.
“Querida,” she called softly, sitting down again and nudging Enid’s knee.
No response.
She tried again, this time brushing her fingers along Enid’s calf, cool against her skin. Enid hummed, brows drawing together in mild displeasure.
Wednesday sighed.
“Food is waiting, Enid.”
Enid cracked one eye open, then the other, focusing on Wednesday’s face. Her mouth curled into a sleepy smile.
“Hi, beautiful woman,” she whispered, seeing her girlfriend glancing away. Clearly enjoying the compliment.
“You’re drooling on my pillow,” Wednesday told her, trying to appear annoyed.
Enid frowned, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s rude to point out a girl’s flaws.”
“You weren't very nice either earlier.”
Well, she had a point, Enid thought.
She stretched languidly, arms lifting over her head as she arched with a quiet, involuntary sound from her that made Wednesday look away again, a little too quickly. Enid caught that, even half-asleep and absolutely miserable. That made her giggle before the yawn interrupted and she blinked at Wednesday stupidity.
“Come on, insufferable dog,” Wednesday murmured, sliding a hand under Enid’s side to gently coax her into a sitting position. “Your food isn’t going to eat itself.”
Enid let herself be manhandled upright with all the grace of an awkward jellyfish.
Which was to say: none.
She flopped forward, forehead thunking lightly against Wednesday’s shoulder.
“Five more minutes,” she whimpered into the knit of the black sweater.
Wednesday adjusted her posture to better support Enid’s full weight.
“You already had five more minutes, when I pitied you. They were wasted unconscious.”
“You’re cruel,” Enid pouted and Wednesday found it extremely hard not to kiss the perfect lips inches from hers. “I’m calling Gomez.”
“You can call whoever you want after you’ve eaten,” she said coolly.
That earned a disgruntled groan.
They made it as far as the doorway before Enid’s feet tangled in the blanket still wrapped around her. She swayed, caught herself in Wednesday's arms.
The moment they reached kitchen, the smell of delicious dinner captured Enid before her brain fully caught up, and she inhaled deeply.
Wednesday pulled out a chair for her and waited until Enid collapsed into it before sitting across from her.
“You’re such a romantic,” She cooed, picking up her fork.
“Eat so you can take another pill if you need,” Wednesday said, ignoring the kiss Enid blew her.
Enid smiled faintly and took her first bite. She chewed slowly, eyes closing for a moment as if concentrating on the sensation. When she swallowed, some of the tension slowly left her.
“Okay,” she admitted. “Yeah. This helps.”
“What a surprise.”
They ate in silence after that, broken only by Enid’s occasional hum of approval and the soft scrape of cutlery against ceramic. When Enid finally pushed her plate away with a small, satisfied sigh, Wednesday noted contentedly that it was mostly empty.
“Dessert?” Enid asked immediately, eyes brightening just a little.
“You are predictable,” Wednesday said at last, carrying away the plates. “And yes.”
She grabbed a pair of cups and poured them tea that Thing had prepared for them while she was occupied by Enid in the bedroom.
“You're literally an angel,” Enid announced as Wednesday was searching the fridge for a cake. “Okay, no, I’m exaggerating with that kind of word towards you but I knew there was a reason I put up with you.” She corrected herself, innocently.
“Good thing you finally found it after four years of our coexistence,” Wednesday set the cake down carefully, placing a slice in front of Enid. “Try not to inhale it all in one bite or don’t choke at least,” She took her own dark chocolate that Enid stocked for her in ridiculous amounts. “Who knows if I'll bother with first aid.”
Enid gasped theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare,” she accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way she was already reaching for the fork.
“Unfortunately,” Wednesday agreed. “I would much rather strangle you myself.” She smiled into her teacup.
“Such a romantic,” Enid said again as she almost tore into the cheesecake.
“Your mom literally told me ‘murdering is nothing, but disrespecting your wife is a crime'! And I fully agree with her.”
“I am not disrespecting you.”
“You're underestimating me!”
Wednesday glared at the resentful girl on her lap.
“You're not even my…” She freezes mid-sentence, wishing to slap herself in the face. Her stupid mouth.
“I am not even what?” Enid squinted, dangerously.
Well…An early grave doesn't sound that bad, after all. It was a dream at some point.
“Nothing. You are perfectly capable of killing me, mi vida,” Wednesday tried to temper the course of her fate.
“No, shut up,” Enid brushed aside the justification. Dear spirits. “What did you want to say, Wednesday?”
Wednesday swallowed.
Oh, her father could've disowned her without hesitation, if only he heard that.
“I am,” Wednesday inhaled, trying at least to rephrase the statement, in a pure hope that it would make it any better. “Not even your wife.”
“Wednesday!”
“Yet.” She added quickly.
“Wednesday!”
Enid sat up so fast that nearly smacked her head on Wednesday’s nose.
“Thing, did you hear that?” Enid furiously looked at him. He confirmed just as indignantly. “I have a witness!”
“Enid…”
“So, first, you ask how I would finish you off if I had the chance and belittle my skills, insisting you’d predict every attack, and now… you’re dodging responsibility!” Enid crossed her arms, frowning. “I see you, Wednesday Friday Addams.”
Wednesday’s lips twitched despite herself.
“You don’t get to smirk when you just casually un-wifed me a second ago,” Enid snapped.
“And who's dramatic,” She dodged the swat aimed at her hand. “I only…mentioned the present legal situation of our relationship. Never said it won't change.”
They stared at each for a good minute. Eventually, Enid became noticeably better at this, yet she was the first to give in.
She waited for a moment, then threw herself at Wednesday, knocking her onto the couch.
“Enid!”
Wednesday hit the cushions with a muted thud, black hair fanning out all over.
“Enid, let's be reasonable!” She squeaked, trying to push her off.
Ended up lying face down and barely being able to turn her head, Wednesday was currently doubting a lot of decisions. Her girlfriend had gotten herself comfortably situated on top, making her back her favorite pillow.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't,” Enid kissed black hair softly. “You just said you wanna marry me, Wednesday. Don't be silly.”
“You do realize you’re lying on me and cutting off my air,” She sounded indifferent, simply because of how she had grown used to this part of Enid's affectionate actions long ago.
Being squeezed, pressed, pushed, smothered, and hugged all the same in every possible and impossible way… And people still get surprised on how she's not afraid to deal with serial killers and dark soul-sucking magic.
Perhaps a couple of years ago, Wednesday might have been mad or even genuinely offended by such a treatment. However now, she'd be perfectly pleased to remain like that for hours. Even though she wasn't ready to admit It.
“Does it make me less wife material?”
She felt Enid's claws poking her shoulders.
“You’re asking strange questions,” Wednesday muttered, still half-buried beneath Enid. She tilted her head just enough to catch a glimmer of those bright, mischievous eyes. “Less wife material?” she repeated, feigning contemplation. “Absolutely not. In fact…You might be too perfect. It’s unfair to the rest of us mortals, mi vida. ” Enid grinned, her teeth catching the light in a flash that made Wednesday’s stomach twist in ways she refused to name. “You could lay your manicured claws on my heart and violently tear me apart with those captivatingly sharp teeth of yours — all I would do is thank you again and again, until my very last breath.”
Enid was only able to blush so hard she could name the exact shade of red on her face. She made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a protest and promptly buried her face in Wednesday’s neck, as if hiding from the consequences of her own reaction might undo it.
“Wednesday,” she muffled, voice vibrating against pale skin. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to survive.”
“You are going to survive. I’m not facing my parents and your brothers over all that wedding planning alone.” Wednesday grumbled.
“If I'm dead you don't need to plan the wedding, though.”
“By now, you should know my understanding of moral compass is, at best, questionable.”
That sent Enid into such a fit of laughter that she couldn't help but slip and hit the floor, not even reacting to the light bump to her head.
Wednesday pushed herself upright, rubbing her ribs. “You okay?”
“All fine,” Enid wheezed. “Just thought about you kicking my tombstone because I left you to deal with small talks and personal interactions with society all by yourself. On our wedding day, no less.”
Wednesday huffed. She couldn’t bring herself to deny the truth, fully aware that Enid would only laugh harder if she tried.
One of the few benefits of keeping a social butterfly close at hand was how efficiently it shielded her from unwanted conversations with even more unwanted people. Enid was absolutely happy and capable of doing the talking for both of them, usually letting her stay quiet or contribute a brief comment while she handled anyone who got in their way with those sweet sickening smiles.
“I’ll force one of my insufferably proper relatives, buried in the family cemetery, to haul you to me on a leash. Even if it takes multiple séances and all of my nerve cells to make them cooperate.” She decided to say instead.
Enid rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand, gazing at Wednesday with a look that was all fondness and pure joy tangled together.
“Is it weird how I find this incredibly hot?”
“You’re just weird,” Wednesday offered a hand, carefully pulling her up.
“Okay, ouch—”
Thing jumped on the floor, near them. He tapped a little.
“Perfect level of weirdness, indeed,” Wednesday gave him a quick look of approval. “I thought, that is a point of our relationships.”
“Says the girl who made me almost die for her multiple times.” Enid muttered, dropping back onto the couch and tugging her girlfriend as well, to sprawl on top of her again with a pleased smile. She just mentioned the scariest moments of her short but not so boring life, recalling them pretty clear, yet she couldn’t feel safer than now — surrounded by the gentlest, cold hands and the faintly bitter scent of perfume.
Even though Enid didn’t consider it something to be mocked, she carried many fears, despite being one of the most dangerous type of werewolf.
Other wolves feared her. Her own ‘pack’ feared her. They saw her as a threat. It was natural, yes, but it didn't make any less concerning.
So she made a new one. A better one. Surely, she didn't plan on it; some things just happenes.
Her new pack— her future family, hopefully extended by some mini versions of both of them someday —is the absolute opposite.
This pack protects her. Guardes her. Takes care of her no matter what, just as much as she does and maybe a bit more.
Enid never expected to find a true peace with someone who routinely carried multiple cold weapons and knew exactly how to erase a body from existence but here she was. Well, ‘peace’ is not exactly the right word, to be fair. And still, she supposes it works. As long as it's about one particular murderous tiny gothic queen of hers.
She must have been dozing lightly, because the next sound to reach her was a small, persistent voice trying to catch her attention.
“Enid, If you fall asleep here instead of the bed, I swear I’ll beheading every single one of your unicorns.”
Fully ignoring Wednesday’s attempt to manipulate, she just nuzzles her head further in, drapes a leg over her girlfriend for a better position, and lazily presses her lips together with a sleepy smack.
Then there was a heavy sigh. “What was I even expec— Don't you dare to say a word, you useless appendage.”