Chapter Text
"Why don't you have any nicknames for me?"
Wednesday Adams sighed tiredly and in frustration. It was bad enough that she was lying on top of the revoltingly colourful bed of Enid Sinclair, allowing herself to be cuddled by the annoying girl. Now this. And worst of all, she had an arm around the other girl, so the cuddle wasn't one-sided. They were, snuggling, as Enid had called it. God, it was torture. Meaning that Wednesday could appreciate it on different levels.
Sensing the other girl wasn't going to let this go, Wednesday reluctantly replied, "Because they're vapid terms of endearment for the weak."
"Your father use them all the time." Enid pointed out.
"Exactly." Wednesday said dryly.
"I love them." Enid pouted, "Do you think I'm weak."
God, Wednesday’s girlfriend was so needy. Wednesday had no idea how she allowed herself to be manipulated into a romantic relationship, or why she opened her mouth to not only answer no, but to actually reassure Enid. A disgusting urge she tried to fight for a few long seconds, but it was no use. Something about Enid Sinclair left her powerless.
"I think you bend too much to society's norms, have questionable taste, and obviously, have unrealistic expectations of what a relationship with me can be." Wednesday quipped, then there was a few long seconds of silence, when Enid just stared at her, forcing her to admit, "But no. I don't think that you're weak."
"Thanks." Enid said dryly, before quickly adding, "And I told you, I don't want to do something if you're really uncomfortable with it. But, if this thing between us is going to work out, you're going to need to meet me halfway, when you can. And considering you tolerate your father's words of endearment, you should be willing to tolerate mine. Fair?"
"Fair." Wednesday agreed reluctantly.
"And maybe you could give me one teeny tiny nickname? Please?" Enid pleaded shamelessly, before resorting to bribery, "We can go an entire day without cuddling? Well, half a day. I'm not sure I could go an entire day without cuddles from my honey bunny. No kissing, maybe? Well, on the lips. I could live with just kissing your pretty face for a day. And your neck. And ears. And just anywhere that's PG-13, because I know you're not ready for more than that, and honestly, I'm not ready for more than that. Or, maybe I could just maim someone for you? I know you'd like that. Honestly, I'm willing to do anything to get a nickname from you. Except murder, or ignoring Thing, because I'm not a monster. Well, I am a monster, but..."
"Fine, fine, fine!" Wednesday snapped, before groaning, "Just stop talking."
"YAY!" Enid exclaimed, hugging Wednesday tighter, and covering her face in kisses, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Don't mention it." Wednesday grumbled, before quipping, "Seriously, don't."
"So, what are you going to call me at?" Enid asked brightly.
"This was your idea." Wednesday grumbled.
"Yes, but you can at least try to think of something." Enid pouted.
"That wasn't the deal." Wednesday pointed out.
"True..." Enid hummed, before her face turned into a wicked smile, as she realized this was the perfect opportunity to tease her Goth girlfriend, "How about, Honey Bunny?"
"No." Wednesday replied quickly and dryly.
"Cuddle Monkey?"
"No."
"Sugar Bear?"
"No."
"Angel Face?"
"No."
"Cupcake?"
"No."
"Fluffy?"
"No."
"Fluffy Cakes?"
"No."
"Fluff Ball?"
"No."
"Fluzz Ball?"
"No."
"Honey Muffin?"
"No."
"Honey Pie?"
"No."
"Honey Buns?"
"No."
"Love Bug?"
"No."
"My Darling?"
"No."
"My Love?"
"No."
"My Sunshine?"
"No."
"Snuggle Bug?"
"No."
"Sugar?"
"No."
"Sweet Heart?"
"No."
"Sweetie Pie?"
"No."
"Kitty Cat?"
"You're a wolf." Wednesday frowned.
"Yes, but I've always liked cats more." Enid confessed, before sadly quipping, "Even if they don't like me."
"Your personality is more like a golden retriever." Wednesday grumbled.
"And your strong, independent, and slow to show affection to new people. If at all." Enid pointed out with a grin, "You know, like a cat. It's what I love about you. But don't think that I'm going to allow you to distract me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I could do this all day, but if you want this conversation to end, I suggest you pick a name, any name, just to shut me up."
There was a brief silence, then Wednesday actually thought of something, but instead of saying it pushed, "Those suggestions weren't serious, and you know it."
"Fine." Enid admitted, before questioning, "How about simply Baby or Babe? It's a classic. And not too much to ask, right?"
"No." Wednesday said dismissively.
"But why?" Enid whined.
"It's too generic." Wednesday said softly, hating to admit this, but doing so anyway, "If I have to call you something, it should be specific."
"Okay." Enid beamed, just about resisting the urge to draw attention to Wednesday Adams saying something sweet, and then questioning, "How about My Wolf? Because I am, you know? Yours? Or just, My Girl? I know, I know, generic. But I'd like it. Or My Sun? You know, because my favourite nickname for you is My Moon?"
There was another brief pause, then Wednesday offered, "Matchstick?"
Enid tilted her head in confusion, not unlike a golden retriever, and questioned, "Why?"
Was there no end to Wednesday's torment? Enid had her stupid nickname, and still she wanted more. Why couldn't it be enough? Why did Wednesday have to explain herself, when it left her feeling vulnerable? Enid knew how she hated feeling that way. And yet, she knew the other girl just wouldn't let it go.
After another pause, this one the longest yet, and then Wednesday reluctantly explained, "Because you’re a tiny little light, burning brightly and proudly in my darkness, as if you were the sun. You seem harmless, but you're capable of great destruction. And best of all, you can burn my hand, if I don't handle you with care."
"Which in your world, is a good thing." Enid beamed, "Oh thank you, Wednesday. I love it."
What Wednesday didn't explain, was that more accurately, Enid was like a matchstick she's already lit and dropped, and now fire was all around her, consuming everything in it's path. Consuming her. Burning, and burning, and burning, until there was nothing left, but Enid Sinclair. And these infuriating feelings she had for her. And for some unholy reason, Wednesday Adams was okay with that.