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It all starts on the first day after the Christmas break. Wednesday was permitted to return to Nevermore due to her efforts in saving the school, something she found herself not entirely adverse to. Oddly enough, her time there had been filled with enough murder mystery and the likes to coax her back for a second semester, especially with her potential stalker out there somewhere.
Upon arriving back at the school, all of her belongings were piled neatly in the dorm room just as she had left them after she was previously expelled. With the help of Thing and Lurch, she had just about managed to return the dorm to the lived-in state it had been in prior to The Incident - as Enid refers to it. It’s when she’s adding the final touches back to her desk, ensuring the typewriter was central, that Enid comes bursting in, practically vibrating with energy.
“Howdy, roomie!”
Wednesday would be lying if she said she hasn’t anticipated their reunion since they had returned to their respective family homes for the holidays. And so she lies - the prospect of finding comfort in another’s presence alludes to friendship, nothing but a weakness.
“Must you insist on such outward displays of emotion?” Wednesday says deadpan, not looking up from the desk, adjusting the angle of the typewriter ever so slightly to keep it straight.
Enid laughs. It’s a sound she hasn’t heard in weeks.
“It’s hardly amusing,” Wednesday sighs, straightening up and turning to face Enid. She’s stood just in front of the door with her hands clasped behind her back and bouncing on her toes, clearly struggling to contain her excitement. The grin plastered across her cheeks is mesmerising, a smile with the brightness of the sun and the beauty of the moon. It’s nauseating.
“Sorry, I just missed you!” Enid chuckles, completing the apology with a squeal. “Thing!”
The hand launches off of the box he’s perched on and scuttles across to Enid, who has taken two massive strides across the room to meet him halfway, crouching to the floor. The proximity of such pure joy has Wednesday stumbling backwards slightly, back hitting the desk behind her.
“Any closer and the tape comes back out.” Wednesday warns, glaring at the pair through narrow eyes. The murderous intent is severely lacking in her voice though.
“Aye aye, Captain!” Enid says, shooting up to her feet and swinging her hand up into a mock salute, whacking herself in the face in the process. She doesn’t wince though, she stays rigid and very much failing to keep a straight face.
Wednesday raises her eyebrows as if to say ‘ really? ’ at the display, but the very subtle twitch in the corner of her mouth gives her away. How embarrassing - with such emotion, she may as well be standing on the balcony and shouting to the whole of Nevermore about how much she missed Enid’s antics.
It certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the roommate in question, whose mouth falls open, hand dropping to her side.
“Addams, don’t tell me you missed me?” She asks, dumbfounded and eyes wide.
“I should be offended by the degree of which you doubt our relationship. Your inability to even fathom anything other than neutrality towards you is truly telling. Sinclair, have you considered the possibility that sharing a space with you for weeks on end and then not was a shift in my routine that was rather unpleasant to adjust to?”
Enid doesn’t respond, her brain almost visibly turning as she deciphers what was said. An odd sense of pride blooms within Wednesday, the sensation of confusing the werewolf is hardly one to grow old. Although, the longer they stare at each other, the more the flush on Enid’s cheeks grows, the more her mouth opens and closes again - this isn’t confusion, she’s flustered.
This is arguably more fun, Wednesday decides, her mouth tugged into a sly twist.
“No? Well, I expected better from– ”
“I’m sorry, what?” It comes out as a rushed breath, the flush is now very much a full on blush.
“If you can recall, I said ‘I should be offended by– “
“No, no I heard,” Enid interrupts, clearing her throat and smoothing her skirt down with her hands. Composing herself, really. “That’s a long winded way of saying you missed me, don’t you think?”
Enid takes a hesitant step forwards with a giggle, Wednesday unable to travel any further backwards with the desk firmly behind her.
“I suppose I am rather… fond of your presence. I didn’t enjoy us being apart.”
Enid falters before taking another step forward, Wednesday gives in to the natural instinct to lean further back, eyes flickering to the tape on the desk, knowing Enid’s would follow. Her approach halts immediately, lips breaking out into another large grin as she shuffles, a slight glint entering her eyes.
Whatever she’s planning, she does a terrible job at concealing her excitement. It doesn’t particularly fill Wednesday with confidence, especially knowing Enid’s track record of surprises. She focuses her gaze in warning, eyes narrowing and jaw tightening, but her head still tilts to the side in question. Her curiosity in that movement gives Enid all she needs to continue.
Enid straightens up again, face contorting into a fierce sincerity - a direction Wednesday most definitely did not expect, straightening her own head in response to brace herself for what’s to come. Enid’s hand raises to smack herself in the face again in another mock salute, her brow still furrowed, all traces of the grin absent.
“Enid, this is entirely unnecessary, you just had to step backwa– “
“EnidFlight421 to Wens Tower, permission to initiate hugging motion? I repeat– “
And so she does, repeating the whole statement word for word.
What?
Wednesday freezes. This is ridiculous. Perpostuous. Enid of all people should know that this is not going to work. The hug after The Incident was due to exceptional circumstances. Besides, Wednesday had taken quite the beating, she clearly wasn’t thinking straight. This is completely unbelievable, there’s no way she can be expecting it to work. Not hugging is apparently ‘their thing’, why would she think this is the way to go about changing that, there is no changing it. It’s a key part of their dynamic really, to change it would be to change them. There’s just no way–
“Permission granted.”
The words fall out her mouth naturally before she can stop them, every defence dismantled. It’s unnerving and uncomfortable, but she’s safe. Of course she is, it’s only Enid. Enid who fought a Hyde for her. Enid who wears her scars proudly. Enid who’s never been afraid of her.
Enid who stands in front of her gawping at the response, the flush very much coming back.
And then she squeals, practically skipping across the room with her arms wide and grin returning to her face. She looked empty without it.
Before Wednesday knows it, strong arms wrap around her, slipping under her own and pulling her close. She doesn’t quite return the hug, but she allows it to wash over her. This whole hugging thing is very new to her, the very mechanics are rather unfamiliar. For example pressure, length, appropriate arm placement, which side should she lean over to. There seems to be no way of getting it wrong with Enid though, she allows herself to be guided, pressing her head into Enid’s shoulder, leaning into the contact, her own arms lifting to lightly rest on Enid’s back.
She hides a smile into her roommates sweater, confident it will remain her secret, before lifting her head to speak into Enid’s neck - she can’t quite reach her ear.
“Call me Wens in any other context and I will remove each of your claws, grind them into a powder, and slip some into everything you eat or drink.”
Enid pulls away, holding her at arms length, a hand on each shoulder. Her grin has somehow grown wider. Wednesday glares up at her but doesn’t shrug her off.
“What ever you say…”
“Don’t.”
“Wens.”
— — —
After that interaction, it became a frequent occurance, much to the ammusment of most of Nevermore. And much to Enid’s disbelief.
Wednesday, of course, isn’t afraid to deny permission. Each time she does, Enid is incredibly grateful. It isn’t that she doesn’t doubt Wednesday’s ability to exercise her own boundaries, but it is just a pleasant reminder that makes each time she gets permission that bit more special. At first, it was more often the case than not for Wednesday to decline, especially around other people, but over time they both grew more comfortable with the contact.
But this is new. Very new.
Enid has just returned from a night in the Lupin cages after a particularly rough full moon. She stands in the dorm, adjusting to the unexpected darkness. Wednesday is standing on a chair by the window holding a blanket up over it, attaching it to one of the beams while Thing does the same on the other side. All light coming in from the window is blocked out. She doesn’t break eye contact the whole time, hands moving independantly.
“I understand that your senses will be heightened after a moon. I also expect you didn’t get much sleep last night considering the racket coming from the cages - I’m assuming there was a fight of some sort?.”
Enid can’t speak. This is easily one of the more thoughtful things Wednesday has done for her. Her throat grows tight as she tries to muster a thanks.
“Don’t make it weird.” Wednesday sighs while stepping down from the chair, eyes burning into Enid’s, and yet she can’t bring herself to look away.
Wednesday stalks around the room, still facing Enid. She seems uncomfortable. Wary of something. It stings really, Enid isn’t dangerous, so why does Wednesday look nervous?
“I’m not going to attack you, you know?” Enid sighs, really not in the mood for much conversation.
“I have never doubted as much.” Wednesday responds, eyeing her carefully.
“Then can you stop staring at me like I’m about to rip your head off?” Enid snaps, realising the anger probably really isn’t helping her case. She doesn’t miss the way Wednesday’s face lights up at the thought, though.
Wednesday walks closer, her face darkening again with each step. Enid senses the analytical movements of her eyes skimming over her, each leaving a pin prick behind.
“I really don’t have time for this, Wens, I just want to go to sleep,” Enid sighs, the nickname slipping off her tongue alarmingly naturally.
“Enid,” her voice is so soft, “You’re bleeding.”
Oh. Right. Wednesday was worried about her. The forgeign expression was… concern?
She follows Wednesday’s eyes to her upper arm just below where her shirt sleeve stops, that sure enough, is coated in a sticky red.
“Oh,” Enid gasps, all anger dissapating, replaced with nausea. “Yeah, I am.”
“Sit down.”
Enid obliges, finding her bed and lowering herself down. The sight of blood is still something she can’t handle particularly well.
Wednesday spends some time rumouging through her stuff, but then swiftly joins Enid by her bed, placing a number of wipes and different sized plasters down.
“Werewolf healing,” Enid chuckles despite herself, earning her a purplexed look.
“The cut will be gone already, don’t need plasters.” She clarifies, getting a curt nod in response.
Wednesday still carefully wipes away the blood while Enid looks anywhere but her arm and the pile of stained red wipes, her head growing thick with exhaustion as she murmers a thanks. Before she knows it, Wednesday is satisfied with her work and is standing up to dispose of the wipes, the distance between them feeling uncomfortable.
Enid stays sat down in an attempt to collect herself, ready to fall asleep at any given moment, but Wednesday is still acting particularly oddly. She had thrown away the wipes, and then instead of leaving the dorm or returning to her side, she walked straight back over to Enid’s bed, standing still.
She doesn’t say anything, she just stands there straighter than usual, staring intensly. Her hands are clasped behind her back and her chin is raised slightly. What on Earth? Enid blinks up at her, not even bothering to mask the confusion on her face. Apparently, this just pushed Wednesday to somehow stare harder, quite obviosuly trying to convey something. Is she waiting?
“Wednesday, I can’t be playing any of your weird games right now, what do you want?” Enid sighs, exhasperation coating each word. She just wants to sleep.
And yet, Wednesday doesn’t respond, taking a pointed step forwards and allowing her arms to fall from behind her back to hang by her sides.
Oh.
“Wednesday, do you want a hug?” Enid asks gently, rasing an eyebrow slightly. It’s a long shot.
Wednesday merely narrows her eyes.
“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry,” Enid stutters, a giggle hiding in her chest.
Wednesday’s face relaxes.
“EnidFlight421 to Wens Tower–”
“Permission granted.”
Before she has a chance to stand up, Wednesday has her in her arms, keeping her sat down. Her left hand cups the back of Enid’s head, pulling her into her chest, the other hand reaching across her back, fingers gripping into her shoulder slightly. Enid freezes in shock, allowing the heartbeat right next to her ear to consume her thoughts. She closes her eyes and nuzzles closer under Wednesday’s chin, her own arms lifting up to snake around Wednesday’s waist, tugging her closer still.
“Thank you,” Enid whispers through a soft smile, fully aware of the weight such an action holds. All of the stress and hurt from the full moon lifting under the contact.
Wednesday responds with the unthinkable. She lifts her head up, Enid expecting her to pull away, and instead squeezes slightly tighter. And then she plants the ghost of a kiss onto the top of Enid’s head before returning her chin to rest in the same spot. Enid stops breathing.
“De nada.”