Work Text:
The path of a raven is a solitary one.
The door to Xavier’s studio was thrown open, natural light poured into the dark shed. A small figure, dressed in a long black cloak stomped in unannounced. “What is this?!
“Nice to see you too, Wednesday.” He replied without looking up from his painting.
She surveyed the series of small paintings; small figures cast against blood red backgrounds. Each person looked helpless, as though they were falling to their deaths into a fiery chasm. “These are new.”
Xavier didn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah.”
She studied the small canvases. “They’re markedly different from your previous work. Wait — where is your other work?”
“I took all those paintings off the stretchers.” He pointed to a tidy stack of rolled up canvases. “They were taking up too much space. Plus they weren’t very good.”
Wednesday frowned in dismay. She wasn’t sure what to say; she wasn’t accustomed to hearing her boyfriend doubt his talent. “I’m deeply attached to the painting you gave me for Christmas. I already hung it on my wall and it’s my phone background picture element.”
She stepped closer, showing him that her phone showcased the painting he had given her: set against a stormy sky, a majestic vulture carried a kitten in its clutches.
His lips twitched with a smile. “It’s called a Lock Screen .”
“Enid said the painting is terrifying.”
“High praise indeed, considering she lives with you.”
“When did you get back to Nevermore?”
“The 25th.” He replied without emotion.
“Christmas Day?! You were scheduled to be with your family.”
“We had breakfast together, then my Dad hopped a plane to play golf with Keenu Reeves and my stepmother went with her sisters to get Botox. I don’t actually know where they went. San Jose?” His bent posture said more than his words. He looked gaunt to her, dark circles shadowed his large green eyes. “I wish I’d stayed longer with your family.”
“No one has ever, ever said about visiting the Addams Family.”
“It was memorable.” He laughed but the smile didn’t reach his wide eyes.
“What was your favorite part?” Her voice took on a skeptical tone. “Was it when my parents discussed the intimate details of my conception at the dinner table? Or when My Uncle Fester tried to electrocute you in the bathtub? Or Pugsley throwing cherry bombs at you while we were playing chess?”
He pressed his lips together self consciously. “I think you secretly like it when you have to save me from your brother’s pranks.”
“Not many people would describe his drone attack as a prank.”
Xavier shrugged. “It was still fun.”
“I had counted on you having stronger survival instincts.” She moved even closer to him, plucking the paint brush from his hands. “I’m more concerned that you willingly got into a rowboat with Pugsley.”
“I didn’t need to be rescued, there were life jackets.”
“Filled with birdseed and buck shot? Admit it, you needed me.”
His thin face warmed with a reluctant smile. “I may have needed you when your Father took me hunting.”
“Everyone knows that man is the most dangerous game. But I do think he should have told you that you were target practice.” She traced along the side of his neck with the lightest touch. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”
“It’s nothing. Just some bad dreams,” he said flatly, gesturing at his paintings. “I’m still working them out.”
She didn’t need a psychic vision to see that his Father’s neglect was eating away at him. Again. Xavier claimed that he was accustomed to the rejection but his paintings seemed like direct evidence to the contrary.
Her fingertips trailed along his cheekbone and his head bowed to her touch. “You slept peacefully at my parent’s house.”
He squinted at her. “How would you know that?”
“I may have checked in on you.” She averted her eyes, not wanting him to know that she had sat by his bedside for hours, utterly entranced by the way his expressions fluctuated as he slept. Vivid emotions etched small lines on his face that seemed to disappear in an instant. She had sat perfectly still in the moonlight watching frowns, anger, despair cross his face and then, like the cloud parting to reveal the sun, an occasional smile shone through.
“I sleep better when I know you’re nearby.”
Wednesday didn’t know how to respond but leaned against him. Seated on his paint splattered chair, their height difference was reversed. She removed the elastic band from his ponytail and let his hair fall around his face like a curtain. Moving slowly, she gently threaded her fingers through his hair until it framed his face. He tilted his face down to her, his eyes worn down by sleepless nights.
She liked that he held back, moving slowly, cautiously as though she would vanish in an instant if he wasn’t careful. He ran his pinky along hers and she hooked their fingers together. He had always needed reassurance, a sign that he was allowed to kiss her. She had never told him but she needed it too. His emotions were always written clearly in his expressive face but she couldn’t always decipher them. Especially when his moods swung through the pain of rejection.
His jaw tensed as she leaned toward him. His eyes closed and she gently kissed his cheeks. Soft, warm. He smelled of coconut shampoo and turpentine. He carefully ran his fingers over her chin. He watched her eyes flutter closed and he paused before pressing a chaste kiss fully against her mouth.
“Wednesday.” He sighed into her ear.
She liked all the different ways he kissed her. She cataloged them like an anthropologist: shy and furtive when they snuck a kiss between classes, breathless and ragged when he lost control and gripped the back of her coat, sleepy and careless when she woke him from naps, wild and free on the on the rooftop when she practiced cello.
But this felt new; tender and hesitant. He had never been shy about his feelings for her. but he never shared the rejection he carried around with him like a suit of armor.
“Xavier.”
She stepped between his legs and set her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her, his eyes full of wonder and gratitude. His arms wrapped around her waist.
She kissed the top of his head. “I had a vision of you on New Year’s Eve. You were so sad. Why didn’t you answer my messages?”
“I didn’t want you to worry but I guess that didn’t work.”
She perched herself on his lap, pulling him into a closer embrace. “Your torment isn’t going to scare me away.” She was taken off guard as he clutched her tightly. “Oh.” It was almost alarming to realize how perfectly they fit together. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.
“I missed you so much. I didn’t want to ruin the rest of your vacation by being weird and needy.” He liked telling her the truth. He liked that she alone knew him.
“I have a present for you.” She whispered.
“You already gave me a present, I love my song. She had learned Jawbreaker’s Accident Prone on cello despite her feelings that the piece was far too emotional for her. It was his favorite song, and so she played it for him and him alone. His reception included a passionate type of kissing that she cataloged as otherworldly and would require further study.
She handed him a large black box. “This gift is purely practical.”
He took it from her hands reluctantly. “You know this means I’m allowed to give you another gift.”
His face was so boyish and sweet that she wished for a fleeting moment that she had more presents to share,
“What is this? Weaving? Is it a like giant sweater?” He lifted a soft tangle of silky cords.
“It’s a hammock. I made it to look like a spider cocoon.”
“I didn’t think spiders make cocoons.”
“Allow me to enlighten you: many spiders create temporary cocoon structures for a variety of purposes. Himalayan jumping spiders and Desis spiders are notable exceptions.”
“My mistake.”
Xavier stared at her wordlessly as she hopped up and quickly installed the hammock between trees outside his studio.
“Do you need help?”
They way she confidently tightened the ropes made him shiver in a way unrelated to the mild January temperatures. “Also, tarantulas make themselves web hammocks in preparation for molting. It’s the second most vulnerable thing they do; the first being mating, of course.” Her dark eyes lingered a beat too long before she neatly arranged the supporting sides of the hammock which were woven loosely to mimic a spiderweb.
“Wow, that’s alarming. So, I’m like the prey here?”
“It’s big enough for two. We can cocoon together. Did you know that some spiders wrap their prey as gifts for their mates?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s odd. Wait — am I the mate or the gift?”
“Both.” She tested it out, folding her arms over her chest like a corpse. “It’s weatherproof and designed for two people. We can take naps together. I want to make sure you get some sleep.” She held her arms open to him. “Xavier Thorpe, come lie down beside me.”
“OK.” He arranged his long frame beside her. As soon as his arms wrapped around her, he felt himself relax. He released the tensions of the past week, one by one. His father’s relentless use of psychic powers on him, his stepmother’s reluctance to make eye contact with him.
He whispered to her the things he couldn’t tell another soul. When he was finished pouring out his heart, they rested side by side. Her head rested over his heart.
“I’d like to make a proposal.” She could tell he was getting sleepy.
“Hmm?”
“Moving forward, I propose we spend holidays together.” Wednesday whispered softly.
“But—”
“If you need to visit your dad, I’ll come with you to Las Vegas.” She interrupted. “Otherwise, you’ll be with my family. From here on out, we stick together.”
”Til death do we part?” His eyes crinkled around the edges.
”Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Wednesday whispered, failing to sound grim.