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“And…done!” Enid exclaimed proudly.
The familiar feeling of her braids weighed Wednesday’s shoulders once more as Enid brought her hands up to briefly massage her scalp.
A sudden feeling of foreign, tingling pleasure surged through her head and shoulders. The movements of Enid’s fingers were timid and unsure. She leaned into the touch automatically.
“What, does that feel good?” Enid asked. A slight smile could be detected in the girl’s voice. Wednesday’s eyes lifted lazily.
“Hardly.”
Silence settled between the two for a few seconds as Enid continued stroking her hair. Her hands slowed down. “I…notice you aren’t stopping me?”
Wednesday sighed. “Be quiet.”
Enid’s claws retracted and her hands paused altogether. Wednesday could practically feel the werewolf’s offended eyes staring into the back of her head. “Please,” she added begrudgingly.
The feeling of sharp claws invaded her senses again in response. Another silence settled, this one comfortable and assuring. No words needed to be spoken—just the sounds of light scratching and Wednesday’s bed creaking every now and then from the shifting weight of Enid, adjusting her hands as she worked mindlessly.
“If you must know, it does feel rather…nice,” Wednesday broke the silence with.
“Good to know,” Enid confirmed, definitely smiling this time. “Kinda ironic, though.”
Wednesday quirked her eyebrow. No need for facial masking when she was facing away from the other girl.
She didn’t think about how she never would've made that conclusion a year ago. And she certainly didn’t think about how she felt comfortable enough to let down her stony walls around the werewolf.
“How so?” she prompted.
“Well, I mean—” She laughed. A sickening, cruel, angelic, high-pitched sound. Wednesday’s stomach twisted horribly. “I dunno, I’m the one that’s, like, part-dog. Not ‘dog’, but y’know. Here I am, giving you head scratches.”
“Would you rather I give you the 'head scratches’, Sinclair?”
“That’s not even what I said.”
“It was implied.”
“It literally was not, I was just pointing out the irony in the werewolf giving the human head scratches, Addams.” She tapped a claw directly onto her scalp scoldingly as she said the last name.
Wednesday let out a noise of annoyance but waited for the talons to continue. She tried not to seriously consider the idea of her massaging the werewolf’s head, but an image of Enid wagging her tail excitedly as she scratched her head popped into her mind, and she couldn’t suppress an exhale through her nose.
“What’s so funny?” Enid asked, resting her hands on Wednesday’s shoulders casually, but Wednesday’s upper body erupted with prickling needles.
“I have a question,” Wednesday said.
“Shoot.” Enid’s hands wandered to Wednesday’s braids, even though she completed them already. She twirled them between her fingers absently. Wednesday looked away from the sight.
“Would you be opposed to head scratches in the future?”
“...What?”
Wednesday cringed internally. “You heard perfectly well.”
A sudden gust of warmth spread across the back of her neck as Enid leaned forward to bark-laugh. The shiver that ran through her core went unnoticed by the doubled up girl.
“You—you, Wednesday Addams, want to scratch my head?” she repeated incredulously. “Seriously?”
“What’s so hilarious about that?” Wednesday said indignantly. “You’re scratching my head right now.”
“Yeah, but—I’m me and you’re you,” Enid replied, as if that clarified everything. That insufferable laugh still erupted from her chest in between words. It tugged at Wednesday’s chest painfully.
“And?” Wednesday asked, quieter now.
“I…” Enid seemed to notice her shift in tone. “I mean, like, if you…if you want to, alright then,” she said softly, breathing out a faint chuckle. “Who am I to say no to a gal’s curiosities?”
“What about right now?”
“Hmm?”
Enid raked her fingers through Wednesday’s sleek hair. A hand came up to interrupt hers. The owner of it shifted her position on the floor to face Enid properly. “Could we attempt that now?”
Enid smirked. “You really wanna scratch my head, huh.”
“You could simply say no,” Wednesday bit out, quickly rising from the floor. This was clearly backfiring.
Enid put her hands up and giggled. “Hey, hey, I never said no, though!”
Wednesday paused and stared at her.
“Like—okay, here.” Enid patted the spot next to her on the bed as she climbed off of it and onto the floor. “Your turn.”
Enid beamed up at her, expectantly waiting criss-cross on the floor. Wednesday tore her eyes away and slowly pulled herself onto the bed. She raised her hands briefly before resting them on her lap again. She wasn’t sure where the urge to scratch Enid’s head emerged from but she regretted that she acted on it so quickly. Wednesday had come undoubtedly more impulsive recently and she absolutely detested it.
The fact that the idea entered her mind in the first place was enough for her to acknowledge that something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. It was wrong that Enid was sitting on the floor in front of her, close enough that her colorful sweater was actually pressing against her own black-and-white leggings. It was wrong that she shifted closer to Enid and enveloped her hands with the colorful locks of shiny hair. It was wrong that she allowed her fingers to move swiftly through the blonde strands. It was wrong that Enid’s hair smelt intoxicatingly sweet, completely invading her senses as she worked. It was wrong that Enid pushed her head further into Wednesday’s hands, letting out hums and purrs of pleasure that only encouraged her to continue eagerly.
And it was wrong that Wednesday closed her eyes and smiled.