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Rooming with Enid had always been torture. The music, the colors, the endless chatter. It was all the highest form of psychological warfare. It made Wednesday indescribably miserable. But Wednesday enjoyed misery, and so counted herself lucky, even if she would never admit it. She would have preferred having a room for herself, yes, but having a live-in torturer seemed like the next-best thing. And say what you will about Enid, at least she was not the one thing Wednesday would never abide. Enid Sinclair was not boring.
But that night, after the fight and the blood and the fire and the dreadful bureaucracy of police work, as the adrenaline faded and Wednesday’s feet led her to her room searching for sanctuary, she realized rooming with Enid was about to become an entirely new kind of torture.
She had discovered that night that her roommate was a wild killing machine. An unstoppable force of violence. A feral beast ready to tear her enemies to shreds. How could Wednesday be expected to rest so close to such a monster? How could she be expected to ignore her racing heart? She was certain that, whenever she closed her eyes, all she would see would be that frenzied creature, its hunger, its wrath. The mere thought that the monstrous heart hiding that storm was in turn hiding within Enid Sinclair of all people was baffling, yes, but Wednesday found that she had little room in her mind for bafflement, because the entirety of her being was overcome with hideous longing.
She reached for the door to her room, and another hand reached for it, snapping her out of her thoughts. There was Enid, who had been walking a step behind her the entire time, like some bodyguard, giving her a paradoxically hesitant yet determined look. Wednesday had been intensely aware of her presence, of course, but had not been prepared for the way the girl took charge as they reached the room.
Silently, gently, Enid moved her away from the door, then opened it, and peered inside. Wednesday heard her take a deep breath. No. She heard her sniff, like a hound tracking its prey.
“Okay.” Enid said slowly, “Okay.”
Then she walked in and held the door for Wednesday, who said all she had to say about that behavior with a glare. Enid’s reply was slamming the door with that signature werewolf strength of hers.
Wednesday huffed.
Enid groaned and rolled her eyes.
“You’re insufferable.” Wednesday said, ignoring how that made her the unofficial loser of their silent conversation.
“And you almost got killed multiple times today.” Enid snapped, verbalizing what she had already very clearly laid out with her actions, “And yeah, they wanted to kill everyone, but they especially wanted to kill you. So excuse me for looking out for your safety.”
“You are not excused. Treat me like a fragile doll again and I’ll show you just how-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Enid interrupted, tired and angry and bitter, shocking Wednesday with the newfound immunity to her intimidation tactics, “you’re very badass, okay? You’re so scary! Really, I’m terrified.”
“You’re being facetious,” was all that Wednesday could think of saying.
“And you’re being the worst.” Enid said. “Can you just, for once, let me care about you without making it a whole thing?”
And Satan and all his devils help her, Wednesday wanted to say yes. But she was not wholly lost, not yet, and so instead she fought.
“Do as you must.”
It was, admittedly, not her best fight.
So she turned away from Enid, aiming for her bed, ready for the entire damned day to be over. And felt Enid holding her sleeve. It was a soft grasp. Wednesday could have easily freed herself from it by merely taking another step. Instead she allowed herself to be pulled back.
Enid was slow, as if she was approaching a wounded animal. She moved into Wednesday's space and held Wednesday's face up so she could look into Wednesday's eyes.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. Wednesday could do nothing but stare. Stare at that impassive expression, at those bright scars, at the remnants of blood still clinging to Enid's lips. What torture, to be so close to such a lovely thing. "Wednesday." Enid said, gently but firmly, bringing her back to the real world where that face might as well have been a million miles away.
"I'm exhausted. Puncture wounds will do that to you." she said, managing to sound annoyed and not breathless at all. She tried to pull away, but at the mere hint of resistance from Enid's hands on her face, she found her legs fixed to the floor.
"You've been through a lot." Enid said, sounding more like herself, but still oddly serene. "You're allowed to feel things about it."
"What about you?" Wednesday snapped. Enid took half a step back at the tone, but stood firm as she gave her a questioning look.
"What about me?" She asked.
"You finally turned. And it wasn't exactly the best experience." Wednesday said, feeling her hands remove Enid's from her face. And then, not without some trepidation, she reached for the scars.
Enid held her breath and, after a moment, leant into the touch, closing her eyes.
"I wouldn't change a thing." Enid said, holding Wednesday's hand against her scars. And Wednesday realized Enid thought she was pitying the scars.
"Look at me." She said, a whisper even she could barely hear. But Enid heard. Enid heard, and she opened her eyes, and she looked at her, more piercing than any wound Wednesday had received that night. What fire roared behind those eyes? What storm brewed inside Enid Sinclair, and how could Wednesday stop longing to be enveloped by it?
She smiled and was not surprised by it.
"I do not think you've ever looked this beautiful." she said, leaning up to kiss the lowest scar to ensure the point got across. When she pulled back, she found Enid's serene, piercing eyes had been replaced with wide, panicked ones.
"Uhhhh" Enid said.
"I was not talking about your physical wounds anymore that you were talking about mine. You're acting like I was the only one who went through an ordeal."
"I was just–"
"Being disgustingly considerate, I know." Wednesday finished, "I find it unnecessary. You know me. I'm already looking forward to my next near-death experience."
Enid sighed.
"You'll be the death of me, Addams." Enid said.
Wednesday bit her tongue to hold back a terribly corny 'not if you kill me first'.
"Enid," she said instead, "I appreciate that you're rattled and on edge, but it's just the adrenaline. Let's just go to bed and–"
"You're wrong." Enid interrupted. "You're wrong. It's not the adrenaline. Honestly, I can barely stay upright. I just. Part of me refuses to believe you're safe. Part of me is still out there looking for you."
"But I'm here." Wednesday insisted, endeared despite herself. "and I have the most vicious creature in miles with me. I'll be fine."
Enid frowned.
"That's not the compliment you think it is." she said.
"It's the highest one I could find." Wednesday admitted. Enid's lips twitched into a smirk for just a moment and Wednesday knew she'd just thought some idiotic joke about her height. She rolled her eyes and pulled away.
"Wait!" Enid said with a hint of laughter in her voice, holding her arm, "wait. Come to my bed instead."
"Excuse me?" The words came by themselves, carrying all the fire and brimstone in Wednesday's heart.
"So I can hold you. So I know you're safe." Enid pleaded, "so I can rest."
And curse that night and all it had unleashed on her, Wednesday wanted to be held. She glanced at Enid's bed, and when she looked back at the girl found a familiar smile.
"One drop of drool and I'm kicking you out of your own bed." She warned as she began undoing her braids.
"I would never."
"Dream about chasing cars again and you'll regret it." She added. "You thrash around like a maniac when you catch them."
"The tires always turn into squirrels." Enid explained helplessly, before shaking the thought away, "I'll be so still, you won't even know I'm there. I promise."
It did not take Wednesday long to learn that had been only half true. The moment she made herself comfortable on the bed, face up, arms crossed across her chest, Enid collapsed on top of her and proceeded not to move for the rest of the night.
But Wednesday very much knew she was there. It was all she knew. She stared into the darkness as she caressed Enid's hair, and pondered just how doomed she was.
"This might be too much torture," she concluded, "even for me."
Enid awoke to the sight of Wednesday's peaceful face. A bit too peaceful, truth be told. If Enid hadn't been able to hear the girl's heartbeat, she would have rushed to check her pulse.
The fact that Wednesday had reached a new day alive felt…
There was this one fable, or allegory, or something, about some bird sharpening its beak with a mountain and just how fucking long it would take to grind the mountain to dust.
Enid found herself relating to that bird. The previous day had only been her first strike against the mountain.
"You're just gonna go and find some other deranged murderer to piss off, aren't you?" She asked softly.
"And you're going to insist on making my business your own, aren't you?" Wednesday asked back, no trace of sleep in her voice.
"If I say no, will you promise to be more careful?"
"No. And asking that is meddling in my business."
Enid rolled her eyes, then allowed herself to snuggle up to the crook of Wednesday’s neck.
As she breathed in the scent, she was invaded by a mix of emotions. A possessive urge to protect. A primal hunger begging her to tear into that throat. An entirely different yet not less unsettling hunger. A horrible fear of what it all meant.
"I could kill you so easily right now." The words came out of her mouth without her permission, whispered against Wednesday's skin. In response, the girl merely arched her neck, as if inviting her to do so. Enid felt her lips part, her teeth rest against the skin, the wolf beg her to draw out her canines, to bite down. She heard Wednesday inhale, and pulled back.
"I'm not gonna, though." She said, her voice as light as she could make it.
"Very well," Wednesday said, sounding resigned, "let me know if you change your mind."
"I fought too hard to keep you alive just to undo all that work the next day."
She felt Wednesday's hand on her chin, guiding her face so their eyes would meet.
"You fought for my life," Wednesday explained, "and you earned it. It's yours to do as you please."
That. Should not have sounded as good as it had.
"What if I want to keep it safe?" She asked, "what if I want to fight anyone and everyone that even thinks about going after it?"
Wednesday sighed.
"Then I suppose I shall have to learn to endure your company." She said, "and to come to terms with my new projected lifespan."
“And what if it means I never stop walking into rooms before you to ensure they’re safe? What if it means I don’t let you go anywhere alone? What if–”
“Let me?” Wednesday interrupted sharply.
“Yes.” Enid insisted, sitting up. “Let you. And I don’t want to hear any of your ‘I’d like to see you try’ bravado. I could stop you if I wanted to. What then?”
Wednesday began to sit up too, and Enid reacted instantly, pushing her back against the bed. Wednesday struggled to free herself, and Enid pushed harder, until she saw some pain flash in Wednesday’s face. Thankfully, Wednesday got the message and stopped struggling.
“I would find a way to elude you eventually.” Wednesday said casually, still immobilized. Enid flashed a fanged grin at her.
“You would not.” She said, her heart far too happy with the knowledge, “even if you could overpower me, you would not be able to outrun me. And even if you could outrun me, you would not be able to hide from me.”
“And you would do all this?” Wednesday asked, some doubt in her voice.
“Happily. I would enjoy hunting you, Addams. More than you know. More than I should.”
“You would hold me against my will?” Wednesday pressed, and Enid could have sworn there was some breathlessness to the words.
“To keep you safe, yes.”
“That would not be very nice.”
Enid laughed. Nice.
“Maybe that would have mattered yesterday.” she accepted, “Maybe that would have stopped me. But the wolf is awake, and it’s not going back to sleep. And the wolf does not care about nice , the wolf cares about hunger, about the prey and the moon and the pack.”
And you are all those things, she did not say. You are my prey, and my moon, and my pack, and so much more. You don’t know how hard it is not to howl every time I look at you.
For years, Enid had been waiting for the moment when she wolfed out. She hadn’t wanted to force it, or to rush it, but she had still wanted it. She was a werewolf, after all. It was what was supposed to happen.
It had felt a bit like a crack in her heart through which the beast's howl could escape, begging her: let me out, let me out, let me out. Sometimes, it would be quieter, but never quite silent. Sometimes, it would be deafening, to the point where she would dig her claws into her skin and bite her tongue to suppress what she knew would otherwise be a wolf-less howl.
Then, it had finally happened and it had been both exactly what she had expected and nothing like it.
It had been all the freedom she had ever dreamed of. The speed, the strength, the senses, and most of all, the way the walls around her heart had crumbled, the way every little feeling she had ever repressed could now flow freely through her blood.
Which, of course, liberating as it was, was also as horrifying as it sounded.
The thing was, when she turned back, the walls had not gone back up. The beast was loose now, forever. Where there had once been a crack through which the suggestion of acting out, be it in rage or love or anything in between, would occasionally sneak out, now there was an unleashed heart pumping life into her veins to a degree that was both intoxicating and nauseating.
And at the eye of the hurricane that had become her heart was Wednesday Addams.
“You are a monster.” Wednesday said, with no judgment or snark or any other tone in her voice.
“Yes.” Enid said, and oh, it felt so good to say it, so liberating. She was not ‘an outcast’ or ‘a fur’ or anything like that. She was a monster, as every beat of her heart kept reminding her.
“Good.” Wednesday said. “You would not last a day otherwise.”
“I’m not joking, Addams.” Enid said, leaning down, smelling Wednesday’s neck on her way to her ear, “I want to kill you. I want to keep you safe. Either way, you’ll never be free of me, not if you welcome this. So stop welcoming it. This is not a game.”
She whispered the words, and was rewarded with a delicious shiver. Fuck, she did not know if Wednesday was afraid, enjoying this, or both, but she did not care either, just knowing she could make her feel any of that was making Enid–
Was making Enid tear into the pillow with her claws as her fangs came out and pressed against Wednesday’s neck. Her hand left the pillow and grazed Wednesday’s face, a single claw pressing just enough to draw some blood. The scent was too much. Enid bit down.
Fun lycanthropy fact, because most werewolves know to prepare for the full moon, the vast majority of werewolf bites on humans happen with the werewolf in human form, so the consequences of such an event are well studied. In short, Enid knew Wednesday would not turn into a werewolf. A bite from a human-shaped werewolf is just like a bite from a human. Except stronger, sharper, and significantly more painful.
And yet Wednesday did not scream. The only sound that came from her mouth as her arms wrapped around Enid’s neck was a breathless gasp.
Enid enjoyed the blood and the flesh and the scent and the warmth and the nails digging into the back of her neck, she enjoyed it all almost as much as she enjoyed hearing her name on Wednesday’s lips, spoken with awe and horror.
“Enid,” Wednesday said, pleading, and in her state Enid could not tell if she meant more or stop . “Enid.”
Enid pulled away, still aware enough to know she had to make sure. She looked at the wound, missing some flesh, gushing with blood, then at Wednesday’s wide eyes.
“Too much?” she asked.
And Wednesday smiled, the most terrible thing Enid had ever seen.
“Just right.” Wednesday said, reaching to touch Enid’s bloodied face. “But if you don’t kiss me right now–”
Enid did not let her finish.
It took her a couple of minutes to have the strength to pull away.
“You know,” she said, wiping the blood from Wednesday's mouth, “I can’t believe I used to think you were clever.”
“I am the superior intellect in this institution.” Wednesday said, her voice unusually annoyed, “did you really interrupt us just to insult me?”
“I tried to warn you. I really did my best. And you made your choice. And I’m not letting you go now. You said your life was mine? Congratulations, I accept. No takebacks.”
“This is all terribly uninteresting. If you’re going to torture me, don’t do it with boredom.”
As Wednesday spoke, she grabbed Enid’s clothes and began to pull Enid back towards her, but Enid pulled away instead.
“Nuh-uh.” she said, “it’s time we looked at that wound of yours.”
Wednesday arched her neck once again, displaying the untended wound and God help Enid, biting her lip.
“I mean to treat it.” Enid clarified. Wednesday sighed.
“Must we?” she asked, “I was hoping to get it infected.”
“I thought we were clear about how much say you had on your personal safety from now on.” Enid chided. Wednesday opened her mouth to protest, and Enid simply growled in response.
“Fine.” Wednesday said, defeated.
“That’s more like it.” Enid said, standing to fetch their room’s first aid kit.
When she returned with it, she found Wednesday sitting on the edge of the bed, hair falling to one side, her shoulder on the other side exposed. Enid only barely freaked out about it. She sat behind Wednesday and began tending to the wound.
“I assume you know the fable about the scorpion and the frog.” Wednesday said, without a single hiss from the contact with the disinfectant.
“How the fuck did you not stop us earlier, holy shit,” Enid said as she inspected the wound, while at the same time wishing she could dig back into it.
“I’ve had worse.” Wednesday said casually. “Have you heard the fable or not?”
“Everyone has.” Enid replied absently, “Scorpion needs a ride, stings the frog, everyone drowns, the end.”
“It was always my favorite.”
“Figures.”
“I always envied the frog.”
“Not as obvious, but I suppose it makes sense.” Enid said, “Your point being?”
“I knew you were a monster. I was always able to see it inside. And last night, when I saw it outside? That was the highest moment of my existence. I did not give you my life because I don’t understand. I gave you my life because I see the monster. I am not the frog. I know your nature. And I could think of no better ending to my story than to drown in you, whatever that may mean.”
Enid found herself unable to breathe. She leaned into Wednesday and pressed a kiss on the wound. She found she had no desire to bite again.
“I’m going to keep you safe.” She promised, and felt her own words bite into her heart like an oath, “from myself, and from the world. And from yourself too, if need be. I will be your monster, and you will be my prey. My pack. My moon.”
“I will.” Wednesday promised.
“And I’m getting you a fucking phone.” Enid added, dispelling all ceremony from the moment.
Wednesday actually choked.
“What–”
“You think I’m letting you live on like some troglodyte? When a single device will help me track your location, and allow you to message me wherever you are?”
“This is not what I had in mind.” Wednesday protested.
“Tough.” Enid said, “Keep whining and I’m choosing its case, too. It will have fucking glitter.”
“I do not whine.” Wednesday mumbled after a moment. Enid kissed the back of her head.
“Sure you don’t, babe.” She said, patting her on the now bandaged wound. Wednesday still did not hiss. “You’re super tough.”
“Babe.” Wednesday said, not quite a question but certainly disgusted at the notion.
“Yes, honey?”
“Fuck off.”
“I believe I mentioned no takebacks, muffin.”
“You are a child. And none of those pet names are acceptable.”
Enid rested her head against Wednesday’s and allowed herself to take in the scent.
“I think,” she mused, “that you may not be as ready for the girl as your are for the monster.”
“Torture is torture.” Wednesday replied, “And I have torture for breakfast.”
“Which reminds me,” Enid said, looking over Wednesday’s shoulder at her alarm clock, “We’ve stayed in long enough. If I know the fuckers in this place, after last night everyone’s going to be making a fucking banquet out of breakfast, so if we don’t hurry we’ll be left with crumbs.”
“We could skip it.” Wednesday suggested, leaning back, pressing her body against Enid’s, who once again only freaked out a little bit. “Stay in.”
“No.” Enid said, hesitant, before regaining her composure, “No! You’ve lost too much blood to be skipping meals.”
“And whose fault is that?” Wednesday asked, her voice almost teasing as one of her hands found one of Enid’s.
“Yours.” Enid said, pushing Wednesday away and forcing her to stand, before she could change her mind. “We’re having breakfast, and that’s final.”
Wednesday turned around and held Enid's hands, pulling her up towards her. They stood, close to each other, Wednesday’s scent invading Enid like claws carving into her bones.
Wednesday leaned forward (and up), her lips so close to Enid’s she could feel their warmth.
“Understood.” she whispered, before leaning to the side to kiss Enid’s cheek. “We better hurry, then.”
Wednesday pulled away and went to her side of the room, ready to begin her day.
Enid listened to the thunder of her own heart, closed her eyes, and sighed.
“You’ll be the death of me, Addams.” She muttered under her breath.
“Not if you kill me first.” Wednesday said. And Enid smiled.
“Not if I kill you first.” She agreed.