Work Text:
1
Wednesday walks into the Weathervane for the first time on a Saturday afternoon.
There were three people in uniform when she arrived. One went into the back the moment the door closed behind her. One didn’t spare her a glance as she bussed tables. The third leaned forward on the counter in front of the register anticipating her order with none of the false cheer she’d come to expect from most customer service robots. Cautiously optimistic, Wednesday approached him. His name tag read Tyler. She only noticed because its place on his chest happened to be at eye level.
“One quad over ice,” Wednesday ordered flatly.
“Here or to go?” Tyler answered just as flatly.
“Here.”
Tyler put in her order, gave her a number, and waited for her to hand over the cash with a blank stare. Pleased with this interaction, she chose a table and sat down. She waited five minutes for her coffee.
“Quad!” Tyler called.
She took it with a miniscule nod of acknowledgment and returned to her table. The café wasn’t too busy or dead, and she would have preferred absolute silence, but she found the white noise more tolerable than her roommate’s music as she read. An hour later, she lifted her mug to her mouth only to find it empty. Looking up, she found Tyler laughing with a young black teenager he likely went to school with by the end of the counter separating him from the customers.
Wednesday set her book down to hold her table and approached them. Tyler’s smile dimmed at the sight of her.
“Refill?” he asked.
Wednesday handed him the mug. He took it and left her there with his friend.
“What’s a Nevermore freak doing out in the wild, anyways?”
Wednesday looked him up and down and mentally rolled her eyes. They could continue their conversation in a few short minutes. She wasn’t going to waste her time on petty grievances.
The boy smirked. “Like what you see?” he asked salaciously. It was then that she realized that many people considered such examinations “checking out” and took it as a sign of sexual interest.
She rolled her eyes and approached the counter where Tyler was finishing her quad.
Tyler laughed softly at whatever dumb look was on his friend’s face as he handed her the mug. “I think you’ve earned yourself an admirer.”
“Not a very bright one, it seems.”
Tyler laughed harder and took her money. His eyes brightened as he counted far more than she’d owed. “I’m Tyler, by the way.”
“I know,” she answered.
After a moment of silence where he kept making a face like he was waiting for something and she stood there trying to figure out what that something was, he prompted, “And your name is…”
Oh. “Wednesday.”
“Well, Wednesday,” he said like something had endeared herself to him, “Ignore Lucas. He’s just angry at the world and likes to feel bigger than he is.”
“Yes. The bitter townie routine. I’m familiar.” Wednesday took a sip of her quad. “No need for the white knight charade. I’ve merely encountered a mild nuisance in a vast sea of nuisances, and you’re attempts at chivalry fall short considering your interesting taste in friends.”
Tyler laughed again. He did that a lot, apparently. “Never was much of a white knight anyways. Of course, not often a Nevermore kid tips so well so I thought I’d give it a go.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes and returned to her table.
2
Wednesday came into the Weathervane two days later with her typewriter box in hand. Despite the size and weight of the typewriter, she did not show any signs of physical exertion as she carried it to her table and set it down.
Tyler greeted her with a raised brow when she approached the counter.
“One quad over ice.”
“So, we’re not acknowledging the giant brick you lugged in here?” he asked as he started on her order.
“Is there any reason to?”
He shrugged. “Suppose not. The thump it made onto the table may have scared Ms. Tranton half to death though.”
Wednesday’s eyes softened into a smile. “What a shame. I’ll have to try harder next time.”
Tyler laughed and handed over her quad.
3
“What are you writing, anyways?” Tyler asked after weeks of restraining himself.
Wednesday didn’t look up from her typewriter. The clicking of her keyboard didn’t falter as she gestured for him to set her coffee down.
“A novel,” she answered when he didn’t leave.
“What’s it about?” he asked with an amused lilt to his voice. Tyler leaned over on one foot, angling himself towards her like she had effectively stolen his attention away from the increasingly agitated population of the Weathervane.
Wednesday paused for a moment too brief for most to notice. “It’s a murder mystery.”
“Don’t tell me. It’s in a small, unassuming town and the charming barista has a dark secret.”
Wednesday looked up at him and deadpanned, “No.”
Tyler must have found this amusing because he only smirked that ridiculous smirk of his when someone did something mean or funny. Or when Ms. Tranton spilled hot coffee on herself, but Wednesday couldn’t blame him for that. It was funny.
“Too bad. Maybe I’ll just have to write my own and then you can tear it to shreds with a red pen.”
“I despair to think of what regurgitated drivel you might conjure.”
“You never know. Maybe I have untapped potential.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes and refocused on her work.
Tyler watched her type for a little longer before distracting her again with another laugh. “Five bucks Stan over there throws his bagel at you if you ping that thing for another line again.”
Wednesday glanced at Stanley Burkenson two tables away who had been glaring daggers at her since she walked in. His daughter sat across from him, angrily scribbling something down. No doubt another complaint about her typewriter for the manager that would mysteriously disappear before it ever made its way to him. Wednesday looked back at Tyler, ready to raise that bet to twenty when she really saw him properly for the first time that day.
Tyler was paler than he usually was. He hid it well, but he was shaky and weak, unlike she’d ever seen him regardless of how busy the Weathervane got. And there was something in his eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but it was different and unsettling.
Wednesday blinked and pushed the thought aside. Whatever cold Tyler was fighting didn’t interest her.
“Twenty he calls me a slur first.”
“Deal.”
4
Tyler brought her her quad before she’d even ordered it. He had bags under his eyes and a smile so fake it made him look psychotic. Or close to it if you were her and were familiar with such things. His hands were cold and clammy when they passed the mug to her, shaking ever so slightly if anyone were to look close enough. Curious, she brushed his fingers and compared them to the corpses she’d had the privilege to examine in the past. Tyler jumped at her touch, snatching his hand back and chuckling over it.
“Sorry. You startled me a bit there.”
“It’s fine,” Wednesday said distantly, watching him flee with growing interest. She was beginning to suspect he wasn’t working with a cold, but she didn’t know what else could be prompting his behavior. Night terrors, perhaps? Tyler was a troubled man. That was no secret. He wasn’t easily frightened either. She wondered what could possibly be plaguing him.
She wondered why she’d bothered to notice in the first place. She wondered why every explanation flitting through her mind felt wrong.
Tyler avoided her for the rest of the day.
5
The next time Wednesday saw Tyler, it was during Sunday brunch, and he barely had time to look at her. Despite how busy it was, there was a single table radius between her and any other customer fresh in from church. Privately, she enjoyed the pariahdom that came from existing amongst an entire room of pearl-clutchers hopped up on their weekly sermon. It amused her to watch them pretend not to be watching her, waiting for her to get them with her sinful cooties.
“You’re only making it worse,” Tyler teased as he set her quad down in front of her. The other employees were scrambling around to keep up with the rush, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.
“I wasn’t trying to make it better.”
Tyler shook his head in fond exasperation and said, “God forbid. Should I start expecting you on Sundays specifically so you can make people uncomfortable?”
That sounded like an excellent idea.
Tyler rolled his eyes playfully like he could read her mind. “Of course you will. Well, by all means. Maybe Sundays won’t be actual hell if you do.”
“And you’ll actually earn a real tip.”
Tyler smirked. “That too.”
It occurred to Wednesday that he looked better than he had in weeks. His skin was clearer. He wasn’t shaking anymore. If she didn’t know better, she’d even say that he looked healthier than when she met him. Stronger even. Though on second look, he was still rather pale, and he looked tired in a way she came to expect from his closing shifts. Not his morning ones.
She supposed Sunday brunch could have that effect on someone. She wouldn’t know.
+1
Wednesday sat down in the Weathervane shortly after they opened their doors for the day and stayed there writing in a haze of artistic flow until long after the sun went down, the last customer had left, and only one employee lingered to finish closing up shop.
Wednesday snapped out of her work at the click of a lock sounding throughout the dark, empty café. Tyler stood at the front door with a fond smile for her.
“Didn’t mean to break your concentration. We closed about an hour ago.”
“Oh.” Wednesday said.
“It was kind of amazing, actually. You didn’t even react when I switched out your mugs. They’d just be empty every hour on the dot.”
“Yes. I vaguely remember that.”
“I’m about to change out of this uniform. If you want, I can drive you to Nevermore.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can walk like I normally do.”
“It’s pitch black out and this isn’t the safest place in the world to be wandering alone.”
“Since when is Jericho a dangerous place to be out at night?”
“For you? Always.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes and packed up her typewriter. “I am more than capable of handling myself. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
In the time that her back was turned, Tyler had dropped his normal gait and was staring at her with an intensity that forced whatever she’d planned to say to trail off into silence. The air suddenly felt much heavier as he drank her in. She narrowed her eyes and took a step to the left, closer to the back where the unlocked door would be, her back now to the counter. Tyler matched her step. She rose her brow and took a step back. He took a step forward.
Tyler wasn’t just acting different, she realized. He looked different as well. The moon shone in through the windows, illuminating his deathly pale skin and bloodshot eyes. His broad chest didn’t move until he took one single breath in like he was tasting every molecule in the air. Like he was starved half to death.
Oh. Oh, she knew what had happened to him. She wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, or if some idiot had done this to him and left him alone with no way to navigate his new instincts. As common as they were, the details of fledglings were hard to come by. Especially in an ignorant town like Jericho.
She could easily subdue him if it came to that, but she realized that she didn’t want to hurt him. She grimaced at the realization that she actually cared about him.
Wednesday relaxed and pointed at her seat. “Sit down. I’ll get you what you’re looking for.”
Tyler blinked and snapped out of it. “What?”
“Sit.”
Tyler hesitantly sat down, the gears shifting behind his eyes like he was trying to figure out what happened. Wednesday had read countless accounts of fledglings’ first days. What it felt like turning from a human into something else. The disorientation and sometimes even memory loss. Wednesday wondered what he was thinking as she made her way behind the counter and started making his preferred mocha. As the coffee brewed, she took the knife from her thigh and cut a clean line over her wrist.
Tyler’s nostrils flared and he shouted, “Wednesday, don’t!”
“Sit. Down,” she ordered with a stern glare. “Don’t make a fuss. You’re more than capable of that.”
Tyler’s clutched the table as if to keep himself from lunging at her. His claws were digging into the table when she rounded the counter with his coffee in hand, a fresh bandage wrapped around her wrist.
“This will help.”
Tyler hesitantly took the mug, his hand shaking so much it threatened to spill before something shifted in him and he drank it all in one gulp. The mug shattered in his hand soon after, cutting in his palm. Wednesday sighed and took him by the wrist.
“Don’t move. I’ve got you.”
Tyler stared silently at her as she plucked out each shard of glass one by one. His eyes drifted to her wrist before long which was only natural. She took out the last shard and showed him his palm.
“Lick it clean. Don’t dig into the wounds. We just want a healthy covering of saliva.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Tyler licked his hand and watched as the cuts closed up with wide eyes.
“What’s happening to me?” he asked faintly.
“Someone has turned you into a vampire. Gradually, I would guess. Perhaps dosing your food or breaking into your room as you slept. Why anyone would do this and why they wouldn’t be here right now for the fallout I have no idea. The coven is going to have a field day with this hunting them down.”
“I can’t be—normies becoming vampires is a myth! They’re born like everything else.”
“Most vampires are born. Turning is just rare and outlawed outside very specific conditions. You normies are actually very adaptable when it comes to magical transformations.”
“Ohmygod,” Tyler groaned and tried to put his head in his hands, but his claws got stuck in the wood and Wednesday had to pin his wrist down so he wouldn’t panic and rip out either his claws or a chunk of the table.
“Let’s go to Nevermore. We can figure out the logistics of you getting a meal plan or a hunting license. Personally, I prefer the hunting license. I hear mountain lion is popular these days, but I sadly don’t quite qualify for it.”
Tyler met her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I have more than a few vampiric ancestors. Picked up a trait or two in the gene pool, but it’s not enough to actually qualify for anything official. Just gives me a slightly better appreciation for blood in my food and a higher sensitivity to the sun. Maybe a bit of strength as well, but that could be from a lot of different outcasts in my family.”
“No. Not that. Wait, you can be half a vampire? No. Not important. Why should I go to Nevermore?”
“Not a half-vampire. I’d get to call myself one if I were,” Wednesday grunted as she pried his claws out of the table. “And you aren’t really getting this, are you? You’re a vampire now. An outcast. Nevermore was built to handle situations like this and as much as I hate that school, Weems will at least be able to help you with your grocery shopping.”
Tyler blinked at her like it was really hitting him. She sighed and accepted the fact that he was not ready for Nevermore.
“Here,” she said, handing him her umbrella.
“What?” he blinked.
“For the sun. You might think you can just deal with the sun every day, but that kind of thing builds up over time and you’ve found yourself with a lot of time to burn. There’s a blade in it as well in case anyone else recognizes what you are and becomes violent.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“You’re only a fledgling right now so it’ll both be a little overwhelming and mild until your body matures into it and things settle themselves out. I assume you aren’t going to be spreading the news.”
Tyler chokes on an incredulous laugh. “Yeah. No. Can you imagine if anyone found out about this?”
Yes. She could. Extensively and especially because of the company he kept. Why did she care again?
“I don’t even know why you’re helping me,” Tyler said to the floor.
Wednesday blinked at him.
“I mean yeah we get along more or less, but I’ve never exactly given Nevermore a reason to like me.”
“If you’re referring to your juvenile pranks and bigoted little gang, I’m more than aware of what you’ve gotten up to recently.”
Tyler flinched.
“Just take the umbrella. I won’t tell anyone and between the two of us, we can keep you fed. You might end up eating better than the vampires up at Nevermore this way.”
“Really? How?”
“They hunt in the forest or drink processed trash long past its expiration date. I won’t disrespect you like that and can get real human blood fresh from the tap or good as.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone!”
Wednesday rolled her eyes and collected her things. “You’re so dramatic. Nobody is going to die.”
Tyler followed her out back to where his car was parked in the employee parking lot. “You mean it?” he asked desperately. “I don’t want to be…”
Wednesday turned and gestured for him to finish.
“…a monster,” he finished faintly.
“You’re a vampire and an outcast now. That’s not going to change so the sooner you accept it the better. Whether or not you become a monster is entirely up to you.”
A moment of tense silence passed between them as Tyler digested that before he nodded firmly to himself and took her typewriter and set it gently in his backseat. Wednesday joined him in the car and waited patiently while he sat there staring at the steering wheel intently.
“Thank you,” he eventually said, his eyes darting to her wrist.
She let him take her wrist in his hands and unbind the bandage so her cut met the cool air. His hands were cold against her heated skin and gentle as he raised her cut to his mouth and licked a single, wet line down it. The cut closed in on itself in seconds and he wiped her wrist dry before letting her go.
Tyler laughed softly to himself self-consciously. “That wasn’t some sort of vampire faux pass, was it?”
Yes. It usually was and she should definitely tell him exactly when that was considered appropriate if he ever wanted to involve himself with the coven or larger vampiric community.
“It was kind.” She said instead because they’d had enough for one night and he was already overwhelmed and besides. It wasn’t like she cared for societal convention anyways.
Wednesday traced the line of her vein as he drove and calculated how much she could bleed before passing out. How often she could collect blood without alerting her roommate. She already knew that she wouldn’t accept the smell of any other blood on his lips.
She didn’t want to think about why.