Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enid was already having a bad day; she didn’t need some sarcastic 3ft tall goth girl making it worse.

It’s Eugene’s birthday, which obviously means all of his friends are over at his apartment. Enid made sure to wear her yellow and black striped jumper to fit in with the theme, Xavier tried dying his hair yellow, but it looks really bad and Yoko’s already taken pictures to use for blackmail material, while Divinia shook her head in disappointment. Enid’s fairly confident she’ll be chastised after.

Bianca had been the one to pick up on Enid’s shitty mood, clocking it as soon as the werewolf had walked through the door and only offered a half-hearted smile in greeting. The truth is, she hasn’t been sleeping well since she moved into her new house.

Over two months ago.

She’d moved to Vermont from San Francisco two years ago and had been kinda couch surfing for a while before meeting Yoko at a monsters anonymous meeting. Not that it was anonymous because everyone there knew all attendees were monsters, it’s literally the requirement. Anyway, some places have clubs for local monsters to meet each other, chat, share struggles of living amongst normies, the usual stuff. She and Yoko became quick friends, and she introduced Enid to her friends, it wasn’t long before she found herself integrated well amongst the group.

She’d been roomies with Yoko for about a year before she realized she was really getting in the way of her and Divinia’s sex life, so she started house hunting. Her job as a park ranger paid pretty well and the townhouses in the quiet town were a reasonable price, though, she should’ve maybe questioned why her current home was so cheap and why the estate agent was so eager to sell it to her.

Because it’s haunted.

Now, Enid can deal with the odd ghost. Her grandparents had a whiny ghoul living in the attic for most of her childhood. But this is insane.

She hears constant whispers and conversations. Her stuff is always going missing, she wakes up in the night to heavy footsteps racing down her hallways, swears she sees figures out the corner of her eyes. Its relentless and there is definitely more than one and they are most definitely screwing with her. It doesn’t help that they don’t reveal themselves to her to try and communicate.

Ajax and Xavier had shown up one day to try and “help,” Enid took one look at their Ouija board and sent them home.

The point is, she’s grumpy. She’s an energetic person who relies on sleep to function and remain peppy.

“Hey Enid, is Wednesday here yet?” Xavier appeared suddenly next to her, and she visibly jumped at the words.

The name didn’t ring a bell.

“Who’s Wednesday?” She asks in confusion and watches his face shift from curiosity to surprise to realization and then to smugness, for some off reason.

“How has Enid never met Wednesday,” Bianca laughs from where she pours drinks in the kitchen and Xavier skips over to her, likely to make sure there’s enough alcohol in them.

Yoko smirks from where she’s sat on the couch with an arm around Divinia.

“Enid, you’ll love her. I’ve actually really been wanting you guys to meet for a while,” there’s something about her tone that Enid can’t quite pick up on and the way Divinia elbows her girlfriend, doesn’t help.

She narrows her eyes at Tyler, who can’t lie for shit.

“Because you know, you guys will get along great, we’ve always said that right?”

Everyone chirps up and hums in agreement and Enid stifles a yawn with her fist, thanking Xavier as he passes her a drink.

“How come I’ve never met her if she’s friends with all you guys?”

“Well, she travels a lot for work,” Tyler shrugs.

Ajax snorts, “and she barely hangs out with us as it is, I think she actually only likes Eugene out of all of us.” He adjusts his beanie and winks at Enid, “you guys will get along like a freakin’ house on fire. Trust me.”

Smiling unsurely, Enid hums thoughtfully and takes a sip of her drink, nose scrunching up at the very obvious disproportionate vodka to coke ratio.

However, she can’t help but wonder how she and this Wednesday (who’s called that anyway?) have never met. She would’ve thought it was intentional that her friends were keeping them from meeting, but they all seem oddly excited at the idea. She wonders what the girl’s like. Maybe they have a lot in common.

Ajax and Tyler did say they’d get along great.

Maybe she listens to K-pop.

She tries to relax and not fall asleep in Eugene’s insanely comfortable armchair that you usually only find in an 80-year-old woman’s living room. There’s lively chatter and Ajax only had to be scolded once for trying to vault over the island in the small kitchen. Xavier dared him after bragging that he’d managed to do it before, despite the fact that there was no witnesses present.

Her eyes begin to droop sometime around five o’clock, so when she hears a firm three raps on the front door, she sits bolt upright and offers to go and answer, or else she’ll fall asleep for real. It’s probably this Wednesday person.

Enid frowns when she opens the door, not seeing anyone but then she looks down slightly and is greeted by a face that is just downright murderous.

This can’t be Wednesday. There’s no way this is the person Eugene was raving about earlier.

Jet black hair is neatly pleated, and a braid falls over each shoulder symmetrically. Her heavily lidded, dark eyes look up at Enid with so much annoyance and distaste that Enid feels the strong urge to glare back at her, despite how pretty she is.

“Um, are you at the right place?” Enid pokes her head around the doorframe and glances down the hall. “Sorry, who are you?”

The girl’s face doesn’t change but Enid sees her eye twitch and her hands are in tightly curled fists, one clenching a small paper bag.

“Jesus Christ, would you believe. And you?” She says in a deadpan tone.

Enid bites her tongue.

“Zeus, would you believe?” She mocks and the girl gives her a very slow once over, huffing quietly.

“Funny, I thought he’d be taller,” she raises a single brow, “and impressive.”

Enid glares, “ok you know what-”

Suddenly she feels an arm curl around her waist and pull her back before she attacks this random girl. Tyler gives her an odd look and smiles welcomely at the newcomer.

“Wednesday, hi! Sorry about Enid, she’s a little cranky.”

The girl, Wednesday apparently, shoots Tyler an unimpressed look before zeroing in on Enid’s jumper and frowning even harder. “I would be too if I had to wear such a hideous color.”

Enid gasps and gestures to Wednesdays all black outfit.

“Excuse me? At least I’m matching the theme, you look like you were barfed out of a Hot Topic magazine.”

Wednesday doesn’t respond physically to the insult, instead she takes a step forward, stepping over the threshold and Enid feels Tyler’s hands on her hips pull her back into the apartment as Wednesday approaches slowly.

Even in her chunky, platformed Doc Martins, she’s tiny.

Enid looks down at her as Wednesday looks up with bored eyes. She smells of smoke and-is that blood?

“Clearly you’ve never seen a black carpenter bee,” she drawls, and Enid narrows her eyes in response, about to fire a retort, when Eugene comes flying around the corner in his mustard yellow jumper, talking a million miles an hour while Wednesday watches unfazed.

He looks like he’s about to wrap her up in a big hug before stopping short and holding out his fist. A moment passes and she stares at him blankly before slowly lifting a pale fist to awkwardly bump his. Eugene beams at the gesture and Wednesday raises her other hand that is currently clutching the small giftbag.

“Happy birthday Eugene, while I personally do not celebrate such a dismal day, I have procured both a practical and aesthetically pleasing gift for the occasion.”

Eugene wastes no time in taking the bag from her and opening it, pulling out a slim black box and opening it to reveal a very thin, very sharp looking blade. The shine from the metal glints across his glasses as he stares in awe at the item.

“The handle is designed to look like honeycomb,” Wednesday says blankly, “the blade is thin to replicate the stinger of a bee, thin and delicate enough to remain concealed, should you need it.”

Tyler coughs quietly into his fist.

“This is so cool!” Eugene gasps, “I gotta show everyone else,” and he darts into the living space, leaving them standing in the hall. Wednesday bends down to take off her shoes, taking her overall height down like another inch or so and Enid tries really hard not to smile at the sight.

She walks right past them, following Eugene and Enid turns to Tyler.

He smiles sheepishly, “told you that you’d get along great.”

It’s later, after the honey cake and Eugene nearly taking Ajax’s eye out with his new knife, that Enid gets a chance to speak to Wednesday again. The girl had turned down any and all sweet treats, so she currently sits sipping the darkest tea that Enid’s ever seen.

Truthfully, she feels a little bad for snapping earlier.

“Hey,” she says quietly and Wednesday slowly turns her head to look at her. Enid shuffles a little closer on the couch and keeps an eye on Yoko and Xavier playing twister next to them. “The real reason I’m cranky is because I’m tired and I’m tired because of the stupid ghosts in my house keeping me up.”

That catches Wednesday’s attention.

Curiosity flickers in those dark eyes as she turns a little more inward to face Enid.

“You can…hear and see ghosts?”

Oh shoot maybe she’s a normie.

“I’m a werewolf,” she says slowly, wincing in case Wednesday suddenly starts cursing and throws her silver spoon at her or something.

Instead, she raises her eyebrows and looks Enid up and down.

“Fascinating. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

That little-

“That’s actually why I wanted you guys to meet,” Tyler pops up again and Enid misses the way Wednesday shoots him a dark look. “Enid, Wednesdays a ghost hunter, she like removes ghosts from peoples houses and tries to rehome them.”

“Or banish them from our mortal plain.”

“A ghost hunter?” Enid laughs, “what like you’re a ghostbuster?”

Wednesday frowns.

“What?”

“The movie.”

“No idea,” and she takes a sip of her tea, “and Tyler, ghost hunter is the incorrect term you complete and utter imbecile.”

Bianca makes a loud noise and points at Wednesday who scowls and rolls her eyes, reaching into her coat and pulling out a dollar bill and shoving it in the pretty stuffed jar that’s passed towards her. It’s crammed with bills, coins and Enid swears she sees a credit card.

“It’s like a swear jar but for when Wednesday rudely insults her friends that love her so much,” Bianca explains.

“Eat glass Barcley.”

“Love you too Addams.”

Ajax and Eugene stop their mini sword fight and the former gestures to the jar.

“I say we buy a jet ski with it.”

Divinia rolls her eyes and spins the arrow for the twister game. “And why should you get to decide?”

Ajax shrugs, “most of those insults were aimed at me, for one thing.”

Everyone turns to look at Wednesday who shrugs and offers a curt nod in confirmation. They all begin to bicker over what to spend the money on, while Wednesday watches with a bored expression. Sighing, she places her cup down on the coffee table and reaches into her coat, pulling out a small, black, business card and wordlessly hands it to Enid.

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

. Seer . Demonologist . Paranormal Expert .

Send request via raven or mail

Enid frowns, “you don’t have a phone number or website?”

The other girl turns her nose up at the idea and shakes her head.

“Will that be a problem? If so I can just-” and she reaches to take the card back, but Enid pulls it close to her chest.

“No um-how soon can you visit?”

xXx

Enid got about three hours of uninterrupted sleep last night and dozed for about another hour after she threw a shoe in the direction of a loud tapping noise. At least it meant she was up early enough to tidy up the house before Wednesday came.

They agreed for her to arrive at 10am, Enid assumed that didn’t mean that Wednesday would arrive the second the clock struck 10.

However, the harsh rap of knuckles on the door and the familiar short, dark figure was recognizable through the glass window in Enid’s door.

“Shit,” she hisses, tripping up over a spare pair of boots, swearing that she hears an echoed laughter ring through the house behind her. She clumsily unlocks the door, and it swings open to an unimpressed Wednesday Addams and a…severed hand, on her shoulder? “Wednesday hi! Thanks so much for coming you really have no idea how much this will help me-” She pauses, stepping aside to let the woman walk inside and she frowns looking at the front lawn. “Where’s all your stuff?”

Wednesday walks down Enid’s hall, boots heavily colliding with the wooden flooring as she peeks into the living room and kitchen.

“This is merely an introduction between me and the house,” she mutters, before whispering something to her freaky looking hand and it jumps off her shoulder, scampering somewhere upstairs. “It’ll likely take more than one session, if the hauntings are as severe as you make them out to be.”

“Oh,” Enid says softly, hugging her thick jumper closer to herself. “So, you’re like, not a normie, if you can see ghosts? But I thought normies could see ghosts too?”

Wednesday glances back at her before wandering right, into the living room. There’s a bay window at the front of the house, accompanied by thick cushions and blankets, opposite, built into the wall that divides the house and kitchen is a cobblestone fireplace. There’s a patchy looking couch and so many different throws on it, plus a big rug because the wooden floor can get pretty cold at times. The walls of the house are graced with various paintings and photographs, she likes to think it’s homey.

“Revolting,” the goth murmurs as her eyes pass over a sign that says, happiness is homemade. “No wonder you’re being haunted.”

“That’s not funny and you didn’t answer my question.”

Wednesday sighs like it’s a complete inconvenience to her that her client has questions about her business.

“A large number of houses have some sort of ghost or spirit, but humans don’t notice them the same way we do. They brush it off, assume it’s a fault with the house or a gust of wind. Though, in cases where the spirit is much more aggressive, the humans take more notice and those are the one you hear people talk about.”

Enid makes an oh shape with her mouth and nods.

“So how do you get rid of them? I’ve done the whole, you are not allowed here thing, I sprayed holy water-”

“Are you religious?”

“No.”

“Then it’s useless.”

Wednesday stops in front of one of Enid’s mirrors and then looks behind her to see another mirror opposite. Wednesday stares blankly at two mirrors facing each other, before looking back to Enid, and then she looks back at the mirrors, huffing quietly. “Well, this won’t be helping.” She takes one mirror down, off the wall and turns it around, leaning against the same wall, without even asking first.

The severed hand scurries back towards them and Wednesday bends down as it begins to rapidly tap the floorboards in what Enid things might be morse code. Wednesday stares at him blankly, waiting for him to finish. She nods.

“Adequate work Thing, go check the garden.”

Wednesday glances up at Enid who watches them intently, hands clasped before her and eagerly rocking on her heels.

“Thing is my associate.”

“His name is Thing?” Enid frowns, “who’s hand is that anyways?”

Wednesday shrugs, “that’s an Addams family mystery.”

Of course, it is.

“I would like time to inspect your home, wait here until my return.”

And then she’s off.

Enid watches, mouth hanging open as Wednesday wordlessly strolls into the kitchen. Guess she can’t do anything but wait until the girl’s finished. So, Enid sits down on her couch and switches on Gilmore Girls, surely the positive energy from the show would help ward off any evil entities. Now that she’s left with her thoughts, it allows her to think more about the strange goth girl who’s currently digging through her pots and pans drawer for some strange reason.

Despite their initial clash, Enid finds herself eager to get to know Wednesday better.

She’s weird but not in a bad way.

Plus, she’s kind of pretty.

“Enid.”

“Jesus,” she leaps up off the couch, her pink, white and orange knitted blanket getting tangled in her legs, sending her stumbling and tripping, falling face first into her rug. Unfortunately, it’s not thick enough to properly cushion her from the hardwood floor underneath as she groans out in pain.

Thick boots come into her eyeline, and she looks up to see a somewhat amused Wednesday Addams.

“It’s pronounced Wednesday.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, so do you have someone else to deal with your ghosts?” At Enid’s silence she raises a brow and tilts her chin, “hm, I thought so. Now get up, I’ve finished my inspection.”

Enid pushes herself up onto her knees and blows a strand of hair out her face. Cheeks a light dusting of red as she stands up wobbly and follows Wednesday into the back garden. Kicking at a pile of orange, brown leaves as she does so.

Thing sits (stands?) impatiently, one finger tapping at the ground as they approach.

Wednesday stops and turns, head tilted up to look Enid in the eyes.

“Good news, you have no malevolent spirits on the property and no succubus’ either.”

Enid frowns, “a succubus?”

Wednesday sighs, “a demon or supernatural entity appearing in female form in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity.”

“Oh well its probably not here because I’m a woman.”

“Well, there’s an incubus for that, the same entity but in a male form.”

“Then why’d you only rule out succubus?”

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

“Which is more likely to appeal to you Sinclair?”

Oh my God.

Wednesday Addams more or less looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I know what you are.”

“Point taken,” she breathes out, cheeks flaring a bright red. “So um, what is here?”

Wednesday looks on in disgust as Thing frolics through the autumnal colored leaves. She looks at Enid out the corner of her eye.

“A poltergeist, that’s where you’ll be getting a lot of your noise from. Lights flickering, loud knocking, books flying off your shelf. The one you have is a strong one, it’ll take a little more effort to get rid of it. Next a World War two veteran, he’s sad, any cold areas in the house which bring forth feelings of melancholy are because of him. Next, a little girl-”

Enid buries her face in her hands, and she groans into them.

“There’s always a creepy little girl.”

Wednesday ignores her and continues, “I believe her body is still on the grounds-”

“What.”

“Once I find it and appropriately dispose of it, you should be fine-”

“That’s so sad what the fuck?”

“Then there are some wisp ghosts, also leaving the area feeling cold, I should be able to catch some though. Oh, and lastly, the biggest issue out of them all is what I believe may be a trio of Ecto-mist ghosts. They appear as a vaporous cloud usually appearing several feet off the ground and can move swiftly or stay still, sometimes ectoplasms appear before becoming a full-bodied apparition.” Wednesday looks at her out the corner of her eye before darting away to look back at the garden.

Enid nods, “ok, I feel like you’re not telling me something though.”

“They’re…civil war soldiers.

“Please don’t say-”

“One is a confederate yes, the other two are union soldiers, I believe they are still feuding. Even in death. An…admirable dedication.”

Enid crosses her arms and grumbles, “I can’t believe I have a stupid confederate soldier living with me.” She crunches some leaves under her boots and plasters on a smile to wave at one of her neighbors who’s pushing a pram past her house. “Hey Mrs O’Leary,” she shouts, smile falling when the woman gives her a dirty look.

Listen, she gets that normies can be intimidated or freaked out by people like her, she totally understands that someone with snakes on their head (Ajax) is a little threatening. But Enid’s been nothing but nice. She bakes cookies when she first moved in, as an introduction to her neighbors.

Mrs O’Leary and her husband had moved here not long before Enid had and just welcomed their first kid, despite their outwardly perfect appearance, they don’t treat Enid’s kind too nicely. Next door to Enid is Mel, a single mother with four kids and a dog which snarled at Enid whenever it saw her, so no brownie points won there. Mr Smith across the road is kinda passive aggressive. He sits on his porch with his shotgun propped up next to him most evenings and has made a passing comment or two about how she’d make a nice “Davy Crockett hat.” So, she avoids him as much as she can. The family of witches at the end of the street are nice and so is the old man, Mr Daniels who’s shopping she sometimes carries.

It could be worse.

But the absolute racket her house makes, isn’t making it better.

“I can make her disappear.”

Enid snaps her head around to see Wednesday staring at Mrs O’Leary’s retreating form.

“The child too.”

“Wednesday!” Enid gasps, laughter bubbling in her throat despite her horror at Wednesday’s words.

She watches as the smaller woman pulls a calculator out of her jacket and begins to press the buttons slowly before turning it to face Enid.

$3250

“Oh my god?” Enid snatches the calculator out of Wednesday’s hands. “This is like, a lot.”

Wednesday arches a brow and pulls a small leaflet out of her jacket too, wordlessly handing it to Enid as well. It appears to be a small catalogue of sorts with lists of different creatures, ghosts, practices and their prices.

THE FOLLOWING PRICES ARE LISTED IN ORDER OF EXPENSE

ITEMS:

White Sage Stick (locally sourced)-$5.0

Sea Salt (10kg)-$10.0

APPOINTMENTS TO DEAL WITH THE FOLLOWING:

Orbs-$10

Wisp Ghost-$25 (Approx)

Unknown spirit-general house visit and cleanse-$100

Interactive Personality-$300

Ecto-mist-$500

Poltergeist-$1000

Demonic Entity-$ Price to be determined.

CASUAL APPOINTMENTS:

Palm Reading-$40 per 30 minutes

Exorcism-$500

Enid looks up from the leaflet, mouth agape.

“It’s kinda insane to put palm reading and exorcism right next to each other.”

Wednesday shrugs and blows air out heavily through her nose, “can you pay it or not Sinclair, prices may vary depending on the spirit and how much effort it takes to rehome it.”

Enid bites her lip thoughtfully. The job pays sorta well but she kinda moved here with nothing and the majority of the money she’s earned has gone towards the house and paying off loans. Maybe she can pick up some more shifts or ask Tyler if he needs any help at the Weathervane.

“I think it’ll be fine, when can you get rid of them all?”

“I’ll come on Tuesdays,” Wednesday says, Thing suddenly appearing on her shoulder and tapping out some kind of code. “Around 5pm, spirits are easier to communicate with at night.”

“Tuesdays, plural?” Enid says and Wednesday sighs again.

“I only do this work for three days a week Sinclair and I have other clients, so yes, Tuesdays. One spirit/group of spirits per week most likely. It’ll also give you some time to gather the extra cash, I could practically see the bile rise in your throat when you saw the price.”

“Gross.”

“I will return at 10pm tonight, to try and catch your wisp ghosts, as it’ll need to be dark,” Wednesday says, beginning to walk towards Enid’s white picket fence and gate with the squeaky hinge that she needs to take care of at some point.

She turns around abruptly, and Enid quickly stops before she bumps into her. She looks up at Enid through her thick lashes and stares at her, not quite revealing anything but her gaze is heavy and Enid struggles to not squirm under it.

“For a werewolf you appear to be of minimal threat, its…disappointing,” Wednesday murmurs, eyes focused on Enid’s mouth for some reason. Likely searching for razor sharp canines.

Enid scoffs lightly, “you sound like my mom.”

Strangely, Wednesdays gaze turns harder at that, her jaw clenches tightly.

“Well, I’m allowed to say that, I’m Wednesday Addams,” she says, ignoring the rapid tapping of Thing’s fingers on her shoulder. “Your mothers intent remains questionable; shall I gut her?”

Enid balks and chokes on nothing.

“Ok you can’t keep offering to harm people for me Wednesday.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Sinclair, it would be for my enjoyment.”

The smaller girl opens the gate and steps out onto the sidewalk, barely sparing Enid a second look before walking away.

“I’ll see you at 10, Sinclair. Don’t, lock your doors.”

xXx

“Where the hell did you find this girl Yoko?”

“Don’t ask me, one day Eugene showed up with her and now I get a death threat written with cutout letters from newspapers every month on the 25^th.”

Enid frowns, and moves to peer out her living room window, keeping an eye out for the girl.

“Always the 25^th?”

“Its because we met on the 25^th I think,” Yoko mutters, “that sentimental freak.”

“Well, I don’t think she likes me, in fact I think she might actually murder me.”

“Did she threaten you?”

“Um no,” Enid thinks, “she did threaten people for me?”

Yoko hums thoughtfully, and Enid can hear her smile through the phone.

“Oh my God Yoko, what?”

“Nothing, nothing, just I wanna know when the wedding is.”

A loud knock sounds from her front door and Enid swears under her breath, at both Yoko who’s cackling down the phone and Wednesday who somehow managed to slip past Enid’s watchful eye and make her way to her porch.

She utters a hurried goodbye to Yoko, who makes kissy noises down the phone in response, and she chucks it on the couch.

Wednesday wears a black trench coat, black V-neck sweatshirt, with a white collar poking out, as well as black slacks which are rolled at the bottom to of course show off her insanely chunky boots. Thing is perched on her shoulder, and he waves a finger in Enid’s direction.

Next to Wednesday is one of those big, boxy, leather suitcases.

“I’ll get that for you,” Enid smiles as Wednesday moves past her into the house. The suitcase is lighter than expected, but her werewolf genes allow Enid to lift a lot of heavy items with ease. A feat that Wednesday seems to notice as Enid picks up the suitcase by its strap and carry it into the foyer.

A distant laugh, accompanied by a series of bangs make Enid sigh, whilst Wednesday perks up.

“I must say, this is one of the most active houses I’ve visited, it’s dreadfully delightful. Are you sure you want them gone?”

Enid laughs before realizing that she’s being serious.

“I-yes, yes Wednesday I want them gone.”

Wednesday sighs, “alright then,” and reaches around the case, unbuckling one of the locks and pulling it open as Enid watches in amazement as various drawers and compartments expand out of it, revealing jars, vials, weapons. It reminded her of that one guy’s case from that one Harry Potter movie.

Thing begins to take out the mason jars and their steel lids, Wednesday instructs him to begin placing them around the house.

“Wisps are fast and notoriously hard to catch, they’re harmless but if you want them gone-”

“I do.”

“-Then I’ll have to be one step ahead of them.” Wednesday grasps a mason jar and then grabs what looks to be a vial of blood? She pokes her finger inside it and then takes the crimson finger and trails the blood around the inside of the mason jar. Enid watches as Thing does the same. “They’re attracted to living things, feel the need to try and guide them. However, blood is a component of a living thing, yet abandoned from its host so in theory; the Wisp should be curious and come to investigate it.”

“Then you’ll catch it?”

“Thing will jump from whatever dark crevasse he has squeezed himself into and slam the lid on the jar, keeping the Wisp there, and I’ll have some new lights for my garden.”

Enid laughs before realizing again that she’s being serious.

“Ok…and how can I help?”

Wednesday doesn’t even bother looking her way, “don’t.”

Well, that’s a little rude.

“But I can try to-”

“I don’t need your grubby paws messing up my work Sinclair, go to sleep or something.”

“Oh, so you can smother me with a pillow? No thanks.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

“Not my style, too quiet, too peaceful.”

And that’s how Enid finds herself in bed, with tea, in a wonky mug she’d made and painted at a pottery class in town. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep with 1. A stranger in her house and 2. That stupid poltergeist that Wednesday identified, keeps thumping around in the attic.

Wednesday, however, works very quietly.

All that Enid’s heard so far was the distant scolding she gave Thing. But apart from that, it’s been near silence. But then again, the Wisps are silent creatures. She wonders what Wednesday does with them all, can you really banish a ghost for good? Or does she actually rehome them. Is she like a real estate agent for ghosts? Does she find them new homes or just let them roam free once she’s extracted them from the house? Maybe she has a big containment unit for them, like in Ghostbusters.

She sips her now lukewarm tea and jumps a little at the sound of popping outside. It sounds like when someone pops the cork off a bottle of wine or champagne. She hears it most nights, it usually begins around this time. It makes sense if it is the ghosts of soldiers out there fighting each other. The popping makes a hell of a lot more sense now too. It’s kind of spooky to think about. That all these ghosts and spirits live and watch her, but she can only see them at select times, when they want to be seen. She knows that its like to be an outcast, what it’s like to be different but to be fair, she’s never gone out of her way to annoy people because of it.

How long have some of these people been here? Stuck here even?

It’s scary to think about.

An increasingly familiar knock sounds against her bedroom door and she welcomes (who she hopes is Wednesday) into the room. The door creeks open and from the shadows emerges an even darker Wednesday Addams.

She pauses, seeing Enid in bed before clearing her throat and walking closer, producing a mason jar from behind her back, sealed with the steel lid. Inside is a light blue orb-like creature. It’s, well, wispy and looks light. It doesn’t seem agitated, which is good.

“Thing and I caught seven, I believe it is all of them,” Wednesday murmurs triumphantly, offering the jar to Enid who takes it carefully and brings it closer for inspection. The ball of light seems to surge brighter when she pulls it up to her face. It swirls around in a circle, and she feels the glass vibrate a little at the movement.

“Aw,” she smiles, while Wednesday frowns, “it’s kinda cute. What was it? Before, I mean?”

Wednesday tilts her head a little, like she wasn’t expecting the question.

“It’s hard to say, especially when you cannot communicate efficiently with them. This one I believe to be a former woodland creature, many are. But many are also wandering souls who never settled anywhere.”

Enid hums and hands the jar back to her.

“So how much will that be today?”

Wednesday shakes the jar in her hands, watching as the spirit goes spiraling inside. “No need to pay me so prematurely Sinclair, like I said the total cost shall be paid for once I have removed every spirit from your home,” she says impatiently and begins to exit the room when Enid’s breath hitches, about to ask another question. Wednesday stops and turns back, a bored look on her face.

“Where do they go?” Her voice is small, quiet enough that she sees Wednesday turn her head slightly to hear her. “Are they ok?”

“They’re dead, Sinclair.”

She sighs, “I know but, it’s just sad y’know, dying, being trapped somewhere and then what? Become some garden ornament?”

Wednesday frowns, “I was obviously kidding. Yoko said you valued humor. Many simpletons do-”

“Wednesday,” Enid sighs, “like, where do they go, do they just wander around somewhere else for eternity or what?”

The smaller girl stares at her for a moment before walking over to Enid’s dresser and placing the mason jar down there. She walks back to the center of the room and holds her hands clasped in front of her.

“Sometimes I banish a spirit, if it asks me to. Other times if it’s a particularly frightful one, I’ll keep it until I need to release it on my enemies. Often, I’ll release them where I think suits them best.” She says in her usual monotone voice, and she arches a brow. “Is that all for tonight, Sinclair?”

Enid nods and Wednesday’s shoulders seem to sag in relief, and she begins to leave the room once more.

“Oh, wait!”

Wednesday’s head drops to her chest, and she turns around slowly again.

“What.” Is said through gritted teeth.

Enid gulps, “uh why do you get rid of the least annoying ghosts first, if it means I’m stuck with the more disruptive ones for longer?”

Wednesday blinks and turns back towards the bedroom door, stepping through it until she is standing in the hallway, figure illuminated by a pale flickering light.

“Well, it’s quite simple Sinclair, the trickier the ghost, the more I need to get to know them. I cannot just show up one random afternoon and get rid of a poltergeist. If I tried to do that, the chances are that his shenanigans would increase by a tenfold.” Thing appears out of nowhere, sitting on her shoulder once more and Wednesday dips her head in goodbye to Enid. “Now, I’ll see you next Tuesday, same time, and I’ll sort out the World War two veteran. Do try and get some sleep, I’ll have Thing lock up for you.”

And then she vanishes again.

Now, Enid isn’t super trusting of a severed hand that magically walks, so she goes to check that the doors are locked once the girl leaves (they are) and she gets into bed, well past 1am. She actually did have a good sleep that night.

That is, until someone decides to have all her electronics and music devices blast her favorite K-pop bands at full volume at 5am.

Chapter Text

“Hey, you never said how you met Eugene?” Enid asks as she pours the boiling water into her mug, the plate of freshly baked cookies lie ignored, after Wednesday spared them one distasteful glance before looking away.

She’d come earlier than last week, having informed Enid of the change in times by sending a raven. Yes, you heard that right, a raven appeared and sat on her porch railing outside with a small scroll held in its beak. It more or less said in less than three lines, that Wednesday would arrive at 8pm instead of 10pm. Then she decided to sign her entire name at the bottom, like there would be anyone else who would send mail by freaking bird.

Wednesday sits crossed legged on one of the kitchen chairs, bathed in the orange glow of Enid’s pumpkin spice candles. She rarely has her big overhead light on in any of her rooms, instead favoring candles and lamps, it just makes it all look more instagrammable.

“We met at the bee club, I was planning on stealing a jarful to plant in my therapist’s car, but Eugene-ever the psychic-caught me in the act,” she says regretfully, not at her almost crime, just at the fact that she was caught. “He then won me over, the bee is an admirable predator,” she admits, accepting the mug from Enid.

Enid hums and nods knowingly, “ah the Hive.”

“I see why Tanaka speaks so highly of you; you both share the same childish sense of humor.” Enid watches as Wednesday takes a sip of the tea, lips pursued. Her poker face is impressive, but Enid sees the miniscule twitch of her cheek. Wednesday puts the mug down on the table, eye twitching.

Enid pouts, “is it bad?”

“I can feel my teeth rotting-”

“I only put two sugars in-”

“Two?”

“Well, he’s not shy,” Wednesday murmurs, watching the pale apparition walk in circles around the living room. The silvery mist of his existence swirling, pulling, floating in an array of directions as he walks, muttering to himself.

Enid gulps as she stands behind the smaller girl. She’d seen him a few times, but she’s usually in bed, hiding under the covers when he comes out. He stumbles through the halls, crying and speaking to himself.

It’s honestly really sad to watch.

“Pathetic,” Wednesday says, stepping back and then sighing and glaring at Enid when her back bumps into Enid’s front. She hurriedly apologizes before Wednesday does something that will make Enid an extra addition to the house’s ghost crew. The girl walks back to the kitchen, the “séance room” she called it and grabs a bag out of the black, leather bookbag she’d brought with her.

Her eyebrows pinch together as she flicks through it, the yellowed pages being turned in an impatient manner.

Enid rocks back and forth on her heels, whistling lowly to herself. It’s about three minutes into Wednesday’s reading when Enid realizes that she girl is not going to be talking to Enid anytime soon, so she finds something else to occupy herself with. Turns out, despite being a hand, Thing is a great conversationalist. Enid promises to let him borrow her dark purple shellac nail polish, but only if he lets her try and sort out his cuticles. He’s honestly such a cutie, she’s devastated that he doesn’t have a phone because they could be texting 24/7. He says that Wednesday doesn’t let him have one because she “doesn’t believe in electronics?”

So weird, anyway, she’s jotting some notes down when she feels a sharp poke in her back and yelps, jumping when she sees Wednesday standing oddly close to her.

“What are you doing?”

Hands still shaking a little, Enid pushes the notepad over to Wednesday. “I thought I could try and connect with him and write a poem about world war two!”

Wednesday’s jaw slackens as she looks between Enid and the notepad. “That already sounds incredibly insensitive, and that’s coming from me.” She frowns. “What have you got?”

She slides the pad across the cabinet top of the kitchen, to where Wednesday stands next to her and proudly taps the pages with her pencil. Wednesday sighs and pulls the pad of paper closer, head ducking down to read it.

“Yicky, yucky, this trench is really mucky-Sinclair what is this?”

Enid gasps in offence, “aren’t you going to finish it?”

“If I do this pencil will go through my eye.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Enid snatches the notepad back. “Hey, its not that bad. I’ll have you know that some of the greatest writers ever, used rhyme.”

Wednesday scowls and glares at the poem like it had personally offended her somehow.

“And some of the best I’ve seen, did cocaine and married their cousin, you don’t see me doing that.”

Mentally, Enid pumps her fist at gaining some more insight into Wednesday’s life. The girl is literally the definition of a closed book. When she had arrived tonight, Enid asked her what her zodiac was and Wednesday threatened to “de-claw” her.

“Oh, you write?” She asks nonchalantly and sees Wednesday’s back stiffen at the question.

“Why do you think I only work three days a week, if not to spare more time to dedicate to my novel.”

Enid grabs a cookie from the plate she’d set down earlier and takes a big bite, humming happily at the sugary sweetness of it. She perks up and turns to Wednesday, who stares at the crumbs on Enid’s sweater in disdain.

“That’s so cool,” Enid says around the bites of her cookie and winces, putting a hand over her mouth when Wednesday looks at her in poorly concealed disgust. “Like what genre do you write, romance, fantasy-”

“A horror led detective series centering around Viper De La Muerte, I have several novels published,” Wednesday utters like it’s a totally normal feat.

“Wait, isn’t that the book series that Yoko loves?”

“Yes.”

“Does she know that it’s you?”

Amusement lingers in Wednesday’s eyes when Enid asks her question, her lips stretch to a thin, yet smug look that has Enid’s jaw dropping and eyes widening in realization. Laughter bubbles in her throat

“You dick,” she laughs, following Wednesday as the girl grabs a big bag of salt from her bag, and leaves the kitchen. “You have to tell her.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Despite their initial clashing, Enid and Wednesday do get along ok. Key word being ok. She feels somewhat confident that Wednesday won’t kill her anytime soon, which is a good thing of course. Wednesday still threatens her and if it was anybody else, Enid would’ve reported her and fled the state, but she’s been told that this is the norm for the small girl so she shouldn’t start to worry until Wednesday tries to actively maim her.

The banter back and forth is good, the girls group chat didn’t quite believe her when Enid had reported some of her and Wednesday’s conversations back to them. In fact, they all seemed enthusiastic to contribute some suggestive comments to the conversation.

And she gets it.

She does. Sunshine, happy go lucky girlfriend with her storm cloud, grumpy, goth girlfriend. It’s a trope, one of which can be found inside one of the many romcoms on Enid’s bookshelf. She’d also be lying is she said she wasn’t attracted to Wednesday.

Because let’s face it, she’s gorgeous.

 “Sinclair move.”

She feels a harsh nudge to her leg.

“Oh sorry,” she steps back as Wednesday pours a trail of salt past her, up the hallway, looped at the top, going into the living room, a circle and then back up to the end of the hallway. A path of salt. Which is going to be a pain to clean up.

Wednesday waves her hand and Enid takes the hint, stepping way back into the kitchen as Wednesday disappears to do whatever. She won’t lie, she’s kind of excited to finally see Wednesday at work.

Minutes pass before the girl appears and rolls her eyes at Enid’s outward eagerness, gesturing for her to follow. Enid tiptoes to avoid messing up the salt lines and follows Wednesday into the living room to where the man still paces in a circle, a circle that Wednesdays dropped salt around.

“What is your business here?” Wednesday asks, voice firm and Enid watches as the man jumps, his ghostly notes that were clutched in his hands, fluttering through the air before fading into nothingness.

The man, though a ghost, has pale skin, almost pulled tight over his skull. His eyes are dark, they were maybe brown when he was alive, they were also maybe less sad looking.

“This-this is my house,” he whispers, scratching his short beard. “Sorry, who are you?”

Wednesday looks bored of this already.

“This is not your home. You do not have permission to be here, and you need to leave,” she says in a commanding tone, leaving no room for argument but he doesn’t seem to take that hint.

He turns, one scuffed boot raised to dart away before he hisses and jumps back, glaring at the salt around him.

“Drats,” he mumbles, hands pulling at his short hair as he spins in a circle, talking in low tones to himself and Enid almost laughs because of how comical the situation is, until she see it.

Oh.

Her smile falls when she sees, even through the patchy, silky, silvery glow, the area on his head that’s darker than the rest and the small circle in the middle of it. She gulps and can’t take her eyes off of it. Wednesday must have seen it, hell how could Enid not have by now?

Those papers appear in his hands once more and he thumbs through them, mumbling different names.

That cookie Enid had earlier now sits lumpy and doughy in her stomach.

“You can go in one of my jars and I will relocate you or you can agree to our terms, and I’ll get rid of the salt, allowing you to leave the house on your own,” Wednesday asks him, and she scoffs, looking up at Enid. “He’s depressed I fear.”

Enid glances at him before taking a deep breath and stepping forward.

“What’s your name?”

The girl next to her sucks in a deep breath and her hands reaches out to clutch at Enid’s elbow, gone as quickly as it arrived. But Enid knew the intent behind it, she looks over her shoulder to see Wednesday giving her a warning look, and one of curiosity. One that says, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She gulps and turns back to the man, the man who now turns to her. His blubbering stops and he takes a minute, as though he’s trying to analyze her very simple question.

“Bill?” He whispers unsurely, eyes wide and frozen, before he nods his head, “yes, yes Bill. My name is Bill.”

“Hi Bill, I’m Enid and this is my house, I understand that it maybe used to be yours but me and my colleague here,” she gestures offhandedly to Wednesday and bites back a smile at the scoff she hears from behind her, “think that maybe its best for you to move somewhere else?”

“I-this is my home,” his voice trembles, and he shuffles around, “Martha!”

She watches as he spins slowly, and those papers materialize in his hands again. He flicks through them and looks around, an aghast expression on his face. He charges out the room, staying within the salt path laid out and Enid follows behind as he charges up the hall, before stopping and swinging around again, marching back to that circle in the living room.

Enid turns to Wednesday, “how’d you mark out the path so perfectly?”

“Repetitive behaviors,” the goth murmurs, “patterns or actions that ghosts repeat, usually its something like this, a familiar route. A significant one that he would have completed when he was still alive.” She steps one chunky boot forward, coat swaying with her as she tries to peer at his see-through papers. “He’s looking for a Martha, one must assume that he came home from the war,” she gestures to his outfit, “found the letters Martha most likely left and now he’s pacing, searching for her even though he knows that she’s gone.”

“She left him?” Enid says, clutching her chest and mouth parting at Wednesday’s nod. “That’s so sad.”

He keeps moving in circles, talking in hushed, frustrated tones with himself.

“He died on the property too.”

Enid crosses her arms and gives Wednesday a somewhat impressed look, “you’re a pretty good detective y’know?” Her stomach definitely doesn’t flutter when she sees Wednesday bite back a cocky smirk at the words.

And it definitely doesn’t flutter when Wednesday nudges her to go towards the kitchen.

xXx

Enid’s on her third cup of tea tonight, blowing on it gently as she watches Wednesday stand in the doorframe of the kitchen, likely keeping an eye on Bill. She jumps at a sudden bang coming from upstairs, hissing as some piping hot tea jumps out her mug to splash her lips.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you around town before,” she tries, trying to coax Wednesday into participating in what she hopes will be a bonding session. Don’t mind the ghost in her living room. “I know there isn’t loads to do but the Weathervane, where Tyler works, has good drinks and food.”

Wednesday doesn’t look at her, doesn’t even acknowledge what she said until thirty seconds later.

“I usually try to refrain from going to such places to drink their sorry excuses for coffee, because I’d rather drown myself in what you idiots call, ‘soda pop’.”

Enid rolls her eyes, “okay, first of all, nobody has called it that since like the 80’s and second, you should stop by more often! Might pick up some more customers.”

“I’m all booked up until January.”

“Oh shit, my bad then.”

Silence, like a blanket, settles over them once again and Wednesday doesn’t vocalize her thought process with Enid, so she stands still, eyes watching Bill with a fierce intensity.

“So, how do we deal with him? I doubt you can just shove him in a jar.”

“He’s emotional, that’s a problem.”

“Well, he is dead, Wednesday. I wouldn’t be ecstatic either.”

A small sigh and squeak of shoes against the hardwood floor, alert Enid and she looks up to see Wednesday suddenly four steps closer than before.

“He has an emotional attachment to the house, meaning that it will be harder to convince him to leave. If I try to force him out, he’ll get upset and become ten times more disruptive.”

Absolutely not.

Enid was torn out of her sleep last night by both wailing and a trumpet. She cannot have it worse than that.

“So…”

“So, you shall go and talk to him,” Wednesday summarizes, “what would Yoko say? A ‘heart to heart’, if you will.”

She shakes her head so rapidly, the pink and blue highlights in her hair whip her eyes.

“No, I can’t be trusted with that! I’m paying you.”

“I thought you wanted to be involved?” Wednesday tips her head, “I’m only suggesting the technique that’ll have the most effective outcome Sinclair. You are…a people person and I am-”

“Emotionally stunted-”

“I feel as though I should take offense, but your quick wit is impressive, too bad it is overall lackluster in execution.”

Enid sighs deeply and sets her tea down, yawning into her hand before meeting Wednesdays challenging stare.

“What do I have to do?”

xXx

“So, Martha? Who’s she?” Enid asks casually as she files Thing’s nails. “Must’ve been quite the catch if you’re still hung up on her, like eighty years later.”

She’s sat with one of her blankets, some cushions, a candle, a mug of tea for her and an empty one for him. She’s also playing some Clairo, but at a low volume so that it’s not too disruptive. Wednesday had shaken her head, called it pointless.

Enid didn’t think so.

Bill sits cross legged across from her and nods glumly.

“The love of my life, she wasn’t like any girl I’ve ever met. A woman of tomorrow, you know she could change a flat tire?”

“No way.”

“Indeed.”

Enid looks up from Things scraggly nails to Bill, who looks longingly at his empty mug. “Y’know, I can change a tire too, I know a few tricks with cars. One of the few perks growing up surrounded by brothers.”

The ghost looks wildly impressed with her statement and nods approvingly, “I can only imagine suitors are lining up outside your door?” A pale finger gestures out the front window, “plenty of men willing to take you around town.”

Now, Bills lovely and Enid is a patient person, but she is most certainly not explaining lesbianism to a man from the 1940’s.

She pulls a face, scrunching her nose and shrugging, “not really, people think I’m a little weird,” her laughter is forced, weak and he notices, tilting his head in confusion, looking more alive than he has the entire time Enid’s seen him around the house. Which is impressive for a dead man.

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna freak you out Bill.”

“Enid, my darling, I’m a ghost. Whatever strange hobbies a dame like yourself might be into, won’t startle me,” his chest puffs out a little when he says it, challenging her, baiting her.

So, she raises her hand, showing off her perfectly manicured nails and he nods slowly, not quite understanding. But when her multicolored claws pop out, sharp and deadly even under the soft orange hue of her lamps and candles, he jumps back, scrambling against the smooth floor which Enid doesn’t think he can actually even feel.

He’s half-turned away, an arm held protectively over his face before he glances back at her, realizing that the danger is nonexistent.

“Oh my, well that’s-golly I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I’m a werewolf,” she smiles brightly, “did they-did you guys have those in comics or something back then? I don’t bite. Promise.”

Bill shifts closer, the line of salt separating them, creating an invisible, subtle, yet loud barrier between them.

“Wow,” he whispers, “now that is weird.”

Enid grimaces and frowns, concentrating and watching as her claws shift back to their normal size.

“I know what its like, being different,” she murmurs, “and when I found people like me, it was like finding my home. Is this your home Bill, still?”

He contemplates it, and those damn papers materialize again. His hands clenching around them desperately and subconsciously, without taking his eyes off of Enid. There’s a tick on his face, the clench of his jaw and his demeanor hardening before crumbling once more.

“Martha was my home, or I thought she was. I came back and all she left for me were these damned letters,” he tosses them away. “And I didn’t see life worth living after that so I-well, I’m sure you can put it together.”

A voice echoes from behind Enid.

“Then perhaps it would be ill-advised of you to stay in this house, a cruel reminder of your losses. If you leave there is always the possibility to find this woman again, or I can set you free,” Wednesday remarks and Enid clutches her chest, heart pounding beneath her ribcage.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Her question goes ignored by both parties. Bill directs his eyeline to Wednesday, pale, glassy eyes scrutinizing her and Enid tenses, unsure of what may come out his mouth.

“And by set free? You mean-”

“I will abolish your spirit from this Earth, you may hopefully find an eternity of peace waiting for you after that,” Wednesday says solemnly, before frowning, “unless you lived an incredibly immoral life, then hell might be-”

“Okay!” Enid claps her hands loudly, cutting off Wednesday and turning to Bill, shrieking when she sees a shadowed figure crouched in the far corner of the room, up on the ceiling. Its shapeless but its there, its dark mass shrinking back into the shadows at her sound of distress.

Right, she was so focused on Bill, she forgot about all of the other ghosts.

Great.

His face is sad, not that that was unusual for him, but there’s an anxious pull in the way his teeth chew on his bottom lip and a faraway stare that’s almost too heavy for Enid to properly grasp and understand.

She reaches her hand over the salt line, holding her breath, even though she feels both the need to gulp in enormous amounts of air and to stop breathing altogether. Her hand shakes and she feels a sudden wave of icy coldness wash over her skin, the closer she gets to Bill’s hand. That silvery, pale blue transparent skin sits still under hers as she inches closer.

Fingertips tingling in anticipation as they hover over his hand before she finally closes the distance, gasping as her skin touches his wispy essence. He’s not solid, but she can feel him still. It’s similar to water, if she touches lightly, then her hand floats on top of his. But if she applies a little pressure, her hand sinks into his.

Its an odd sensation, and an odd feeling. How she wants to offer him some comfort, to squeeze his hand but he’s so fragile that if she’s too rough, she’ll fall through him.

His hands though, flinch as hers rest ever so gently on top of his. A silent moment passes before he raises his other hand, papers forgotten, and rests his on top of Enid’s. Holding her hand in both of his, and its freezing. She can feel her fingers going numb and only begins to panic a little when she hears a shift in Wednesday’s breath behind her.

Those werewolf ears are useful, normally she doesn’t even hear Wednesday breath, in fact there was a moment where Enid thought that Wednesday was dead, another one of the ghosts in her house. But there’s a hitch in her breath now, and that terrifies Enid.

“Bill,” the cold voice slices through the moment of quiet. “What will it be?”

He ducks his head, sucking in a deep breath that he doesn’t need before looking up in determination and smiling.

The three of them stand at Enid’s front gate, Bill practically glowing under the moonlight.

Wednesday, with a candelabra in her hand (Enid has no fucking idea where she got it), steps forward and fixes Bill with a hard stare.

“You are banished from these grounds. You do not live here, and you may not return. You are not allowed to follow or attach yourself to Enid Sinclair either,” she says firmly, and he nods, practically buzzing with excitement.

Enid, however, can’t help but feel sad watching it all. It contrasts strangely with the flutter in her stomach, hearing Wednesday say her first name. She hadn’t done that before.

A silvery, blue boot raises itself hesitantly off the ground, hovering over the line between Enid’s property and the sidewalk. He winces in trepidation before pushing it forward and gasping in surprise when he meets little resistance, practically hopping around on the sidewalk.

A free man.

Wednesday tilts her head up slightly, chin raised and a prideful glimmer in her eyes. The soft glow of streetlights reflecting off of her dark eyes, making them sparkle and the moonlight somehow makes her hair even shinier and her skin even paler. Enid’s breath gets stuck in her throat as she stares openly at her, clammy hands clenched at her sides and her stomach flipping at the sight.

A bark of laughter pulls her guilty attention away and she smiles at Bill. That bloodied hole in his head somehow looking smaller than before

“Y’know if you’re looking for work Bill, haunted houses hire people all year round,” she smiles, and he gives her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“I’ll maybe look into that,” he grins, spinning around and taking the whole street in. “I’d really like to find out more about those Pringle things that you mentioned earlier.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

He stops his spinning and almost comically spins to look at Enid, hands clutched in front of him. “And Enid I am terribly sorry if I was a nuisance while in the house, I might have been a little upset some nights.”

She waves him off, “psssht, didn’t hear a thing, have fun exploring the world!”

“I will!” He waves, skipping down the street, his silvery essence floating away and fading into the night air.

“I’ll miss him.”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.”

Wednesdays packing up and it’s close to eleven pm now, Enid’s eyes are drooping, she has to be up early tomorrow morning.

“Don’t you think its sad, how these people, they’re stuck in the in-between. Stuck with the worst memories or parts of themselves?”

The smaller girl clicks her tongue and gives Enid a disproving look, “I hope we won’t be making a habit of you asking me philosophical questions at the end of every appointment Sinclair.”

Enid crosses her arms, trying to get rid of the queasy feeling in her stomach.

“It’s just, you die and that’s meant to be it. Death is meant to be the end and then these people, these sad people are trapped,” she sucks in a deep breath and shudders, “I just hate the idea of that happening to me.”

Thing strokes her arm with a single finger to comfort her before scrambling off the kitchen counter and towards his owner.

Wednesday buttons up her coat and begins to make her way through the house, rolling her eyes at the gentle tapping inside of the wall and shoots it an evil look. But it softens slightly when she turns back to Enid, before stepping through the front door.

“In the instances where it happens to people, there will be people like me who take care of it.”

“Promise?” She asks softly, she knows it’s silly and it’s an irrational fear but it’s one that’s becoming more and more prominent as the weeks go on.

Wednesday, in a move so unlike her its funny, sticks out a pale pinky. Enid bites back a smile and wraps her own one around it.

“I promise, should you become a miserable ghost, that I’ll take care of you.”

Enid gasps happily, a hand clutching her chest, “you’ll take care of me? Oh Wednesday Addams-”

The smaller girls jaw clenches and the slightest of pinks, blossoms across her pale cheeks as she turns to leave, “right that’s it-”

“I’m kidding,” Enid giggles, following her into the night, breath fogging up in front of her. She catches the girl by the elbow and is surprised when she isn’t immediately shrugged off. “It’s-thank you Wednesday, that’s really sweet.”

Wednesday turns her nose up at the comment and turns once again to leave, not bothering to look back over her shoulder when she replies.

“Tell anyone and I’ll scalp you.”

That night Enid’s chest feels warm when she slides into bed, the gentle glow of the wisp in the jar that Wednesday left, lulls her into a calm sleep and the night is slightly less noisy than the one before.

xXx

One of the main reasons behind Enid moving to Vermont was because of how pretty it is. Especially at this time of year. The leaves are falling in gentle oranges and browns, pumpkin spice lattes and apple ciders being sold at all her favorite cafes, the crisp smell of smoke in the air.

She especially loves wrapping herself up in her colorful scarf and jacket to head into town. Her red knitted beanie pulled tight over her ears.

The weathervane comes into view with its fogged-up windows and the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air, she skips giddily towards it before coming to a sudden stop when she recognizes the person in front of her, also heading to the shop.

“Oh em gee, Wednesday!” She squeals, running towards her.

Wednesday halts and ducks her head; Enid can hear her groan and mutter something to herself before sucking in a deep breath and spinning around to meet Enid’s gaze.

“Sinclair,” she says politely but Enid smiles when she sees annoyance in the girl’s eyes.

She tugs on the sleeve of Wednesdays jacket and pulls through the door, dragging her to the usual booth that Enid sits at.

“What are the odds? This is so exciting,” she smiles, sliding into the booth and looking at Wednesday expectedly. She stands at the end of the table and legitimately looks like she’s deciding whether or not to jump out the window.

But, with a heavy sigh, she sits down, opposite Enid and folds her hands in front of her. Before Enid can even get a word in, Tyler stops by with a notepad in hand. A greeting on the tip of his tongue before his smile falters.

“Wednesday? I’ve never seen you in here before,” he says unsurely, and the look Wednesday shoots him is deadly.

Enid frowns when Wednesday pointedly avoids looking at her, but her stomach flutters when she realizes that Wednesday’s in here because of what Enid had said before. The smaller girl stares murderously at the napkins on the table before squaring her shoulders and glaring up at Tyler.

“Galpin your customer service is almost as disappointing as your attempts at crochet-”

“You’re literally wearing the sweater I crocheted for you last Christmas.”

“I remain disappointed,” Wednesday continues, ignoring his protests. “I’ll have a quad over ice.”

“Jesus-”

“And I’ll have a pumpkin spice latte with one of the carrot cake muffins please, Tyler,” Enid says sweetly and shoots Wednesday a dirty look when she sees her gag out the corner of her eye. “Y’know you should always be nice to the person serving your food, he could spit in it.”

An amused huff escapes Wednesday.

“Oh, you’re serious? Tyler wouldn’t dare.”

Enid raps her knuckles against the table, as they wait. The soft hustle and bustle of people coming in and out, along with the sounds of the coffee machines, make the diner a little loud, she can tell its annoying Wednesday by the way the girl’s eye twitches every time there is an increase in volume.

“So…why this?”

Wednesday quirks an eyebrow, “Sinclair, these vague, open-ended questions are tiresome.”

“I mean why ghosts, you just love being around dead people?”

The girl shrugs, pulling the drink that Tyler just set down, to her lips. Enid watches as she frowns and pauses, before going back in for another sip.

“I don’t mind it, I never did. But many people do, so there is a market, a place of opportunity for me,” she drawls, setting the drink down and eyeing Enid’s muffin in disgust. “And I believe the dead deserve the same respect that the living do.”

“Even if they’re annoying and haunting innocent girls who just want a good night’s sleep?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrow, “well plenty of living creatures are annoying, take one technicolored, incessantly chattering werewolf-”

“Okay I get it,” Enid raises a hand. “I know you’re already busy but in the long run you should really get a website or something, it might help get customers from all over!”

Wednesday seems to think about it before ultimately shaking her head.

“That would mean requiring a computer or cellular device.”

“And...?”

Wednesday shudders, hands wrapping tightly around her drink.

“I fear of what would happen if Thing were to get a hold of it.”

Chapter Text

“So, at this time of year its darker for longer in the mornings and earlier at night. This means that the sun is out less so there is less chlorophyll production in the trees, and it’s the pigments inside of them that make the leaves green. So, when there’s less sunlight, it turns the leaves…” She trails off, looking at the group hopefully.

A kid coughs.

The teacher looks at Enid sympathetically and winces when several of her students yawn loudly. Who is Enid kidding, why bother explaining foliage and the change in leaves to a bunch of eight-year-old who would rather jump in piles of leaves.

Enid doesn’t blame them.

She sighs before gesturing to the masses of fallen leaves around them and smiles brightly, “ok go ahead.” She’s met with screams of joy and laughter as they all kick the orange, yellow and brown leaves about, flopping down into thick heaps of them.

The teacher waves goodbye, as Enid’s services are obviously no longer needed, and quickly hurries over to a kid who’s lying face first on the ground. Enid grimaces when he sits up with a mouthful of leaves. There’s not many schools in the area, since it’s a small town and all, but some classes from neighboring towns come by too. It’s basically where Enid will give a talk on nature, the leaves changing, animals, you know, simple things. But the attention span of children under twelve is never fantastic.

She makes her way back to the beat up pick up that the council provides her with for work, when she sees something in the distance of the big park. A dark figure ducking between the trees. Stifling a large yawn into her elbow, Enid pulls her brown leather bomber jacket tighter, nudging her nose into the wool lined collar. She follows the small road, which is only really for employee vehicles, but it also serves as a bike path. Her boots tapping gently against the concrete, purposely softening her footfall as to not alert the strange figure, she moves closer to see them crouched behind a tree before standing and turning towards her.

“Oh absolutely not.”

Wednesday, evidently surprised to see her, holds out her gloved hand.

“It was dead when I found it.”

An unhappy whine escapes the back of Enid’s throat when she looks at the dead raccoon, lifeless and hanging midair because of Wednesday’s clutch on its tail. The goth is more wrapped up than normal, in a plain black dress, tights, boots (of course), a long black coat and a thin scarf around her neck. The gloves are darker, likely due to blood.

“Wednesday,” she pinches her nose between her eyes, “I cannot have you playing with dead animals when I have a school visit like fifty feet away.”

“I’m not playing.”

They stare at each other in silence. Enid arching a brow and Wednesday staring back with an equal amount of judgement on her face. However, her eyes begin to drift downward, taking in Enid’s uniform and she gulps.

She fucking gulps.

What the hell does that mean. No snide comment? No sarcastic quip?

Wednesday seems to realize just how openly she’s staring and glances away, eyes narrowing at the loud shouts of the school kids. The raccoon hangs limply at her side and Enid knows for sure that it’s going to be used for taxidermy. Because if there’s one hobby that Wednesday Addams will have, there’s no way that it’s not that.

Enid takes in the creature, it does look disheveled and when she sniffs the air, the coppery smell hits her nostrils instantly, but she also picks up the scent of other animals on it. Really anything could’ve killed it, or it died naturally and was trod on by numerous things. The blood looks dry though and Wednesday doesn’t seem to be carrying a weapon.

“Poor thing,” she sighs sadly, looking at its little paws, “lets go bury it somewhere.”

“No.”

“No? Give it to me.”

Wednesday takes a step back and clutches it almost possessively, eyeing Enid with distaste, jutting her chin up in a challenge. “It’s coming home with me Sinclair,” she says lowly, dark eyes staring harshly into Enid’s own ones.

Of course.

“How-how did you-” Enid cuts herself off with a sigh, rocking back on her heels to see if the group has moved yet or not.

They haven’t.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yes.”

Fuck.

“Ok,” she smiles, “I’m driving you home, c’mon and hide that raccoon Wednesday.”

The smaller girl grumbles something under her breath before following Enid in what appears to be a sulk? She can feel Wednesday’s glare piercing into her back, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

Her hand opens the passenger side door as she gestures for Wednesday to hop in, watching in amusement as the smaller girl struggles with the step.

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Wednesday snaps her head around to shoot her a dirty look, “how poetic would it be for me to threaten to feed you to the wolves right now? Devoured by your own kin,” she sneers, and Enid rolls her eyes.

“This is a public, national park smartass, we don’t get wolves here.”

“Then a squirrel. I will feed you to a bloodthirsty squirrel.”

“Get in the truck.”

“And it will have rabies.”

“Wednesday-”

The three-storey gothic mansion was one that Enid had driven by many times. One that her wolf-self had howled at under the full moon, seeing as the house sits on the edge of the dark wood. Almost encompassed by spindly, decaying trees.

Yet, she’d never put two and two together.

“Hm, I was expecting a graveyard,” she muses, trying to keep her jaw from dropping at the sheer height and expense of the home.

Wednesday, unperturbed as always, merely tilts her head towards the house and murmurs, “the family cemetery is behind the house. Every Addams is buried there, I’ve already picked out my burial plot.”

Enid pales and grimaces, “cute.”

A figure, short and stout with a buzz cut of blonde hair, appears from around the side of the house with a shovel resting over his shoulder. He spots the van and raises a big hand in a cheerful wave. Wednesday scowls whilst Enid enthusiastically waves back through the window.

“Thats Pugsley,” Wednesday frowns, a strange tone delivered with the words. One of resentment, annoyance, yet there’s a slight softness to it.  One that makes Enid pause the way her fingers were tapping against the wheel.

It’s true that she doesn’t know much about Wednesday’s personal life, or her life in general.

“Oh, um-boyfriend?” She asks nonchalantly and jumps when the old Taco Bell wrapper that was previously lying on the car floor, is balled up and chucked at her head. “Ow, Wednesday what the fuck?”

“He’s my brother, imply anything else again and I’ll take that shovel to bury you in our cemetery where nobody could find you,” she says in a deathly low tone, leaning across the console and Enid gulps nervously. Not at the threat, but of how close they are. She can see Wednesday’s freckles, they’re so cute.

Oh, shit she needs to say something.

“Burying me on your family’s plot? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re growing fond of me Addams?”

Wednesday’s jaw clicks as she clenches it hard, her eyes boring into Enid’s before she abruptly pulls back. Her hands buried in the fur of the dead raccoon that Enid forgot about.

Gross.

“See you tomorrow, Sinclair,” she slides out the car with a little more grace than when she enters, with that fucking raccoon dangling at her side like a child with a teddy bear. Enid barely gets the chance to wave goodbye before Wednesday pushes the tall iron gate open and begins to chase Pugsley with the raccoon.

But one thing is for sure.

Enid can’t wait for tomorrow.

xXx

It’s gotten worse.

By getting rid of two lots of spirits, you’d think the house was quieter by now, right? No. No because somehow having less spirits, means that she hears the other ones even clearer. They know that they aren’t competing for the same amount of attention anymore. They also know that her patience is wearing thin.

When she’d gotten home from work today around six pm, she kicked off her boots, shrugged off her coat and was about to grab the scarf when she saw one end of it, lift on its own. Wide eyes watched as the scarf still around her neck, was tugged and played with. In a moment of panic, she’d shrieked and thrown the garment down the hallway, shrinking away, back pressed against the door.

Footsteps, heavy footsteps ran away, and distant giggling rang through the house.

That’s not the only thing the damn poltergeist has done recently. Today for example, the pounding on the walls, the TV flickering on and off, lights going out. She has a headache and can’t get a moment of silence.

The girl, the one who she’d never seen before, only heard, was now peeking around corners. When Enid stood idle, she could swear she felt the squeeze of a smaller, colder hand in her own. But whenever she looked down, the feeling vanished.

And the soldiers.

Don’t get her started.

The distant bickering, hushed arguments and the pop-pop-pop of their rifles all through the night is enough to make anyone crazy.

Her dinner, Kraft mac and cheese? Burnt. It set off the smoke alarm because someone or something decided to tamper with it when she left the room for literally two minutes. It’s insane and so petty and constant. She feels like she’s going insane.

And despite what the commenters on her blog think, no, she isn’t a scaredy cat. This is like a totally appropriate amount of scared. Her friends don’t come over either, mainly because the last one here was Bianca and something kept poking her head, the girl had snarled at the ghost in response. So naturally that night when Enid went to bed, something kept methodically poking her head.

“I know the whole ghost thing sucks but you meeting Wednesday is one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

Enid rubs her eyes sleepily from where she’s curled on the couch. A large bottle of water and painkillers next to her to help with the headache.

“Speak for yourself,” she sighs, “I had to practically force her to not skip around the park with a dead raccoon in her hands. It was like talking to a five year old.”

Yoko snorts, “you’re kidding?”

“Dead raccoon Yoko. Dead raccoon.”

Enid has to pull the phone away from her ear at Yoko’s cackle, wincing at the sound and then smiling faintly as she hears Divinia’s voice distantly asking what was wrong and then hearing Yoko relay the conversation back to her. Divinia’s giggles are light, shy almost in nature. But they sound lovely with Yoko’s trolling laughter and snorts.

They compliment each other well and she’s happy for them.

She also feels lonely seeing them together at gatherings.

“I think you should make a move.”

Enid almost falls off the couch.

“What?” She hisses down the phone. “How do I even know if she likes girls.”

The eyeroll from Yoko is so intense that Enid can feel it, despite the other girl being in her apartment, twenty minutes away.

“Enid there are more Doc Martens in that girl’s cupboard than at a Phoebe Bridgers concert.”

“That’s a stereotype Yoko and it doesn’t mean anything. It’s highly likely that she wears them because of how tiny she is. Oh my God I forgot to tell you, the other day she couldn’t reach-”

Yoko makes a gagging noise, “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait what-” The line goes dead and Enid pouts, chucking it onto the cushion next to her. Her head falls back against the couch and her eyes flutter shut. A deep sigh escapes her as the pounding continues, both in her head and in the house. Breathing exercises are something she’s trying but she’s had little success, she tries to begin one now but the doorbell suddenly rings, making her jump. “Coming!”

Wednesday Addams wears black overalls, thick boots and a black turtleneck.

She also has a shovel.

“Oh,” Enid says weakly. “Creepy little girl?”

Wednesday nods and steps over the threshold of the house, immediately raising an eyebrow at the commotion. The pops a head into the living room and then pulls out, continuing down the hall to then enter the kitchen.

“Active tonight,” she muses quietly, quieter than normal and Enid wonders if that was intentional.

She forces a smile on her face and nods, “yeah, it’s kinda driving me insane.”

“Understandable. This is unbearable, even by my standards. Not to worry though, the poltergeist will be taken care of next week.”

“Great.”

Don’t know why Wednesday couldn’t do it sooner seeing as he’s the worst one? But Enid bites her tongue, holding the comment back. She’s cranky, that’s all.

She makes Wednesday a mug of tea, black and she’s certain that there isn’t anything she could possibly do to ruin that. All she has to do is pour boiling hot water into a mug with a teabag. It should be simple. But Wednesday still takes small sips, miniscule expressions of distaste flickering across her face each time.

“Eugene is making me a website, like you suggested.”

Enid’s tea sloshes dangerously over the rim of the mug as she slams it down in excitement on the table. With more energy than she’s had all day, she squeals and claps her hand, high-fiving Thing who’s sat on the table.

“That’s so great! I’m proud of you.”

Wednesday fixes her with an unimpressed look, “your praise means little to me in the long run however I appreciate the sentiment. I do have one favor to ask however.”

Oh boy.

No way is Enid helping her hide a body.

“I require assistance in buying a computer.”

Enid’s smile widens and her jaw drops even further. Wednesday’s eyes also widen but in fear.

“You know what, never mind-”

xXx

“So, you’ve never seen her?”

Enid shakes her head, “not until recently.” She stands, watching Wednesday stroll around her bedroom, stopping to poke at one of Enid’s super fluffy plushies sitting on the end of her bed.

“I thought she would be attracted to toys, seeing as you have a mountain of these rainbow-colored abominations,” she opens the closet door.

“Hey they’re cute!”

The smaller girl ignores her and instead tilts her head, eyes narrowing in on Enid’s bedroom door. She stalks towards it, wrenching it open to reveal the empty hallway. A slim, pale finger is raised to full, kissable lips and her eyes meet Enid’s.

Childrens laughter.

Enid holds her breath, frozen by the familiar sound and by the footsteps echoing through the house. It fades as she skips further away and Enid sucks in a deep breath, trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

“Like I said when I investigated the house, I believe her body is still on the property, however I can’t locate it without some clues,” Wednesday approaches Enid. “Did the previous owners leave anything with the house?”

No. The house was spotless when she bought it. Except for one possible room.

“We should check the attic.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she wraps her arms around herself, stomach churning just by standing still in the middle of the attic. The low ceiling, barely brushing her head, cobwebs strung from every plank. It’s a dark void almost, if not for the single lightbulb dangling by a chain.

The flicker of the already dim light only increases her unease, and the thick, muggy, dusty air fills her lungs so quickly that her chest feels heavy. It’s hard to breathe and if she stretches her arms out, she can touch both sides of the attic.

Wednesday, however, seems to be having a lovely time on her knees, raking through a dingy cardboard box.

“Is that a raggedy Anne doll,” Enid whines. “Why is my house so weird.”

Wednesday reaches out a hand to touch it, fingers barely grabbing the red ropey hair, before she goes completely still. Her head snaps back to stare at the ceiling and Enid can barely get the chance to move forward before it’s over.

The smaller girl’s back remains arched, and she falls back onto her heels, chest heaving heavily. There’s a brief moment of sadness in those dark eyes before it’s replaced with that usual unwavering stare.

She doesn’t speak. Just places the doll back down and gestures for Enid to go down the ladder first. Enid clambers down awkwardly, like her limbs aren’t her own and instead they’re weak, made of lead. Wednesday moves down it afterward and breezes past her, boots thumping heavily down Enid’s wooden staircase.

“There.”

She points out the kitchen window to a spot in the back garden, and like a punch to the gut, Enid realizes what she means.

“Oh,” she breathes, heart clenching at the thought of a young girl being carelessly thrown and buried in her own garden.

Thing taps something on the counter before scurrying off somewhere and Wednesday nods in that same direction.

“Like I said, she’s likely unable to leave because her body hasn’t been laid to rest, instead it has been buried carelessly. I’ll need to find it and take it elsewhere and she should follow.”

Enid swallows heavily, “what was that? Upstairs I mean, was it a vision? Do you know what happened to her?”

There’s a quiet intensity in the way Wednesday looks at her right now, a conflict raging behind dark and soulless eyes.

“I think,” she begins carefully, “you should sit this one out Sinclair, go to bed.”

The gentle patter of feet, sound somewhere behind them and Enid’s brows furrow. “Why do all the ghosts have such sad pasts? Why does it feel like trauma after trauma.”

“Well, there is an affiliation between tragedy and hauntings. The more tragic the individual’s life and death, the more severe and likely a haunting is to occur. In most cases.”

Well, isn’t that depressing.

“It’s just so sad, that they’re trapped. Life is so short-you could die at any time.”

“I know, isn’t it thrilling?”

“No, Wednesday its terrifying.”

Before the smaller girl can answer, Thing returns with a headtorch, and he pulls impatiently at the cuff of Wednesdays overalls. The girl sighs and takes it from him and fastens it around her head before picking him up and placing him on her shoulder. The shovel, resting against the kitchen table and the body bag which had mysteriously just appeared, are both grabbed by Wednesday who opens the back door and heads outside without another word.

An hour.

That’s how long it takes until she finds the body.

Enid knows because she stood frozen and watched. The flickering lights, the knocking, the static of the radio, none could pull her away. The shovel hit the cold October ground over and over. Piles of dirt were thrown over Wednesday’s shoulder over and over. Again, and again and again under the shovel digs again and Wednesday suddenly stops.

Their eyes meet through the window and though its dark, Enid sees the grim look on Wednesdays face, so that’s when she decides to go upstairs to her bed. A gush of wind hits her in the face as she goes up the stairs. A cackling in her right ear, the slam of a door somewhere downstairs.

No matter how cozy her bed and pajamas are, she can’t fall asleep. The noise is constant, and she feels sick.

But there is some comfort in watching the way the wisp in the mason jar on her bedside table, zooms around. When her finger pokes the glass, the area around it grows bluer. Electric, almost. She watches in awe as the wispy blue shadows twist and swirl to mimic the form of some kind of woodland animal and bounces around inside.

She doesn’t realize just how long she stares at it, until Wednesday pushes the door open, dirt on her cheeks and hands.

“It’s in my bag, I’ve covered the hole and performed the speech, it should be fine now. I will make sure she is buried appropriately elsewhere,” she murmurs, watching the wisp too. Enid doesn’t reply, instead squeezing her eyes shut to try and ignore the headache. “Sinclair?”

One of her wardrobe doors swing open and slam loudly, paired with the on and off knocking.

She’s on the verge of tears and physically exhausted. Too tired to even ask about the ghost.

Wednesday frowns, “you should sleep?”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” she grumbles. “It’ll be pointless.”

 The sounds lessen momentarily and Enid watches as Wednesday stares down at her, thinking. She wordlessly switches off Enid’s lamp.

 “I’ll make sure they’re quiet,” she says softly. Well, that can’t be right. Wednesday Addams doesn’t speak softly. “Close your eyes.”

Enid gapes at her, “you swear?”

Wednesday rolls her eyes but there’s no malice behind it.

“On my life, now sleep.”

So, she does.

And it’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

xXx

Enid wakes to the sun kissing her face. The bright yellow beams, shining through her window, she must have forgotten to close the curtains. Her nose pokes out from under the thick purple duvet. The only part of her that’s cold. The rest, toasty warm under all her layers and blankets, limps heavy, fully sated.

 A small yawn escapes her as she emerges from her nest, and she gasps softly when her bare feet touch the cool surface of the floor. She pulls an oversized hoodie over her head and stumbles out her room.

She makes it to the top of the stairs before she freezes.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Holy shit. She slept through the whole night.

Enid almost falls downstairs at how quickly she’s moving, feet sliding against the hardwood floor and her hand curls around the banister at the bottom of the stairs. Mouth agape in amazement, she looks around in shock and is about to take a step into the living room when she stops in her tracks.

The body bag is sat by her front door and it’s obviously not empty.

Her heart stutters in her chest and her blood runs cold. A very, very small, curious part of her wants to look. She shouldn’t. But she wants to.

But then it hits her. Wednesday said that she’d take the body away and bury it elsewhere. Release the spirit and help it find peace. So why is it here? Why is it sitting in Enid’s foyer and why is there quiet shuffling in her kitchen?

Thing is on the island in the kitchen, flicking through Enid’s vogue magazine (she’s a fashion girlie at heart, ok?) And Wednesday, Wednesday sits cross legged at the kitchen table, reading.

The sun shines through the kitchen windows and from where Enid stands in the doorway, Wednesday sits in the center of its brightness. It shines behind her, encompassing her in its light and making her glow.

“I must say Sinclair, I was surprised to see Edgar Allan Poe on your bookshelf,” she drawls without even looking up from the page. Thing however, upon noticing her appearance, excitedly wiggles his fingers in her direction and Enid weakly returns the gesture.

Her bare feet pad gently across the floor and stop opposite those familiar chunky boots.

“Did you…stay here. All night?”

Wednesday looks up at her through her eyelashes and sighs quietly as though Enid is an inconvenience to her.

“I did promise, didn’t I? Of course, there was no blood pact or anything but-”

“You’ve, you’ve been here all night?” Enid interrupts weakly, throat drying as Wednesday looks her up and down. Taking in her disheveled appearance, the chipped hot pink nail polish on her toes and the orange, Halloween themed Hello Kitty pyjama pants. The forest green hoodie which she stole from Ajax months ago, detailing some sports team from his old high school.

The messy hair and the bloodshot eyes. Wednesday takes her time staring at it all and Enid doesn’t know why.

“Yes,” she answers finally. “You snore.”

Enid scoffs and makes her way to her coffee machine, feeling light and fuzzy.

“That’s such a lie.”

“Thing heard it.”

“Thing?” Enid turns to the hand, which freezes as it began to turn to the next page. “Is that true?”

The hand slowly backs away before jumping off the island and scurrying away into the hallway. Enid pouts and pulls a mug out.

“Last time I give him a pedi,” she grumbles. “You didn’t actually have to stay y’know. I would’ve managed.”

“On the contrary Sinclair, I’ve seen you tired. Its not a sight I would wish on my worst enemies.”

She bites back a smile when she pulls her oat milk out the fridge. Wednesday was not obliged to stay here; nobody could make her do something she didn’t want to do. She chose to stay because she wanted to.

Yoko’s going to freak out.

“Its uh, its really quiet,” she muses, glancing at Wednesday over her shoulder. “How’d you manage that?”

“I made myself clear to them, I would’ve completed the job but unfortunately I did not have the necessary equipment.”

Enid makes an ahh sound and sips at her coffee, watching as Wednesday stands and gathers her belongings, silently following the path where Thing previously went. Enid follows closely behind, stomach turning queasy again at the sight of the body bag.

“I will bring her to my residence, we have an incinerator in the basement, it was her wishes,” small dainty hands wrap around the handles of the bag, and she heaves it up. “I spoke to her more once you were asleep, she wishes for the body to turn to ashes and for her soul to be put to rest.”

Enid nods, “of course,” she says softly, looking at Wednesday with gentle eyes that don’t go unnoticed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, “its just-thank you, so much.”

The smaller girl nods once and squares her shoulders, stepping out onto the porch once Thing opens the door. Enid wonders if Wednesday is really going to walk home with what is very obviously a body bag. She voices her concerns and the girl simply smirks, opting for the challenge.

“See you in a week Sinclair, for the poltergiest” she nods politely and Enid waves.

“Not if I see you in town first!”

“Oh, I hope not.”

As soon as Wednesday is out of her sight and she closes the door behind her, the knocking immediately starts again.

“Fuck me-”

xXx

Nevermore squad (plus Enid)

Enid (9:38am)

omg guys Wednesday stayed the night.

Yokokokoko (9:40am)

HELLO???

Bee boy (9:40am)

Oh cool! You guys had a sleepover?

Yokokokoko (9:42am)

oh they had a sleepover alr

Bane of my existence (9:43am)

Shit fr? I thought wednesdude was into ME

Queen B (9:43am)

Xavier I will personally drive you to get your eyes tested

Enid (9:43am)

Noooo guys she just stayed over to keep the ghosts in line when I was asleep

Bane of my existence N2 (9:45am)

oh Wednesday is getting romantical with you dog

Enid (9:47am)

pls never call me that again ajax

Bane of my existence N2 (9:47am)

Noted

Chapter Text

The sight of Wednesday Addams in the computer section of BestBuy is an odd one. She complains how expensive they are (whilst wearing rings that probably cost more than Enid’s monthly bills), complains about how irritable the keyboards sound (she literally uses a typewriter), complains about the bright lighting (Enid tried to patiently explain how you could adjust the brightness).

It’s a lot.

The poor kid who had come over to try and help had quickly skittered away when Wednesday threatened to snap the lid of the laptop down on his fingers. Enid whispered an apology as he swiftly made his way to the next customer.

“Well maybe not a desktop computer,” Enid softly suggests, warily eyeing the way Wednesday is growing increasingly irritated by a crying baby nearby. “A laptop means that you can take it to places!”

Wednesday turns back to Enid and crosses her arms.

“Why would I take it to anywhere but my study?”

“Um…so you can write at the Weathervane or-”

“No.”

“The park-”

“No.”

“My house-”

Wednesday’s brows furrow, “why would I use it at your house when I’m working?”

In the desperate struggle to try and pivot the conversation back around because Enid is embarrassing herself in front of a girl who’s probably more interested in watching literal paint dry, than she will ever be in Enid. So instead, she gently grabs Wednesday’s sleeve and points in a different direction.

“Look Apple!”

Wednesday sighs and follows closely behind Enid, but not before shooting an insanely dirty look at the crying baby with beet red cheeks.

“Sinclair, now is not the time for eating, I’m looking for an electronic device that will be efficient enough to manage this website that I have been roped into creating.”

Enid’s running her fingers over a lovely, sleek MacBook as she rolls her eyes at Wednesday’s dramatics. Shopping with Wednesday is like pulling teeth, getting blood out of a stone. It’s impossible to and now she knows why Yoko had cackled down the phone when Enid had revealed her afternoon plans.

Even Divinia had sent a message offering her condolences.

“Enid this bears little to no weight,” usually elegant and careful hands, turn clumsy as Wednesday picks up the unfamiliar object and inspects it. “How does it obtain so much information?” She muses, “the mind does wonder.”

“So, this is the one?” Enid smiles hopefully and the smile wavers when it is met with that all too familiar look.

“No.”

She loses sight of the smaller girl as Wednesday puts the laptop down and walks off, quickly vanishing amongst the teenagers crowded around the newest phone or something. Of course, with Wednesday being smaller than them, she shrinks away from Enid’s eyeline without much issue.

Enid does two whole laps of the store.

Two.

Does she get distracted by Animal Crossing for the Switch? Yes, but that’s not the point.

The point is, Enid did two laps of the store, searched the entire place from top to bottom, to see Wednesday standing in plain sight, carrying a box that’s about two thirds of her size.

She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth and Wednesday looks at her with a bored expression.

“Y’know, that one’s a little old-”

“I like it.”

“You’ll want one with more storage-”

“Sinclair-”

“And one that looks like it was made within the last ten years-”

“I’m buying it,” Wednesday states, tipping her chin up at Enid defiantly, “I find comfort in old, forgotten items.”

And with a clenched jaw, Enid stands by Wednesdays side at the checkout, smiling apologetically at the cashier when Wednesday ignores all the polite questions directed towards her. But her clenched jaw slackens, and her eyes widen massively when she sees Wednesday whip out a black credit card to swipe at the machine.

Enid paid for her coffee earlier.

Unbelievable.

They took Enid’s truck, so she drives Wednesday back to her mansion and bites back any questions about the smaller girl’s wealthy background. Instead humming happily to the radio and rambling on about work to Wednesday.

The girl, despite her off putting and at times, rude, nature, she’s a really good listener. Most quiet people tend to be.

“And so, I was like, no you’re not allowed to light fires here, if you really wanna build a campfire and camp you’ve gotta do it in the woods, not this area of the park,” she vents loudly, “like who camps in the park when there is a sign right next to their site explicitly saying campgrounds that way,” she gestures wildly with her finger and Wednesday raises a brow.

“I was dared Pugsley to spend the night alone in the park, when we were children.”

Enid draws her gaze away from the road to look at Wednesday in the passenger seat.

“Oh!”

xXx

Once Enid has her eyes locked on her target, she spins to avoid the gaggle of highschoolers stood in the middle of the diner, takes a small leap over a spilt coffee, and then skips up to the counter, beaming brightly at the barista behind it.

Tyler narrows his eyes suspiciously at her.

“Hey Enid, pumpkin spice latte?” He asks as he already grabs a Styrofoam and hovers over the station, looking at her expectedly.

She shakes her head, “no, wait yes, yes to the latte, but I need something else from you.”

Tyler begins working on her order, “I’ve already told you; I’m not allowed to play any K-pop in here, its smooth jazz only.”

Its true, Tylers boss is super strict about the music that they play, not that anybody ever pays it any attention. Honestly, Enid’s only ever met the boss once and that was because she got in a fight with a bunch of normie boys who were throwing things at the back of her head, from a couple of tables behind her.

“I know and I’m devastated,” she pouts, ducking to peer into the glass display of sweet treats, trying to decide between a cinnamon role or a pumpkin shaped brownie. “But…I was wondering if maybe you could crochet something for me? If you’ve got the time of course.”

Tyler gets blasted with a hot burst of steam out of the coffee machine which Enid isn’t sure has actually ever functioned efficiently in all its time being here.

“I mean, maybe. What is it?”

“MatchingsnoodsformeandWednesday,” she rushes out, suddenly very interested in the laces of her converse.

Tyler slides over her drink and accepts her cash, popping it in the till.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Enid sucks in a deep breath, “matching snoods for me and Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” He says slowly.

“Addams.”

He blinks, “I know who she is Enid, did you miss when she insulted my crocheting skills when you guys were in here like last week. Which I know she was lying about because she wears that sweater a lot and-”

“She was probably just fucking with you.”

“Still, she doesn’t get to own my craft if she doesn’t appreciate it.”

“Please Tyler,” she begs, leaning against the counter, oblivious to the disgruntled customers waiting in line behind her. “You texted me saying you were almost finished my snood; please can you make a matching one for Wednesday. I’ll make her apologize to you.”

He freezes in his movements.

“Nobody can make Wednesday Addams do anything she doesn’t want to do,” he leans over the counter, resting on his elbows. “But I think its cute that you think you can.”

Enid holds out her gloves hand and Tyler takes it in a firm grip. They shake, once, twice, three times.

“It’s a deal,” she smiles brightly and thanks him before turning to let the next customer order and she gulps at their nasty glare.

Now she just has to figure out how to pull this off.

xXx

It’s a Sunday night, oddly enough when she receives a knock on her door.

She’d just finished her dinner, a frozen lasagna, courtesy of Bianca who occasionally will drop homemade meals off to Enid because she “worries for her health and thinks her fridge is an abomination.” Her only instructions were to put it in the oven and cook it. That was it and she almost failed at that too.

See, her kitchen windows face the garden and Enid had caught sight of the civil war soldiers in her backyard. It was a rare sight for them to be bodied and clear enough to make out. Usually it’s just clouds or mist, accompanied by distant shouts and the pop, pop, pop of rifles. The pale, floaty swirls of the Union soldiers were crouched behind nothing, leaving a wide amount of open space between them and the lone confederate who kept doing barrel rolls.

Over and over and over again.

It would be funny, if she didn’t have a confederate ghost in her back garden.

Her hand curls around the doorhandle, that inevitable, cold, curling of fear in her stomach at the question; who is knocking at her door at this time of night?

Wednesday Addams it seems.

Pretty with flushed cheeks from the cold, bathed in the gentle glow of Enid’s porch light. It makes Enid’s heart race, and that twisty feeling of fear is replaced with that flurry of excitement she gets whenever she sees the smaller girl unexpectedly.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly, and Wednesday’s eyes meet her own and Enid almost feels sick with excitement.

“Sinclair, apologies for the intrusion at such an hour, but I am afraid that I cannot come to your house on Tuesday,” she says in what Enid believes to be a mostly sincere voice. “I have an emergency appointment; however, I can come to your house on Friday night if that works.”

“An emergency appointment?”

“Malevolvent ghost.”

Oh shit.

That sounds scary.

“Can I come?”

She’s not sure who looks more surprised by her question. Wednesday, or Enid herself after asking it. She’s not sure what pushed her to blurt the question out, but now she’s rethinking all of her life choices.

“Are you insane?”

Enid rocks on her feet, her care bare socks squeaking quietly against the wood, and she puffs her chest out proudly.

“Maybe I could help?” She says hopefully, “positive energy and all?”

There’s a pause and Enid slowly raises her eyebrows because holy shit, it actually looks like Wednesday is considering her offer. The smaller girl looks back up at her, with that blank stare and that stone cold smirk.

“That may work, your positive energy may ward off evil entities and allow me to work in peace,” she muses quietly before her face hardens and she glares at Enid. “But only if you shut up and let me concentrate.”

Enid holds up a hand and crosses her fingers, scouts honor, and Wednesday rolls her eyes.

“Really? I thought I was making that up,” she misses the way Wednesday’s glare falters, and she gulps. “So why was this so urgent? It couldn’t have been done any other days?”

“No, business is booming this time of year. Its October, Halloween, the perfect haunting grounds. So, many ghosts move into new houses. The only reason I can come on Friday is because I am giving up my writing time Sinclair, so you better be grateful.”

She is. She really, really is.

“I am, trust me Wednesday I owe you, big time,” she says sincerely and swears she sees a flicker of a smile on Wednesday’s face.

“Putting yourself in my debt Sinclair?” She tuts disapprovingly, “a mistake many regret making.”

“I think I’ll be ok Addams,” Enid smiles as she leans against the doorframe. Breathless, contagious laughter bubbling in her throat and she doesn’t want this to end. The quiet intimacy of Wednesday with her breath fogged up in front of her, on Enid’s porch and trading gentle blows with each other.

She’ll miss their weekly sessions when Wednesdays done.

She’ll miss having an excuse to see her for a couple of hours every Tuesday night. Just them. And Thing. And the ghosts. But mostly them.

“I’ll be picking you up at eight am,” what the fuck, “the appointment is in Massachusetts.”

Eight am?

“Eight am?” She squeaks as Wednesday begins to make her way down the steps, across the path and through the white gate.

“On the dot, see you then.”

Shit.

xXx

Enid changes her outfit about five times that Tuesday morning. Annoyed that her favorite pair of jeans aren’t washed or that her skirt doesn’t match her jumper. Her hair decided it didn’t want to cooperate so it’s a little messier than usual. A loud bang erupting from inside her walls caused her to jump, dropping one of her rings and causing it to roll under her bed.

Then, when Enid slid out from under it, successfully retrieving her ring and finding about five random items under there that she thought she’d lost, her bedroom door slammed shut and scared her. So, she smacks her head on the bed frame just as she scrambles out. The force of which that it closed, then caused a bunch of her books to fall off their shelves and for a picture frame to slide down the wall, hitting the floor with a hard enough jolt, that the glass shatters.

So yeah. Not the best morning so far.

Once she cleans up the glass and screams into one of her squishmallows for a solid thirty seconds (new record) she is finally ready to leave. She laces up her glittery converse and snatches her phone up from her nightstand, making sure it’s fully charged before the journey and is about to leave the room when she stops.

Tap.

Enid turns around slowly, gulping and looking around the room. Where is it?

Tap, tap.

She approaches her dresser and bends down until she’s eye level with the mason jar, eyes narrowing at the swirling apparition inside it. Wednesday had said there was a spell or something (Enid got distracted looking at her freckles) that prevented the spirits from simply passing through the glass, keeping them contained until their release.

Their release.

Whenever that may be.

She raises a finger and presses it into the cold glass and watches as light blue swirls seem to press into it on the other side. A light-yellow color coming from the internal part of the ball of energy and when she pulls away, she watches as it dances around the jar.

Like it’s still alive.

Enid shakes her head and straightens up, gently patting the top of the jar and then makes her way downstairs, checking herself in the mirror for about the fifteenth time since she’s woken up. A car horn honks from outside and she nearly trips up over her feet leaving her house. Stumbling down her porch steps and out her gate.

It’s a cold October morning where the air bites at the tips of Enid’s ears and she can already feel her nose turning red. She’s going to have to be wearing a thicker jacket for work soon if it gets any colder, maybe she could-

What the actual fuck.

Enid approaches the long, sleek black car and tries to pick her jaw up off the floor as she opens the passenger side door to slide in.

“Good morning, Sinclair, shall we head off?” Wednesday says amicably, checking the rearview mirror and setting her hands back up on the wheel.

“Addams, I knew you were loaded but holy shit,” Enid whispers, mostly to herself, in disbelief. Running her hands over the fine leather seats and staring at the polished wood lining and edges of the dashboard. “Has Xavier and Ajax seen this?”

“Yes, I am open to showing it to them regularly as it is the one thing that can make them shut up.”

“I’m not surprised,” Enid breathes out, waving a weak hand at Thing who sits on the dashboard. “What car is this?”

“A 1933 Packard twelve.”

“Right. Totally knew that.”

Wednesday looks like she’s about to begin driving again when she glances at Enid and frowns.

“You have fifteen different shades of blue on your jumper,” she murmurs squinting in confusion, “its nauseating.”

“Nauseatingly cute?”

“No, Sinclair I’m about to throw up.”

“Oh, I can change?”

Wednesday clenches her jaw and turns her eyes back to the road.

“Its fine.”

They are a good twenty minutes into the journey before either one of them speaks. Enid drowsily turns her head to Wednesday, who hasn’t shifted since the journey began. The only movement being the slight turn of her hands on the wheel.

“The car doesn’t have a radio, does it?”

Wednesday’s answer to the question is the way her eyes slowly shift from the road to the old-fashioned dashboard equipped only with its various dials behind thick, curved glass. Enid supposes that it makes sense that a car from 1933 wouldn’t have Bluetooth.

“Can I play music on my phone then?” Enid prods gently, perking up in excitement, “ooh what about some Stray Kids?”

Wednesday turns her head slightly to look at Enid, interest on her face.

“Orphans?”

Enid giggles and shakes her head, “no silly, they’re a K-pop group.”

Wednesday visibly deflates at the newly gathered information.

After some consistent begging, she convinces Wednesday to stop at a McDonald’s so that Enid can get lunch. They had to take a detour because of a car crash on route. Wednesday had wanted to stick around and see the damage, Enid threatened to loudly blast pop music if she did.

The car was swiftly turned around after.

So, after she got her nuggets and fries with a diet coke (Wednesday ordered a water, literally just a water), they took off again, the town in Massachusetts coming closer as the car drives down roads with orange leafed trees bracketing it. Plenty of pedestrians stop and stare at the sleek car as it smoothly drives down streets packed with tourists and locals alike.

The trip hadn’t taken too long, oddly enough. Despite Wednesday’s unwillingness to partake in karaoke, eye spy or literally any form of entertainment, Enid had a great time.

However, when the car slows to a stop in front of a three-storey, red bricked building with white stone accents and windows sills, she’s suddenly and harshly reminded that this isn’t just a fun little day out with Wednesday. It’s a ghost hunt. A dangerous one at that.

The initial investigation was to take place now in the daylight, Wednesday had informed her when Enid asked why she wasn’t bringing any equipment inside. The couple who own the building had called Wednesday, requesting an urgent ghost extraction, meaning that not even Wednesday fully knew what was in this house.

By conducting an investigation during the day, you can properly grasp the severity of the situation. Since ghosts typically aren’t as active while the sun is out, if there is obvious activity it reveals a higher indication of a strong entity.

That’s what Wednesday told her.

“Oh, before I forget,” Enid grabs Wednesday’s arm before the girl can slip out the car and she rummages through her tote bag until she finds it. “Aha! Look, Tyler made us matching ones.”

Wednesday holds the piece of clothing between pinched fingers, “what is this?”

“It’s a snood silly, look yours is black and mine is pink!”

“Oh, Sinclair,” Wednesday says slowly, seemingly unsure how to properly respond to the gift, “I’m not sure its cold enough for this right now.”

Enid pouts and chews on her lip thoughtfully, “hm you’re right, we’ll wear them tonight then!”

“Fantastic.”

The owners Ed and Edna (weird right?) were probably in their late fifties, greying hair, shoulders beginning to round and defined lines around their eyes. Though they looked older, the stress of whatever it is inside their house has probably been the main cause of it. They’d thrust the keys into Wednesday’s hand and more or less left a cloud of dust behind them because of how fast they ran out the building. A sight which didn’t fill Enid with much confidence.

At all.

Why is she here again?

“Is it, and hear me out,” Enid says slowly, arriving into the large open living area on the second floor, having just exited the study. “That they were imagining whatever this is.”

Wednesday stands in front of a long mirror with a smooth silver frame, decorated with twists and bends. She was staring into it when Enid left five minutes ago and seemingly hasn’t moved since. She turns her head in greeting and thinks for a moment.

“Folie à deux, or shared psychotic disorder isn’t very common, but it is definitely a thing, most often seen in extreme cases with two or more people in a close relationship. The inducer would influence their delusions onto another,” she murmurs, bending down when Thing comes running back into the room. He taps a pattern onto the thick Persian rug and Wednesday nods. “Thing hasn’t seen or heard anything.”

“Can Thing, see?” Enid asks incredulously, looking at the severed hand and shrugging innocently when he turns towards her.

Wednesday brushes past her, “of course he can Sinclair, now what did I say before about stupid questions?”

“Technically you just said that I had to shut up.”

The smaller girl shoots her a dark look.

“Right, shutting up now!” She mimes zipping her lips up and smiles brightly, following behind Wednesday as the girl walks up the stairs to the top floor, the third floor.

The master bedroom, a deep, silky red queen-sized bed is pressed up against the wall that shares the door, a large walk-in wardrobe to the right as soon as you walk in with more turtlenecks and suede shoes than Enid’s ever seen in her life. The ensuite is to die for and the balcony. There are two decently sized guestrooms too, which share a bathroom and a space at the top of the stairs that has two armchairs and a dog bed.

Enid has yet to see a dog.

If this “ghost” was as serious as the owners made out, why hasn’t it shown itself yet? Honestly so far this trip has been a piece of cake, Enid’s a freaking pro at this.

“I am going to investigate the master bedroom again, stay here and keep an eye out,” Wednesday commands, walking towards the room and she turns to look at Enid once more, “and don’t touch anything.”

Enid nods enthusiastically and slowly walks around the open space, taking in the big, framed paintings adorning the walls. Honestly it just looks like a bunch of random brushstrokes but she’s sure that it has some kind of hidden meaning.

Unfortunately, she lasts about three minutes before she’s bored out of her mind and decided to text Yoko.

Enid (13:11pm)

im boredddd

yoko

are you threr

*there

pls text me

Yokokokoko (13:14pm)

Aren’t you busy with wends or smth

Enid (13:14pm)

ooooh wends, that’s a good nickname

and yeah I am but shes busy poking around in a room and I was given strict instructions not to touch anything

Yokokokoko (13:15PM)

And you’re listening to her?

Enid (13:15pm)

Im insulted you would think otherwise

Enid’s about to type out another message when she hears a small noise downstairs. Her thumbs freeze, kept hovering over the screen as she slowly walks over to the staircase and cranes her neck forward, turning an ear in the same direction.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Enid (13:17pm)

I need to go

She tucks her phone away in her pocket and grasps the railing with a shaky hand, beginning her descent slowly. Like shoes walking on carpet, likely the thick rug in the study by the sounds of it and the quiet opening and closing of drawers and cabinets.

About halfway down the stairs a familiar voice rings out and all tension immediately leaves her body.

“Oh, sorry it’s just me!” The husband, Ed calls out from the study. His voice a little warbled, but she doesn’t blame him, this house freaks her out too. “I left my phone here, don’t let me interrupt!”

Enid laughs lightly and calls down quietly to him, “do you want any help?”

“No, no that’s ok, now get back to whatever it was you were doing, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment!”

“Ok, see you later then,” she says, turning to go back up the stairs and she hears the faint thud of shoes once more.

Once she reaches the top floor, she tiptoes towards the master bedroom and almost immediately collides into Wednesday. She swears quietly under her breath and stops so abruptly that she loses her balance and reaches out to hold onto whatever was nearest.

Which happened to be Wednesday.

They grasp at each other’s arms in an effort to keep each other upright and Enid gulps at how, albeit briefly, the other girl’s body is pressed up against her own. But upon realizing their predicament, they jump apart, and Enid awkwardly clears her throat whilst Wednesday brushes her jumper down.

The Addams frowns and glances down the stairs before looking back at Enid suspiciously, “who were you talking to?”

Enid waves casually, “just Ed, he forgot his phone,” and she steps towards the top of the staircase and shouts down, “isn’t that right Ed?”

“Oh yes, just me!”

When she turns back around, her smile dies immediately at the look on Wednesdays face. The girl grabs Enid by the wrist and leads her into one of the guest bedrooms, pulling her along and stopping in front of the bay window.

“Wends I don’t know what I’m meant to be looking at here-”

“Silver Aston Marton, Sinclair, where is it?”

Enid frowns and peers out the window, looking down onto the street below. There’s a bunch of cars, just none of them match Wednesday’s description.

“There isn’t one, why does that matter?”

“Ed and Edna drove off in one, an hour ago to stay with their daughter. In Boston.”

Her blood runs cold, and she slowly lifts her head to look at Wednesday.

“So, Ed-”

“Isn’t who spoke to you downstairs.”

She doesn’t even have time to properly process what Wednesdays just told her, before the smaller girl goes flying out the room, braids practically floating mid air behind her, at how fast she’s going. Enid almost trips up over her feet trying to keep up and literally stumbles down the stairs behind her, jumping off when she reaches the last three steps and stupidly lands on her ankles funny.

The study has random cupboards and drawers and cabinets open; it doesn’t look ransacked per say, just like somebodies come in here to do this, just for the fun of it.

Because they can.

“How did-how the fuck did it sound like him,” Enid whispers, running a hand through her hair whilst Wednesday paces the room thoughtfully. “How did it-”

And at once, all opened drawers, cupboards and cabinets slam shut with an invisible gust of wind. Shutting so hard that the room shakes, and Enid can feel it in her bones. She jumps at least a foot off the ground and if she whimpered a little bit like a scared dog, then Wednesday doesn’t comment on it.

Surprisingly.

“I don’t like this.”

“Which part of malevolent spirit didn’t you understand Sinclair?” Wednesday replies coldly, knelt in front of the large window situated behind the desk. It’s all fogged up.

But it’s really not that cold right now.

And it wasn’t like that when they checked the room earlier.

Hi.

Is slowly traced out and both girls watch as the letters seemingly form on their own. Followed by LEAVE.

“I think we should leave.”

Wednesday scoffs, “give into the spirits pleas? Don’t be stupid.”

So that’s when they find themselves in the basement. The dark basement which had a lock older than the both of them combined. Wednesday goes first, torch in hand and Enid follows closely behind her, with Thing perched on her shoulder. For support.

“I suppose it does make sense for such a spirit to be found here,” Wednesday muses, descending the rickety stairs made of rotting wood.

“Hm and whys that?”

“Well, we are in Salem, Sinclair.”

Enid stops.

“We’re in Salem?” She says, voice so high pitched that even Thing tugs on her ear in annoyance. “I never would’ve agreed to hunt ghosts in freakin’ Salem.”

Wednesday turns and looks at her like she’s stupid.

“Did you not read any of the signs when we drove here?”

“Oh, you know I was asleep for most of the journey Wednesday Addams, and when I wasn’t I was on my phone.”

“Well maybe if you had an attention span that wasn’t comparable to that of a three year old, then you would’ve been better prepared.”

“Did you just call me an ipad kid?”

The smaller girl rolls her eyes and begins moving down again.

“Sorry, did the words ipad leave my mouth once?” Wednesday hisses at her, “you’re the one who brought up sleeping and that damned cellular device.”

“A phone Wednesday. It’s a phone.”

“It won’t matter what it’s called when I kill you with it.”

“Listen, this wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to play eye spy with me-oof!”

She bumps into Wednesday’s back as the girl comes to an abrupt stop. Thing’s nails scrape into her head as he clings on for dear life and Enid’s teeth clack harshly together as her chin hits Wednesday’s shoulder. The smaller girl, poised and still, doesn’t say anything.

“Ow, what the hell Addams?”

It’s then that she realizes that Wednesday’s flashlight is fixed on one specific area. Her eyes follow it carefully until it leads her to what made Wednesday stop so suddenly.

A burnt pentagram.

“Fuck me-”

xXx

Enid scarfs down her Chipotle like her life depends on it, despite Wednesdays disdain for the food. Grumbling about how inauthentic it all was, while she sat drawing up a plan. They waited until it was dark, six pm, before they made their return and Enid would be lying if she said that her knees weren’t shaking.

Some stupid kids were hollering at each other on the street too, which didn’t help her at all. She flinches when Wednesday cracks the door open and reaches forward to shut it, keeping them outside.

“Realistically, what are the chances I die in there?”

Wednesday stares at her in silence for a moment before looking back at the door and tilting her head, weighing out Enid’s options.

“Thirty percent.”

“THIRTY PERCENT.”

Wednesday pushes the door open once more and steps inside, switching her torch on too and immediately makes her way over to the study. Enid growls quietly under her breath and shuts the door, switching on her own flashlight because wow this place is creepy at night.

“I thought you were aware of what you agreed to by coming along.”

Enid scoffs and guides her light over the tall bookcases.

“How come every time I see you Wednesday Addams, I have some kind of existential crisis,” she murmurs and watches as the other girl’s lips tug upward slightly.

All previously opened cupboards, drawers and cabinets are still closed, so no sign of any new movement. Just when Enid’s heart stops racing for the first time since entering the house, a streak of black zooms into the room towards her.

A loud shriek escapes her, and she scrambles up onto the desk, head buried in her hands. Keeping her head ducked low and her body curled in, she listens carefully and hears…purring?

Wednesday, ever so contempt, stands with a slim, shorthaired black cat in her arms and strokes its head indifferently. So, the owners don’t have a dog, it’s a cat.

“Cats can be a good ally when investigating the paranormal,” Wednesday muses. “Once when I held a séance the owners cat scratched my back, causing me to turn around, just missing a book that came flying off the shelves.”

“Oh, that’s cool-wait,” Enid slowly slides off the desk and quietly walks towards Wednesday. “Do you hear that?”

A quiet creak of the floorboards and the faint sound of footsteps.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Drawing closer and closer.

The cat leaps out of Wednesdays arms and bolts out the small crack in the door, leaving them behind without a second thought. The smaller girl reaches into her bag and retrieves five small candles, placing them in a wide circle and instructing Enid to stand inside it.

Thing lights them and offers a Thumbs up, before crawling away to watch from a safe distance. Wednesday cleanses the room with sage before joining Enid in the lit circle, their bodies close together. So close that Enid can feel the rise and fall of Wednesdays chest. She gulps at how the small flames seem to roar passionately in Wednesday’s dark eyes and how the smaller girl steps closer to her.

Cold hands grab hers and Wednesday clears her throat, looking away, directing her eyes at the door.

“My name is Wednesday Addams; this is Enid Sinclair, and we are here for answers. We apologize for any disruptions caused by entering your home and only wish to communicate peacefully with you,” Wednesday calls, inviting the ghost in and her hands squeeze Enid’s tighter when she feels her trembling. “You are not allowed to touch us, do so and I’ll make your suffering increase by a tenfold.”

Silence.

“We invite you to join us, please knock once to let us know you’re here and for yes, two knocks for no,” it’s the politest she’s ever heard Wednesday speak to be honest.

There isn’t any sound now, no walking or creaking of the floorboards. Only Enid’s rapid breathing.

“What n-”

“Shhh.”

Enid sighs and tries not to focus on how Wednesday’s hands feel in hers or how warm the other girls body is presses up close to her own. Tries to ignore how shiny the black hair is under the moonlight filtering through the window behind the desk.

Suddenly, the room becomes colder, and she squeezes Wednesday’s hands even tighter. A large gust of wind hits their legs, and the candles all blow out at once. She squeals and grips Wednesday even tighter than before, without thinking about it.

One knock.

Two knocks.

Four knocks.

“What, what does that mean,” Enid gasps, listening to the multiple knocks echoing at once all over the house, shaking as they grow louder and more join in.

Wednesday has a grim look on her face and in the hallway, running up to them it sounds like a stampede of 100 different fists all knocking along the walls, getting closer and closer and closer. Charging towards them.

“It means that it doesn’t want to talk.”

The study door slams open, and the swarm of knocks are nearly deafening, shaking the furniture, and causing things to fall off of the shelves. Wednesday releases her hands and shoves her harshly by the shoulders, sending Enid flying back, smacking her head against a cabinet.

An invisible force topples into Wednesday, sending the girl flying over the back of the desk and hitting the floor. Hard.

“Sinclair go,” she yells, as loose papers from all over the desk suddenly start swarming around her, she smacks at them aimlessly and as Enid scrambles on her hands and knees out of the room, she sees Thing out of the corner of her eye rushing towards Wednesday.

Enid’s shoes smack loudly against the wooden floor as she turns the corner and sprints upstairs, glancing over her shoulder to see Wednesday now in the living room below, loudly commanding the spirit to back down, only to be further overwhelmed.

The bathroom seems like the most logical choice, Enid thinks as she locks the door behind her, not that that will stop whatever it is out there.

Her hands grip the porcelain sink and she pants loudly, throat all dried up yet her mouth waters at the same time. She feels sick. Her stomach is in knots and her knees feel like jelly. But Wednesday is down there alone and maybe afraid (Enid doubts it), all whilst Enid is up here, holding back tears like a big baby.

She tries to swallow past that painful lump in her throat and she stops her feet in frustration, turning towards the door but then backing away again.

A loud thump on the opposite side makes her look up and she hears Wednesday’s voice.

“Enid open up! I need help.”

“Oh my god, Wednesday,” she gasps, moving towards the door and wrapping her hand around the handle, about to unlock the door before she freezes. “Wednesday never calls me Enid.”

“Help!”

“You’re not Wednesday,” she whispers, backing away from the door and her back bumps into the sink. No more than ten seconds pass before the knocking stops and the whatever it was behind that door, fades away.

A loud bang erupts downstairs, and Enid hears Wednesday yell at Thing, more knocking closely follows and Enid gulps.

What can I do?

And then she remembers Bill. The world war two veteran haunting her house, and how someone that old reacted to seeing her claws.

She has an idea.

Her clothes are folded in a pile next to the sink and she paces the bathroom, trying to hype herself up. She rarely does this willingly after all.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she mutters, straining her muscles and scrunching her face up in concentration. “Come on, Enid, you can do this.”

A loud shout of pain comes from downstairs after the sound of a body heavily hitting the wall and it sounds like Wednesday. Enid’s stomach twists and she bends over, feeling her skin begin to stretch, her claws slowly slide out.

“I’m coming Wednesday!” She just manages to shout before her jaw unhinges and her muscles crack. Her tendons stretching deliciously in a way that sends a shot of euphoria through her. Her feet elongate, pushing her up off the ground and her claws curve into the expensive tiled floor.

Fur erupts from under her skin, covering every inch of her and her eyes glaze over slightly, colors shifting and hues fading. She feels big, powerful, unstoppable, so much so that she doesn’t bother trying to unlock the door with her big pointy claws, and instead tears through it. Wood splinters flying through the air and her claws clack loudly along the flooring, losing her footing briefly as she slides over a rug.

She tumbles down the stairs and enters the second floor in a frenzy, her large mane ruffling as she jerks her head back and forth, scouting the room, looking for her. A noise to her left makes her spin and she sees Wednesday on her back, with a hand stretched out protectively in front of her. Paper cuts and small nicks cover any bare skin present and a dark shadow figure towers over her.

Wednesday sneers at it, taunting it almost and Enid sees a bad of salts strewn halfway across the room.

Broken glass from a fallen sculpture cracks under her large paws as she prowls towards them. The shadows back is to her, but Wednesday’s eyes shift from her attacker to Enid. They widen and her mouth is agape slightly, she seems to completely forget about the thing trying to kill her.

Enid wishes it was alive.

She wants its blood on her tongue.

A low growl escapes the back of her throat, and the misty figure turns slowly, just in time to see Enid launch herself at it. It’s solid, oddly enough and she tackles it somewhere further down the hall, leaving Wednesday where she originally was lying.

She digs her claws into its dark matter, drops her jaw and lets out a deep, guttural roar. The power of it causing the misty face of the figure to ripple and almost disfigure it completely. It slips from her hold and darts back to where it was originally, floating right past Wednesday.

Wednesday who rests on her elbows and looks up at Enid as the werewolf prowls past her again.

“Bellissima,” she breathes out in awe, watching the rippling muscle shift under Enid’s fur.

Enid chases the spirit down the seemingly never-ending hallway, bouncing off of the walls and snapping her jaws at its heels. It moves faster, leaping down the staircase to the bottom floor and slipping over the floor as it bolts to the front door.

She watches as the swirling black mist hits the front door with a slam and shifts through to the other side. A loud howl escapes her, followed by the loud snap of teeth, hoping that sends the right message. Once she returns upstairs, Wednesday is upright and watches her approach with a strange expression on her face.

A pale hand grips a torn portion of the sofa to steady herself and her dilated eyes take in Enid’s form.

“Sinclair, I had it handled,” she murmurs, watching as Enid strolls past her, up the last staircase to the top floor. “I-Sinclair,” she hurries after her, walking with a limp. “Will you just-oh.”

She sees the broken bathroom door and Enid’s clothes sitting on the counter, so she turns to give her some privacy.

Enid’s muscles contract and she feels any previous tightness immediately loosen. She sags and almost collapses against the bathtub, spitting some of her hair out her mouth, spluttering and brushing it aside. Getting dressed after wolfing out is an odd affair, after being in your “true coat” any other clothes feel simply artificial. Too loose, too tight. Too scratchy.

Wednesday shoots her an odd look when Enid comes shuffling nervously out the bathroom, sheepishly looking at the broken door and claw marks on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to make such a mess,” she whispers, only imagining how downstairs looks.

The smaller girl doesn’t reply, only continues to stare at her.

“I-am in your debt,” she says through gritted teeth, “it was impressive, your form. I only wish the creature was alive so that I could see you tear it apart with your teeth.”

Enid laughs weakly, “oh yeah me too, I really wanted to kill it. Hearing it attack you was what made me manage to wolf out after all, I just got so mad.”

Wednesday lets out a strangled noise that Enid chooses not to comment on.

xXx

“Hey Tyler!” Enid beams, skipping up to the counter. He looks upright and smiles back at her, eyes widening when he sees who’s behind her.

“Wednesday, hi,” he says cautiously, already beginning to make Enid’s drink.

Enid elbows Wednesday in the ribs.

The smaller girl sighs and looks like she wants nothing more than to kill herself. But instead, she steps forward and meets Tylers eyes.

“Tyler, sorry for any previous comments about your gifts, I appreciate them greatly.”

“And…” Enid prompts.

“And thank you for the snood.”

Wednesday turns and gives Enid an evil look, whilst Tyler looks so shocked that he might drop scalding hot coffee on himself.

Chapter Text

The Wisp was more subdued than usual.

Enid had noticed because of the dimming of its usually obnoxiously bright light. Most nights she had to throw a t-shirt over the jar or roll it under her bed because the euphoric, vibrant glow was simply too bright for her. And the noise. Something she hadn’t noticed at first, until one particularly rare, quiet night. A gentle hum vibrating from inside the glass.

She could feel the hum too sometimes, if she held a warm hand up against the glass for enough time.

But today they’re quiet.

Yesterday too.

She’d keeps forgetting to ask Wednesday what to do with it, honestly, she’d assumed that the girl would have been back to pick it up by now. However, the topic was untouched, and the conversation was yet to exist. What Wednesday did with the other Wisps is something that’s been bugging Enid, she was given a brief overview of the various techniques, but she never learnt the final outcome.

But she shouldn’t care, should she? About a couple of pesky ghosts who were just irritating her daily, but also weren’t a severe enough distraction that they were at the front of her mind.

Maybe she doesn’t even care about the Wisps, about the “once was” of it all. Maybe she just wants another excuse to talk to Wednesday Addams. Maybe she wants to be clueless and ask Wednesday about something she’s passionate about, just to listen to the normally quiet girl ramble and rant for minutes on end. Explaining subjects to Enid like she’s five years old but also like an old friend. Maybe she just wants to push her a little, little by little each week to see if there is anything there beyond a somewhat one-sided friendship.

Because truth be told Wednesday Addams is ruining Enid’s life.

Enid thinks about her all of the time. Her stomach is constantly in knots, and it squirms and twists and flutters whenever she thinks of the other girl. Her heart skips a beat, it almost flies out her chest like in one of those old Looney Tune shows. She’s a mess and she loves it.

She loves how Wednesday pretends to hate everything but as soon as something she’s passionate about is brought up, her eyes light up and grow wide. She loves the way Wednesday calls her Sinclair, absolutely refusing to use her first name for reasons unknown and she loves how small Wednesday is. There’s a lot to love about a girl who thinks that love is childish. There should be a lot to hate, but Enid struggles when coming up with reasons to despise the girl. Thinking of things to try and put her off, to lessen her crush.

It was something she did a lot when she was younger and began to realize that she liked girls. More than a normal amount.

But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

A purple nail taps the glass of the jar and the wispy blue mist weakly clouds around that area of the jar before fading and floating idly. Enid bites the inside of her lip and lets out a disappointed sound. Maybe it’s depressed.

Can dead things get depressed?

It’s a complicated question, one she won’t bother asking Wednesday about because despite the girl’s obvious intelligence and capability, neither of those two things line up with the philosophical debates and discussions regarding human emotion.

Questions like these, however, have been popping up more often in Enid’s head, they have her thinking about things that she never really considered before. The afterlife for one thing and its complexities. It’s both terrifying and comforting and she isn’t really sure what to do with that information.

But she does know one thing.

It’s that she has fallen head over heels for Wednesday Addams.

xXx

Enid has Fridays off, which works in her favor because Wednesdays coming over later to try and sort out her poltergeist (at last). But first, she has to give in to her caffeine addiction, so she finds herself at the Weathervane, surprise surprise. Tyler’s at the counter and this further adds to Enid’s conspiracy that he lives here.

“Surprised you guys didn’t come here together,” he muses, fishing out one of the brownies from the display case and popping it into a little brown to go bag for her.

Enid tilts her head and shoots him a quizzical look, and follows his eyeline to a familiar booth with a familiar goth and a…a child?

“Oh, fuck me,” Enid whispers to herself, distractedly swiping her card and grabbing her drink and bag, making her way straight towards Wednesday. The girl looks up when she hears the familiar jingle of all the keychains on Enid’s backpack and nods politely. Her eyes only briefly meet Enid’s before she quickly looks away and clears her throat.

“Sinclair,” Wednesday greets and then looks at the child next to her in disdain. “Pubert say hello to Ms. Sinclair.” The kid, who couldn’t be older than three or four, beams up at her through the thick black curls on the top of his head and waves a clumsy hand in her direction. Wednesday scoffs at him and shakes her head in disappointment. “My apologies, he’s…an infant.”

“I can see that,” Enid murmurs, sliding into the opposite side of the booth and swallowing heavily. “Wednesday, where did you get this child? Because I’m technically a cop of the forests, I have a badge, and can legally arrest you.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.”

“Wednesday,” she hisses and looks around to see if anybody is looking their way. “I can’t deal with the kidnapping of a child!”

The smaller girl rolls her eyes and awkwardly pats the head of the kid, who for some weird fucking reason, has a black pencil moustache and is paler than the napkins wrapped around his neck to prevent any spillages.

“You needn’t worry, Pubert is my surprise of a sibling.”

“Surprise?”

“Yes, the unfortunate, disgusting reminder that my parents love life hasn’t dimmed in their later years and that my mother’s womb miraculously-”

Enid holds up a hand.

“I don’t need to hear about your mom’s womb Wednesday.”

Wednesday sighs quietly and mutters something to herself, whilst Pubert giggles, sticky fingers slick with maple syrup, bang happily on the same and Enid can’t help but coo and smile widely at him. The fact that he’s related to Wednesday, makes this even cuter.

“You never mentioned anything about another sibling,” Enid says carefully, whilst removing her treat from its packaging.

Wednesday gives her a bored look, “I didn’t think that it was something worth sharing,” she murmurs, wiping a napkin at the corner of her brother’s mouth whilst tsking disapprovingly. “He’s not exactly a spectacular sight or individual.”

“Wednesday-”

“What? I’m only stating mere facts, Pugsley could barely stomach half of my adventures in our childhood, I was hoping the newest addition to the family would be a sibling with an iron stomach and keen eye for sharp objects, but alas,” she places the napkin back down and looks down at Pubert in disappointment. “His first words were mama.”

“And that’s bad because…”

“Well, mine was cleaver-”

“I can guarantee it was not.”

“Hush Sinclair, the only interesting thing about Pubert is his invincibility.”

Enid, who was about to take a sip of her coffee, frowns and pauses. She places the cup down on the table and laces her hands in front of her, taking a deep breath before asking her question.

“And how do you know about his invincibility?”

“Well, there was the almost beheading, dropping him out a window, in fact-it may be sheer luck over invincibility.”

Enid gapes at her.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, “key word, almost, Sinclair. Don’t be so sensitive.”

xXx

Friday evening rolls around and Enid almost squeals with excitement at the sound of a small fist knocking at her door. Like clockwork she skids down the hall, stopping quickly to fluff up her hair in the mirror before sucking in a deep breath and walking towards the door.

Totally chill.

But any composure always leaves her body the second she sees that quirked eyebrow on Wednesdays face. The way she looks so cozy and at home under Enid’s porch lights, with her jacket and snood. Her large case clasped in front of her, and Thing perched loyally on her shoulder. The way her breath fogs up is extra special because most of the time Enid forgets that Wednesday actually breathes, because of how quiet and still the girl is.

And Enid can’t move, can’t say anything because Wednesday is on her porch, and she looks beautiful.

Wednesday doesn’t seem to notice Enid’s odd behavior, and if she does, she chooses not to question it, instead she picks up her case, swatting playfully at the hand Enid reaches out to take it from her, and steps inside. Immediately looking up at the ceiling when she hears a couple of loud thumps.

“You must be glad that we’re finally getting rid of it.”

Enid blinks and realizes that she’s still standing in the doorway, letting all the cold air in and staring dumbly on Wednesday.

“Huh?

“The poltergeist. It’s been causing you the most trouble, correct?”

“Oh!” Enid breathes out loudly, clumsily reaching blindly for the door handle and slamming it shut. “Yeah, yup, won’t miss him.”

Thing raises his index finger and wiggles it slightly, before jumping off Wednesday’s shoulder and onto Enid’s. His owner looks unsurprised, but her eyes do narrow slightly when they land on Enid’s face.

“Are feeling alright? Your cheeks are pink.”

Mortified, Enid jumps and laughs it off, rushing past Wednesday and walking into her kitchen. Hurriedly pulling mugs out of her cupboards and putting the kettle on.

“Haha of course! Why would you say otherwise, are you alright? You’re pretty pale, not that you’re not always pale, but just extra pale tonight-whew is it hot in here?” She tugs at her collar and clears her throat.

Truthfully, par their brief encounter at the diner earlier (probably due to a child being present) there has been a strange energy between them. The car ride back from Massachusetts to Vermont was almost completely silent, their goodbye when Wednesday dropped her off was weird and stilted, the girl barely looking her in the eye.

Since Enid wolfed out, Wednesday has been acting strange, not scared. Just…different.

Her hands rake through the drawers and pull out a few teaspoons and turns back around only for Wednesday to be right behind her and surge forward. A cold hand sliding around Enid’s ribs, caught off guard and off balance, Enid cups the elbow of that hand and with her free hand clutches desperately at the counter behind her. A cool knife is resting on her collarbones with Wednesday holding it with a steady hand.

Silver.

Enid’s body, because of the angle, naturally curves into Wednesday, her back arching slightly. The smaller girl tilts her head to the side and gently pulls the flat of the blade along one of Enid’s protruding collarbones. The metal tingles, a gentle reminder that if she’s cut with it, even the smallest nick or scratch, could be agonizing for her.

“You’re acting odd,” Wednesday murmurs quietly into the space between them and Enid feels like she can’t breathe.

Her hand, clutching the bottom of Wednesday’s elbow, squeezes gently and she gulps, very aware of how close the blade is to her throat.

“Maybe its because you have a silver knife pointed at me Addams?”

Wednesday narrows her eyes, “what are the names of my three siblings?”

“What are you-”

“Answer me,” she hisses, holding Enid tighter.

Her tongue pokes out to lick her suddenly very dry lips, and she watches as Wednesdays eyes track the movement, dilating as they do so.

Enid breathes shakily, very aware of how vulnerable she is right now but also aware of how one of Wednesdays legs are slotted in between hers. “Pugsley and Pubert, and you only ever mentioned having two.”

Wednesday stares at her a moment longer, their eyes meeting and their faces so close that Enid can feel Wednesdays gentle puffs of air on her face and can smell the peppermint on her lips. Suddenly, she releases Enid without warning and steps back, whilst Enid sags back against the counter, a hand clutching at her throat as she breathes loudly.

“Apologies for that Sinclair,” Wednesday wipes the knife on her sleeve, despite it being clean, and hides it inside her jacket. “I thought you were perhaps possessed.”

Enid stares at her like she’s crazy and jumps at the shrieking of the kettle behind her. She takes it off the heat and turns back to Wednesday who is standing there like she didn’t just simultaneously threaten Enid and turn her on at the same time.

“How was I acting possessed?” She exclaims, pouring their tea and smiling weakly when Thing pats the back of her hand in a consoling manner.

“Just strange, stranger than usual. Which is saying something because you are a rather odd individual.”

Enid tries not to take too much offence when Wednesday says this and instead shakily offers her a mug of tea, and watches as it is sipped slowly. Wednesday licks her lips and looks back up at Enid.

“If this was three hundred years ago, you would probably have been publicly stoned for this,” she places the mug down on the counter, ignoring Enid’s loud gasp of offence. “And if it was the Salem witch trials well-Sinclair it wouldn’t have looked good for you.”

“Its not that bad.”

“I can feel cavities brewing.”

Before she can retort, they both immediately snap their heads around to the hall at the sound of giggling and the kitchen door immediately slams shut.

Oh yeah.

The ghost.

Wednesday tries the handle to push it back open and frowns, “its locked.”

“That door doesn’t lock.”

“Then we have a problem.”

Some slight bickering and some investigating from Thing later, they find themselves walking around the house outside, to get back in through the front door. They walk past the three misty apparitions and Enid flinches at the sound of every pop, pop, pop.

She rubs her hands together and hops up the porch, pushing the front door open and her jaw drops. The kitchen door opposite them, at the end of the hallway, is wide open. Enid clenches her jaw and steps back inside, glaring at different areas of the house, just in case the poltergeist happens to be there.

Wednesday hums almost in amusement and enters the kitchen, opening her case and examining its contents.

“I think its about time we got rid of you.”

xXx

Enid watched from the safety of her couch and crochet blanket, as Wednesday walked through the house with sage in her hand to cleanse it. Thing had decided to keep her company, acting as a personal guard dog almost and he very bravely agreed to watch Gilmore Girls with her too.

Wednesday returns with a big bag of sea salt in her hands and approaches Enid quietly.

“Are there any areas or rooms in the house where the activity is more significant?” She asks before her eyes shift to Thing, who is all wrapped up cozy under the blanket alongside Enid. Her eyes narrow and she looks so deeply insulted and disappointed that Enid has to stifle a giggle at the sight.

“Um my room mostly? Anywhere I try to sleep he decides he needs to keep me awake, oh and obviously the kitchen,” she nibbles on her cookie and thinks for a moment. “He’s in the walls a lot too.”

“I am not being paid enough to venture into your walls Sinclair.”

“Fair.”

Wednesday covers the entryway to Enid’s room with a thick line of salt, humming pleasantly to herself as she does so. The back of Enid’s legs rest on her bed as she watches, stifling yet another yawn into the crook of her elbow. She’s honestly buzzing with excitement at the thought of maybe getting a good night’s sleep tonight.

A distant thump echoes downstairs and Wednesday calls for Thing to investigate it. He decided to stay downstairs in case something happened, and to keep watch. But she’s pretty sure that he just wanted to stay snuggled in on her couch.

“So Pubert’s cute,” Enid says casually, “makes me wonder what happened to you.”

Wednesday stands back to observe her handiwork and doesn’t bother sparing Enid a glance.

“Once again your attempt at humor confuses me,” she turns to Enid, “you are trying to be funny correct?”

Enid rolls her eyes and shrugs, “its just that Pugsley and Pubert seem lovely and friendly and you’re…well you’re you.”

“Yes well, somebody had to carry on the Addams family legacy, rather than stain it with strawberry Jello,” she murmurs, closing up the bag of salt.

“Sounds like there’s a story there?”

“A sticky one, yes, not one which I hope to relive.”

A quiet crackle draws their attention to the back of Enid’s room, where her old dusty record player that she got at Uriah’s Heap in town, begins to play. Frank Sinatra’s crackly voice reverberates through the room, bouncing off of her slanted wooden roof. Wednesday sighs and begins to walk over to it, when the bedroom door slams shut. The floor shakes and Enid dives forward to catch the jar with the wisp in it, before it can fall to the ground and smash. Her knees, thankfully covered by her fluffy pyjama bottoms, don’t hurt too badly, but a sharp jolt does shoot up her left leg at the awkward angle by which she fell.

Wednesday swears under her breath and goes to jiggle the door handle, only to find that it’s locked.

“That one does have a key,” Enid groans, rolling onto her back dramatically. “But it’s in my key bowl in the kitchen, ughhh I think my legs broken.”

The smaller girl strolls over, snatches the jar from her hands and chucks it onto her bed before kneeling next to her and abruptly poking Enid’s leg. Enid groans and Wednesday keeps poking before standing up and wiping her hands down the front of her jumper.

“It’s not broken; I’d be surprised if it even bruised.”

“Oh really?” Enid sits up and watches as Wednesday tries the door once more.

Still locked.

But tapping echoes through the wood and Wednesday presses an ear up to the door to listen, and frowns.

“Yes Thing, a key bowl in the kitchen I-Sinclair, what does the key look like?”

Enid balks, “um I dunno it’s a key Wednesday.”

The girl sighs and turns back to the door.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to try all of them Thing.”        

The sound of fingertips tapping against the floorboards grows distant and Enid moves to place her mason jar back in its original home. Wednesday paces, likely treading holes in Enid’s thick rug as she mutters to herself, wondering how the poltergeist acted so strongly in the room, despite the salts and sage, and of course her threatening presence.

Enid stops in front of the record player, her hand just hovering over the needle as she thinks and decides to do something stupid.

“You like Frank Sinatra?” She asks without turning around and can visualize the look that is accompanied by Wednesday’s scoff.

“His music is bearable, though I prefer music of a more classical, orchestrated element.”

Enid hums and turns, body humming with anticipation and she rolls her shoulders back, plastering on a confident smile and stretches out a hand, bowing dramatically, “may I have this dance,” she says in a really bad deep voice.

She doesn’t look back up until Doc Martins enter her vision and she sees Wednesday look at her oddly.

“Full disclosure, I don’t know how to dance, not to this anyway,” she smiles sheepishly and lets out a quiet gasp of surprise when Wednesday tugs her forward into the center of the room and repositions her limbs accordingly.

Enid finds herself almost nose to nose with the girl and her mouth parts at how close they are. Wednesday begins to slowly spin them and looks at her with a challenging glare in her eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to teach you then,” she pushes a leg forward to move Enid’s back and Enid tries her very best to keep up. “Step on my toes and you’ll pay the consequences Sinclair.”

Enid bites back a smile and instead tips her head back theatrically and cries out, “oh mon cher!” Thinking nothing of it, because it was a joke, like most of the interactions between her and Wednesday when Enid isn’t having an existential crisis.

There would be no indicator that what she said would cause the left hand of Wednesday’s, on Enid’s waist to tighten or the right hand in Enid’s to squeeze. For her nostrils to flare and her doe eyes to widen. She looks shocked, caught off guard and well, who is Enid if not an instigator.

“You do say the sweetest things Wednesday,” she smiles like her own cheeks aren’t red and like Wednesday’s eyes aren’t black.

She lets out a strangled sound when Wednesday suddenly dips her and Enid is swept up off her feet, being held up by the surprisingly strong shorter girl. Wednesday’s braids tickling Enid’s face as she holds her suspended above the floor.

“Y’know, there is absolutely no moment in this song where a spontaneous dip is appropriate,” Enid whispers into the space between them and she swears that Wednesday smirks before hauling her back up into their original position, if anything, even closer than before.

“The Addams are known for their unconventional dancing, you’re lucky that I haven’t brought out any swords yet.”

Enid hums and uses their newfound closeness to rest her chin on Wednesday’s shoulder, feeling the girl momentarily stiffen before relaxing.

“You mention weird stuff about your family a lot, you guys seem close,” she murmurs, trying to keep any envy out of her mouth but Wednesday notices. Of course, she does.

“Disgustingly close almost, I cannot breathe in peace without being visually assaulted by my mother and father battling with each other’s tongues,” she grimaces, swaying them gently to the music. “You mentioned a while ago that your mother was rather…critical, am I right?”

Enid clenches her jaw and stares at her bedroom door from over Wednesday’s shoulder.

“You mentioned therapy before, let me guess, court mandated,” she laughs weakly and the hand on her waist nips gently. “Ok fine, mom’s overbearing, my brothers are too much all of the time, and you’d think my dad being so quiet would be a relief when really, he was the one, I wanted to be the loudest because then he’d maybe stick up for me. There, that good enough for you?”

“My offer still stands.”

“For what?”

“To gut your mother.”

Enid pulls back to look at Wednesday and tilts her head back as surprised laughter escapes the back of her throat. They stop swaying and the hand on her waist tightens, Wednesday’s chest rises against her own and when Enid recovers from her laughing fit her smile falls at the look of quiet intensity on Wednesdays face.

The hand Enid has wrapped around Wednesdays back, slides up over the girl’s shoulders and cups the skin of her cold neck. Thumb gently stroking at her sharp jaw.

“You’ve gotta stop threatening people Wends.”

Wednesday breathes out shakily, “Enid I-”

The door slams open and a triumphant Thing stands in the doorway. The two of them jump apart and Wednesday immediately storms out her room, jogging towards the sounds of knocking within the house. Enid stands still in the middle of the room, her heart fluttering and her stomach doing flips.

Wednesday called her Enid.

She’s never done that before. The look on her face, were they about to kiss? Holy shit were they about to kiss? Enid faintly touches her lips with her fingers and follows after her, shooting a weak glare in Things direction for interrupting them.

With a blissful, dopey smile on her face, Enid begins to slowly go downstairs, only for her to be smacked back into proper consciousness by the loud sounds of crashing downstairs. Plates lie cracked and smashed up on her kitchen floor, a bag of flour spilled all over her counters. Chairs from her small dining table, lie on their sides.

“Wednesday what-”

A pale finger moves to cover those plump lips that Enid had been staring at not too long ago. Enid holds her breath and waits in anticipation with Wednesday, unsure of what she’s actually waiting for. But she watches, as an eerie crawl stretches up her back, as one of Wednesday’s braids start floating. She gulps and raises a finger, for Wednesday to side eye the invisible figure playing with her braids and making them dance.

Then a strong gust of air rushes past them, footsteps pattering faintly down the hall and up the stairs.

“Poltergeists are noisy spirits, most likely the cause of any physical disturbances. Tricksters if you will, but they won’t harm you,” Wednesday murmurs, reaching into her big case and pulling out a long metal cylinder tube. “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

Wednesday sends a small, roguish smile her way and stalks down the hall. “Where’s your sense of fun Sinclair, lost it all after your rampage earlier this week?” She lifts her head up and whistles sharply, Enid cautiously walks past her and into the living room, grabbing her blanket and clutching it tight.

Then on cue the banging began, the constant, deafening sounds thundering down the stairs and she can see the way that Wednesday’s sweater ripples with the wind, the way her braids fly, and Enid knows in that second, that this thing is heading straight towards her. In the moment of panic, she does the only thing that makes sense.

She throws her blanket at the poltergeist.

But what’s even more horrifying is the way that the blanket hits it, and midair as it collides with the ghost, she can see the form of a body through the material, and then throws up in her mouth. The blanket falls as she shuffles backwards, back colliding with one of the bookshelves in the room and she winces, preparing for an attack or something, but opens her eyes when she hears Wednesday grunt.

The smaller girl throws herself forward, container in one hand and her other hand adorned with a strange looking black glove. She collides with the invisible, yet solid object and seems to wrestle with it. Gloved hand clutching something when really it looks like she’s grabbing at thin air. Her face hardens and the container makes a sucking sound like it’s a vacuum and she pushes it forward, gritting her teeth.

With a loud pop, she smacks the lid on it and Enid watches as the container vibrates and tries to wiggle away. Wednesday’s forearms, shown off by the way she’s rolled the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows, flex and she pins the capsule down. Thing scutters in, rolling a thin glass vial full of salt along the floor as he does so and Wednesday picks it up, pushes it into a compartment in the cylinder and a quiet, schoosh, sound is made. Enid watches with her mouth wide open, as the container stops shaking and Wednesday wipes her brow and brushes her hands off. She instructs Thing to pop the cylinder into her big leather case, and watches as he rolls it away.

Wednesday’s gaze shifts to Enid and she raises her eyebrows, a blank look falling on her face once more.

“Enid Sinclair, werewolf, park ranger, survivor of San Franciso-”

“It’s really not that bad-”

“Throws a blanket at her opponent?” Wednesday says unimpressed, bending down to pick up the empty glass vial, popping it in her pocket. “I have to say, a downgrade from your performance on Tuesday.”

xXx

“You know,” Enid starts as she finishes brushing up the flour whilst Wednesday straightens up her chairs. “You’d be an annoying ghost.”

The smaller girl buttons, zips up, and locks her massive case, tugging on her jacket and snood, preparing for the journey home. She’d stayed a little longer to help Enid tidy up, because this ghost was committed to making Enid’s like hell in every possible way.

Wednesday observes her carefully and tips her head, “yes, I would perform miniscule tasks over time, similar to the simple, yet flawless execution of the Chinese Water Torture. The drip, small at first but over time it would turn you insane.”

Enid lets out a disbelieving laugh and empties her dustpan into the trash can, giving Wednesday a fond look.

“Well, feel free to haunt me as much as you like.”

It slips out in such a way that she doesn’t even register what she said, until something flickers in Wednesday’s eyes and the girl swallows deeply. She nods shortly and begins hauling her case to the door, Thing scurrying after her.

She regards Enid carefully, the usually guarded expression loose, tired almost. Which is understandable as it is one am.

“You’ll enjoy tonight’s sleep then?”

Enid squeals and claps her hands, “oh you have no idea, just imagine how it’ll be after Tuesday!”

Their last session.

Wednesday nods and pulls open the front door, stepping outside and Thing hops up to stand on top of the case and he waves happily at Enid. Gosh, they really need to schedule another pedicure for him, because those cuticles are not looking good.

“Goodnight Sinclair,” Wednesday says politely, like she always does and Enid, who’s wrapped around her doorframe smiles goofily back.

“I like it when you call me Enid,” she says playfully and watches as Wednesday’s eye twitches, likely being reminded of her slip up earlier.

“Maybe next time,” she murmurs softly, and Enid lets out a happy sigh, not even the pops and faint yelling of the civil war reenactment on the far-left side of her garden, can distract her. She shuts the door, biting her bottom lip so hard that it might bleed, and she twists the lock, then urgently pulls out her phone.

Enid (01:27am)

Yoko call me NOW

Yokokoko (01:38am)

bitch I was sleeping

Chapter Text

It’s a fairly well-known, common-sense idea that you shouldn’t get drunk in front of your crush. There are perks of course, if your crush is also drunk, you guys might start drunkenly flirting, maybe hook up (consensually of course). Alcohol acts as liquid courage, maybe you gain the confidence to hit on them, confess your feelings.

Some people when they’re drunk gain confidence, whilst others get shy. Bianca gets very loud, Divinia gets very musical, along with Tyler. Yoko thinks she can suddenly take everybody in a fight (which isn’t far from how she acts sober), Xavier tries to climb everything (also not far off from how he acts sober. Eugene doesn’t drink, so nobody has to worry about him.

Enid gets clingy.

And sleepy.

Which wouldn’t be a problem any other time, in any other location. Usually, she’d be out cold on someone’s couch or curled up on one of her friend’s shoulders in the booth of the bar. But she’s not sitting with her friends, they’re up drinking and dancing in a way that almost hurts to watch. She says almost because if her legs weren’t tingly and numb and her body wasn’t squeezed in between the booth and the wall, and if the world stopped spinning for one. Single. Moment. Then she would be up there with them right now. But once again, she overestimated how much she could drink, and Eugene wasn’t here tonight to monitor her, he had a bee convention in California or something, so her friends called in the next best person to chaperone/act as designated driver.

One Wednesday Addams.

Enid watches from her corner, with her knees pulled up to her chest, as Wednesday scowls at Xavier, from where he stands on the small stage singing karaoke. Putting shame on Shania Twain’s name. The small girl squeezes past other people and makes her way to the booth, Enid peeks out over the top of her knees and presses her smile into the denim.

“Water, Sinclair,” Wednesday pushes the chilled glass towards her. “Drink.”

Enid pouts and rests her chin on her knees, “I can’t, my arms are like jelly,” to prove her point she wiggles her left arm and almost knocks the glass over in the process.

Wednesday sighs deeply and retreats back to the bar, Enid faintly calls out her name and stretches a hand out in the direction Wednesday went. She didn’t think that the girl would leave. This is why they should just stick to coffee dates. The object of her affection returns, moments later with a straw in hand. A red and white striped one in fact, that Enid coos at and it won’t occur to her until the next morning when she’s groggy and hungover, that the bar always uses black straws for drinks unless you order this one specific tropical cocktail. So Wednesday specifically requested the colourful straw for Enid.

Despite her previous claims that she was allergic to all colour.

A pale hand swipes at Enid’s converse that are up on the faded leather green seating of the booth, and she grumbles as she swings them round onto the floor. Wednesday slides into the booth next to her, keeping a reasonable amount of space between them, but Enid is drunk, clingly and isn’t aware of boundaries at the moment, so she shuffles closer.

Wednesday’s almost drowing in a baggy leather jacket, the sleeves inching over her knuckles in a way that makes her look so small and so cute and Enid’s feeling a lot of things right now. A straw is poking at her lip and she blinks slowly, wondering how her drink is levitating but then sees Wednesday holding it in front of her face.

She wraps her lips around the straw and sucks, trying to see if she can down the glass in one go (she can’t) and she stares at Wednesday, holding such intense eye contact that the other girl rolls her eyes and looks away. Eventually Enid has to come up for air, so she pulls away and gulps loudly, chest heaving and she watches as Wednesday puts the glass down.

Aw shit she only drank like quarter of it.

“S’nice of you to come out tonight,” she shouts over the music, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Different than the weathervane, huh?”

Wednesday nods, staring in confusion at Xavier, who’s on Ajax’s back, and their rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.

“Yes, the Weathervane was full of people who hated themselves and carried little meaning or drive with them,” she murmurs and turns her head towards Enid. “I miss it.”

“Pshhh,” Enid clumsily pushes Wednesdays shoulder with her hand, a little more forcefully than she should but the girl just shoots her an amused look. “You’re having fun. I’m here and I’m, well I’m me-”

“That’s right.”

“And I’m, you-listen,” Enid rests an arm across the back of the booth and leans in close to Wednesday. “I think you like me,” she whispers between them and looks Wednesday confidently in the eyes, “I’m like, on a scale of, of, of like 0-100, I’m 78% sure you like me.”

Wednesday leans in too and drops her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “78%, that’s an interesting number Sinclair, have you got any equations or evidence to back it up.”

Enid blinks rapidly to try and stop the world from spinning and she nods slowly, tapping her forehead and she mouths, “all in here baby.”

Wednesday Addams is somebody who Enid knows takes joy in other peoples embarassment or misfortunes, so this should be prime time enternainment to her. She should be taking this opportunity to poke fun at Enid, but instead she picks up the glass of water and offers it to Enid once more.

“Have some more before I drive you home Sinclair.”

“You got it babe.”

“Ow, fuck!”

Enid bangs her forehead on the front door to her own home as Wednesday twists the key in the lock for her. The door opens with a creak and they’re welcomed by a silent house, a rarity, but hopefully from now on a more common scene.

Cold fingers wrap around Enid’s wrist and tug her inside, hauling her arm over Wednesday’s shoulders, the smaller girl basically drags her upstairs towards her bedroom. Having to stop every few seconds when Enid loudly announces that she might throw up.

She never does.

Her top is pulled over her head and Wednesday abruptly turns away when Enid does this unexpectedly. Enid giggles and trips on her way over to her dresser, pulling on an old soccer jersey. She pulls down her pants and steps into some Care Bears shorts, shuffling over to her bed and faceplanting forward into the mattress. She hears a sigh behind her, and strong arms haul her up into a better position, and a blanket is laid carefully over her body.

Enid blinks blearily, focusing really hard on the figure above her, or else she might give into her queasy stomach.

“Wensday,” she slurs and makes grabby hands at her, “you’re so small.”

She gasps in pain as Wednesday quickly flicks her forehead, “Sinclair, its best you don’t insult me in your intoxicated state, whilst I’m in your home.”

Enid shoots her a finger gun and smiles, “gotcha.”

“I’ll lock up ok?”

She hums happily, snuggling into her blanket and ignoring the way Yoko is likely blowing up her phone with messages about hoe Enid left the bar with Wednesday’s arms all up around her. Her head, feeling heavier than usual, keeps her in that position until the morning.

Then she really regrets how much she drank.

xXx

“Not a word,” she groans as she slowly eases herself into her seat. Thick sunglasses over her eyes to hide the morning sun and maybe ease her thumping headache.

Waking up this morning was harsh. Enid’s never been much of a drinker, she’s never been able to hold her liquor either. She’s not sure if the reason she doesn’t drink often is because she can’t hold her liquor, or if the reason she can’t hold her liquor is because she doesn’t drink often. Because she never learns her lesson, and always wakes up feeling like she wishes that she’d died in her sleep.

The group chat isn’t doing much better, especially Ajax who got stoned and woke up in a park a couple of towns over, for reasons unknown. Even though Bianca said that Wednesday drove him home.

Came back for Ajax after dropping off Enid. What happened there by the way?

Enid stared at the text for a solid three minutes, whilst swaying weakly in the bathroom, trying to will herself into showering. Her brain working sluggishly, and she turns away to splash some cold water onto her face, clutching the sink and trying to swallow down any more bile.

Wednesday had driven her home?

After standing still in the shower for about twenty minutes and feeling sorry for herself, she got dressed, walked out the house and into town, with her eyes fixated carefully on the ground. Silently hating everything around her with a burning passion.

The Weathervane, her hero in the darkness, in all its shitty small-town glory, calls to her for a greasy breakfast. But of course, Wednesday is there, because she’s always there now. Enid still hasn’t really spoken to her about that yet.

“Sinclair, although I have seen you transform, your current complexion makes me question whether or not you may be a vampire,” the girl muses, glancing at her over the top of her newspaper and Enid scowls.

Who even reads newspapers anymore.

“Can it Addams, I’m totally hungover.”

“And the sky is blue Sinclair,” Wednesday places the newspaper to the side and looks over her shoulder to where Tyler stands with his arms resting on the counter and his head buried in them. “I fear Tyler won’t be much help today, he handed me an empty cup earlier.”

Enid winces and watches as Tyler lifts his bed head up to blink blearily at a customer and takes their order. Good thing Enid isn’t working until the evening today.

“Did-did you drive me home?” She says casually, glancing out the window as she does so, unable to look Wednesday in the eye.

“I did, you were very fascinated by my car again, in fact, the revving noises you were making were uncanny-”

“Oh my god, stop,” Enid turns to face her, jaw dropping. “I didn’t did I?”

Wednesday shrugs and picks up her coffee, taking a small sip and pulling a disgusted face like she always does when she orders it.

That dick.

“I wasn’t that bad though, was I?”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Wednesday says carefully and oh. Something happened. Something big enough for Wednesday Addams to hesitate and be careful with her words, careful not to overshare or overstep.

Something happened and Enid can’t remember a thing.

She shakes her head, hands squeezing the seat beneath her with anticipation and Wednesday hums thoughtfully.

“Interesting.”

“Wednesday,” she groans, pressing her fingers into her temple and gently massaging the tissue there. “Please just let me know what I did so that I can apologize-”

“We need to discuss something else.”

“Wends-”

“Hush, I’m bored of this conversation-”

Enid splutters.

“I have something I need to confess,” Wednesday drawls, cupping her hands around her mug and straightening her shoulders. The way she purses her lips and seems to clench her jaw shows how uncomfortable she is, and Enid begins to wonder if it’s to do with the possible thing she did whilst drunk. “Or rather, something to ask.”

She sits patiently as she waits for Wednesday to talk and tries not to think about how the sun’s rays shine through the window onto Wednesday’s black hair. Enid had been the one to ask a few days prior to now if the shorter girl had wanted to meet up for coffee this morning before Enid’s shift at 9, in some kind of one last moment of desperation to try and convince the girl that she’s still cool and interesting without the ghosts.

Because honestly, she’s worried about what might happen once Wednesday catches these last ghosts, how often, how regularly will they see each other. Will Enid have to wait weeks for Wednesday’s schedule to clear, just to see the girl for a few hours with all their friends?

“I must ask because something has been irritably tickling the back of my mind-”

“Ok…” Enid says slowly and watches Wednesday’s nostrils flare at her interruption.

“I didn’t need your help with the malevolent ghost. I could have handled it on my own, in fact the only reason I struggled so much was because I was distracted by the knowledge that you were in the house too, vulnerable. Afraid.” Her eyebrows pinch together, and Enid feels like she’s watching her speak in slow motion. “The positive energy thing? I lied, I wanted your company oddly enough, so I feel the need to ask…Sinclair, have you put a spell on me?”

Oh.

Enid’s well aware that she could catch flies with the way her mouth hangs open. She pushes her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and her lips twitch with the beginning of a smile.

“Wednesday Addams,” she starts quietly, excitement brewing under every syllable. “Are you asking me if I’ve bewitched you?”

Dark eyes snap to meet her own bright ones and the other girls stare is deadly.

“Yes,” she murmurs unwaveringly, and Enid’s chest feels tight.

So, she fixes Wednesday with a soft smile in response and the girl huffs in frustration. Enid slides out the booth and rounds the table, watching as Wednesday peers up at her with trepidation, her hand etching towards a nearby teaspoon.

Her chosen weapon.

Enid places a mitten covered hand on the cheap material of the booth, above Wednesday’s head and uses it to lean down. Her nose brushing against Wednesday’s.

“You’re smart Wends, you’ll figure it out,” and she does something crazy.

Wednesday’s cheek is cold under Enid’s warm lips, but she doesn’t move away. Doesn’t complain about sticky lip gloss or the alcohol that is undoubtedly still lingering on Enid’s breath, despite how many times she brushes her teeth. In fact, she blinks. It’s fast and Enid almost misses it, but she didn’t.

Wednesday blinked.

When she pulls back, the smaller girl tries to glare at her. Pink dusted cheeks and an unsure frown. Enid giggles and waves her goodbyes, needing to get ready for work. The warm ball in her chest spreading as a pale Tyler catches her eyes on the way out and offers her a weak thumbs up.

She can’t wait for tonight.

xXx

There’s a gentle layer of frost growing and spreading across Enid’s windowpanes when the evening comes. The wind had a sharp bite to it earlier when she was at work, mittens tucked tightly into her jacket and red nose burrowed into the wool of her snood. What made the nippy, dull cold even worse was when that truck drove straight through a puddle when it sped past her on her way home, completely soaking her clothes.

The wet scratchy fabric basically clung to her legs, and she hopped from foot to foot, murmuring ew, ew, ew as she did so. Chucking her uniform into her laundry basket and throwing on her pyjamas without a second thought. Her oodie too, and she sat herself down on her couch, dinner on her lap, counting down the minutes until Wednesday arrived. Anticipation fizzling in her stomach, so much so that she could barely stomach her dinner.

But of course, she wasn’t waiting long.

Wednesday Addams cold, bony knuckles rap on her door at exactly 9 o’clock and Enid will open the door to see the short girl accompanied by her dead hand sidekick and that hefty case that is so suspiciously big, that Enid thinks a body could fit in there. That’s probably why Wednesday bought it, if she thinks about it.

“Hi,” she breathes out quietly as Wednesday moves past her into the house. She ignores the pointed look that Thing gives her, and she wonders how a severed hand manages to shoot her such a sassy glance.

“Good evening, Sinclair, the moon is out tonight, alas not a full one,” she strolls into the kitchen like she owns the place. “I do hope to see you transform again soon, as to release your inner beast on a living victim, rather than a dead one.”

“Enid,” she reminds Wednesday gently, remembering their conversation from last week and she watches as Wednesday ignores her.

“Why don’t you make us some tea, I’m feeling venturesome.”

“Funny,” Enid snarks, but she puts the kettle on the stove anyway and pulls out the mugs. A pink unicorn one for her and a plain black one for Wednesday.

She watches as the shorter girl removes her coat, leaving her in a baggy black knitted jumper, black slacks and black boots. Wednesday flicks, switches and turns the various locks and zips on the case to open it and she methodically begins to remove equipment that she deems suitable. Thing hurries off somewhere like he always does, and Enid has never thought to ask. Does himself and Wednesday discuss a plan of action before coming here? Do they speak about her?

The sugar on the spoon slips into her mug, and she’s about to add Wednesday’s when she pauses and shakes her head, keeping the drink plain and dark. She presses the tea bag against the side of the mug with the spoon, before she removes it and then tosses it in the trash. She forgoes any milk for Wednesday too.

As always, the girl ignores her cookies, but she takes the tea from Enid with an almost impressed look. She sips it before Enid can warn her that it’s piping hot, but Wednesday doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she doesn’t flinch.

From neither heat nor disgust.

“So, what’s the plan boss?”

Wednesday wrinkles her nose slightly at the term and looks up at her with a cryptic look.

“Well, three ghosts-”

“A shit ton of ghosts more like-”

“Sinclair-”

“Right, sorry.”

“As I was saying,” she takes another sip of her tea and Enid tries not to squeal at the sight. “It’ll likely take longer, they may have conflicting reasons to stay, we already know that they are in disagreement with each other.”

Stupid confederate living in her yard.

“I may need to separate the subjects, banish them separately. But first I will conduct my investigation, then decide what path to take from there.”

Enid nods enthusiastically, “of course, but first; Halloween cookies!”

“Sinclair-”

xXx

It’s freezing when they step outside, and Enid immediately regrets offering to help. Wednesday doesn’t seem to mind it however, in fact she hummed happily when she was hit with the blast of ice-cold air when Enid wretched the door open. Its old hinges are squeaky and needing replaced. Among other things, unfortunately Enid’s not much of a DIY girl. Sure, she’ll go on a shopping spree in Home Depot and buy all sorts of cute cans of paint whilst creating super aesthetic boards on Pinterest. But when it comes to the actual work?

Enid’s not a fan.

She looks pretty cool right now though with the glaringly bright head torch strapped on her head and the shovel in her hands (just in case they need to dig up a body. Obviously.) Wednesday walks empty handed over to the patch of grass by which some near translucent apparition’s float. Not quite forming clear shapes or figures, just festering there with whispers and hushed words seeping from them.

Wednesday holds out an arm to Enid, signaling her to stop, whilst she continues forward until she’s right in front of them. She clears her throat and Enid watches anxiously as the clouds begin to form three figures. Soldiers in their uniform, two close together and the third a significant distance away. The confederate’s nose is square and misshapen like it’s been broken many times, his skin from what she can tell through the dull colors, has a deep natural tan and short dark hair peeking out from under his hat. The other two, one with a pencil moustache and a ratty mess of hair above his head, the other with a light, thick beard and a helmet strapped firmly atop his head.

“What is your business here?”

All three of them splutter at once and all begin shouting over each other. Wednesday allows it for a total of two seconds before she rolls her eyes, reaches into her jacket and pulls out a grenade. The soldiers all gasp when they see it and dive to the sides as Wednesday pulls the pin and throws it at them. Enid shuffles backwards in a hurry, raising an arm over her eyes and tensing, waiting for the worst and she looks up in confusion when it doesn’t come.

Glitter and confetti litter the grass around the grenade.

Wednesday looks back at her, “one of Pubert’s recent birthday presents, from his My First Grenade set.”

Because that makes it better.

She turns back to the trio and points to the ghost in the middle, he shakily shifts, his silvery essence morphing, fading in and out as he moves. Not quite committing to being just there, instead breaking away into wisps and tendrils, the slivers and whites and blues in stark contrast to the gloomy sky and dark shadows of Enid’s yard.

“You. Speak, the other two will keep quiet until spoken to. Am I clear?”

Enid almost feels dizzy watching the three wispy, translucent spheres rapidly nod, but she’s impressed with how quickly they all quieted down.

“Good, now why are you still here, and why are you causing such a commotion.”

The man with the thick beard clears his throat and adjusts the helmet strap under his chin. He eyes Wednesday warily and Enid’s head torch.

“Well, um, me an’ Arthur,” he gestures to the man closest to him, “served together, when we won the war, we erm bought this property here, for ourselves. Arthurs a widower, wife got pneumonia-”

The other soldier, still sat on the grass shakes his head, “bad business.”

“Did I ask for your fucking opinion Sawyer?”

Wednesday reaches into her pocket and they both shut up.

“Um anyways, we was both dirt poor, I got a job on a ranch and Arthur ran deliveries, but we needed to rent out the other room, so that’s where Sawyer comes in. We get along alright till one day I was snooping in Sawyers room because I needed some pomade and saw his uniform,” he sneers as he says the last word and shoots Sawyer a dirty look. “That’s when I told Arthur that Sawyer was a Johnny Reb-”

Enid rubs at her temples and sighs, “what’s a Johnny Reb?”

The smaller girl rolls her eyes, “the common nickname of a confederate soldier, Sinclair. Would it kill you to pick up a book?”

Enid’s eyes narrow but the man continues without skipping a beat.

“So, we was hunkered down in the house for days, didn’t leave our rooms, we was screamin’ through the walls, white-knuckled holding our pistols and rifles. It was a bloodbath, Arthur was shot by Sawyer in the house, and me and Sawyer finished each other off in the yard here. Not a clear winner unfortunately-”

“I shot you between those tiny milky eyes Brooks, fair and square whilst I bled out.”

“That’s not what happened-”

“I was the last to draw breath, so I won.”

“Well-”

“Quiet.” Wednesday’s voice is like ice as it cuts sharply through the air. The three men pause their arguing to stare warily at her. She stalks slowly towards them, shooting the Confederate, Sawyer, a deathly look before regarding them all once more. “You’re dead, as I’m sure you are aware, if not, then I sympathize with the severe lack of braincells. This, is Ms. Sinclair’s property now.”

They all look over at her and she raises her hand in an awkward half wave.

“She has been struggling to sleep, which makes her tired, which makes her annoying-”

“Hey-”

“And she has employed me to solve that. You have until sunrise to effectively sort out your disputes and leave this property willingly, or I will make you. I will shove you into an airtight container where you will not see the light of day ever again, you will not feel or hear or see. Or I can curse you to an eternal damnation, do you understand me?”

A chorus of yes ma’ams fill the air and Wednesday nods, satisfied and clasps her hands over each other.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Sawyer steps forward, a hand over his heart and looks to both Wednesday and Enid, “well I died on this land, isn’t it fair that I get to spend the rest of my years here. I’m a religious man, some things ain’t natural, and forcing the moving of my spirit isn’t.”

Wednesday, much to Enid’s surprise nods and offers him a pleased smile, “of course, follow me into the home and we’ll discuss a more permanent option.” She walks past Enid, a fully, smug, closed lip grin on her face which makes Enid shiver.

There’s a sneaking suspicion she has, and she does not like that one bit.

Brooks and Arthur stare at her expectedly, assuming that Enid knows what Wednesday is off to do, which isn’t a weird assumption. Two people, kind of working together, you’d think that communication may play an important part in their dynamic? But no, weeks later and Enid can still only read Wednesday on a surface level. Only understanding and interpreting what Wednesday allows Enid to see.

“So, the others, did you…” Arthur trails off, gesturing towards the house and Enid follows the movement and blinks slowly.

“Oh yeah!” She perks up, “um the other ghosts or spirits I guess, have been moved off of the property. Think of it as an eviction-wait! No, that makes me sound like an asshole,” she mutters to herself, adjusting the head torch. “They were pretty noisy and I couldn’t get my beauty sleep y’know?”

They both nod slowly.

“So like, its totally not personal by the way,” she reassures them quickly, “its just, you’re dead, I’m alive, things are awkward-”

Arthur elbows Brooks and jerks his head towards Enid pointedly, “well its probably for the best, you were quite loud, distracted us a lot of the time-”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m loud?”

“Honestly constant chatter and music, we couldn’t concentrate for the life of us.”

“This is unbelievable.”

Enid takes a step back and looks back over her shoulder at the house. Wednesday’s been gone a little while. She wonders if she’s alright, maybe she should look, just in case. The two ghosts couldn’t care less when she tells them that she’s going inside, instead choosing to continue their commentary over Enid’s peculiar music taste. Thing waves at her from the back door and she smiles brightly at him, about to ask if he knew where Wednesday was, when she enters to see a strange sight in her kitchen.

Wednesday Addams, in Enid’s pink apron and her rubber cleaning gloves, sage green with little yellow duckies on them. She clutches a wet cloth in her hands and Enid’s eyes slowly glide over the small girl, down to her feet and down to the black, sooty mess on her kitchen floor. Wednesday has the decency to look guilty and clears her throat, she holds up the cloth.

“I was going to clean it up.”

Enid breathes out a shaky laugh, watching the girl kneel down and begin to scrub her floors.

“What happened, did you banish him to hell or something?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit Wednesday?”

xXx

So, ghostly remains and hellfire burns take a lot of scrubbing, but they do eventually come out. Thankfully, her other two ghosts can’t go anywhere so there’s no chance of them running away whilst they cleaned.

“A while back,” Enid starts casually, rinsing the now black cloth under the tap, “you mentioned court mandated therapy? Do I wanna know what that’s for?”

Wednesday hangs the apron back up and dusts herself down, looking as immaculate as ever.

“I dropped a bag of piranhas in one of my high school swimming pools, the team captain is…now unable to bear children.”

Enid’s head snaps around to gawk at her, “you’re joking?”

Wednesday shakes her head, “attempted murder, pathetic on my record, what’s even worse is the retribution for my actions. I am legally obliged to see a therapist once a week, until this country’s poor excuse of a criminal justice system, deems me ‘not a threat.’ An aimless task I’m afraid.”

“But piranhas?”

“The boy I was after was bullying Pugsley,” Wednesday spits out, “he wasn’t even doing it well.”

Enid turns and leans back against the sink, a small flutter soaring around her stomach at the notion of Wednesday doing it for the little brother that she “claims” to dislike.

“That’s sweet.”

The look she receives in return almost burns her to crisp like Sawyer.

xXx

“Thank you for understanding,” Enid expresses genuinely, watching as Wednesday creates a circle of salt around the remaining soldiers. Thing sits up on Enid’s shoulder defensively, his fingers twitching any time one of the apparitions moved too suddenly or in an odd way.

“It’s really no bother,” Brooks puffs out his chest and straightens up the helmet on his head. The blood stains on his face, like ink against the silvery essence of his skin. It’s an eerie sight, one that Enid won’t miss.

They had both chosen for Wednesday to peacefully rid themselves from the world, to just disappear completely. A scary thought that Enid’s trying really hard not to dwell on.

A thick book is now held in Wednesday’s hands as she flips the pages, Enid peers over her shoulder and squints.

“Is that Spanish?”

“No, its Latin Sinclair, next you’ll be asking if the sky is green.”

“Hey!”

The soldiers link hands in a quiet, discreet display that has Enid trying to swallow the lump in her throat. They’d been pretty quick to agree when Enid had offered for Wednesday to put their spirits to rest. No other residents had stayed long enough or cared enough to really take enough interest and action in taking care of the ghosts. Most left quickly, too spooked to enquire further. Others tried to ignore it for as long as possible before they eventually sold the house.

She can’t imagine the list of residents before her. Some lasted years, others months, but all too disrupted to really plant roots and stay. But now for the first time in maybe a couple hundred years, the house will be at peace.

And maybe the neighbors won’t hate her as much.

They were generous and let the soldiers have some time, they requested a little longer on Earth before they left forever. They’ve been stuck for hundreds of years, fighting the same battle every night, but still the thought of suddenly leaving now made them realize just how much time they wasted. The sunrise, Arthur had whispered, the bottomless white pits that were his eyes, widened. They both wanted to see the sunrise once more.

Wednesday and Enid sat on the front porch for about an hour or two or three. Sharing anecdotes and odd stories to pass the time. Enid spent a good forty-five minutes introducing Wednesday to TikTok, and the smaller girl insulted her more times in that forty five minutes, than she has the entire time they’ve known each other.

“Could Thing come over sometimes to hang out?”

Wednesday’s lips twitch slightly, and the chilled air betrays her because Enid sees the small puff of laughter escape her lips.

“You want to spend time with him? Willingly?”

Enid, wildly offended on Things behalf, bumps her shoulder against Wednesday’s and gasps, “well duh. He’s a great conversationalist oddly enough, better then you anyway and um plenty of arms would be…lucky to have him?”

Thing, sat (stood?) a few steps down from them, gestures towards Enid approvingly in a way that says, “damn right.”

Enid smiles at him and shivers a little, looking back towards Wednesday and finds herself suddenly out of breath. Had they been this close before? Had Wednesday always stared at Enid’s features so openly? She’s also aware of how Wednesday’s knee is knocking against Enid’s and how their hands brush from their spots on the porch.

“What?” She whispers quietly, a shy smile on her face and Wednesday stares at her with furrowed brows like she’s deep in thought.

Twin braids whip around as Wednesday wordlessly shakes her head and looks back at the pair of ghosts moonbathing on Enid’s lawn.

“A fork in the road Enid,” she murmurs and stands suddenly, walking towards the front door. “It’s almost sunrise, I must grab my spell book and began the incantation with the rising sun, or else we will have to wait until tomorrow night.”

Enid watches her go and deflates a little, smiling sadly when Thing gently consoles her by tapping his index finger against her boot.

But a small smile flickers across her face despite this.

Wednesday called her Enid.

She feels like she should be doing something important. Like holding a melting candle or waving sage around. But she’s stood in pajama bottoms, a massive fucking parka jacket and a headtorch which is definitely squint.

“Praecipio tibi ad requiem aeternam,” Wednesday says loudly and Enid sucks in a sharp breath when the salt line around them begins to glow a soft yellow. “liberati estis a vinculis qui te ad terram nostram alligant!” Her voice grows in volume and Enid sees one of the lights come on in a house across the street from her.

She’s going to get an earful about that tomorrow.

“Ite, ite nunc,” she declares loudly and with a wave of her hand, a large crack breaks through the air and a bright flash momentarily blinds Enid. A gush of wind sends her stumbling backwards and a strong, sturdy arm around her waist keeps her upright.

The grass, blackened and flickering with small flames, is left where the pair of soldiers were last standing.

“Aw man,” Enid groans, “I just got the lawn looking good.”

Wednesday pushes her away and marches towards the house.

“Think of it as a privilege that the only thing you have to worry about now Sinclair regarding your house, is a small circle of burnt grass.”

xXx

It’s far too chilly to be out at this time in the morning.

Enid struggles to keep her eyes open as she leans against her doorway, the headtorch has sadly been ditched as Wednesday pointed out that Enid had no need for it anymore with the rising sun. Pulling an all nighter whilst hunting ghosts is also way more exhausting than some people may realize, because Enid feels wiped out.

Wednesday observes her front yard carefully, as if she were taking it in for the last time and Enid almost makes up a story about a ghost terrorizing her laundry basket or something, just to get her to stay.

Her fingers toy with the cheque in her coat pocket, so much so that it’s probably creased by now. But she shamelessly hands it over anyway.

She thrusts it forward, holding it out for Wednesday to take, “here’s the cheque.”

Wednesday barely looks at it, instead holding Enid’s eye and she shakes her head slightly. “Its fine,” and the words are said in a rush, like she was in a hurry to dispose of them.

“What?”

The smaller girl clenches her jaw and sighs. Dark eyes glancing up at the roof above their heads, muttering something to herself before she looks back to Enid.

“You don’t have to pay me Sinclair, as irritable as I find your bright clothing and bubblegum flavored chewing gum, I have found great value in your companionship.”

Enid’s heart stutters in her chest and its so loud that she can hear it in here ears.

“Wednesday-”

Say it.

A pale hand is held up to silence her, a glare accompanies it.

“Don’t-its fine I have already taken care of it.”

Enid laughs weakly, “ok good because I really couldn’t pay it anyway. Turns out I’m kinda poor?”

Wednesday smirks and doesn’t say anything in return, instead nodding awkwardly and beginning to walk down Enid’s porch steps. Its not an unfamiliar sight, but it leaves Enid feeling panicked because unlike every other time, she knows that Wednesday won’t be back here next Tuesday.

Say it.

Thing scurries alongside her, stopping momentarily to turn and wiggle his fingers at Enid.

“I’ll see you around, right? At the Weathervane and stuff?” God, she sounds so desperate. Wednesday seems to pause and think carefully before she nods in a way that doesn’t fill Enid with a ton of confidence. “Ok. Cool! Cool, I’ll um, see you then.”

She throws her back against the door as it closes, burying her face in her hands and cursing Yoko for pointing out her crush on Wednesday all those weeks ago. She turns and rests her forehead against the cool glass, watching the dark figure travel closer and closer to Enid’s gate. Each step closer to leaving her property.

Her legs feel like jelly, jittery and shaky and she has cottonmouth which she’s never actually had before and its wildly unpleasant and god why is she so hot? Painted nails play with her doorhandle and she gulps in a deep breath before yanking it back open.

Say it.

The porch is cool against her socked feet.

“I am scared of dying,” she calls out, slowly descending the steps and watching as Wednesday stops just before Enid’s front gate.

Wednesday turns her head a little bit to the side and her eyebrows scrunch together, “we’ve already discussed this...?”

Enid nods hurriedly, descending another step.

“I know, but what you said, I’ve been thinking about how you take care of all these trapped ghosts, and it comforted me. To think that if something were to happen to me, someone like you would help.”

Wednesday’s silent for a moment and Enid holds her breath.

“May-may I put that on my website once Eugene makes it?”

Enid sighs and shakes her head, taking another step forward. Her Pokémon socks making contact with the cold concrete of the path, gradually closing the distance between herself and Wednesday. “I mean I liked the idea. You taking care of me, and it made me think about taking care of you.”

Wednesdays back visibly stiffens.

“Well, Enid you’re not a trained ghost specialist so I doubt-”

Another step forward and another and she sighs in frustration. “Wednesday,” she pleads.

Say it.

“I think-I know, I want you to haunt me and you’re welcome to do that as long as you like because I really, really enjoy your company and despite contrary belief, I think you’re the one that’s bewitched me.”

Wednesday drops her big leather case to the ground and turns. Her fringe is a little messy from their late night shenanigans and her cheeks a little pink from the cold. But the sun is golden behind her head and she looks gorgeous.

“Cara mia-”

Enid’s in her arms before she can even finish the sentence. Wednesday catches her effortlessly, lips finding her own in a way that’s so desperate it makes her want to cry. Their lips move hurriedly and messily against each other like they’ll never get the chance to do this again. Enid’s hands cupping perfect cheeks, slide to the back of Wednesday’s head and she’s sure she’ll get scolded for messing up her braids later. Wednesday’s arm wraps around her waist, pulling Enid flush against her, the other hand is fisted in the collar of her jumper, as if she was daring Enid to try and escape.

Their noses bump when Wednesday surprisingly is the one to tilt her head to deepen the kiss, pushing more and more, her lips sweet and desperate against Enid’s. The kiss doesn’t last long, Enid’s smiling too wide for it to continue as she sighs happily into Wednesday’s mouth. They pull apart and Enid’s eyebrow quirks up at the low sound of disappointment that comes from the back of Wednesday’s throat.

She lets herself stare openly at Wednesday, and the other girl does the same. Oblivious to the still moving world around them. Wednesday’s mouth is slightly open, her eyes wide and unblinking, she looks shellshocked. Her stomach flips at the sight and Enid has to kiss her again.

A hand plays with the baby hairs at the back of Wednesdays neck and she holds tightly onto Wednesday’s coat with her other hand, slowly walking backwards towards the house and pulling Wednesday with her. This kiss is slower and Enid giggles into it, clumsily pressing their mouths together as they walk awkwardly up the porch steps, refusing to separate.

“Y’know I’m not working on Halloween,” its in a few days and she luckily has the afternoon and night off. She presses a quick kiss to Wednesday’s lips again before breathlessly continuing. “Maybe we could-”

Wednesday pushes Enid over the threshold of the home, kicking the door shut behind her and surging forward, hands pulling Enid’s head down, and their lips crash against each other’s again. Enid lets out a small noise when her back collides with the banister for the staircase. Wednesday pulls back, eyes wide and wild.

“I’m taking Pubert trick or treating, you’re welcome to join. I could use the adult company. Then maybe when he’s done we drop him off at home and we could…” She stops to suck in a deep breath. Enid feels her chest rising against her own. Dark eyes flicker from Enid’s, back to kiss swollen lips and Wednesday tilts her head, pulling Enid’s bottom lip between her teeth. “We could go grave robbing?”

Enid places a hand on her chest and makes some space between them.

“Our first date will not be grave robbing Wednesday Addams,” she scolds gently and her faux frown dissolves into a goofy smile at Wednesday’s pout.

The girl tsks and her hands squeeze Enid’s waist.

“Worth a try,” she whispers against Enid’s lips and oh this girl is going to be the end of her.

Enid’s eyes roll to the back of her head as lips begin to suck and bite down her neck.

“Oh my god why didn’t you make a move sooner, we could’ve been doing this ages ago.”

A warning nip against her jaw, “I don’t date clients Enid.”

Enid.

Enid grabs her by the back of the head and guides her back to her lips. Kissing her again and again and again, until she almost forgets the topic of their conversation.

“Let me buy you dinner,” she mumbles against plump lips, “if you won’t let me pay.”

“Fine.”

She squeals into Wednesday’s mouth when those hands move her and begin to push her up the stairs. Enid trusts her werewolf instincts and reflexes and lets herself be pushed backwards upstairs, her back bent to still be able to reach Wednesday’s lips.

The girl tastes like peppermint and smoke and dark coffee.

Enid can’t get enough and she doubts she ever will.

Their lips separate with a quick *pop* and Wednesday looks devastated at the lack of contact. She’s two steps lower than Enid, placing them at a significant height difference and Enid feels a swift punch to the gut as all air leaves her. Wednesday below her with her jaw dropped and eyes full of devotion and wonder and lust.

“In fact, how about breakfast, seeing as it’s so early,” Enid gulps, the unspoken invitation lingering between them and Wednesday nods without hesitation, taking a step up whilst Enid takes a step back, a teasing smile on her face as the smaller girl follows.

“Ok, but it better be somewhere more adequate than the Weathervane Sinclair.”

They don’t make it to breakfast but by the time they did emerge from Enid’s house, they had a lovely lunch in town.

xXx

The Wisp now glows faintly in the mason jar, where it has stayed for about three months now. Enid had regretfully forgotten about it, its light no longer extravagant or fun to watch, instead dim, dull and emotionless. Just another relic on her shelves. At some point it had rolled under her bed, she had been doing a major clean for Christmas coming up and the jar, among many other things, was left unattended.

Enid gives it a gentle little shake and watches a bright blue light burst in the center of the orb before the energy dies down again.

“Hm,” she hums thoughtfully to herself. Her breath fogging out in front of her. It’s really cold out tonight, and the snow is thick around her winter boots.

Her nails, appropriately painted in red and green for the festive season, tap against the glass of the jar as she squints at its inhabitant. Enid bends down, knees just brushing against the top layer of snow, and she can feel her toes going cold.

Christmas in Vermont. Just like the postcards always looked.

Enid bites her bottom lip in concentration as she struggles with the lid of the jar, but after a few seconds it opens with a large pop. She gently tips it and watches as the swirly mist of the orb, slinks out. It’s still a dull blue color but after a few seconds it grows in size and becomes a mix of baby blues and yellows. It moves around her quickly like its running laps excitedly and when it comes back into her eyeline its form is similar to that of a fox.

It skips happily and she watches in awe as it dips its translucent paws in the thick snow.

The snout, though she can’t feel it, butts into the back of her hand and she giggles happily as it rolls about in front of her under the night sky.

Enid stands and moves towards the back door, smiling when she sees Wednesday leaning against the doorframe. Warm and cozy in one of Enid’s few black sweatshirts, her arms unfold as Enid approaches, a hand reached out to help her in, not that Enid needs it but she takes it anyway.

“All that work to catch them and you release it anyway.”

Enid giggles and slides her cold hands along Wednesday’s neck, the girl jumping slightly at the sensation.

“Well, it’s way less work than a pet that’s alive,” she murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to Wednesday’s lips. “Anyway, isn’t it beautiful?” She smiles, watching the blue ghostly fox prance around her garden.

“It is.”

But Enid’s far too enraptured by the fox to see the soft smile accompanied by loving doe eyes that Wednesday Addams shoots her way, staring at her instead.

“It really is.”

Chapter Text

Enid wakes up to gentle kisses on the back of her neck. She doesn’t even need to open her eyes to know that it’s still dark outside, a testament to how early it is, but then again, this time of year doesn’t necessarily help with that.

She hums quietly and sighs happily, pressing her face further into her pillow, her body cocooned in thick blankets and duvet. Her hand slides her pillow, and she lets herself sink further into the mattress, eyelids heavy and her body still feeling half asleep. Her limbs are sated but she slowly grows more and more alert as the kisses persist, moving down the back of her neck and kissing Enid’s back through the fabric of her t-shirt.

One eye pops open and yup, still dark outside.

Enid groans and rolls onto her side, a sleepy smile crossing her face when an arm immediately circles her waist and pulls her back against her wife’s front. She turns her head a little, knowing Wednesday will take the bait, and gasps quietly when lips quickly attach themselves to the junction between her shoulder and neck.

“What time is it?” She murmurs, eyes drooping but they snap back open when Wednesday’s hand slides over her stomach, cold hands slipping through the small gap between her bottoms and t-shirt.

“7 o’clock, we have time-”

“You say that but…” she trails off and feels Wednesday smile against her neck. Careful hands guide Enid to lie onto her back, and she does so without complaint. Eyes wide open now and she can’t help the giddy smile that erupts across her face at the sight of Wednesday above her. “Hi,” she whispers, reaching a hand up to slide around the back of Wednesday neck, taking much joy in the thick curtain of dark hair that hides the two of them from the outside world. Wednesday only really has it down like this in bed, and Enid’s the only one who ever gets to see it.

“You’re glowing,” Wednesday murmurs, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

Enid rolls her eyes playfully, “you can’t even see me.”

“Bold of you to assume that I need to.”

That little-

Enid pulls her down to kiss her, morning breath be damned, and she feels the tiniest bit of betrayal when Wednesday’s lips meet her own and she tastes like mint. She must’ve already brushed her teeth. Unbelievable.

She makes a soft keening noise into Wednesday’s mouth, whimpering quietly when hands skirt up the side of her ribs, and how Wednesday’s body presses into her own.

“Alright fine, but it has to be quick and quiet-”

A thundering assault of knocks on their bedroom door makes them both jolt and a small voice calls through, “Mamá you promised pancakes.”

Wednesday groans and drops her head, face first, onto the pillow next to Enid’s, she swears quietly to herself in Spanish before lifting it and pressing a quick kiss to Enid’s cheek.

“I’ll be down in a minute mija, why don’t you go and get dressed first?” Her tone is by no means enthusiastic and it’s not the stereotypical motherly or parental tone that most adults would adopt when speaking to a young child. In fact, Wednesday did little to change her behavior around their daughter, she was still as straight faced as ever, she scowled more than she smiled, and she hissed back at cats on the street.

But there’s always been a warmth to her. She loved fiercely, an Addams family curse she called it.

“Ok!” Small footsteps retreat to her room and Wednesday sighs, tipping her head down to rest it against Enid’s.

“We can still return her.”

Enid gasps and smacks Wednesday’s side in mock anger.

“Wends, she’s not an amazon parcel, she’s a tiny human that I carried inside of me for nine months.”

Her wife blows air out her nose in frustration, amusement twinkling in her eyes and she presses a firm kiss to Enid’s lips. “You know I’m joking, I would do anything for her, and you,” she presses another kiss to the tip of her nose this time, before pulling back the covers and carefully extracting herself from Enid. She hisses at the loss of warmth and claws at the covers, pulling them back up to her chin and watches as Wednesday grabs a hair tie from their side table, and ties it back into a bun. “I’ll go and get her sorted whilst you shower.”

“You saying I smell bad Addams?”

“Rancid,” she throws over her shoulder as she strolls out the room and Enid sighs in contentment, smiling faintly at the sound of their daughter singing quietly to herself in the room a few doors down as she gets ready for school.

She rolls onto her side, eyes drooping once more, when her gaze falls upon her alarm clock.

“Fuck.”

xXx

“Mommy!” Artemis waves a fork in her direction as Enid eventually strolls into the kitchen, running her fingers through slightly damp hair. Enid winces as strings of syrup hang from the fork as it’s waved around.

But she gasps happily and smiles, placing a flurry of kisses on top of her daughter’s head. Hair thick and dark like Wednesday’s but cut shorter like Enid’s. She’s a spitting image of Wednesday, with her hair, freckles, cheekbones, skin tone. But she has Enid’s eyes.

And her chirpy personality.

“Are they good?” She asks, fixing the slightly squint pigtails on her daughters head. She begins to answer, attempting to speak through a mouthful of pancakes, strawberries and syrup. “Artemis Addams don’t speak with your mouth full.”

“Y’do it,” she retorts, clumsily sticking her fork in another strawberry.

“Do not.”

“You definitely do,” Wednesday calls from her spot by the stove and Enid exaggeratedly gasps, making Artemis erupt into laughter. She tells her quietly to finish her breakfast as she makes her way over to her wife. Enid wraps her arms around Wednesday’s waist, pressing her front to her back and resting her chin over her shoulder. Wednesday responds by turning and kissing her cheek without a second thought, then turns back to the frying pan before her.

“Yours will be done in a moment,” Wednesday murmurs and Enid presses a kiss to her neck, whispering her thanks then in the fabric of Wednesdays sweatshirt. A sweatshirt that many years ago belonged to Enid.

Wednesday works seamlessly around her, flipping and serving the pancakes despite Enid being attached to her back like a koala.

“You’re not very codependent, are you?”

Enid pinches her side gently, “listen you put a ring on it, so don’t complain.”

Her pancakes are loaded with even more maple syrup than Artemis’ and the coffee Wednesday makes her is a little stronger than what she’d usually make for herself, and she knows that Wednesday put less sugar in on purpose. Wednesday doesn’t indulge in the pancakes, she does steal a strawberry from Enid’s plate though, before scooping Artemis up and out of her chair, determined to get her shoes tied in plenty of time before they need to leave. It’s a lengthy process sometimes.

Yawning into her elbow, Enid loads the dishwasher and grabs her water bottle, making her way into the foyer and grabbing her fleece for work.

Artemis strategically stomps her boots on the floor, for no reason whatsoever, whilst Wednesday watches unimpressed.

“You have no rhythm.”

“Them, rhy-them,” Artemis murmurs, continuing to stomp her feet and Wednesday sighs.

“Enid, she lacks rhythm, I’m afraid she won’t take after myself musically, unfortunately its looking like she might take after you.”

She squawks in offense, slinging her daughter’s schoolbag over her shoulder and fixing Wednesday with a dirty look. She receives a smirk in response, and she bites her tongue, aware of the very small human standing right next to her. With her nod of approval, Artemis reaches up to twist the door handle, yanking it open and stepping out onto the porch.

Enid moves to follow her, when slim fingers wrap around her wrist and hold her back a little.

Wednesday doesn’t look at her, but she does tilt her head up slightly, an expectant look in her eyes and Enid smiles and presses a quick kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she murmurs, taking quiet delight in the way loose strands of hair fall to frame Wednesday’s face and the rest of it is pulled messily behind her in the bun. How small she looks in Enid’s already too big sweater, the sleeves pulled over her hands. “You’re still good for pick up?”

Wednesday nods, her thumb tracing shapes on Enid’s wrist.

“As long as Tracy doesn’t talk to me about joining the pta, all will be fine,” she says through gritted teeth and Enid laughs gently.

“She just wants you to be involved more with the school-”

“She won’t like when I’m involved with a knife and her throat.”

Enid presses another kiss to her cheek and moves away, wiggling a finger in Wednesday’s direction warningly.

“No killing my other mom friends, and no threatening people in front of our child.”

“It builds character.”

Enid takes Artemis’ small hand in her own and they walk down the steps, Artemis hopping down each one with great enthusiasm. Like she doesn’t do this every morning.

“Ok, you say that to the headmaster when she bites a kid one day.”

“I’m waiting longingly for the call.”

xXx

Enid spent most of her day watching over this conservation project at one of the national parks. Making sure nobody was disturbing the project leaders and making sure everything went to plan. It was essentially one of those projects with those little bird houses, insect hotels, stuff like that for local wildlife. Which is super cute, and she definitely squealed in excitement when she saw the adorable little houses.

She also got to wear a headtorch which was sick and gave a squirrel a peanut.

So, all in all, a good day.

She makes sure to swing by the supermarket on her way home for candy. They’d already picked their pumpkins from a nearby pumpkin patch at this cute farm which is owned by Ajax’s current girlfriend. Enid has the suspicion that pumpkins aren’t the only thing she grows on the farm, however.

It was actually picking pumpkins up from the supermarket years ago, which spurred the conversation about children forward. Enid had been elbows deep in a crate, searching for the perfect one, whilst her wife stood behind her minding the trolley. Eventually, Enid did emerge, and she did indeed find the perfect pumpkin. But when she turned around to show Wednesday, the other woman had an odd look on her face.

“Wends?” Enid prompts gently, “you alright?”

Wednesday takes the pumpkin from her hands and places it in the trolley.

“Let’s have a baby.”

Enid almost choked on her own spit, her eyes bulged out her head and her heart genuinely stopped for a few seconds, before her body suddenly kickstarted and she was all too aware of everything all at once.

“I-what, are you serious?” They had spoken about it. Of course they had. Like any responsible couple heading towards marriage, they had discussed it. Enid didn’t mind, she liked the idea of motherhood, but she could live without it, and she told Wednesday that. The other woman had simply nodded before ravaging her on their couch. “What the fuck made you think of that?”

Wednesday points a bony finger behind Enid and Enid instantly lowers it but turns and squints.

“The child dressed as a medieval executioner, its…cute.”

“Babe she’s dressed as Batman.”

“I have no idea who that is, but my point still stands.”

Enid’s heart catches in her throat as she stands in the middle of fucking Walmart, discussing parenthood with her wife.

“Really? Because Wednesday Addams this is not something you can joke about-”

Gentle hands cup her cheeks and pull her down, her forehead pressed against Wednesday’s own and the other woman gently rubs her nose against Enid’s.

“I want to have your children, I want to hear your laugh replicated by a smaller version of you because it is the most wonderful thing I have ever heard,” she murmurs, voice thick with devotion. “I would kill for you cara mia, I would give you the world or set it alight for you. Let me give you this too.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this in Walmart,” she sniffles, pressing her lips to Wednesdays in a messy kiss. “Ok yeah, yeah fuck, lets have a baby,” she laughs weakly and feels Wednesday smile against her lips.

But their moment was quickly interrupted by a random voice behind them asking them to move out of the way, so that they could get a pumpkin. The look Wednesday shot them was so nasty that Enid got goosebumps from it.

The name Artemis took some time though to decide on. Their friends spent an insane amount of time trying to slip in their own ideas for names. Almost any time Enid and Yoko were in a car together, after the confirmation that they were having a girl and leading up to the birth, Yoko played a suspicious amount of John Lennon.

John Lennon who was married to Yoko Ono.

Unbelievable.

She didn’t get a child named after her, but Yoko was named godmother. Eugene was named godfather and Enid almost immediately regretted the decision when he began talking about teaching Artemis how to be a beekeeper. But Wednesday had a twinkle in her eyes and assured Enid that Artemis had the “Addams genes.” What those genes are, Enid’s not sure. Invincibility? Possibly. Insane luck? Perhaps. Extravagant and exaggerated displays of affection? Absolutely.

Gomez and Morticia had their own input for the name, enthusiastic but not pressuring or pushy by any means. One of the biggest differences between them and Enid’s parents. Her parents had only met Artemis once, because Enid felt that they had to, not that her mother was very interested. But at the end of the day, it was in the Weathervane of all places where Wednesday had whispered into her ear, low and sure. “Artemis, the moon goddess,” her fingers drew patterns on Enid’s palm as she spoke. “Because I fell in love with you under the moon cara mia.”

Enid steps through the front door and stomps her boots on the welcome mat, tugging off her beanie and shaking her short hair around in a way that Wednesday would affectionately compare to a “mutt.”

“I’m home,” she hollers, making her way into the kitchen and frowning at the dish in the oven and the pots and pans in the sink, but nobody accompanying it. Enid swallows to try and get rid of her rough and dry throat, taking a deep breath and re-enters the hall. “Guys?”

Little feet speed down the stairs and Enid rushes forward to make sure she doesn’t fall, but Artemis leaps into her arms, speaking a million miles per hour and giving Enid the rundown of her day at school. She presses a kiss to her damp hair and raises an eyebrow at Wednesday who descends the stairs behind her, at a much slower pace.

“Bathtime before dinner?” She says quietly over the top of Artemis’ head and Wednesday offers her a hidden smile, as she brushes past on her way to the kitchen. Fingerpainting, she mouths back and Enid immediately grimaces. More nights than she can count, she has spent knelt next to the bathtub, trying to wash the paint away from under Artemis’s nails, trying to scrub it off her skin as gently as possible. Of course, they almost always got distracted by the bubbles though.

Enid clips Artemis’s plastic bib on, they found out quite quickly that she took after her mom. Enid is too, a messy eater.

“What is for dinner?” She murmurs into the side of Wednesday’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss there and then stepping back to allow her wife to carefully remove the dish from the oven.

“Pastitsio.”

“I love you,” she shoots back almost instantly, her smile widening when she sees Wednesday’s affectionate eyeroll.

Dinner is a quiet affair, like it always it. Artemis chatters about her day, Enid responds enthusiastically and with her own questions, whilst Wednesday’s lips curl upward and she hums thoughtfully. Her thumb often reaching over to wipe any droplets of food off of Artemis’s chin. At one point, like always, Enid will catch Wednesday’s gaze and smile over the top of her glass, their feet gently kicking at each other under the table. When they tidy up, Wednesday’s old, grand Italian opera music will play and she’ll swing their daughter up in her arms and sway her around the kitchen dramatically, commenting on the music and vocal talents of the musician.

Artemis will roar with laughter like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen and Enid will giggle, whilst keeping an eye on the silvery fox in their garden, as she does the dishes. Wednesday will curse Enid for plaguing their daughter’s music taste with artists like Taylor Swift.

Enid always carries her upstairs, and tuck her in. Wednesday usually reads to her, but when she’s away for work, Enid does it and does the voices much better than her (Artemis whispered it to her one night in what felt like a very serious and regretful confession.) Wednesday always kisses her on the forehead and Enid will kiss everywhere else on her face, each receiving a drowsy goodnight, before they shut the purple door.

Then, like clockwork Wednesday’s hands will find Enid’s hips and push her back into their room, chasing the giggle on Enid’s lips and holding her close.

And they’ll lie, basking in each other’s warmth, still a little in disbelief that they can, and begin to doze off.

“You’re working tomorrow night, right?” Enid whispers into Wednesday’s collar, her voice scratchy and sleepy. She receives a hum of confirmation. “So, you won’t see Artemis for bedtime, which means you should join me for drop off tomorrow morning.”

“Enid I would rather harvest my own organs.”

“They’re just PTA moms Wends.”

“Sandra tried to make me an Avon ambassador this afternoon Enid, I don’t even know what that means.”

xXx

They’re not a stereotypical family.

Enid knows that. They’re lesbian moms with a child that was magically formed through love, science (and witchcraft), living in a small town in Vermont, one is a werewolf, and the other is a demonologist and paranormal expert. Their house, up until eight years ago, used to be ruthlessly haunted, now a single fox prances around the garden from sunset to sunrise.

It makes it difficult to bond with the other parents at school, and Enid tries desperately to not give them another reason to be distrusting of herself and Wednesday. But when Wednesday glares daggers at any parent that tries to approach, it makes it hard.

“So are you guys doing much for Halloween?” Cristine asks over the top of her thermos. Chin buried in her thick cashmere scarf and her hat almost connects with the top of it, with how tight its pulled down over her head.

She looks like the epitome of Christian girl autumn.

“Just taking Artemis trick or treating, then on November the first we’re heading over to Wednesday’s parents place to celebrate Día de Muertos,” Enid replies chirpily, bumping Wednesday’s shoulder with her own, receiving a bored look in return.

Cristine scrunches her nose and thinks deeply for a moment, “but this ain’t Mexico?”

Oh dear god.

Wednesday decides to now join in, “and we’re not in Bethlehem but I’m sure you’ll enjoy celebrating Christmas this year, right? Also, your holiday originated in Paganism, not-”

“Okayyy,” Enid laughs nervously, pulling at Wednesday’s elbow, yanking her back before she launched herself at Cristine in public. And in front of impressionably young children. “Its part of Wednesday’s heritage, many of her family is Mexican,” Enid plasters on a smile and explains patiently, trying not to roll her eyes at Cristine’s confused look.

“Oh alright,” she says slowly and nods, tapping Enid’s arm, “well honey if you need a break from all that, loads of the moms will be at a meeting here that afternoon.” She laughs and its shrill and she can hear Wednesday clench her jaw. A wave goodbye, and she saunters off back towards her group of friends.

Wednesday leans back against the car and stares at Cristine’s back.

“You said the other parents weren't too bad,” she says accusingly and Enid winces.

“Well to be fair Cristine has a Trump bumper sticker, so there wasn’t much hope there, ok?”

A loud, familiar yell catches both of their attention and they look towards the school entrance where Artemis waves wildly at them, bidding her farewell. Enid beams and waves back just as enthusiastically, Wednesday’s lips curve as she raises a hand too. Artemis slips inside and Enid’s smile falters a little.

She turns to look at the side of Wednesday’s face. To the jaw that could cut glass, and the gentle slope of her nose.

“You’ll be careful, right?”

Wednesday gives her look and tangles her fingers with Enid’s.

“Mi amor, I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered that you ask me this after so many years,” Wednesday murmurs into the space between them, her eyebrows quirked curiously and her thumb tracing a familiar pattern onto the back of Enid’s hand. “I’ll be fine, they’re dead. What’s the worst they could do?”

Enid scoffs, “oh I dunno, possess you, attack you, curse our entire bloodline-”

“Why must you list my favorite pastimes? Do you intend to tease me Sinclair,” her bangs tickle Enid’s forehead as she moves closer. Her voice husky and Enid scowls, biting back a smile and nudges her purposely.

“I’m being serious.”

“As am I,” Wednesday stresses gently in a somewhat exasperated tone, because they’ve had this conversation before. They’ve had it more times than Enid can remember, even before they started dating. Because she worries, and that’s not a bad thing! “It’s a simple extraction, a whiney ghoul in the cellar and a couple of wisps around the property.”

“In fact, I’ll probably be home before you’re in bed.”

She wasn’t.

Artemis’s eyes are drowsy and heavy lidded, valiantly fighting off the temptation of sleep as she fought to stay awake to try and stay up for Wednesday’s return. Enid’s already read two stories and given her warm milk, she’s worried that if she manages to stay up any longer, it’ll be a nightmare waking her up in the morning for school.

“She’ll be here when you wake up.”

A little hand, clenched around the fabric of her sleeve, tugs weakly in protest. “I want her now.” There’s a full pout painted on her face now and Enid frowns, adjusting her position on the end of the bed and moves a little closer.

It’s not the first time Wednesdays worked late.

So why is Artemis acting like it is?

“C’mon, what’s up?” Enid whispers, gently tickling under her daughter’s chin and smiling when she receives a giggle. “You can tell me, I’m the best at keeping secrets,” she whispers conspiratorially, and watches as sleepy brown eyes narrow and tiny eyebrows pinch together.

“What if she’s gone?”

Enid’s smile falls and she tilts her head, “what do you mean baby?”

“What if she left,” Artemis stresses, “Mathew Clayton said that it was weird I have two mommy’s and that I should have a daddy. He said it’s silly.”

Oh.

“And does Mathew have a mommy and daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok so,” Enid sighs and leans down a little, her index finger gently brushing the hair out of Artemis’s face. “You’ve got two mommies, some people have two daddies, some have one of each. Some only have a mommy, some only have a daddy, and some have neither. But there’s no wrong one, ok?” Artemis nods slowly and Enid bends down to kiss her forehead. “Your Mamá loves you very much ok, and she’s not going anywhere because we both want to take care of you, ok? That won’t change.”

Artemis blinks slowly and Enid’s not sure that she’ll see those wide hazel eyes again until the morning, but she opens them, barely, and nods. Holding up her little hand and stretching out a finger in a practice that Enid taught her.

“Promise?”

Their pinkies wrap around each other, and Enid moves their joint hands up and down in a handshake like fashion, enjoying the way Artemis giggles drowsily at the sight. She tucks her in, makes sure the blanket is pulled up to her chin and the appropriate stuffed animals are in their designated spots. There’s a lot of them, enough to rival Enid’s own collection. She presses her lips to Artemis’s head once more and whispers her goodnights, flicking the nightlight on and tiptoeing out the room.

She hears snoring before she even steps into the hall.

The somewhat passive aggressive reminder to firmly speak with Mathew Claytons mom, is entered into her phone as she does her skincare before bed. Enid finds herself constantly checking, tapping the screen to see if there had been any update from Wednesday.

Nothing.

Its not unusual, as her wife is an unusual being. Wednesday’s endeavors took her far and wide, often containing details that Enid knows better than to ask about. She doesn’t often provide updates whilst on a job, Enid rarely asks for them. She worries but she’s also well aware of her wife’s capabilities.

So, she holds off a little, waiting before getting into bed, but eventually the clock hits a certain hour and Enid’s head simultaneously hits the pillow.

It’s the gentle running of water that wakes her up. Her ears perk up at the sound and she wills her breathing to remain the same, under the guise that she’s still asleep. It’s coming from the bathroom attached to her bedroom, only a couple of feet away, likely from the sink as well. Then, the door handle turns, and almost silent footsteps pad out.

They walk past her, towards the wardrobe and Enid rolls out of bed, switching on her side lamp and whirring around to stare at her.

“Nuh uh, turn around,” she commands, spitting a few strands of hair that were in her mouth and wiping the drool from her cheek with the back of her hand. Wednesday pauses in her movements, hesitating before turning and Enid gasps. “Oh my God Wednesday is that blood?” Crimson red blood splatters across the white collar of her shirt and Enid’s eyes narrow in on her wife’s split lip.

Wednesday stares back blankly, jutting her chin out defensively, daring Enid to make a comment.

She sighs and leans against the bed post, eyeing the headtorch on their dresser.

“Ok, do I need to take you to a hospital, or do I need to grab a shovel?”

Wednesday’s nostrils flare and arousal flashes in her eyes. She steps closer, her hand on the small of Enid’s back, pulling their bodies up against each other. Her other hand cupping Enid’s jaw, thumb pushing gently at her top lip until Enid opens her mouth slightly to let Wednesday’s thumb push against her sharp canines.

“Alas my love, I’m afraid we will not be disposing of any bodies tonight. I fell out a window, humiliating, I know,” she says in a hushed whisper, trying to pull Enid even closer, hand brushing through her messy bedraggled hair. “Though your willingness to creep away with me into the night to bury a body, oh cara mia you light my skin on fire.”

She tilts her head with the intent of capturing Enid’s lips in a passionate kiss, but is stopped by the firm hand pressed flat against her sternum.

Enid fixes her with a firm look, “you really think I’m going to gloss over the fact that you admitted to falling out a window?”

“I do not wish to relive such a mortifying experience, not when my wife is in my arms, and the moon is out and I can taste the seductive tang of blood on my gums,” she husks, and Enid has to suppress an eyeroll at Wednesdays extravagant way of flirting.

She’s her father’s daughter, that’s for sure.

“I get it, near death experiences make you horny-”

“I detest that word and you know it.”

“But, we should check your ribs, what was it, second story window?”

Wednesday doesn’t answer her, instead she firmly fixes her gaze somewhere behind Enid. Her orange and black nails (Halloween themed, of course) grab Wednesday’s chin and turn her head back so that they are face to face. She tucks a few thick strands of hair behind her ears, a product of her grown out fringe. She keeps the braids but instead of the fringe, she has hair framing the side of her face, just reaching her above her chin before it stops.

“Wednesday Addams-”

“Third story window. I fell in a rose bush.”

“Jesus Christ-”

xXx

“Enid I’m still not sure what I am meant to be resembling here.”

Wednesday stretches her arms out at her sides, the sheer, thin mesh sleeves and the form fitting short black dress that stops mid-thigh with the red and black striped tights underneath it.

“I understand you said we were dressing up…but this came out my wardrobe.”

“Perks of you being a goth babe,” Enid presses a kiss to her cheek and looks at them both in the mirror. She’s decked out in a bright yellow rugby shirt with short green sleeves and an orange undershirt, along with baggy cargo shorts and bright running shoes. “Look, we’re Johnny and Mavis!”

Wednesday tucks a short blade into her red Converse high tops and quirks a brow, “am I supposed to know who those people are?”

So uncultured.

“Hotel Transylvania?”

A blank stare.

“We literally watched it with Artemis last week.”

“Any of those animated movies with talking animals and obnoxiously bright lights makes me want to choke on my own tongue,” she clumsily picks up her phone (Enid forced her to buy one a few years ago) and squints at it. “I likely put myself into a meditative state. Apologies.”

She’s about to reply when she hears a tiny knock on their bedroom door, followed by it slowly opening and a little head peeking around it. Artemis enters the room in her bat costume and Enid squeals, grabbing her phone to snap a million different photos of her.

“You look so cute! Doesn’t she Wends?”

Wednesday picks Artemis up and holds her out in the air before her, looking her over.

“You look very fearsome,” she says in her deadpan tone but Artemis beams and giggles when Wednesday pulls her closer and blows a gentle raspberry on her cheek. Little arms wind around her neck and Artemis starts talking about all the candy she’s going to try and get.

Enid gasps happily and takes a photo of them both.

Wednesday pulls a crossbow out from their dresser and Enid shakes her head.

“Nope.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Enid-”

“Nuh uh.”

“Cara mia, those…youths who egged our house the last two years, this is the year I catch them.”

Enid pinched the bridge of her nose and sighs, “ok but not with the crossbow.”

“Does our marriage mean nothing to you?”

“Oh em gee, Thing!” Enid skips towards him, circling around the busy trick or treaters and bends down to high five him.

Wednesday appears behind her, looking far from enthusiastic and looks very unimpressed when she glances down at them. “Thing, when did you get a tattoo? It looks as though it was done by a five year old,” she hesitates and turns her head to look at Artemis, who is quite happily enjoying a piggy back ride, “not you of course.”

Enid sighs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Wends, it’s just pen and two, he’s Rhianna’s hand for Halloween. Thing, I love it.”

Her wife stares at them both blanky before taking off towards some houses, “I’m taking Artemis to McLean’s.” And off she does, glaring menacingly at any costumed kids that get in her way, and makes her way up the driveway of the home.

Her attention is drawn back to Thing and his urgent tapping on the sidewalk. His index finger is moving so fast that she worries he may make a hole.

“Thing what-”

He points in the direction of Valerie Kinbott’s large house down the street. She and her husband host a haunted house every year. The kids love it, and Enid drags Wednesday to it every year, much to her dismay. The middle schoolers drenched in fake blood that smells like strawberry jam, and the loud flashes of white light, aren’t scary enough to make Wednesday Addams cower in fear. Instead, every year they went, Wednesday would go home and write a feedback form for the Kinbott family, in hopes they’d take her criticism seriously and put more “effort” into their haunted house.

“What about it?”

Thing taps some more on the ground and nudges Enid’s shoe, as if he were urging her towards it. Enid frowns but slowly moves towards the house anyway, careful not to bump into anyone on her way. She catches the ends of conversations and snippets of words. Hushed tones and stray glances. She turns her head a little, focusing on differentiating the noise and picking up on repeated words.

Surprise, Kinbott is one of them.

“Way too scary man-”

“-realistic.”

“-fucking touched me-”

Enid stops outside of the large house, and looks at the cobwebbed entrance, along with the insane amount of jack o lanterns around it. Screams can be heard from inside, which shouldn’t be unusual for a haunted house, but this is Kinbott’s haunted house. The only person to every scream in there was Xavier, and he was high, so naturally the pig masks and rubber cleavers sent him on a trip.

Mrs Kinbott stands to the side, a fake smile plastered on her face and she pulls at the wrappings of her mummy costume. She catches Enid’s eye and her eyes widen, she shuffles quickly over and offers an exaggerated greeting.

“Enid hi! Having fun?” She looks over her shoulder and frowns, “where’s Wednesday? Is she around, please say she’s around?”

Enid grabs the erratic woman’s wrists to stop her from running away, in hopes to also calm her down.

“Mrs kinbott what’s going on? Too much candy or...?”

The older woman shakes her head and chews her bottom lip, “I seem to require a ghost extraction,” she whispers, glancing around them. “My husband insisted on hiring a real ghost this year, wanted to make the place scarier and I said no, because that’s cheating but then we did it anyway because the Henderson’s are also doing a haunted house this year, even though that’s our thing and I needed ours to be better. But now the ghost has taken things too far and he’s scaring people away and we’ve run out of candy so I’m giving out carrot sticks and it’s all a disaster-”

Enid blinks slowly and holds up a hand, “I’m going to be so honest; I barely caught a word of that. But! I will go and find Wednesday for you ok, I’ll be a few minutes,” she smiles brightly and Kinbott gulps in a deep breath and nods thankfully.

“Ok, be back soon. Please.”

She finds Wednesday with Yoko and Divinia, they’ve got their two year old daughter Divinia dressed as a pumpkin. Wednesday seems to be speaking to her in a monotone voice, telling her the origins of jack o lanterns. Artemis is chatting excitably to her aunts, showing off a heaving bag of candy.

“Babe, you know she isn’t old enough to understand that yet,” Enid says gently, kissing Wednesday’s cheek in greeting and her wife sighs quietly.

“Enid, she deserves to know the backstory of her costume.”

“She’s a pumpkin. And she’s two.”

“You two sicken me,” they both turn to see Yoko giving them a disgusted look, exaggeratedly blanching whilst Divinia rolls her eyes and smacks her arm. “Addams I’m surprised Enid got you to dress up.”

“This came from my wardrobe Tanaka.”

“You make me laugh Addams.”

Wednesday’s about to retort when Enid grabs her elbow gently and begins to guide her away, “trouble at Kinbott’s house, really need your help.” She smiles at her friends and then nods in her daughter’s direction. “Would you guys’ mind watching Artemis, we’ll be like ten minutes.”

“I am not babysitting your kid so you guys can go and make out somewhere-”

Divinia puts a hand on Yoko’s arm and smiles at them, “you guys go, we’ll watch her.”

Enid smiles thankfully at them and tugs Wednesday in the direction of the house, narrowly missing a group of eighth graders and a parent who shoots them a dirty look. She relays as much information as she can remember to Wednesday, who looks somewhat annoyed that she’s having to go into the haunted house again.

Kinbott lets them enter for free and Enid gasps happily when she’s offered some free candy corn for their troubles. Wednesday wordlessly links their hands together and Enid’s stomach flips at the sight of it, letting her wife lead her deeper into the house. She watches as Wednesday doesn’t flinch, moving past statues and cardboard cutouts that jump out randomly, Not blinking once at the sudden puffs of steam or flashing lights.

Then they see him.

Sat on an overturned box, the pale blue figure rakes through an abandoned bag of candy, tipping it out onto the floor and peering at its contents. His makeup is a darker blue and his curly hair, a silvery colour.

“Oh fuck me,” Enid mumbles, taking in the creepy ghost clown, immediately regretting helping Kinbott in the first place.

The clown snaps his head up to look at them, mouth stretching to reveal a row of jagged white teeth. The messy, smeared makeup once around his mouth, exaggerated the sheer size of it. The dark triangles of makeup around his eyes, make them look like bright white beacons. He waves at them and squeezes the red nose on his face.

Wednesday looks him up and down with disinterest.

“What is your business here?”

He seems offended by the statement and looks himself up and down, a hand gesturing to is costume.

“I’m working lady, what does it look like?”

Enid peeks her head around from Wednesday’s shoulder, “Kinbott said you were scaring away kids.”

“Is that not in the job description?”

Wednesday turns her head to give Enid a look that says, he’s not wrong. But Enid shakes her head and pushes the small of her wife’s back. Wednesday sighs and steps closer. “Terrorizing young children probably isn’t what she had in mind.”

Suddenly, the lights all go out and he glows brighter. Standing up and his body seems to elongate so that he’s towering over them. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, wide and loose. Sharp silvery fangs snap at them and his body shifts and morphs with each step. Moving so dizzyingly that Enid has to look away.

“They’re not all young children,” his voice sounds like a blade being scraped across stone. Its rough and echoes through the narrow hallway. Each footstep towards them shakes the ground and when Enid flinches, his jaw unhinges and he lets out a high-pitched laugh, similar to a hyena. His hair bounces and slips around, the wig threatening to fall from his ghostly form. His makeup this close is patchy and bumpy, his lips dry but his eyes maniacal.

Enid feels herself being pushed back by Wednesday and her wife steps forward, meeting the ghost as his unhinged jaw seems to widen even further and he screams. A strong gust of air pushing them back and she watches as Wednesday’s braids fly in the air, but she stays still.

She pulls a small capsule from her pocket, a vial it seems.

The ghost chuckles, his voice now high like helium and ringing in their ears, “that’s rather small isn’t it?”

“Speaking from experience?” Wednesday retorts, tilting her head and taking in his massive form and how he makes himself larger to scare them. “Are you trying to make up for something here?”

He rushes towards her and Wednesday holds the vial out, muttering something under her breath and Enid watches in awe as he’s sucked into it and as Wednesday pops the lid on lazily. A pale hand helps Enid up from where she’d fallen to her knees and she gladly takes it.

“That was so hot,” she breathes out, smiling against Wednesday’s lips.

Her wife kisses her back, long and slow, before pulling away with dark eyes and a heaving chest.

“We should leave, before we find ourselves…distracted.”

“Right, right yup, lets go.”

Kinbott is very grateful when they exit the house, if not a little pale when Wednesday hands her the vial with the miniature blue clown ghost in it. His wails heard from outside the glass. Wednesday turns down any payment, seeing as “at least the house this year didn’t bore me to death.”

And when they return to their friends, Artemis launches herself into Enid’s arms and Enid gives her a big kiss on each plump little cheek. Wednesday watches them gently from behind and wordlessly picks up their daughters sweet bag, nodding to Divinia and Yoko. They go to a few more houses before they call it a night, Artemis’s bag almost as big as she is, and the walk home is quiet. Intimate even. Wednesday brushes the backs of their hands together before linking them once more and she talks in gentle Spanish to Artemis and is patient when their daughter clumsily answers. They round the corner of the street when Artemis, perched on Enid’s shoulders, points and yells.

“Mamá!” She points towards their house and they see some kids knelt in front of it, reaching into their backpacks to pull out a carton of eggs.

Wednesday’s eyes narrow and she reaches into her own pocket and pulls out three eggs.

“Wends when did you-”

And with perfect aim she hits the three of them on their heads and they shriek in surprise. Shoes scuffing the sidewalk as they take of running. Enid feels her heart swell knowing that Wednesday used a non-violent way of getting back at them.

She links arms with Wednesday and yells, “haha you better run! That’s my girlfriend losers.”

“Your wife, Enid.”

“Fuck yeah, my wife, even better.”