Work Text:
Enid was doomscrolling when she realized Wednesday was staring at her like she’d grown a third eye.
Even stranger, Wednesday’s hair was down. No braids, no ties. Just a sleek curtain of black falling over her shoulders.
Enid blinked, tossed her phone aside, and opened her drawer.
Wednesday sat on Enid’s bed. Voluntarily. Even more bizarre. “What are you searching for?”
“A hair tie,” Enid said. “You misplaced yours, right?”
“I did not.”
Enid’s hand froze in the drawer. She closed it slowly, nerves prickling. “Okay...then why is your hair down? Not that it doesn’t look cute—you look amazing, actually—but you always keep it braided. Even when you’re asleep.
“I was hoping we could have gushy, emotional, girl bonding time,” Wednesday said flatly.
Enid swore she saw a blush ghost across Wednesday’s cheeks.
A week ago, Wednesday had demanded Enid cut her hair. Afterward, she’d begrudgingly let Enid braid it, opening up in ways Enid never expected, including confessing she was autistic. Enid hadn’t breathed a word of it, not even to Yoko. Gossip was second nature to her, but when it came to Wednesday, she could clamp her mouth shut like a steel trap.
Now Wednesday thrust her hair ties into Enid’s hands like an offering.
“You want me to braid your hair?” Enid asked.
Wednesday nodded. “I hope I have not suggested something out of line.”
Enid bit her lip to keep from squealing. “No, no, you’re good. I’d love to.”
Wednesday moved to the middle of the bed, sitting primly in front of her. Enid slid her fingers into the glossy strands, savoring how soft and silky they were, how they carried the faint scent of cloves and ink. Wednesday tensed at first, like she always did, but when Enid’s claws grazed her scalp, she softened, almost leaning back into the touch.
Enid smiled. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this.
Wednesday broke the quiet. “I was thinking we could go into town later. To the Weathervane.”
“Together? Like, me and you?”
“That is what together means, yes.”
Enid grinned. “I’d love to.”
For a while, only the quiet rhythm of braiding filled the air. Then Wednesday’s voice cut through, lower, hesitant. “I wanted to thank you for not telling anyone about my…autism.”
Enid’s hands stilled briefly. “Wedns, you know that label doesn’t define you, right? You’re you. You’re brilliant, badass, and the best investigator Nevermore’s ever seen. That diagnosis doesn’t take away from any of that. And since when did you care what people think?”
A beat passed, then Wednesday spoke, her voice tiny. “Pugsley had friends. I never did. Children whispered that I was strange. Teachers called me difficult. When I was six, I tried to play with the others by pretending to be their pet scorpion.” Wednesday’s lips tightened. “They killed Nero for it.”
Enid’s chest ached.
Wednesday’s voice dropped further, almost a whisper. “I told myself I needed no one. That being alone was better than being reminded I could not belong. But…”
Her words snagged, and suddenly her eyes unfocused.
“However, I did not let it get to me. Or, at the very least, I did not let myself present as such. I sometimes wonder if I tried harder to be normal then others would like me,” Wednesday deflates a little. “Because I had such trouble making friends when I was younger, I decided I needed no one. Especially after I heard my parents whispering that my diagnosis made sense. It answered the question of why I had such trouble understanding the other kids.”
“Every teacher I had disliked me. They always disliked that I already knew the class material before they taught it, and I could tell that the way I stood up to bullies was, in their minds, deemed abnormal. I knew it bothered them that I was not like their other students, that I was the special one. Teachers were not my friends, students were not my friends, nobody, other than Nero, was my friend.”
“I grew a backbone. I learned how to make the bullies stop. They did not like it when I fought back. Later, when I saw how Pugsly got bullied, I could not stand to see him be made fun of the way I was. I put piranhas in the pool, and it filled me with joy to see them go after their testicles. Those specimen did not deserve their ability to reproduce!”
Enid ties the end of Wednesday’s hair, finishing one of the braids. “I never thought this stuff actually, like, ate at you. This whole time, I thought you were like, invincible to what other people thought. But this whole time, you actually did give a fuck. Excuse my language.”
“I think we need to clean your mouth out with soap,” Wednesday smirks.
Enid chuckles. “You have a sense of humor!”
“I do not,” Wednesday crosses her arms. “If you tell anyone…”
“I know, I know,” Enid laughs. “Eyeballs hanging on the walls, got it.”
“I was going to go with ripping your nails out,” Wednesday says. “I suppose eyeballs on the walls is an adequate alternative.”
“Hey! You are NOT declawing me! That’s, like, immoral!”
“Fine, I’ll stick to ripping your eyeballs out.”
Enid laughs. “You’re so weird. But I like that about you.” Enid’s hands steady in her hair, warmth sinking into her scalp like sunlight through glass.
Wednesday blinked hard, grounding herself. “I lied when I said I have no friends. I have you.”
Enid’s heart nearly burst. She finished the braid, twisted the tie, and tugged gently on Wednesday’s shoulder. “Turn around.”
Wednesday obeyed. She looked stiff, bracing for judgment, but Enid just beamed at her. “Number one, we’re totally friends. Number two, if you want to talk, you don’t have to bribe me with hair-braiding. Unless you want to, because I love it. This can be our thing.”
“I would like that,” Wednesday admitted.
“So you do like it when I play with your hair,” Enid teased.
A glare. “I will admit it feels…pleasant. Your claws are gentle. I never thought I’d find myself fond of that, but here we are.”
Enid laughed. “You’re so weird. But I like that about you.”
Wednesday turned away quickly, but Enid swore she saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
The Weathervane smelled of burnt espresso and cinnamon syrup. Enid pushed through the door first, practically bouncing, her arm brushing Wednesday’s sleeve.
They slid into a corner booth. Enid grinned, scanning the menu as if she hadn’t memorized it months ago.
Enid smiled as she ordered her usual rainbow sprinkle monstrosity. Wednesday stuck with espresso.
When the drinks arrived, Enid stirred hers idly, then looked up. “Thanks for coming with me. I know this isn’t...your scene. After the whole Tyler thing.”
Wednesday studied the condensation sliding down her glass. “It isn’t.”
Enid raised an eyebrow.
“But I find myself...tolerating it. In your company.”
Enid lit up. Wednesday’s hand twitched around her glass. She forced her breathing steady, swallowing.
“Hey,” Enid said softly. “You okay?”
Wednesday met her gaze. “I’m fine.”
Enid didn’t press, just nudged her foot gently against Wednesday’s under the table.
They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the hiss of the milk steamer. Then Enid leaned forward, conspiratorial. “So...are we friends now? Like, officially? Because I’m marking it on my calendar if we are.”
Wednesday tilted her head. “You require paperwork?”
Enid giggled. “Nah, just a pink glitter pen.”
Wednesday blinked hard. Her glass was trembling in her grip. She set it down carefully.
“I suppose we are...friends,” she said at last, her tone flat as ever.
Enid’s smile spread. “Knew it.”