Wenclair One-Shots

gifts from a cat

Summary:

the one where wednesday is basically just a cat in human form

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The next time something shows up on Enid's side of the room, she stifles a scream.

Because it's a necklace, sure. And it's pretty, sure.

But it also has a spider inside it.

—————————————————-

Wednesday is... odd.

She's Wednesday, after all. Enid knew that the moment they met, Wednesday a foil of dark-and-gloomy to Enid's sunshine-and-rainbows. And somehow, they really do work together. It's an enigma, or something.

But still. She's weird. And sometimes (often) Enid doesn't know what to make of her.

Like how they're both laying across the room from each other right now, and usually Wednesday sleeps like she's expecting to wake up (or not wake up – Enid shudders) in a coffin, but tonight she's on her side, one arm tucked under her pillow and the other near the edge of the bed toward Enid. Her fingertips hang off the bed, and the woefully dull light from her side of the window catches on her glossy black nails.

Enid pretends not to notice, and she's contorted herself just awkwardly enough that she could be asleep for all Wednesday knows. But she's not, and part of that is because Wednesday is just staring at her, and it freaks her out a little. Is she plotting something? Enid is pretty sure she hasn't done anything recently to really anger her (minor annoyances don't count – Wednesday wouldn't decapitate her over humming Taylor Swift... probably) but she still feels like she's somehow on very thin ice.

Wednesday's dark bangs partially obscure her face in the night, but Enid's new night vision means she can see her eyes clearly. She can hear the steady tha-thump, tha-thump of Wednesday's heartbeat, too.

It's almost too subtle to catch, but as she watches, Wednesday closes her eyes. It seems like she's finally trying to sleep, but then she opens them again. Wednesday Addams rarely, if ever, blinks –it's unnerving but Enid is used to it now, mostly—but this one was so weirdly slow and intentional that Enid thinks she's definitely going to die.

And then Wednesday rolls onto her back, crosses her hands over her chest, and her heartbeat slows as she dozes off, probably dreaming about taxidermy or corpses or something.

Enid shudders, and it takes another hour for her to fall asleep.

~*~*~

Stupid werewolves, stupid toxic pack mentality, stupid–

She's brought to a screeching halt by something solid, and is already apologizing profusely by the time she realizes she's plowed right into Wednesday, who is staring up at her with that unimpressed, daggers-ready stare. It's not quite as scathing for Enid, which she thinks is sweet, but it quickly tips into something that almost looks like concern as Wednesday sees the tear tracks down Enid's cheeks.

"Who was it?" she asks, tone curt with barely-restrained fury. Enid has seen this side of her once or twice, and she sniffles, and that prompts Wednesday to take a step into her space. She can't tell if it's meant as intimidation or comfort, but either way, Wednesday voluntarily moving closer to anyone is big. "Enid. Who. Was. it."

Enid sniffs and stares up at the roof, willing the tears to stop, and when she feels steady enough to talk, she gives Wednesday a sheepish little smile. "It's – it's fine, don't worry about it. But thanks."

Wednesday's eyes narrow, and for her that's the equivalent of screaming suspicion. She doesn't say anything, and Enid already knows that she's doing that thing where she just waits for Enid to fill the silence because she can't deal with silence and has to fill it, but it still works. Of all the things Wednesday got out of self-studied psychology, why did it have to be the weird manipulation tactics?