Wenclair One-Shots

A Fortunate Oversight (STEAMY Smut)

Summary:

Enid makes a mistake. So does Wednesday. They're both fortunate ones. Sexy fun ensues. My take on Wenclair.

——————————————————

The chain of events that lead to a new understanding between Wednesday and Enid started with an accident. Or rather an oversight.

The rhythmic clanking of Wednesday's typewriter was the only noise in the room which was exactly the way she liked it. She and Enid had fallen into a routine that greatly pleased Wednesday. In one of her extremely rare moods of exaggeration she even went so far as to think it a comfortable routine. They had slowly learned to live with one another, making small but meaningful adjustments to their personal routines in an unspoken effort to minimize the ever constant friction between them.

Wednesday became more considerate of Enid's sleep pattern and practised on her cello before midnight while Enid made sure she was absent during Wednesday's writing time. After some days Wednesday noticed that she even went so far as to switch to headphones when she wished to listen to that ghastly noise she considered music as soon as Wednesday stepped into their room. 'Quid pro quo', Wednesday thought when she realized this act of consideration and moved her prepared squirrels to a shelf in her wardrobe. She greatly preferred her variation of stuffed animals to Enid's hideous collection of toys but knew that Enid cringed even at the sight of them. The reason she understood not in the least, but she chose to accept it as one of Enid's many oddities.

Wednesday was lost in thought, worrying at her lips as she considered the best way to describe the flayed body Viper had just found when she was suddenly yanked back into reality by an unexpected beeping noise. And another. And another. Wednesday's gaze hardened in annoyance, she could feel her face transforming to give way to her characteristic glare that so many of her peers described as psychotic. Not to her face, no, but she was not deaf to the whispered murmurs of the rumour mill. She turned in her chair, eyes sweeping the colourful side of the room in pursuit of the offending sound.

She recognized the sound as one of Enid's devices, although she wasn't certain which one she may have left behind. Wednesday thought it highly unlikely that Enid would part with her telephone willingly. She stood from her desk and briskly walked across the black duct tape she had stretched across their room. She spied Enid's computer on her desk, deducing that it was the most likely suspect. She had noticed that Enid was rather more fidgety than usual when she came back from her fencing class. A feat she had not thought was possible and yet there it was. Enid snapped her computer shut the moment she entered their room and she was flying out the door, claiming that she had far too much energy, or 'going wild for a good run' as she had put it. Another series of beeps confirmed Wednesday's suspicion that it was indeed the computer that jarred her from creative space.

Wednesday was not fluent with technology. She wondered how the metal monster was making the noise when it was supposed to be powered down. More importantly, she wondered how to make it stop without destroying the machine. Her first thought was, admittedly, to throw the offending object out the window, but it would not do. While it would certainly solve her immediate grief most efficiently, she had no illusions about Enid's reaction. And she had to admit, she would not even be able to fault her for it. Destroying the computer would also destroy the progress they had made in making this cohabitation tolerable. No, Wednesday had to figure out how to make the machine stop its beeping another way.

Relying on her limited experience with the soul sucking contraption, Wednesday raised its screen from its mostly flat position, hoping that a visual confirmation might remind her which button it was she had to push to make it stop. As soon as the screen was positioned upright the computer came to life... and the frozen image that greeted Wednesday was not one she would have anticipated. Not on Enid's computer. To Wednesday's mild surprise and intrigue, her bubbly pink werewolf room mate had been engaged in watching... 'some kind of torture video?' Wednesday wondered. All thoughts of her novel forgotten, she perched on the edge of Enid's chair as she figured out how to make the computer play what was obviously a paused video.