Wenclair One-Shots

you know it's good to be tough like me (but i will wait forever) (Part 3/4)

When Wednesday woke, her heart was already leaping into her throat, and her bed shifted under the weight of another person. She startled violently, her instincts urging her to fight. Something grabbed at her hands as she flailed, a noise like a snarl of warning ripping from her lips, but the hands weren't the freezing, powerful grip that threatened to grind her bones to dust.

"It's me!" Enid cried. "I'm sorry, sorry, it's just me."

Wednesday went limp with relief, agitation still roaring in her veins as she shivered, adrenaline still pulsing through her.

"I'm sorry," Enid said again. She didn't let go of Wednesday's hands, rubbing her thumbs along the knuckles soothingly. It did, to Wednesday's horror, soothe. "I got up for the bathroom and when I came back, you were..."

Her trailing reluctance didn't bother Wednesday. She knew exactly what she was. Writhing around in place like a fox caught in a trap, frenzied to the point of gnawing off its own leg. She'd had nightmares for years, and when her visions started, they only grew more severe, but the ones she'd been having since Crackstone were... vivid to say the least.

"It's fine," she bit out, too frazzled to even police her own tone to Enid, who had done nothing wrong.

Thankfully, Enid didn't seem hurt, only concerned. Still, looking at the tiny crinkle between her eyebrows, the way she worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, her still gentle thumbs gliding across trembling hands, Wednesday found it difficult to keep her wits about her. Even her tongue felt heavy and clumsy in the face of Enid's worry.

"What time is it?" she asked finally. There wasn't any light filtering through the window, only her lamp and the trailing light from the still-on bathroom light illuminating their room.

Enid glanced over to her side of the room, craning her neck to catch the alarm clock sitting on her bedside table. Wednesday found herself staring at the long muscles of her neck, wondering, dazedly, what it might feel like to put her mouth there.

"Almost five in the morning," Enid replied, turning back to Wednesday who suddenly couldn't look her in the eyes. "We slept almost all night."

Together. In the same bed. Because Wednesday had made Enid get into her bed. Because she was desperate and Enid was kind, and she felt a hot bolt of shame puncture the base of her skull.

Wednesday moved to sit on the edge of her bed, feet draping to the ground. Her socked feet. Because she let Enid take off her shoes.

"I want to take care of you," Enid had said, kneeling before Wednesday, looking up at her like she was a thing divine.

"I apologize," Wednesday managed, her own dread making it hard to speak too loud.

"I'm honestly, like, so glad that you slept so long," Enid said in a rush, sitting so she was shoulder to shoulder with Wednesday. She dropped one of Wednesday's hands so they could easily sit next to each other and Wednesday's fingers twitched of their own accord to reach back before she stopped herself. "You were insanely sleep deprived, and you totes needed it."

"I didn't mean to be so," Wednesday began, annoyed that Enid didn't even know what she was trying to apologize for. She searched for the right thing to say, the right set of words to wrap up in a much too chintzy bow that Enid would like, and would make her not treat Wednesday like she was some touch-starved, lecherous freak.

"Wednesday Addams, if you apologize to me for wanting a hug, I am going to be very, very sad," Enid said suddenly with an imperiousness that was jarring. Admirably so.

"You," Wednesday started, but felt that she couldn't muster any more words.

"I mean it!" Enid insisted.