Wenclair One Shots Chaotic Pack

I'm done with this.

The very angry and very colorful werewolf pulls out a chair in a very furious manner.

"You know what, Wednesday? I'm done. Whatever this is. I'm done."

"No, you are not."

"Yes, Wednesday, I am." Enid is angry. Almost furious, close to the angry level of The First Red Bag Episode, but Wednesday just blankly stares at her roommate, like she knows something.

Something that — likely — could prevent upcoming tragedy.

"Enid." She says calmly, but Enid without a doubt can hear in her strict voice that almost unnoticed alarmed little sound. "I really hope you don't think about pulling out your travel bag, because I'm pleased to announce I destroyed that ugly personification of an evil curse." Addams ends with strong... delight coming out of her dusky words.

Yep, that's definitely delight and some absurd — and very common emotion among every Addams Family member — pride.

Then everything gets quiet. Like, calm before the storm, quiet. Wednesday swallows, because even she can feel in her gloomy bones that kind of quiet is really not a good kind of quiet.

Not at all.

"You what?!" The werewolf explodes like a shaken can of soda, pulling the shorter girl out of her mysterious thoughts.

Wednesday waits. Waits and stares at her very passionate and — these days apparently — very stormy roommate.

It's time.

"You won't be leaving, Enid. That's the end of the discussion."

A girl with ocean eyes blinks.

"We haven't even started the discussion." Blonde angrily throws her hands up.

Wednesday just stares.

Intensely glares.

Her usually cheerful roommate sighs. "You know what... I can't deal with you... With this right now."

A girl with two straight braids knows that now is absolutely not a good time for pushing Enid's buttons with overhasty bravado or giving her unwelcome ironic advice. She should turn around, find Thing and go to play some cello; or maybe get lost in the endless labyrinth of darkness, dust and outrageously great collection of old books in Nevermore's library.

But she is Wednesday Addams, and an Addams never bucks down.

Never.

"Then take a nap. I am unsure why, but napping seems to somehow lose your nerves." She says it using her routine neutral mode.

There it is.

The storm is coming to town.

Enid explodes for the second time in a day.

"GOD! I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP. I DON'T WANT TO REST IN THIS ROOM ANYMORE. JUST MOVE WEDNESDAY. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO ACT LIKE THAT. NEVER AGAIN!" Wednesday is probably scared, she shivers. Yes, that's exactly the feeling that is rushing through her entire little — on the face of it, fragile — body. She likes it. This new affection is temptingly uncomfortable and unpredictable.

"I apologize, Enid, but I cannot do this. It's an emergency."

"Emergency? I'll show you what an emergency is."

Wednesday nods.

Enid is supposed to be all sunshine, smiley and cheerful, but right now she's angry. Very angry and very provoked. Enid isn't supposed to be angry. Enid isn't supposed to be provoked. It is a new, unexplored, exciting land for her moody best friend.

But positively, Enid isn't excited at all when she slowly — but without the slightest hesitation — comes closer and closer and closer to Wednesday.

Almost like a hungry wolf hunting its newest prey.

"Enid, what are you doing?" Wednesday just stares like a deer caught in the headlights. Her roommate is generally not vividly bold when it comes to escalating any kind of conflict. "Please, don't tell me it is going to be one of your sickeningly disgusting hugs?" She makes a face, but deep down feels unknown or at least — until recently — hidden warm.

The deeply blue eyes of her dearest friend just look at her sharply.

"Hugs? Oh, Wednesday. I won't be hugging you..." She smiles.

Smiles like a Jack Nicholson in Shining; like an Alex DeLarge in A Clockwork Orange. She smiles like a — Wednesday once again shivers at her own thoughts — psychopath.

Why?

The Addams girl feels unsure, but at once she cannot give up on their little friendly-unfriendly fight. But without a doubt, that aggressively mischievous smiley face is doing something to her... internal organs; makes her insides sick... Causes tiny fires everywhere; intoxicates thick and icy blood rushing through her veins with its terrific unspecified force... What if Enid somehow cursed her?

No. It is ridiculous. That colorful werewolf definitely doesn't have the guts.

"You really, really crossed the line, Wednesday. And you really, really shouldn't do this, you know?"

Yes, Wednesday knows, but how she could not? She's an Addams and Enid is... Enid simply belongs to their room.

"Enid. If you come closer, I will..." Wednesday tries to intimidate a blonde werewolf.

Then her blue-eyed roommate just shakes her head.

"You'll do nothing, Wednesday."

Oh, that's new. Sassy and straightforward Enid is really something. Wednesday should test more this side of her annoying roommate soon.

But now she has more burning issues to solve.

"Enid." Enid is really close now. Wednesday's body can feel it. Wednesday's eyes can see it.

Just a few more inches and she could...

"Move, Wednesday." The blue, furious eyes are the only visible thing in Wednesday's field of view. And then all she can see is Enid's beautiful, soft, gentle, and — somehow right at this moment — pretty deadly hand. It's almost touching her. If she wanted, she could sense it. If she wanted, she could feel how subtle it is; how awfully precise it can be.

Smooth as freshly laundered silk and cool as summer evening rain.

Or?

"Why are you touching my face?" It's not a dream, not a nightmare, not an illusion. Enid's hand is touching Wednesday's untouchable cheek.

"Please, get out of my way, Wednesday." Enid whispers — and she is really close when she whispers; her breath embracing the freckled face of her wildly brown-eyed and very distracted, extremely unfocused, best friend.

Oh, she will not.

"No, I will not..."

"Then I'm going to kiss you, silly."

"Oh."

"Oh."

Wait, what?