Young and in Love - Wenclair

Through Sickness and...

SUHPRIIIIISE SHAWTYYYY an update! Haven't written in a while since literally all three of these things happened to me but anyway,
Three instances where the gworls are sick and soft :) non-canon compliant so ignore any of the  misgivings
——-

1
Flu

Enid's chest raises in a steady three-beated thump, her aching body hitting the mattress each time miserably. A long groan manages its way out of her throat, half swollen and sore to the cruel world beyond.

"Enid, as much as I delight in the soothing music of human suffering, it has been non stop for an hour and I am finding it frustrating." Wednesday says, barely startling Enid.

Enid chuckles humourlessly, lolling her head out of its heap of blankets to glare at Wednesday sitting up in her own bed, a frown in her eyebrow at the late hour.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is my pain disturbing your precious sleep?" She asks sarcastically, a cough cutting into her voice.

"Yes," Wednesday says non-plussed, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and standing. "Now, will you kindly stop?" She asks, hands latched behind her back and staring pointedly like one might a particularly annoying child.

Enid blows a raspberry. "No."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow. "And pray tell, why not?"

Enid blinks. She ambles onto her forearms, thankful they hold her despite their fatigue. "You're serious?"

"I do not joke, Enid, please do not say such horrible nonsense."

"Wends, I'm sick." Enid says coolly, smiling despite herself at the obvious confusion marring moonlight features.

Wednesday was always so pretty in the gaze of the moon. Her two favourite ladies.

"Sick?" Wednesday tilts her head. "Is it boils? Plague? Famine?"

Enid furrows her eyebrows, thoroughly snapped out of her admiring. "What?—"

"—Shingles? Diphtheria? Malaria? If it's leprosy, we do have a family cure if you don't particularly care for your left foot —"

"—The flu, Wends, just a flu!"

Wednesday settles at that. "Oh. The influenza. Yes, that is common among the weaker immunity."

Enid narrows her eyes. "Gee, thanks. And I'll have you know, it's a werewolf flu. Not human. So much cooler." She doesn't bother letting Wednesday know how it's practically the same thing when not capable of wolfing-out, and collapses down again, curling into a ball as a round of violent shivers begin, hoping against hope she has satisfied the knowledge-hungry girl and she can suffer in peace.

No such dice.

Wednesday doesn't move away. In fact, with ears clogged from congestion and senses dull, Enid is only aware that the goth teen had moved across the tape barrier when she feels something hard prodding into her spine, and turns with one eye forced open to face the blunt tip of Wednesday's fencing sabre. She feels herself calming in the Raven's proximity, inhaling deeply and greedily committing it to memory as she snuggles deeper into her bedding.

So maybe the nesting instinct is still possible without ever having wolfed out.

Wednesday stares unblinkingly down at the werewolf, who rumbles with a purr in the proximity of the ornery girl.

"Why do you keep..." Wednesday motions with the sabre like she is horrified by the nervous response of Enid kicking at the blankets. "Doing that?"

Enid eyes the neat press of Wednesday's sheets that never actually look slept in and her mess of one's, tangled and twisted in her wolf's attempt at building a nest that doesn't quite suit her without Wednesday's scent.