"Hey, uh- excuse me? Miss?"

Enid turned her head to see a tall young man rubbing his neck shyly, giving her a gentle smile. His eyes were light and his hair was done well, and the dimples popping up on his freckled cheeks were honestly adorable.

Enid returned the smile, a bit confused. "Oh, hello," she offered, tilting her head. She was aware of Wednesday behind her, the shuffling of books coming to a stop as her dark glare tracked over the newcomer.

The man swallowed, averting his eyes from Wednesday and looking back to Enid. His face was getting a bit red. "Hi, I'm Georgie," he greeted, offering a hand.

Enid shook it, still very puzzled. "Uh- Enid."

Georgie cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a bit before taking a breath. "I just, uh- I keep seeing you around the bookstore and just finally mustered up the courage to talk to you," he jumbled out, shoulders hunched up to his ears. Enid giggled. He was cute.

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"Would you- would you maybe be willing..." He stopped his halting pace, sucking in another breath. Enid would've realized what was going on by then if his rhythm didn't remind her so much of Wednesday when the goth was flustered or in a rush. The girl in question was staring daggers, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Enid would have to ask what was bothering her later.

"I was wondering if I could treat you to dinner tonight?" Georgie finally rushed out, his lips pursed nervously.

Enid blinked at him, her brain failing to make the connection for a solid five seconds. She gasped, eyebrows shooting up as her cheeks pinked. "I- oh, oh! Are you- are you asking me out on a date?"

Georgie nodded hurriedly, his eyes darting around before coming back to hers. "Yes. Yes, I'm asking you out. If that's something you'd be interested in. Dinner, I mean. With me."

Enid didn't know how to react. In all realness, she had never been properly asked out before. Even with Ajax in high school and after college (before he cheated on her) Enid had been the one making all of the moves. That being said, she knew how nerve-wracking it could be, and she felt flattered, even as her mouth flapped uselessly.

"I-"

A cold hand suddenly slid around her waist and pulled her into Wednesday's side, and Enid jumped, looking down at her friend. The girl was silently fuming, her dark mouth set into a tight line as her gaze narrowed, piercing Georgie furiously.

"Sorry," Wednesday hissed, sounding anything but, "but she's taken, actually."

Enid's brain short-circuited for the second time as she took in the fact that Wednesday was willingly standing so close to her, but not only that, she was pressed up against Enid with an arm around her goddamn waist. Enid could feel her cheeks blazing.

Wait- what had she just said?

"What?" Enid yelped, right as Georgie started to stutter with a look akin to terror on his face.

"Oh! Oh, geez, I'm- I'm so sorry I didn't realize, I should've-"

Wednesday pulled Enid even closer, their ribs snug as her nimble fingers pressed even harder into her hips. Enid thought she might just die. "Doesn't matter, she's taken. Get out of here before I feed your internal organs to my anaconda." Wednesday's eyes are impossibly dark and absolutely livid, and maybe Enid was going crazy, but she could've sworn the Latina had a faint blush over her cheeks as she grit her teeth and almost growled possessively at the boy.

Georgie snaps his mouth shut and nods, stumbling over himself to bolt out of the fantasy section. They both watch him go, and it's only when Wednesday lets out a tense breath and starts to let go of Enid that the werewolf really registers whatever just happened.

"What the hell?!" she whisper-shouts, jumping away from Wednesday as her cheeks blaze. Wednesday in turn is looking down at her shoes in an almost comically nervous way, one of her hands coming up to play with the end of her braid.

"I didn't like him looking at you. Talking to you. It made me... deeply upset," the girl said softly.

Enid's anger dissipates almost immediately, and she gives up on the words about Wednesday interfering with the first boy who might've actually been interested in her for a long time. Instead, she just sighs and brushes past Wednesday tiredly, heading to the checkout.

They both needed to rest. It had been a long day.

That was all.

The bus ride back to their hotel was silent. Wednesday sat pressed close to Enid due to limited space, and her posture was uncomfortably stiff. Her pale hands were wrapped around each other in her lap, the muscles twitching as her fingers pressed together in a rhythm only Wednesday could hear. It was accompanied by a low note in her chest, lips moving softly.

Enid watched sadly, doing her best to keep her mouth shut. Wednesday's ticks and stims only really ever showed their face when she was distressed. If Wednesday was upset, Enid was upset.

The walk to their room was just as quiet, only filled by the clicks of their shoes. They closed the door behind them, discarded jackets and bags on the small counter, and Enid washed her hands while Wednesday limped tiredly to the single bed and flopped down onto her side.

"Wednesday?" Enid asked softly, cautiously. It was always a toss up with her former roommate when she was tired. She either turned into a goopy mess like this, or she was even more irritable than normal and was more or less absolutely ready to commit mass murder. Sometimes the Wednesday Puddle could be a front for her homicidal tendencies.

There was no response. Not even a deep breath or a tilt of her head. Just steady breathing.

Oh. This was the other kind of exhaustion-induced response. Actual sleep. Riiiiiight.

Enid kicked her shoes off and changed into a pair of basketball shorts, laying on her side of the bed with her phone in hand. She had a K-drama to catch up on and tv made her extra drowsy so it was a win-win.

Minutes passed until she noticed the draft going through the room. The werewolf shivered, glaring silently at the window even though it was closed. Sighing and swinging her legs back out over the bed, Enid went to grab a couple of extra blankets but stopped when she realized that Wednesday was still in her day dress and shoes, arms completely bare.

Her mind waged a little battle, debating if she should wake Wednesday up to help her change and get under the covers so she could be moderately comfortable. As much as Wednesday said she could only bare chilly and stiff sleeping arrangements, Enid called her bluff.

Wednesday might cut her hand off and give Thing a friend if Enid touched her while she was sleeping, but her brow was scrunched up adorably and her hair was messy in a way that had Enid's heart racing. A picture of a life together had been forming the past weeks; waking up to a bedhead Wednesday every morning, Wednesday's affection aimed towards her, matching rings on their fingers and twin mating mark's on their necks.

Enid slapped herself in the face when she realized she had been standing over her friend and fantasizing about braiding her hair while the girl was asleep. "Gods, Enid. Get a hold of yourself." She trekked to the other room to get blankets, giving herself time to think and lower the blush on her cheeks

She knew Wednesday hated sleeping in her normal clothes. She preferred her shorts, her baggy T's and hoodies, her black and white striped socks and silk pajamas. Not a skirt and combat boots. Plus, wrinkles always seemed to ruin her day immediately.

Alas, maybe it was an excuse to touch her. To feel her warm skin and soft breath on her cheek and pretend to look away while Wednesday changed clothes, when really Enid would "accidentally slip" and catch a glance of warm skin and freckles on sharp shoulder blades.

"Shit. I'm really about to wake her up."

Nice knowin' ya, life.

She knelt on the floor next to the bed and carefully rested her hand on the psychic's shoulder. Her hand jolts at the skin-on-skin contact. Wednesday didn't stir, so Enid sucked in a breath and gently shook her, talking softly. "Wednesday. Hey, Wednesday, let's get you into some PJ's." Wednesday stays shockingly still, eyes closed and not even fluttering. Enid squints, absolutely confused. Normally Wednesday would've woken up before anyone could even start to kneel at her bedside.

How long has she been staying up?

"Psst, Wenny, wake u-"

There are suddenly obsidian eyes staring into her very soul and cold, lithe fingers in a vice around her wrist. Enid freezes, her blood icing, and she forces her breath to stop.

But then Wednesday is letting go and looking so sleepy that Enid just might cry. She slumps back down into her pillows, still strangely curled into herself. "What." The demand is quiet and a bit slurred, her tongue thick.

Enid takes a moment to let her heart beat normally again (her wrist is tingling) before daring to press her fingers against Wednesday's on the bed cover. Wednesday flinches, but her eyes don't open again and she doesn't move her hand away.

"You just looked cold and uncomfortable, darling," Enid whispers.

Waiiit wait shit-

She holds her breath a second time. Wednesday either doesn't hear it, or doesn't care about the pet name that Enid just let slip. Her lip starts to bleed with how hard she's biting it.

"I enjoy being cold and uncomfortable," Wednesday murmurs, her breathing already starting to yet again slow. "It reminds me every day that I'm miserably alive, I am yet closer to the sweet kiss of death."

Enid can't help her affectionate eye roll at her macabre friend's constant sense of the melodramatic, but doesn't say anything. She gently shakes Wednesday again.

"Why are you touching me."

"Why are you letting me?"

Wednesday has no answer for this, but her eyes are open again and staring right at Enid, who swears she can see a faint blush on her friend's face.

"What do you want?"

Enid feels a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She does her best to pretend she doesn't see it when Wednesday almost returns the favor. "Can I help you get into your PJ's?" she repeats, tilting her head.

Wednesday is awfully quick to chastise the werewolf when clearly given the chance. "Pajamas, Enid. Pajamas or sleepwear. PJ's makes you sound like a pup mewling after your mother."

Nine years ago, when they first met, Enid might've taken Wednesday's comment to heart and refused to acknowledge her at the later hours of the night or even at all. But now as a fully-fledged 24-year-old woman, she could only hum and smile again. "Sure, Willa. Can I help you get into your pajamas?"

Wednesday seems satisfied with Enid's use of proper diction, but she hesitates, face looking a bit warm. Odd. Especially with the draft still going strong. "May I... ask why you would desire for such a thing?"

"Well I mean, like I said, it's getting a little chilly in here and I know how strict you are with your clothes with wrinkles and-" Enid stops, taking a moment to process the current situation. Enid's question. Wednesday's question. The way Wednesday's pupils were blown a little wider, the pink dusting Wednesday's tan cheeks, the way Wednesday is sitting up and leaning a little bit closer...

Enid doesn't move, but Wednesday stops when their faces are half a foot apart. She smells of ink and cyanide and a dusky flower that Enid can't place, but it has the werewolf's head in a fuzz as she moves closer, the scent caking her throat as she breathes it in.

Just inches.

"Hey, what... what was the... the deal with the guy? At the- at the bookstore?" Enid mutters, greatly struggling to keep her eyes above Wednesday's nose. How on Earth had they gotten here?

Wednesday seems to be holding her breath. "I told you already, Wolf," she whispers. "It upset me that he had the gall to approach a woman as stunning as yourself. To talk to you."

Her heart feels like it's beating a lot harder.

"Oh? Is that all?"

A beat. Then- "No. I wanted to bludgeon the unworthy eyes out of his feeble skull for having ever laid on something that is rightfully... that is mine."

Enid feels her senses sharpening at the words. Is that what this had been, this little dance of theirs over the past weeks? The little touches at the cafe, the stolen glances at the book signings, the smiles and kinder words shared in the safety of seclusion?

Oh Gods, Enid can feel the tips of her ears warming. This was not at all how she had expected the evening to go.

Not that she's entirely complaining.

Wednesday looks radiant like this, cheeks pink and bangs messily pushed around her forehead, eyes dark. She's enthralling and dark and impossibly irresistible, and for the life of her, Enid cannot stop looking down at her lips.

"Are you... upset that I scared him off?" Wednesday suddenly voices, the words quiet and almost guilty. Whatever eye contact was happening breaks off and Enid feels the whiplash of the loss in her gut.

"...What?"

"Should I have let him pursue you? Is that what you wanted? Are you angry at me?"

Enid feels a sense of panic as Wednesday seems to scoot away, and she quickly moves up to sit on the bed next to her and take her hand. "Hey, Wednesday no, it's okay."

Wednesday is staring at her with wide eyes and lips parted, stock still as if scared to move. Enid thinks she gets what that's like, especially now, with the little distance between them warm and almost crackling with something she could only describe as... sexual tension...?

"It's okay," Enid repeats, this time so quietly she's not even sure if Wednesday heard it. But the goth is moving to entwine their fingers and rests her free hand on Enid's thigh, right where the skin is uncovered by her shorts.

Obviously, the shorts are, well, short. But this pair in particular leaves quite a bit of skin, which Wednesday seems to be taking advantage of.

Enid feels her breath catch somewhere in her ribs, and there's a stuttering deep in her heart that matches the thrumming low in her belly. She can hear Wednesday's pulse, can feel it under the rough press of her fingers as she lets her hand travel higher and angles her chin in a way that has the light turning her features even sharper.

"Can I kiss you?" the werewolf finally blurts out, tonguing at her canines as she feels fire lick up her neck to her cheeks.

Wednesday would be smug if she didn't look so open and vulnerable and needy. She only nods her head with barely a breath, glazed eyes darting down to Enid's mouth and lingering there shamelessly.

Enid, in turn, doesn't waste a moment.

They had already wasted years.

She leans down and presses her lips to Wednesday's, barely a whisper of touch. There's a pause, and Wednesday doesn't move away, but instead she jerks forward to kiss Enid hard; it's a little bumpy at first because neither of them have really been kissed properly before, but after a moment they melt into each other almost seamlessly.

Enid finds herself crawling over Wednesday and straddling her hips to kiss her deeper, canines nipping at soft lips and tongue licking past them to taste the noises coming from the girl's mouth. She can't help herself; there's a high inside her brain, oxytocin running wild and dumping itself into her system. Wednesday's hands are on her waist, and Enid is pressing closer, kissing her harder, both of them breathing heavily but unwilling to stop.

The heat between them is palpable and Enid feels drunk on it. The smell of Wednesday surrounds her, chokes her, and the body beneath her is arching into her touch, greedy hands diving into her hair to force her closer.

Enid does not mind at all.