Chapter Text
The buzzing of the tattoo machine was the only sound in the room, Bianca working on her latest client. Lines of dark ink formed Wednesday’s latest design in the thick, cream colored paper of her notebook, ink staining her tattooed fingers. Bianca didn’t pay her any mind. No one did. It was everything she ever wanted. It was maddening.
The bell on the door chimed. Damn. Wednesday had put a lot of effort into making her tattoo shop as hostile to customers as possible; the remote location, in a dead strip mall on the outskirts of town. The overflowing garbage can outside. The complete and utter rejection of any sort of advertising or regular business hours. The lack of a phone number, or website. The blackout curtains hanging in the windows, completely concealing the nature of the business inside, except for the single, hand-painted sign in the window. It bore only a single word: MONOCHROME, the MONO in thick black letters, the CHROME in hollow font.
In the past month, two people had come in thinking it was an art gallery, four had come in thinking it was some sort of cafe, and five had come in thinking it was a yoga studio , of all things. Can you imagine? The nerve of some people. Apparently, their latest customer had, indeed, by some miracle, correctly intuited that the business was a tattoo shop. Fortunately, however, Wednesday was now going to have to kick him out, which was an experience she always cherished.
“Hey, uh, I wanna get a tattoo, can I get a, uh, logo for the Washington Redskins on my arm? I want it right here.” The man said, slapping his left bicep. It jiggled, which only served to draw attention to the amount of arm hair.
“The store’s called ‘Monochrome’.” Bianca said, not taking her eyes off her work. “We only do tattoos in black and white.”
The man snorted, and for one awful moment Wednesday was afraid he might spit. And she had just cleaned. She had always just cleaned; she cleaned the whole store top to bottom every single day. It gave her something to do in the many open hours in her schedule, and she had precious few things to occupy her time-at least, ways that Bianca approved of and didn’t draw the attention of the cops.
The man, in the end, did not spit. Unfortunately, that meant she couldn’t kick him out, at least not yet. Bianca had had a talk with her after kicking out too many would-be clients.
“Damn.” he said. “Could you do it in black and white? And then I can have someone else fill in the color?”
Wednesday’s eye twitched. She did not throw the man out of her shop. Yet.
“We cannot. Original designs only. No logos, no sports teams, and no text. And before you ask, yes that includes other languages, and yes that includes celtic runes. And that’s final.”
The man rolled his eyes.
“Yeah? Done any work recently?”
Wednesday gave him a smile that was a little bit like a knife and a lot bit like a sign to start running.
“As a matter of fact, I have .” She said, her words honey-sweet. “Just the other day, I helped a former neo-nazi cover up his swastika tattoo.”
“Oh. I guess that’s…neat.” the man said, walking straight into Wednesday’s trap.
“Indeed. It’s amazing what six feet of dirt can do.”
Silence reigned. Even Bianca paused in her work.
The man rolled his eyes.
“Whatever.”
The bell on the door jingled as he left.
Wednesday turned to Bianca, expecting a fight, but the siren only rolled her eyes as she finished her client’s tattoo, applying the protective wrapping. In time, her client packed up her things, and Wednesday prepared herself for another long day with zero visitors, zero problems, and zero excitement.
And then Enid Sinclair walked through the door.
You could hear a pin drop. The two former roommates stared at each other, deer in each other's headlights.
“Hi.” Enid said. Wednesday had forgotten how soft her voice was.
Wednesday had forgotten how beautiful she was, too. She was taller than Wednesday remembered her being, bringing the height difference between them into sharp relief. Her arms, draped in lean muscle, emerged from a scoop-cut tank top. Long, thin fingers, covered in rings came to rest on the reception desk. Wednesday’s eye caught her fingernails, painted much like their schoolyard days, except for the black fingernail on each ring finger, sans rings. She was wearing heart shaped sunglasses, which she removed, revealing eyes of brilliant blue and a face full of piercings; nose, eyebrows, ears, lips.
She was wearing the earrings Wednesday gave her, all those years ago.
“Would that be ok?” Enid asked.
Wednesday blinked in confusion, having no recollection of what she had said.
“My apologies, could you say that again?” Wednesday said, her voice wooden.
Enid gave her a soft smile, and brushed a lock of blonde, pink-dyed hair behind her ear.
“I was wondering if I could get a tattoo done.”
“Yes. Absolutely. That is…completely possible.” Wednesday said, rooting around under the desk for the required forms, refusing to break eye contact, lest she disappear. “When would you like to have it done?”
Enid leaned in a little closer, resting her arms on the counter. She was so very, very close.
“Does now work?”
Wednesday was *sure* she had organized the forms. Where *was* the damn thing?
“Yes.” Wednesday said, rapping her knuckles against the inside of the desk, on accident. “Now works. I am free until…I am free for the rest of the day.”
“Perfect.” Enid said, and gave her a brilliant smile.
“We'll…uh…we'll catch up with you later.” Yoko said, Divina on her arm. Wednesday hadn't even noticed their presence.
“Yeah. Sounds good.” Enid said, absent-mindedly.
“Cool. Let us know…if you need anything.” Yoko said, inching out of the door.
“Cool! Yes! Thank you, Yoko! Bye now!” Enid snapped.
The vampire and her love made their escape at haste.
Bianca stood up suddenly.
“I'm done for the day. See you.”
Wednesday gasped for words like a fish gasping for air, trying to get her to stay, to *help*. The door shut before she could get a word out. And the two roommates were left alone.
Damn the forms.
Wednesday took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out. She checked to see if her hands were shaking. They weren't, but Wednesday was practically vibrating at such an intensity there could have been an earthquake and she wouldn't have noticed.
“Tattoo. Yes. I can do that. Did you have a design or placement in mind?”
“Yeah, you know tarot cards? I'd like Strength and The Moon on, like, the inside of my arms.. So…tattoos, plural.”
Wednesday began taking studious notes.
“I can do that. Do you have a specific deck you'd like me to emulate?”
“Your choice.” Enid said, her voice soft. Wednesday dared to meet her gaze.
“I trust you.”
Wednesday could only nod. After several agonizing seconds, she asked “Do you want to see the design before I start? And…” she took in a deep breath “Would you like the tattoo in monochrome, or color?”
“Wednesday.” Enid said, shattering the raven's world to its foundations. “I trust you.”
Wednesday swallowed and double checked that her hands weren't shaking.
“Okay. Come here. Sit.” She said, guiding Enid to her area of the shop.
“Nice chair.” she said, getting herself comfortable as Wednesday prepared her tools.
“It's a dentist chair from a former sanitarium. Built in the 1960s.” Wednesday said, her voice far away as she stared at her inks. Her pride had demanded that she master color tattoos, although she had only ever stained living skin in black and white and shades of gray. Theoretically, the technique should be the same.
“It’s nice.” Enid said, although Wednesday barely heard her.
With renewed conviction, she pulled out the full spectrum of colors. Enid trusted her. That was enough.
Her skin was soft and smooth and beautiful. Wednesday could swear she was having heart palpitations, like she was burning up. She was wearing the same outfit she wore every day; thin, baggy black pants, black nitrile gloves, and a black turtleneck. The ensemble completely covered her own tattoos, but she was fine with that. She had always told herself there was only one person who deserved to see them; here, against all odds, she was.
“It’s warm in here.” Wednesday began, by way of explanation. “Do you mind if I remove my sweater?”
The blush covering Enid’s face brought her little comfort, nor did her wide, staring eyes.
“Sure!” the wolf said, a bit too forced. “That’s fine. That’s totally cool.”
Wednesday took a deep breath and slowly lifted the fabric up and over her head. Enid’s eyes drank in every iota of detail she could. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when she saw Wednesday was wearing a tank top underneath. Their eyes met; it was intoxicating. It was magnetic.
It was too much. Enid looked away. The gentle touch of Wednesday’s gloved hands on her arm made her breath catch in her throat.
“I’m going to begin.”
Enid waited until she felt the prickle of the needles against her skin before daring to turn her gaze towards Wednesday once more. The psychic’s face was a mask of absolute concentration. It was a sight she had missed more than anything. The only thing that could drag her attention away were the tattoos on Wednesday’s skin. A sleeve on her left arm, like cybernetic wind bars, thick, black lines. A Gothic cathedral across her clavicles, the steeple crawling up the throat. On her right arm, a poker hand; the queen of hearts and the queen of spades, locked in a passionate kiss, peeling themselves off of their cards. Flanking them were three sixes, spades, hearts, clubs. Below them was a band of barbed wire; above hung a labrys, a snake winding around its shaft. A bear trap in the crook of the elbow, snapping shut as Wednesday flexed her arm. On her forearm, a dagger nestled in nest of vipers. There were others, concealed by Wednesday’s clothes; Enid caught the outlines of a handgun tattooed along Wednesday's ribs, under the armpit, through the hole of her tank top.
Enid stared at the tattoos, and the woman wearing them, and the whole world fell away.
“I'm done.” Wednesday said suddenly, snapping Enid out of her trance. She looked down, and saw the finished tattoo; a regal figure is a beautiful dress and blonde, blue and pink tipped hair, standing with a massive white wolf that stood in front of her, protectively. Nestled in the branches of the trees blocking out the moon was a single, red-eyed raven. Wednesday fidgeted in her chair, nervously peeling her gloves off.
“Is it…acceptable?”
Enid smiled at her, bringing a blush to Wednesday’s face.
“It’s perfect. I love-I love it.” she said, and Wednesday’s face became completely red.
There was a moment of silence where they stared into each other's eyes, afraid to speak a word or make a move. The quiet ended as Enid failed to stifle a yawn.
“Sorry.” She said as soon as she was able. “It's just-”
“There's no need to apologize.” Wednesday interjected. “It's late, and your body has been through significant hardship.”
Enid checked the time on her phone and winced.
“Oh jeez, you're right.” She turned towards Wednesday. “Could I come back tomorrow? Will you still be…available?”
Wednesday swallowed. She could only nod.
“Cool. Yeah. Alright. Well, uh-”
“Wait.” Wednesday blurted out. “I still need to…wrap the tattoo.”
“Oh! Right. Yeah. Of course.” Enid said, blushing. She stood awkwardly as Wednesday gathered her supplies. She prepared them, she asked, voice just barely shaking, “Would it be…acceptable if I were to…take a photo? For…promotional purposes?”
Even as she spoke, she couldn't meet Enid's gaze. Her hands were shaking. Enid stepped forward, gently taking Wednesday’s hand in her own.
“It's OK.” She said, running her thumb over Wednesday's tattooed knuckles. “I'll be here tomorrow, remember? You can take my photo then.”
Wednesday only nodded, but she squeezed Enid's hand like a lifeline. She took a deep breath.
“I still need to wrap your tattoo.”
“Right.” Enid said, grinning as she released Wednesday’s hand. With the gentlest of touches, Wednesday wiped the tattoo clean, fingertips feather-light against the wolf’s skin. With the softest of caresses, she laid a second skin across the tattoo, barely moving her gaze from Enid’s as she did so. The wolf’s breath caught in her throat, remembering the last time Wednesday had shown even a fraction of such intimacy, during their hug all those years ago.
Wednesday’s fingers peeled themselves away from Enid like it was the last thing she wanted to do. It was certainly the last thing Enid wanted them to do. As evidenced by the fifteen seconds of silent eye contact that followed.
Hesitantly, Enid stood to leave. She didn’t know what else to do.
“Well,” she started. “Um. I’ll just-”
“Would you like the tour?” Wednesday interjected, speaking flat and fast and in complete monotone.
Enid blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“The studio. A tour of the studio. Would you like it?” Wednesday said, standing and approaching until she was mere inches away.
Enid could only smile at her.
“I would like that very much.” she said
Watching Wednesday Addams short circuit was an entertainment. After a few seconds, she gestured to the area around them.
“This is the tattoo studio. This is where clients are tattooed.”
Enid nodded like Wednesday was a genius.
“Wow. Neat.”
Wednesday, blushing furiously, led Enid to a hallway that stretched deeper into the building.
“That is the bathroom.” She said, matter- of-factly, pointing at a door. “And this…is the library.”
Sure enough, bookshelves lined the walls. But what drew Enid’s eye were the racks, each holding a large, flat object.
“These are preserved tissue samples of historical tattoos, as well as photographs, and some…practice pieces.”
She looked nervously at Enid, like a fawn about to bolt. The wolf only grinned, and stepped closer. Wednesday stiffened when she felt her breath on her shoulder-or had she imagined it?
“May I see them?”
Hesitantly, Wednesday reached out, withdrawing a series of framed prints. Nervously, she handed them to Enid, photographs of her work, as limited as they were; tattooed sheets of silicone and pig skin, that she had used to practice. Enid looked at them in astonishment.
“Wednesday, these…these are amazing!”
“It’s nothing special.” the psychic said, crossing her arms, and although the avoided Enid’s eyes, she could not hide the blush spreading across her face. She hurriedly took the prints from Enid’s hands and ushered her out of the room. Stomping onward, she led Enid to a small kitchenette, although the antique walnut table lent the area a certain homely charm, as did the brass spiral staircase leading to the second floor. A few objects d’ art decorated the walls, although they seemed to be more Bianca’s doing.
Coming to the second floor, Wednesday made her way down a hallway, although she hesitated when she came to a door. She had just gotten moving again when Enid sent all of her plans tumbling to ruin.
“Wednesday? What’s behind this door?”
The psychic froze in her tracks. She should have ignored the question. But she didn’t. Instead-heaven knows why-she found herself returning to the door, opening it for Enid to examine what was inside. Maybe, despite herself, perhaps all she really wanted was to show Enid.
Because the space inside was a perfect recreation of their Nevermore dorm room. Enid’s half of it, that is. The pillows. The trinkets. The plushies. Dear god, the plushies. The wall was even painted to resemble the colorful, spiderwebbed window.
Enid took it all in, speechless. Then she took another step, further into the room. And another. She stared at the decorations with something like adoration. Wednesday couldn’t bear to watch.
So it was a surprise when Enid took her hand and asked, “Do you wanna continue the tour?”
Wednesday could only nod. She had never been any good at saying no to Enid Sinclair.
The final room was Wednesday’s bedroom. To call it spartan would be an understatement. In the corner was a wrought iron twin bed. Opposite that was a writing desk. In the other corner was an armchair, a lamp, and a small bookshelf. A steamer trunk and an electric guitar were up against one wall. The walls were bare. The floor was cold and plain. There was one small window. Wednesday stood in the center of the room as Enid examined it. Then, to her horror, she sat down on the bed. Enid patted the bed next to her, back ramrod straight, muscles tense. There was a brief, blessed silence.
“Wednesday,” Enid asked, voice gentle, “Do you wanna talk about why you have a perfect recreation of my room?”
Wednesday froze like a cornered. But then she noticed a loophole.
“No.” she said, as relief washed over her.
She stiffened as Enid, in her infinite kindness, placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Wednesday.” she said softly. “We’re talking about it.”
She must have seen the fear on Wednesday’s face, because she said “I’m not mad. I mean, unless you stole my stuff. But not that mad.”
“That would have been preferable. Some of those ‘squishmellows’ cost a fortune on the secondary market.”
Enid laughed, but she was still waiting for an answer. Wednesday drew her legs up onto the bed and wrapped her arms around them. When she answered, her voice was small and fearful.
“Thing missed- I missed…you.”
Enid smiled at her. “I missed you too.”
Wednesday scoffed. Enid looked at her, but didn’t rise to the bait.
“How is Thing, by the way?”
After a tense silence, Wednesday said “I wouldn’t know. We…are not on speaking terms.”
“Oh jeez. What happened?”
Wednesday was fuming, even as Enid effortlessly broke down the walls she had spent so long putting up.
“Things said I’ve been sabotaging my tattoo studio so…so I stay invisible.” Her voice dropped as the buried her face in her arms. “So you don’t find me.” she finished, muffled.
Enid took a deep breath.
“Ok.” she managed. “Have you…thought about maybe talking to a therapist about that?”
“I got my last therapist killed.” Wednesday said, despondent. “Why would I seek to soak my hands in more blood than I already have?”
Enid sucked a breath in through her teeth.
“You know, I hate to say this but…that really just makes it seem like you need to talk to a therapist more.”
Wednesday let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Why are you here, Enid?” she moaned, voice breaking. “I’m nothing to you. Just foolish enough to think I was worthy of your affection. Because I wasn’t special to you, was I? There was nothing between you and I. You were just so kind, like you are to everyone. And I, fool that I am, allowed myself to believe–"
“Stop that.” Enid snapped. Wednesday merely scoffed.
“Why? Because-”
“ Stop that.” Enid said, taking Wednesday’s hand. “Enid Sinclair talking time.”
“But-”
“ Enid Sinclair talking time. ” The wolf sighed. “Wednesday, did you ever even consider that maybe, just maybe , I’ve been looking for you all this time? That maybe I’ve been just as obsessed with you as you are with me?”
“I’m not obsessed with you.” Wednesday said, defensive.
“Wednesday, you made a perfect recreation of our high school dorm room. Be serious.”
Wednesday had nothing to say to that.
Enid took both her hands, and said, “Wednesday Friday Addams, I have been looking for you from the moment I lost you. I knew you hadn’t published your book, because it would have become a bestseller, and I knew you hadn’t pursued your cello, because you would have become world-famous. So I’ve spent the past years walking into every tattoo parlor I could find.”
“Awful bold of you to assume I wouldn’t pick a different occupation.” Wednesday said, with a smile.
“No, you wouldn’t, you like stabbing people too much.” Enid joked back. “But I knew whatever you chose, you’d be amazing at it.” Her face became serious. “But you would not believe how many tattoo appointments I walked out on when I realized you weren’t there. I am so glad I found you, because every other tattoo artist hates me.”
“No one could ever hate you.” Wednesday whispered, smothered by the love in her heart.
“Not even you?” Enid asked.
“Never.”
“Could you love me?”
Wednesday could no longer deny it.
“I have loved you for years. This universe will end before my love for you.”
Enid smiled, lifting one hand to caress Wednesday’s face.
“I love you too.” she whispered, but moved no closer. “But there’s something I need you to promise me.”
“Anything.” Wednesday pleaded. She needed Enid’s lips like a drowning man needed air.
“I need you to take care of yourself.” Enid said, her heart on the verge of breaking. “No more hiding. No more self-loathing. The obsession can stay-but if I love you, I need to love all of you. I can’t do anything halfway-”
“I promise.” Wednesday said, embracing her. “I’m yours. As I am…if you’ll have me.”
Enid wiped away the tears that had fallen across Wednesday’s cheeks.
“I’m yours.”
Like continents colliding, their lips crashed together.
And all was right in the world.