A Crossbow Aimed At the Heart

The sun set over the city skyline on a Thursday evening, as a gust of fresh, spring air wafted its way through the settling midtown streets. It would at least be getting warmer soon, Jeremy thought as he exited his car and stretched his legs. He stood motionlessly for a moment, allowing the breeze to grace his face, and observed it rustle through the leaves of a nearby green ash.

He thought he smelled something far more interesting than the simple spring air, however. He turned toward the gloomy building he was there to visit, assuming it to be the origin of the scent. It would have been almost a week since he'd been to the place, when he'd met the peculiar and reclusive daughter of Gomez and Morticia Addams, the equally peculiar people for whom he worked.

Upon some deliberation during the days since he'd first visited, Jeremy felt that Gomez and Morticia must have somehow known exactly what would have transpired between Jeremy and Wednesday when they'd initially sent him down here. They'd surely foreseen a strange, prickly tension between the two of them quickly changing into an exchange of shared experiences and an interest in one another's perspectives — that they'd hit it off, so to speak. It was all true, and Jeremy couldn't deny it.

In truth, his ambivalence about the entire situation was the only thing keeping him from returning sooner, as per Wednesday's invitation — the whole set-up angle which had precipitated everything still rubbed him the wrong way, a little.

At the same time, she had the same information that he did, and the whole thing didn't appear to bother her. Or perhaps it did — he supposed he'd find out shortly. Either way, he did find himself looking forward to seeing her again — he'd truly never spoken with anybody quite like her, and she had begun to intrigue him a lot, over their time apart.

It became necessary for him to quell the hint of rising nervousness within him by reminding himself that this wasn't actually a date, or anything.

Nevertheless, he checked his breath against his hand.

Climbing up the entry stairs, he puzzled at the front door, which had seemingly been left ajar. He gave a courteous knock while he gently pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.

"Hello?" he offered, shutting the door behind him.

Wednesday poked her head out from the kitchen, where she was behind the stove working on something.

"Hey," she called out with a frivolous nonchalance, as though they'd only just seen each other.

"Uh, hey!" he began to reply, "did— did you leave your door open by chance?" he asked, wandering into the kitchen with her.

"No," she smirked, "I saw you arrive," she gestured to a small, porthole-style window by the range-hood, overlooking the street. It must have been shuttered the last time he was here.

"Oh," he blushed, wondering whether she'd been observing him the entire time he was outside.

Wednesday seemed to notice his embarrassment, and silently giggled.

"I'm making natural candles," she said, breaking the tension.

"Oh," he observed, "yeah, I was gonna ask — I caught the fragrance from out on the street."

Wednesday wore a pair of thick, rubber cleaning gloves, and she was stirring a steaming mixture inside of a quaint, miniature cauldron set up over a bunsen burner.

She deftly shook the liquid wax off of the stirring rod and held it under Jeremy's nose.

"What do you smell?" she queried.

He took it in. "Um... I mean, it smells, like, woody, I suppose?"

"That's in the ballpark," she smiled. "It's rose, oud, and vetiver," she explained.

Jeremy took a peek. The wax sloshed around inside the cauldron — a dark crimson. He glanced around at some of the other materials she had laid out on the stone counter. Next to her was a small glass jar containing a cluster of dried-out rose petals. She also had a mortar and pestle, along with some dried rye grass bundled together with some twine. It was all very witchy, he thought.

"I bet you could run, like, one of those hipster apothecary places out of here if you wanted," he commented.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and began gathering up her candle jars, ready to be poured into.

"So…" he said, suddenly feeling awkward, "have you been—"

"You left your bag here you know," she interrupted, with a small smile.

"I— yeah, I guess I did," he chuckled, "I'd meant to come by earlier this week, but—"

"That's okay, that just gave me more time to go through all of your stuff," she teased.

"Oh— yeah?" he laughed uneasily.

"Yep, I know your middle name is Quincy," she fibbed.

He chuckled. "I don't have a middle name, actually."

She gave him a smirk again as she attached the wicks to her candle jars.

"So, do you have any embarrassing secrets?" she wondered.

"Um," he laughed, thinking for a moment, "I'll be honest, I actually have no clue what two of the three ingredients you said for your candles are."

"Oh," she remarked in amusement, "well, I only have them here in oil form, but, as best as I can explain, vetiver is basically an extract from a kind of grass, and oud is a tree resin that's gone through some natural process that turns it really aromatic."

"Got it, got it..." he replied. "And, you know, I'm good with, like, numbers and stuff..." he jested.

"You're good at looking like a dork," she teased back, switching off the burner.

"Really…?" he feigned offense, looking down at his outfit. He had on a plaid shirt and jeans. He supposed he didn't look too far off someone who'd been playing Xbox at home just a few hours ago.

He watched her pour the candle wax.

"Lurch here?" Jeremy asked, glancing around.

"No, he's out," she replied, finishing up. "I told him he could take a personal day... or two... what day is it again?"

"It's Thursday," he chuckled.

"Right," she replied. "He'll probably be back sometime tomorrow, then."

"Cool," Jeremy said, wandering around a little. "House to yourself then, huh?"

He turned back to her.

She gave a little shrug. "House to ourselves, if you're staying."

He couldn't help but notice she looked rather enchanting, standing there with the waning light of dusk peeking in through the window behind her.

"I— yeah," he bumbled, "what, uh, what did you feel like doing?"

She smirked and rolled her eyes, pacing over toward the pantry. She pulled a dark bottle from the shelf.

"Sherry?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," he chuckled.

~~~~~

They sat on a bench out in the courtyard, looking up at the stars as they faintly glowed through the residual daylight. Jeremy swirled the wine around in his glass.

"I passed a hobby store on the way here with a bunch of like, big telescopes and stuff in the front window," he remarked.

She hummed along, inviting him to continue.

"Always thought it could be a cool thing to get into, you know, stargazing," he said.

Wednesday nodded along distantly. "...I think it's interesting the way ancient people used to use the stars to navigate," she contributed.

"Yeah... you know, I heard dung beetles do that too; chart their course based on the night sky," he replied.

She glanced at him with a smirk. "Dung beetles?..." she teased.

"I was checking out the nature channel, I don't know," he chuckled.

She sniggered and took a swig of her wine. They sat quietly for a few moments. 

He spotted a small, stone gargoyle on the corner of a short row of crenellations protruding from the rear of the roof.

"Has the whole, I don't know, gothic sort of vibe just always been kind of a family thing?" he wondered to her.

She didn't appear to entirely understand his meaning. "You mean, like, the architecture?" she asked, gesturing to the house.

"Uh," he replied, "well, yes, but, I mean, you guys also all sort of, dress in black, and seem to have this, like, fascination with all things uncanny, or, macabre, I suppose—" He looked to her for reassurance that he wasn't somehow entirely off-base in what he was saying.

She looked on, and seemed to crinkle her eyebrows.

"I mean, I don't know," she began, "the things you describe have always just seemed ordinary to me, so, I suppose the answer is 'yes'…"

"Yeah, sure, like, that's all I meant by it," he quickly added, "like, I think it's pretty cool, the skulls and candles laying around, the, uh, workshop of death contraptions, like, it's just unique to me, is all."

She offered a small smile as she glanced back at him, but also didn't appear to be buying what he was saying to her.

"Death is entirely what makes life feel thrilling, don't you think?" she posited.

"I, uh," he chuckled, "I mean, I've never really thought about it like that, but I guess I see where you're coming from."

"Hm," she mused, supposedly satisfied. "So you're not saying my clothes are too plain for you, or something…?"

"No, I—" he began, "wait— what do you mean, 'for me'?"

She crinkled her eyebrows at him again. "What? I didn't—" she suddenly looked away, and blushed a little. "Stop it, you're being strange…" she murmured.

He felt a little bad, but enjoyed their mildly flirtatious exchanges.

"Your clothes are definitely, like, on the stylish side of vintage, for sure, though," he tried complimenting.

"Vintage… as in, old…" she raised an eyebrow in jest.

"Yeah, but old stuff is totally, like, in, depending on who you talk to, you know?" he continued, with a smile.

She playfully rolled her eyes, seemingly having no clue what he was talking about.

They returned to silence again. Part of her demeanor appeared to have changed, however. He might have guessed anxiety or self-consciousness, perhaps, which would have made him feel bad if it were true, but he couldn't be sure.

"I don't plan on spending the rest of my twenties here, you know," Wednesday suddenly said.

He turned to her, perplexed, as her comment had seemingly come out of nowhere. "Living here, in the city, you mean?"

She glanced at him. "Or in America..."

"Oh… Where would you wanna go?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. "I think I'd wanna live in Prague."

"Yeah?" he smiled. "Have you been?"

"Once," she replied, "when I was little. Father took Pugsley and me one winter to meet some relatives. They own Houska castle," she explained.

Jeremy nodded along. "How long'd you spend there, when you—?"

"Almost a month, I think," she said. "Mostly nights. The city was so... enchantingly eerie... as though it had a deep, dark soul that could swallow you up if you'd let it..."

As she spoke she tucked her feet underneath her thighs, bundling up onto the seat. Their shoulders lightly touched. Part of him felt as though she might not have had anybody else to share such a thought with. It was nice, that she felt comfortable around him, he thought.

"Besides that one road trip we took, my buddies aren't super adventurous," Jeremy offered, "I could see most of them starting their own families in the same house they grew up in," he chuckled.

She looked at him. "I see," she said. Her eyes glimmered. "What about you — have you been out to see the world?"

"I, um," he smiled, "I haven't been over the pond or anything, but I was in Argentina, like, a year and a half ago. Nice people there."

She showed some curiosity.

"Old girlfriend," he added, "some of her family lived there."

She nodded slowly. "Well, Buenos Aires looks like it has some remarkable architecture, from the photos, at least."

"Mm, yeah, it was... uh, yeah, it was nice," he replied, in thought.

Wednesday took a sip of wine while they sat in momentary silence.

"When... did you break up?" she asked slowly.

He glanced at her. "Uh, it... must have been just over a year now, I think..." He let out a bashful chuckle. "Oh, I didn't mean to— I was just remembering some stuff, is all."

She gazed at him reassuringly.

He looked on at the house. "You know, I'd feel super alone, I think," he said, "if I lived here by myself."

"Well," she replied, "I'm not all alone. Lurch can be good company."

"Yeah…" he nodded.

She looked at her hands. "…It's not that I don't want any…" she paused, "…companions…" she almost seemed to exchange the word at the last moment so that she wouldn't need to utter the word 'friend'.

"I don't know, I just..." she looked at him, "suffice to say, I don't always get along with everybody I meet... Most people I find to be close-minded and generally quite insufferable. I actually find it rather difficult to even take anybody seriously, sometimes…"

He gave a small smile. "Well… You know, for what it's worth, I think you're probably one of the most interesting people I've ever met," he said genuinely, "you come across as, like, intelligent, and mysterious, and… I don't know, it's been cool getting to know you."

She looked back down in an attempt to hide any reaction, but after a moment she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Real cheesy, Jeremy…" she added quietly, to which he smiled.

He realized that he felt truly at ease with her; all of his neuroticisms, his anxieties, his awkwardness, all felt like distant thoughts in this moment. He also realized it was far too late to convince himself that he hadn't developed a legitimate crush on her. He supposed that this might have been her way of letting him know she felt the same way. Though, he sometimes misread things, so perhaps he'd have to wait a little longer for a definitive answer.

Wednesday glanced up at him, curious of his thoughts, but posed no question of him.

"How do you like the wine?" she asked instead, after some silence.

"I, uh," he chuckled, "it's very sweet."

She let out a short giggle. "I can finish yours if you want," she said, extending a hand.

"No, no, that's alright," he laughed, downing the last few sips and grimacing as it went down. "I'm not here to enable anybody's alcoholism."

She sat up with a smirk. "The implication being...?"

"Being, that... I'm yet to see you drunk and have no indication that you ever drink to excess?" he teased.

"Hah-hah," she replied, rolling her eyes.

The air had turned cold.

"We should probably go back inside," she said, holding herself.

"Yeah, sure thing," he agreed.

She took his glass from him and led him back to the kitchen. She placed them both by the sink, then turned and stood close to him for a moment, arms still wrapped around herself.

"I've never had the hang of getting that fireplace going..." she said, gesturing toward the dining room.

"Right," he replied, "well, I mean, you live here — what's the warmest spot in the house if the fire's not lit?"

"Well, my bed, basically," she said nonchalantly.

He looked at her and she blushed. "Stop…" she murmured.

He smiled and decided not to embarrass her further. "What about your, uh, your reading room, the loveseat in there? You have blankets?"

"Yeah, a hundred," she said, as they began up the stairs.

Up until this point, Jeremy hadn't felt that he'd had too much trouble keeping his eye from wandering, but as Wednesday climbed ahead of him, he found that it took a concerted effort to divert his focus to anywhere but her butt. The moment she entered the next room and was out of his sight, he give himself a couple of taps on the face and shook it off.

Inside, he found her rummaging through a compartment inside the corner table. He plonked himself down on the seat, and Wednesday threw a couple of blankets at him.

"Thanks," he said.

She hastily put a couple of books away that had been laying about, while he unfurled the blankets and lay them over himself. She then slunk over and crawled in underneath them, snuggling up next to him.

"Oh, hey," he chuckled.

"What? You're warm," she retorted.

'I mean, I'm not complaining,' he thought to himself.

He got himself comfortable and placed an arm around her, while she slipped her shoes off onto the floor. He decided to do the same.

"I think what I'd normally do on a night like this is to take a long, hot bath," she remarked.

"And… Like, hypothetically, would you wait for me to leave the room this time?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes and pressed down on his chest as payback. "You're really gonna act like that didn't make your day, mister 'I spend my days playing video-games'?" she retorted.

He winced in slight physical pain as he wrenched her hand off of him. "I mean, it's just not the first thing I usually get to, uh, I don't know, experience, when I first meet somebody," he joked.

They continued wrestling with each other's hands for a moment — it felt somewhat surreal to see Wednesday's guard let down this much, even after only the short time Jeremy had known her.

She took both his hands suddenly, as if purposefully interrupting his train of thought. They interlocked fingers.

"You... don't have anybody waiting on you, do you?" she wondered coolly.

"Uh," he smiled, "no, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Okay," she said with a softer tone. She seemed to hesitate. "Um…" she murmured, lowering her eyes away from him.

He sat up slightly, so that he was a little closer to her. "Everything alright?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she replied quickly, a hint of anxiety in her voice. "You know," she added, only briefly making eye contact with him, "Um, I… keep a little stash of pot in my room, did you wanna, maybe…?"

"Oh, yeah…?" he said, still speaking softly, "would it make it easier…?"

She slightly let go of his hands. "I don't know…" she responded with nervous eyes.

"I mean, we don't have to like, do anything, if you don't want, by the way, like…" he quickly added.

She softly nibbled her bottom lip. She seemed to make a decision — leading his hands to be placed around her hips, and letting go of his fingers to rest them against his chest.

He responded in kind by gently lifting her toward him. She clutched at his shirt as they drew nearer to one another. As she leaned in, he felt her cool breath on his skin. He observed her chest heave gracefully with each inhale and exhale.

"It's just that… it's kind of been a while since I've..." she trailed off.

"That's okay," he tenderly reassured, "it's… I mean, it's been a little while for me, too."

She gave a small smile. "This does feel a little…" she thought for a moment, "spur of the moment… It feels like I've only known you for five minutes."

"Yeah, I guess so," he smiled back, "I don't know… sometimes it feels good to just sort of… go with it."

She looked piercingly into his eyes, in a way which began to make him wonder whether he'd done enough to warrant her trust.

"...Okay," she finally whispered back.

They began to breathe in sync, as they shared their body heat. She drifted in toward him, and he closed his eyes, letting her softly press her lips against his.

Jeremy's thoughts melted away as they kissed — he felt only her lips, and the warmth of her body.

He lifted her onto his lap, sliding his hands over her back. She kissed him more fervently in response, beginning to tug his shirt buttons open.

She pulled away for a moment.

"This loveseat is a little small," she remarked, a glimmer in her eye.

"Right," he replied, returning a tender smile. "Well, we can… go somewhere else…"

"…Sure," she bashfully gave an eye-roll.

He tentatively began to place his arms underneath her in order to lift her. She acquiesced, folding her arms over his shoulders to brace herself. He smirked, and picked her up, as she wrapped herself around him. She tenderly pecked him on the cheek as they began to move toward the door.

She continued planting soft kisses down his neck and collar as he brought her out onto the landing, and then into her bedroom.

"Wow," Jeremy remarked, as he observed the way she'd decorated her room — it was far more occupied with furniture than any other room in the house, with various uncanny knick-knacks and trinkets occupying each and every available surface. Some of her medieval contraption weapons had made it in here and lined the walls as well, even a large musical instrument inside its case — he supposed a cello, based on the size. Two chandeliers adorned the dark, ornate ceilings, and her bed was even the tall, four poster variety with dark curtains draped across each plane. He figured this must have been where she'd spent most of her time for a reason.

"What do you mean, 'wow'?" Wednesday earnestly demanded.

"No, like, an admiring 'wow'," he explained goofily, "like, 'wow, this is your bedroom', you know?"

She clenched her teeth, as though she wanted to bite him. He supposed he might not have minded if she did.

"I'd appreciate if you'd place me down now, sir," she spoke playfully. "Be careful not to tear the curtains off the bed-frame, please," she added.

"Oh, for sure," he replied, sliding them aside and slowly lowering her down to sit on the rear side of the mattress. Her bedsheets felt like they were velvet, or something.

He quickly strode over and closed the door behind them.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she mocked, "nobody's here."

"Hmm," he pondered. "What about the ghosts…?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. "Come here, you idiot."

She seemed to excitedly scoot back on the bed while he hopped on too. He lay on his side, facing her, and traced a finger over her thigh. She reached out and gently cradled his face, leaning in to kiss him.

She intentionally missed his lips, instead positioning her mouth by his left ear. "You know, there are spirits in this house," she whispered in a playful tone, "they're in the room with us."

"Stop it," he chuckled, softly pushing off on her. "Please don't tell me that would make it more hot for you…" he added, inducing another eye-roll.

She brushed his cheek with her thumb. "It's still cold, we should get under the covers…"

He nodded, and they both tucked themselves in, next to one another, sharing in a heated embrace.

They merely stared at each other for a while as they warmed themselves up, their faces so close that their noses almost touched. She leaned in and planted a brief kiss on his lips. He smiled back at her.

"You know," he began in a hushed tone, "I'd never have expected you to be so…" He wasn't sure of the right word.

"Shut up," she replied quickly, seeming to understand what he was getting at, "I'm not…"

He'd begun to find it increasingly adorable whenever she'd downplay her own feelings.

"My plan is to leave you broken-hearted and miserable at the end of this," she added, to reinforce her point.

He reached out and lightly caressed her cheek. She affectionately took his hand in hers as he did it.

"…You're really rather beautiful, you know that?" he softly mused, with a small smile.

Her eyes darted away from his while she attempted not to blush. "Don't say things like that… You sound like a character from a trashy romance novel…"

He quietly chuckled. "Well, I don't know what to say, it's true."

"I don't care…" she murmered. Her eyes returned to find his, and she simply stared into him.

"You know," he began, "we probably shouldn't sleep in our clothes…"

She looked away, smirking a little. "Is that all you want to do?" she wondered sarcastically, "just sleep…?"

He considered answering her, but he'd noticed her begin to remove something under the covers — presumably her stockings. He reciprocated and began to take off his outer layers, too.

He lay under the covers in his underpants while she shifted and sat up, rolling her dress up around her waist. He couldn't help himself but to enjoy the reveal of black lace panties, as she wriggled her dress up and over her head, fetching her braids from being caught with her other hand. She looked back over at him, and appeared to be flattered by his wandering eye.

"Well, look what you were hiding under there," she notioned toward his torso, while adjusting her bra.

He became a little bashful, all of a sudden. "Oh, I don't know… I use the workout machine we have at home, sometimes…"

She playfully rolled her eyes at him once again, leaning in to rest her head on his chest. He pulled the covers up over them.

"Did you bring anything… to…?" she asked after a moment.

He nibbled his top lip. "No… Sorry, I probably should have thought about that before we—"

"No, it's okay," she cut in, "I was just going to say that… we don't need it…"

"Oh," he replied. "Wait… what do you mean?"

She glanced up at him briefly. "I mean… Like, it's okay, I won't get pregnant…"

"You… Won't...?" he delicately enquired.

"Can't, I guess…" she murmured. "It's a long story — we don't have to worry about going into that right now…"

He was silent in contemplation for a moment.

"My mother and father don't know this, just, by the way…" she added quietly.

He slid down off the pillow and lay down beside her so he could look at her.

"You… Like, you're okay, though? Or…?" he asked gently.

"I'm not, like, upset about it or anything, no," she replied, observing his reaction, "I just… wasn't sure how to let you know, or whatever, that I'm… I don't know, some people would say 'barren'…"

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't say that," he said affectionately, finding her hand under the covers and giving it a squeeze, to reassure her.

"But," he continued gently, "I don't understand — was this done to you, you're saying?"

"No," she replied, "It was my decision, I just… I don't know, I was younger, so it may been rash, perhaps…"

"Oh," he pondered, "…Like, you don't think you'll want to ever have kids, you mean?"

She shrugged. "No, probably not… I'm not sure."

He offered a smile, though he remained a little confused by the whole thing. "I mean, I don't think you're weird for this, or anything," he replied, "like, I don't know, I don't think I've ever even seriously thought about any of this stuff, myself — always figured I'm too young for it, you know?"

His words seemed to put her at ease. She snuggled closer into his embrace, and he stroked her hair in response. He figured they probably didn't need to dwell on the topic anymore.

"Do you usually sleep with these still done up?" he wondered of her braids.

"No, not usually," she replied plainly, and began to remove the hair ties holding them in place.

She startled him by leaping on top of him, raising her head over his and letting her now free hair dangle onto his face.

"Okay— that's, yeah— that's fantastic," he sputtered, attempting to bat it out of his mouth and eyes, to her amusement.

She leant back, straddling his abdomen, and used one of the hair ties to wrangle it up into a temporary bun.

She leant back over him again. A thought seemed to occur to her, and she narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked at him.

"Why are you so nice to me…?" she wondered.

He puzzled over the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" she replied, "I'm not always nice to you…"

He sat up a little, bringing himself closer to her. "I think you're nice to me…"

She seemed to cringe at the thought of it. "Ugh, don't say that… I am not."

He tilted his head and smirked at her. "You kind of are…"

She grew impatient and pushed him back down, but grinned as she did it. "Fine, just stop talking…"

She planted kisses along his chest, up his neck and then on his lips. He laid a hand on the small of her back and pulled her into him as he kissed her back, evoking some more passion from her as he did it.

While they made out, his other hand crept up her back and found the clasp to her bra.

She didn't stop him.

All things said, Wednesday hadn't been wrong about her bed being the warmest place to be that night.