Monday's Child

"Will!" Yells Wednesday, "Where the Hell did you put my book?" Will pokes his head out of the kitchen, the smell of vanilla permeating though the air. He cocks his head sideways and absently pushes a stray lock of red gold hair out of his face.

"Which book?" Wednesday freezes and glares at him.

"You've been messing around with more than one?" Will opens his mouth to reply but Wednesday waves it away, "-never mind," he says while giving another long-suffering sigh. Will fiddles with the edge of his apron innocently. The apron is white and frilly, and Tianti had bought it as more of a joke, but Will loves it. It's also short enough that when Will wears it while naked (Which is more often than not), all the important bits are easily reached.

Wednesday's rather fond of it too.

But at the moment Will is fully dressed and Wednesday is wondering how long it would take him to divest him of his clothes. Right, Book. " My Grimoire Arca Letum."

"What?" Wednesday pinches the bridge of his nose, an action he has been doing constantly since he met William.

"The big, black book filled with pictures of naked women."

"Oh that," scoffs Will, "I threw it out." Wednesday silently resists the urge to faint.

"Why?" Oh God. Oh GodOhGodOhGod. The book was over two thousand years old. In the wrong hands-

"It was pornography." He was going to kill him. He tells himself to take deep breaths, tells himself that killing his own boyfriend would not endear one to the public.

...Screw the public. He paints a sickeningly sweet smile on his face as he approaches Will. He moves slowly, languidly, and feels just a little amount of satisfaction when he sees that Will's eyes are firmly locked on his shirtless chest. He reaches out and clears his throat.

Will doesn't really want to look up. Because Wednesday is walking around shirtless again and when he does it becomes rather hard for him to keep his gaze above the neck.

"William, darling." Oh shit. Wednesday doesn't use endearments. Ever. Well, he does but only when he's really pissed off. Shit. He pales visibly, and looks up to see black eyes. Oh holy fuck on a stick. He widens pale grey eyes and replies,

"Yes, Wednesday, love of my life?" When Wednesday responds, his tone is sweet and understanding and Not Wednesday. This in turn, does not encourage Good Thoughts. His eyes are entirely black now, and there's just the tiniest edge of dementedness to his smile.

"Will, that book was really old."

"Was it?" Will laughs nervously, "How old exactly?"

"It was older than Jesus Christ, sweets."

"I don't believe in Jesus, Wednesday, my kind, and forgiving lover, as I am Jewish." If anything, Wednesday's smile becomes wider.

"Have you made your peace with God then?" At this point we can safely say that Will was quite actively seeking a route of escape. It was all rather highly unfortunate there was none.

"" Smile, Will, smile and look cute and maybe he won't hurt you...too badly.

"That book took 300 years to complete. It's bound with the dyed skin of a demon," Will makes a disgusted sound. "My grandmother gave me that book. Will, my grandmother."

"How...nice for you?"

"My grandmother is dead, Will." The guilt is immediate and appears like magic.

"Oh." He is somber for a moment, then brightens up considerably, "But you're a necromancer aren't you? Can't you do a little hocus-pocus and conjure her up for a tick?"

"I can, I just need the spell." Will is glad for the distraction. Anything to detour Wednesday's wrath. Even if he had to emotionally blackmail Wednesday. Wednesday had been fond of his grandmother, even if her choice in gifts for him was more than a little dubious.

"Where's the spell then?"

" In the Book,you idiot!" Oh.

"Oh." He giggles, high pitched and nervously. "Would this be a bad time to mention that I'm joking, and that I lent the book to Ti because she's never seen a necromancy book before?"


"Oh. I didn't say anything."

"Get it."

"Get what?" Wednesday grits his teeth and seethes. Will's eyes are large and innocent in a way that can only mean he's guilty.

"Book. Now. Fifteen minutes. Boom."

"Right." He takes a moment to admire Will's ass as he nearly flies out of the condo.

"Ti?" He peeks around the door, which had been left unlocked. The apartment is thrashed. Pillows lay scattered on the floor, surrounded by scattered glass. The only thing that remains intact is a particularly hideous lamp. He pushes at it delicately with one finger, and sends it crashing to the floor. "Oh my God Ti, someone broke your lamp!" There is no reply, and there is the first, real stirrings of fear. He tiptoes through what used to be his and Tianti's apartment. "Ti?" he calls out, and his only thought is that Lucian had somehow gotten to her. When he nears her bedroom, he finally sees her, hiding under the bedcovers and sniffling.

"Ti?" He winces as her sniffles become full fledged wails. He is torn. He should be a good friend, find out what's wrong, comfort her. Surely Wednesday could wait a little while. He winces again, Riiight. "Ti? Listen, I'm going to need that book I lent you back. You know, Like Now." His voice is small and nervous as he rather likes his testicles in their current location. The wails stop as Tianti sits up, bedcover pulled over her head as she hurls a square, very book shaped object at him.

"Here, take your book of Evil and Go!" She collapses on the bed again and continues her wailing. Will picks the book up and clutches it in his arms. Common sense dictates that he return immediately back to the condo before Wednesday summons Hell into their living room, common decency says to be a good friend and ask her what's wrong. His mind decided to remind him of all the times Tianti has helped him out. Blast his common sense of decency and obligation! He sighs and places the book on the floor, far away from Tianti's reach. He sits on the bed, next to the figure who is sobbing heart-breakingly into a pillow. He feels a sudden sense of deja vu but shakes it off.

"Talk to me, Ti," he coaxes, voice soft and soothing. Not unlike the voice he uses to calm down frightened animals. There's no response. "What's wrong?" It turns out to be the wrong thing to say.

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG?" Tianti whips the coverlet from her head, which had been previously hiding a..a..yeah.

"Your, erm..your..."

"My face is GREY!" she shrieks, "GREY. AND THERE ARE BLACK RINGS AROUND MY EYES. AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF THAT BOOK." Never before did the word 'Book' sound more like profanity. Will winces, and tries to be sympathetic.

"It even ruined your hair!" There is a pause, and Tianti's eyes gain an unholy light.

"It didn't affect my hair." Well, Oh Shit.

The look on Wednesday's face is smug. Too smug. This did not bode well. He looks like he knows something Will doesn't. And the smugness only increases when Will tiredly hands the book back to him.

"What did Tianti think about her new look?" Will is going to kill him. He advances on him slowly, teeth gnashing audibly. When he is inches away from Wednesday, he gives a smile that is more a bearing of teeth.

"I'll do better than that, I'll show you." And then he pounces. There is a moment, an actual moment, where Wednesday thinks that he is going to die. This is replaced by pain as his back connects with the floor. And when Will is straddling his waist there is a knock on the door, and Wednesday thanks whatever god is watching over him. But then he remembers that he is an atheist and quickly retracts that last prayer. "Who's that?" growls Will. The action is dominant and so incredibly not him that Wednesday must admit he finds it rather..appealing. He is quickly brought back down to Earth when Will plants a sharp nip on the side of his neck. "Door?"

"Oh yes," he clears his throat and pushes Will off him. "That would be my mother."

"Quite," she agrees. Will isn't really paying attention to the conversation; he's too busy inspecting his boyfriend's mother. Marissa is younger than expected, barely forty. Her hair is smooth and dark, her eyes a darker version of Wednesday's. Her son resembles her closely, in his looks and mannerisms. They share the same quite elegance, and fragility of features. He sees the curve of Wednesday's cheeks in hers, the wicked tilt in his mouth, but the slant of his eyes must be his father's. She's dressed in Armani, her hair in a classic French twist. It dawns on him how incredibly gay he is. "So William," she says, "I trust you've met Lucian?" her voice is deceptively mild, and she hides the expression in her eyes by sipping her coffee.

"Once," he replies, voice equally mild.


"-is more than enough." She snorts into her cup, and Wednesday frowns at her.

"You and I are in agreement then."

" Who would have figured he was such a bastard under all that civility," mutters Wednesday. Will and Marissa share a look. She places a hand gently on her son's,

"Darling, Lucian is a prick. It was rather obvious from the moment I met him. And don't-" She closes his gaping mouth with her hand, "-gape, it's unbecoming." Will snickers into his hand but stops when Wednesday gives him a look that promises Death.

"I'm going to get some more tea," he mutters before retreating to the kitchen. One would think that being gay would solve the problem of gossiping wives and mothers;obviously he was wrong. Obviously.

Marissa regards her son's lover for a moment with serious eyes. She is the first to break the silence.

" Lucian hurt him, you know, badly." Her voice is mild, conversational.

" He did?"

"Yes, but bless his heart, he never admitted it. Never even spoke about it. Just kind of hid away for awhile, worried me dreadfully." Will begins to get an inkling of where Wednesday got his ability to terrify.


"Yes. William, if you hurt him, I'll have to kill you." And she gives him a sunny smile even as his voice pitches up a few octaves.

"I see."

"I should hope so," murmurs Marissa over the rim of her cup.

"What exactly would count as hurting him?" Marissa pauses and puts down her cup, tilting her head to one side. There is a moment's worth of hesitation before she replies and says almost candidly,

"Sleeping with his father." William chokes,


"Oh dear, he didn't tell you?" He shakes his head. Marissa listens to the banging sounds coming from the kitchen before leaning over to him a bit more and whispering, "Lucian cheated on Wednesday with Wednesday's father. Apparently he was trying to work his way through the family." William gapes a moment.

" Why would anyone cheat on Wednesday?" The notion is ridiculous, it isn't like Wednesday was…lacking. She smiles and chuckles,

"Now that's what I like to hear, but keep in mind what I said, won't you? About hurting him?"

" Yes ma'am." She pats his hand.

"That's my boy." She looks like she wants to say something else, but her eyes flick behind him, and she says nothing.

"Gossiping are you?" Wednesday's annoyed voice startles him and makes him jump. There is a protest on the tip of his tongue, but Marissa is already agreeing fervently.

"Like washerwomen." Wednesday glares at his mother and snorts, clunking down a fresh pot of coffee and taking his seat. He is stirring some sugar into his mug when he says,

"I've hear you're dating again." His mother places her cup back gently on the table.

"Where ever did you hear that from?" Will is fascinated, such politeness, such sarcasm, such…thinly veiled menace. Wednesday gives a Gallic shrug.

"Around." Marissa's eyes are guarded as she turns to her son and says lightly,

"Around, as in not by having demonic entities spy on me and Oliver?" Her son nods just a tad too satisfied with himself,


"You have to admit that's kind of creepy," he says before he thinks, and now mother and son are both giving incredulous looks. The doorbell rings. He clears his throat and stands. "I'll just get that, won't I?" He flees.

He wonders who on earth it could be at the door, and thinks for a moment that maybe it is Tianti come to seek revenge. He stares at the door and entertains the idea of not opening it if it does happen to be Tianti. He chastises himself. If it were Tianti most assuredly she would not bother knocking.

Or using a door. Satisfied, he opens the door--

…and immediately slams it.

"Will?" comes Wednesday's voice, "Who was it?"

"No one! Damn kids and their practical jokes!" His heart pounds in his ears, and even to him his lie is feeble. Everything lies on Wednesday's tendency to believe the worse in human nature…

"…Bloody children." Oh thank God.

"Yeah," he calls back, trying to hide the rapidly dying houseplant, settling instead for tossing a throw rug on top of it. "Those darn kids." The doorbell rings again, but a quick zap fixes that. There might be questions when they open the doorbell up and find hydrangeas growing in the wall, but he could handle that.

Lucian? In painted on trousers? Molesting his boyfriend? Not so much.

He returns to the kitchen just as Wednesday is telling his mother,

"—If he hurts you I'll kill him." Truly his mother's son.

Marissa pats his hand and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

"No, you will not," replies Marissa which causes him to pout in reply, and William can't help but find it adorable.

… He'd die a million burning deaths before ever admitting that to Wednesday. Marissa bites her lip before relenting,

"Maybe hurt him a little then." Her son perks up and those lavender eyes light up with pure, maniacal glee. "-That means no summoning the Hordes of Hell into his house. You do remember what happened the last time you did that to one of my boyfriends." Her son scowls and says back through clenched teeth.

"He thought I was a bloody girl!"

"Still, that was no excuse—"

"And then he hit on me!" She falls silent at that.

"Well, yes. But the point is—"

"You always end up dating utter bastards!"

"You mind your language Wednesday Elias Michaels!"

"I'll do whatever the flying fuck I want!" Will is stunned. He is awed. He is just a little turned on. Because an angry, shouty, shirtless Wednesday is very, very, sexy. Especially when his face is all flushed like that. "-he had a fortune's worth of pornography, for God's sake!"

Oh yes, very sexy indeed. But then there is the distinct sound of knocking on the door and all the nice, lovely thoughts fly out of his head.

"I-I'll just go get that, shall I?" He mumbles nervously, already edging towards the door.

"NO." Say mother and son in unison.

"I mean," mutters his lover, running a hand through his hair, "I'll get it."

"No, I will," says his mother, voice tinged with frustration.

"Fine." His mother scoffs and heads towards the living room but finds a very nervous William blocking her way.

"No, seriously," he says, " I'll get it. It's probably the kids again, with their practical jokes." He laughs nervously. "No reason for you to become their target. Haha…ha?"


"Yes, ma'am?"


"Yes, ma'am." He collapses into a chair while his lover stares at him oddly but doesn't say anything. Will finds himself straining to hear the sound of Marissa crossing the living room, opening the door, and promptly slamming it. He jumps a little at the sound and sits up a little straighter.

Marissa comes back into the kitchen, spine a little stiffer, and dare he say it, nervous. Her smile is wavering around the edges, and she's fidgeting.

"So? Who was it?" Scowls Wednesday. She laughs, high and tittering, and utterly, utterly, terrified.

"What? Oh. Erm. It seems Will was right! It was just those kids again!" Will finds the strength to raise his eyebrows at this. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wednesday doing the same. Obviously they aren't buying it. Then the inevitable happens, there is the unmistakable sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Right. I should have done it myself in the first place," Wednesday says through gritted teeth. He heads towards the front door like a man on a mission but is forced to stop when Will and his mother block his way.

"You really shouldn't encourage them Wednesday. They're children. Let them have their childish games." Her voice is patronizing enough that it almost hides her nervousness.

"Your mother is right, Wens. Just let it go, kay?" He narrows his eyes at them in reply. The black starts to creep in again, and Will can already feel the tendrils of power around him quickening.

"You're both hiding something from me." And his voice comes out angry, but the hurt is still so obvious beneath it. Marissa looks utterly horrified.

"No! Oh my baby," she reaches out to pet him. "It's not that I'm hiding something from you, it's just…"

"You didn't tell me about Oliver," he says sullenly, shying away. And Will doesn't anticipate the hurt and disappointment in that voice, and feels all the more guiltier for putting it there.

"Wens," he half-whispers, and takes a step closer to his lover. Wednesday's eyes flicker up, searching his eyes, sweeping over his face, but pause at something behind him. Then lavender eyes narrow.

"…Are my houseplants dying? " Will whips his head around to see a small bird's nest fern slowly die and crumble into dust. His heart stops beating for a second as he offers a plaintive,

" No?" Wednesday's eyes widen in realisation and his expression is almost comical if not for the creeping feeling of Doom and Apocalypse settling around them. He raises his hand slowly and flicks it, causing the door to burst open. A man, close to forty perhaps, stands in the doorway. Dark haired and dark eyed, with an air of superiority about him. Will hates him from the moment he opens his mouth and says,

"Hi son." Marissa pushes her son away to stand in front of him.

"Monday, go away." He pouts, and it's Wednesday's pout, or it's Monday's pout on Wednesday, and Will is babbling in his own head, because this is undeniably Wednesday's father, and Wednesday's parents are arguing, so no one seems to notice Lucian behind Monday. But Lucian is nothing but attention seeking, and proves his stupidity by doing exactly that.

"Hello Miss Michaels," he says. There is the utter silence and calm of the ocean before a storm. The malice in the air has become near tangible, and it's all radiating from this one woman, this delicately boned woman not barely five feet tall. Wednesday takes few steps back. The air in the room shifts, and from his angle, Will can see her eyes flare white with power.

"You." And all the frustrations and rage of being a single, over protective mother is put into that word. "You!" Her voice rises a few decibels, and as she stalks towards Lucian, everybody notices how Monday scrambles out of her way. And in his mad scramble for safety he bumps into Will who he runs over with an appreciative gaze.

"Who are you, pretty?" He says with a leer to make any old lecher proud and Will doesn't know whether to be flattered or disgusted because this is his boyfriend's father who is trying to chat him up, for goodness sake. And just as he's thought up a good hex that would guarantee lifelong impotence (Which is a shame really, if all his children came out like Wednesday), there's a crack of thunder which silences all of them, and the smell of ozone. It makes them all unaccountably nervous, and like a b-grade horror movie, they all do a slow turn to Wednesday. Who is just standing there. With his book. Open. And a demon standing behind him.

"Well, fuck," says Marissa with feeling. William can't help but agree. 'Fuck', indeed.

Then Hell, quite literally, breaks loose.

When the apartment has been put to rights, well…sort of, Will makes himself busy by making more coffee as Wednesday and his mother stares a each other. Awkwardly. Marissa clears her throat and tries to make light conversation.

"Goodness, those demons were sure…horny." This, predictably, makes Will choke on his own spit, and gains no reaction from Wednesday. It takes a moment for Marissa to realize what she had just said and struggle to correct herself, "I mean, they had horns didn't they? Very big ones too, bigger than most of the other demons I've seen…" And sure enough she realizes she's just making it worse. "Oh bugger. I just made it worse, didn't I?" Will places a mug in front of his lover, who sips it while nodding,


"I don't suppose you'll be forgiving me anytime soon, will you?"

"Forgive you? What ever did you do wrong, mother?" Her eyes narrow, then relax as she smiles and laughs.

"I taught you too well didn't I? Now you're all grown up, and don't need me anymore." Her voice is soft, wistful as she gazes at her son, makes him uncomfortable. "I regret trusting your father, " Will feels out of place, like he shouldn't be intruding, but stays anyway because Wednesday tenses up at his mother's words. "-I regret trusting him with you." Because above all, Wednesday was her baby, her darling, her life. " I was a fool for trusting him with you."

"You still are," he says, then winces. "-teaching me, I mean." Then she laughs again as her son flushes. Will relaxes when Wednesday relaxes and slips quietly into the living room, hopping over a sword they can't move because they're pretty sure touching it would curse them, and settles on the couch. From there he can hear mother and son laughing, and he lets the sound bring him to the lull sleep.

"You're not very good at being sentimental, are you?" He hides himself behind a protective barrier of enamel and coffee arabica and mutters,

"You taught me that too."

"You were always so awkward about showing affection in public," she says, smiling bleakly. "When you were dating Lucian," Wednesday scowls at the mention of the name, "-you'd hardly ever touch him in front of me. You'd never even let him touch you." His face feels heated, and he fumbles in his reply,

"Well, you don't want your mother watching you….touch your boyfriend do you?" His mother chuckles,

"My son, the Prude." She lets silence pass between them first, and finally reaches for the coffee Will had put down for her earlier. She stares into it for awhile, then rests the edge of the mug to her lips. "But it's different with Will, isn't it? You're head over heels for him." He doesn't reply, doesn't deny. "It's the little things," she continues, "You brush against him sometimes, and whenever he's in the room, your gaze just kind of…gravitates towards him." She takes a long, slow sip then states, "You love him." And lavender eyes look into hers, so calm, so sure, the same look he gave her when he was 7 years old and wanted to marry one of the Wiggles, then he says,

"I know."

Hands skim down his side and under his shirt, stroking, touching every little bit of skin they can reach. Will doesn't bother opening his eyes. There's the scent of ozone and necromancy, and Wednesday which makes him do nothing but wrap his arms around the other and murmur into his chest,

"Your mother?"

" –went home." Will arches his back to give Wednesday's neck a sharp nip,


"Will?" he whispers, voice thick with the beginnings of sleep, "I love you." Will doesn't bat an eyelash, doesn't act shocked, just tucks Wednesday's long black hair behind his ears and says from where he's tucked against him,

"I know, and I love you too." He doesn't need to act shocked, he knows.

(In which they repair the doorbell…)



"Why are there Hydrangeas growing in the wall?"