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Chapter Text

Lydia stepped into the shower, shut her eyes, and twisted the water on. She was running late, so this would have to be a short cold one, which she’d hate, but that was a minor price to pay to be on time. However, when the first drops hit her head they were warm and more troublingly, felt heavier and thicker than water. When she opened her eyes Lydia saw rivulets of red running down her chest. Looking up she realized blood was coming out of her showerhead.

“Wednesday!” she screamed.

Parker chewed on her lower lip nervously as she waited for her friends to arrive. It wasn’t like Lydia to be late, not when it mattered, and Wednesday was always disturbingly punctual. When she finally spotted them she relaxed momentarily before tensing again. Lydia’s hair was still damp and she looked fierce as she strode toward Parker, while Wednesday trailed behind her like a sulky ghost.

“What happened?” Parker asked once they were within hailing distance.

“Wednesday decided to mess with our plumbing and has thus been banned from my internal plumbing,” Lydia announced icily.

“Woah, that is more information than I needed,” Parker said, holding her hands up in surrender.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” Wednesday said. She appeared to be pouting, which was an expression Parker had never expected to see on her face even in her worst nightmare. “I wanted you to have a nice relaxing bloodbath.”

“Bloodbaths are not relaxing when you aren’t expecting one,” Lydia snapped. “Wednesday, I don’t care if you want to have a bloodbath. Heck, have as many bloodbaths as you like, but I did not sign up for one and when I twist on a water faucet in our apartment I expect to get water.”

Wednesday crossed her arms and refused to look at her girlfriend.

“News flash, but blood doesn’t get the dirt out,” Lydia continued. “Now our bathroom is covered in bloody hand and footprints and I know there’s a pool of it on the floor that’s probably soaking through and will drip into the apartment below us, which will get the cops called on us. Again. Then I’ll have to explain whose blood we have all over the bathroom, which is something you haven’t even told me! Whose blood was I bathing in, Wednesday?”

“It was lamb’s blood. Ethically sourced and excellent for the skin,” Wednesday said. “It’s considered a rejuvenating technique.”

“Oh no need to worry, officer, that’s just lamb’s blood my girlfriend got all over our bathroom because she thinks I’m looking old,” Lydia said.

“I think you look enchanting at any age,” Wednesday snapped.

“That’s not the problem, Wednesday! The problem is you keep making life hell for our neighbors and leaving me to clean up the mess!”

“Maybe this is a conversation you two want to have in private?” Parker suggested. She was ignored.

“I offered to get us a house, but you wanted an apartment in the heart of the city,” Wednesday gritted out.

“I didn’t want to be isolated in the middle of nowhere. Is it so wrong that I want to live somewhere where I can regularly see my friends?” Lydia demanded.

“You’re all I need,” Wednesday mumbled.

Lydia sighed and wrapped around Wednesday’s hand. That seemed to be some sort of signal, because Wednesday leaned forward until her face was buried in Lydia’s shoulder. She lightly patted the back of her head.

“I’m not an introvert like you, Wednesday, I need to interact with more people than just you on a regular basis.”

“I know.”

“My wants and needs haven’t changed in all the time you’ve known me. You know what I need to be happy.”

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Wednesday said, She pulled Lydia into a tight hug. Lydia smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“You won’t, as long as you let me keep being me,” Lydia said. She gently pushed Wednesday away and established eye contact. “However, if you ever monkey around with a major facet of our home again without clearing it with me first I’m moving in with Parker.”

The scorching glare Wednesday shot her was enough to ensure Parker would never need laser hair removal in the future.

“Leave me out of this!” Parker pleaded. “Seriously Lyds, she knows where I sleep.”

“I’ll protect you,” Lydia promised, which was probably the worst thing she could have said, going by Wednesday’s facial expression, but then she linked her arms with both Parker and Wednesday before kissing the latter’s cheek. That seemed to diffuse the situation. “Now let’s check out this art exhibit! I hear it’s influenced by Elizabeth Báthory.”

And so they did.

Chapter Text

Lydia woke to the sound of shrieking. It wasn’t Wednesday because Wednesday never shrieked. Sure, she yelled, howled, screamed, bellowed, and emitted all other manner of loud noises, but she didn’t shriek because there was something flippantly fearful about that noise. She wasn’t certain what her girlfriend’s full range of emotional ability was, but Lydia was sure Wednesday didn’t feel fear.

So that had to be someone else shrieking in their apartment. That was a problem, as there shouldn’t be anyone else here at this hour. She stumbled out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe as she followed the sound back to its source. That turned out to be located in the bathroom where Wednesday had a man dressed all in black cornered in the bathtub. He was literally cowering as Wednesday held something out in front of her. On further inspection Lydia realized it was a toaster.

“Signage around transformers is always warning about high voltage,” Wednesday said. Lydia could see the red hot coils inside of the toaster as it gently swung from the edge of its cord. “However, voltage isn’t inherently dangerous. Current is the real killer. Shall we test that out?”

“Please don’t,” the burglar begged.

Then she dropped it.

The burglar screamed and there was a loud popping noise as all the lights in the bathroom went out.

“Is he dead?” Lydia asked.

Wednesday bent down to take a closer look. “Unfortunately no.”

“Then I guess the GFCIs did their job. Think you blew a fuse in the process,” Lydia said, laughing in relief as she tried flipping the lights on and off. They didn’t turn on, which meant the circuit was well and truly blown from Wednesday’s little stunt.

“I knew we should have gone with an older house.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. That wasn’t funny.

Wednesday leaned her head against Lydia’s shoulder. “Let’s go back to bed. We can deal with this mess in the morning.”

“He’s still alive,” Lydia pointed out, waving a hand at the burglar. “We need to do something about him!”

“Fine,” Wednesday grumbled. “If you insist.”

She pulled a leather case out of the bathroom closet. Once she had opened it Lydia could see it contained a number of vials and a large old-fashioned syringe. Wednesday attached one of the vials to the needle, swapped the burglar’s neck with an alcohol wipe, and then jabbed the needle into the disinfected area. As soon as she pushed down on the plunger the burglar flailed back into wakefulness. His facial expression suggested that he felt like he had just been slapped in the face by a mackerel. Wednesday snapped her fingers to get his attention.

“If you ever pay an unsolicited visit again you will be leaving the premises in a body bag,” Wednesday said. “Is that understood?”

He nodded frantically then scrambled out the tiny bathroom window. That may have been his initial entrance point as well as his egress. In his haste the burglar must not have been moving as carefully as he ought to have been because Lydia heard another scream as his feet disappeared from sight. She flinched instinctually.

“Are you satisfied?” Wednesday asked.

“Do you think he just fell?” Lydia asked.

“Does it matter?” Wednesday shrugged. “We’re on the thirteenth floor. If he fell there’s nothing we can do for him now and if he didn’t, he knows better than to trespass in our bathroom again.”

Lydia had to admit Wednesday had a point. Still, she walked over to the tub, unplugged the toaster for safety’s sake, and then peered through the window. She didn’t see any sign of their unwanted visitor. She felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Can we go back to bed now?” Wednesday asked again. Her tone was creeping toward petulant. That made Lydia smile. It wasn’t often she could indulge her girlfriend.

“Of course,” Lydia agreed. She leaned forward and kissed Wednesday’s forehead. They could restore power to the bathroom in the morning. “I’d like nothing better.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday moaned dramatically and fell onto the couch. Thanks to the Addams athleticism she naturally landed with her face planted squarely in Lydia’s lap. This made Lydia roll her eyes, but she set aside the book she had been reading and dug her fingers into her girlfriend’s hair. It was just as severely taunt as it typically was and Lydia wondered vaguely if this was the day Wednesday would finally let her unbraid her hair.

“Work’s left you delirious, deranged, and devoid of energy?” Lydia asked. Wednesday nodded.

“I have been up for forty hours,” she mumbled.

“And you couldn’t be happier?” Lydia teased.

“The attending has made it her life’s mission to destroy every one of us,” Wednesday continued. “She’s the most ruthless physician I have ever met.”

“Does this mean I have competition for your affections?” Lydia asked. Wednesday rolled over to glower up at her.

“Never,” Wednesday growled. She caught Lydia’s hand and began to kiss her fingertips. “Nothing could ever supplant your place in my esteem. The corpse of my heart only flourished with new life when my love for you took root.”

“That doesn’t sound very medically accurate.”

“Who is the doctor in this relationship?”

“That would be you, Dr. Addams.”

“Ma petite araignée,” Wednesday said, eyes darkening.

Lydia bit her lower lip to contain a smirk. There was something intoxicating about being so openly desired by someone to which she was obscenely attracted. Wednesday could stoke a fire in her with one smoldering gaze and she wildly abused that ability. Just as she was clearly about to do so now. She kissed the inside of Lydia’s wrist and had the gall to raise an eyebrow.

“Would you care to have me express the depths of my emotions?” Wednesday asked.

“I would like that very much, however I have to decline,” Lydia demurred, extracting her hand. Wednesday stared at her.

“Why not? Have I offended you in some way? Forgotten something important? Are you ill?”

“I’m not interested in playing doctor either,” Lydia said. She shifted to get more comfortable in her seat. “The problem lies in our bed.”

“I’ll get a new one.”

“No. No, it’s—it’s full of bones.”

“Bones?”

“Wednesday, you’ve dragged about four skeletons’ worth of bones into it. The bed itself is fine, but I’m not sleeping in a sea of molars.”

“Four sets of teeth is hardly a sea of molars.”

“Whatever. The point is I’m not sleeping in it.” She picked up her book and flipped back to where she had left off before Wednesday returned. “I cede the bed to you to do what you’d like with it. Until it’s bone free I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Wednesday huffed and leaned into Lydia’s side. She was silent and quiet long enough Lydia wondered if she had fallen asleep. However, when she peered down to see if that was the case Wednesday’s eyes were open and tracking Lydia’s movements.

“Wednesday, I’m not mad at you,” Lydia sighed, setting her book aside again. “I swear. I completely get letting research take over and getting totally wrapped up in it, but you’ve also go to clean up your messes. If you don’t there are consequences, like me not joining you in bed.”

“I don’t like it,” Wednesday grumbled.

“Then fix the problem,” Lydia said, kissing Wednesday’s forehead. “Whatever you choose to do, do it quick because you need your sleep.”

Wednesday rose and stalked toward the bedroom. Lydia figured she was off to sleep. Before she could even touch her book again she heard a loud crash. Hoping whatever had just fallen wasn’t irreplaceable Lydia went to the bedroom to investigate.

The bed was now devoid of bones and bedding. Lydia looked around and noticed their old sheets were in a pile by the dresser. Wednesday appeared holding some black silk sheets. She threw them onto the bed and then began tucking the sheets in place. Lydia chuckled and moved in to assist. Once the bed was made Wednesday lay down and patted the space beside her.

“Sleep with me now?” Wednesday asked. Lydia considered it. This was far earlier than she had planned to turn in, but she had a feeling Wednesday wouldn’t go to bed until she did. “I promise to put all the bones away properly tomorrow.”

“Deal. Let me turn off the lights and brush my teeth.”

By the time she returned Wednesday was asleep. She could easily go back to the living room now that Wednesday was nonresponsive. Still, she had agreed and she wasn’t about to go back on her word. She slipped into bed and carefully pulled the covers over both of them.

“Lydia,” Wednesday muttered as she burrowed into Lydia’s warmth.

Lydia just smiled and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Lydia narrowly dodged a thrust that carried enough force Wednesday’s saber not only skewered an armchair, but toppled it in the process. Nevermore, their raven, squawked in annoyance at the disturbance from his perch on the fridge. Technically Lydia should raise her own blade to Wednesday’s throat and ‘win’ the bout, but she was still leaning heavily on it as she tried to regain her breath. Two years of fencing had improved her technical abilities drastically, but she still had difficulty keeping up with her girlfriend. At least she had the grim satisfaction of seeing Wednesday breathing deeply as she went to retrieve her sword.

Lydia had just resumed her stance when Wednesday pulled her blade free. However, before they could resume their bout there was a knock at the door. Wednesday answered it, sword still in hand. From her position Lydia couldn’t see or hear the conversation very well, but from Wednesday’s posture Lydia knew she was being dismissive. Wednesday had always shown due consideration for anything Lydia said, even the flippant teasing, but she rarely extended the same courtesy to others.

Just before Wednesday could slam the door in their visitor’s face Lydia wedged her way into the conversation. “Hey there, I’m Lydia Deetz, what was the issue?”

“Hubert Peterson, my wife and I just moved in below you,” the visitor said. He was a powerfully built brunet with a wide forehead. “We’d appreciate it if you’d keep the noise down. It sounds like you’ve got elephants stomping in there.”

“Of course,” Lydia agreed with a smile. She also squeezed Wednesday’s sword hand as a reminder not to stab him, even if he had interrupted fencing practice. “We’ll certainly try not to knock anymore furniture over. However, it’s a Saturday afternoon, the most permissible time in the week to make a hullabaloo. If you can’t handle a little noise now I’m not sure you’re the best fit for apartment life.”

“Whatever. Just keep it down,” Hubert grumbled before stalking away. He mumbled something rather unpleasant about the pair of them loudly enough to be overheard. If she were in a less chartable mood Lydia would say that was intentional.

Wednesday’s saber twitched up and Lydia smacked it back down.

“No,” Lydia said. “The last neighbors left after the bloodbath fiasco. You’re not skewering this one.”

“He was rude to you,” Wednesday protested.

“Don’t care. He can be as unpleasant as he likes as long as he stays downstairs,” Lydia said. She herded Wednesday back into the apartment and shut the door. “I’ve had enough fencing for the day. Let’s have lunch.”

Later that day Lydia was helping Nevermore with his molt by combing out the recently shed feathers. Of course the juvenile raven was being overdramatic about the molt and complaining loudly with almost every call in his vocabulary. It made Lydia laugh, as she was sure he was doing it for the attention rather than any actual distress.

There was a knock at the door. Lydia rose apprehensively and answered. The earlier visit was still on her mind and she wasn’t interested in seeing Hubert Peterson again. Instead it was a blonde woman with a pinched expression on her face.

“You need to turn down your TV,” she snapped.

“Excuse me?” Lydia replied.

“Your TV is too loud. The constant bird calls are annoying.”

“Let me guess, Mrs. Peterson?” Lydia said. At her nod Lydia pushed the door fully open. “Our TV isn’t on. You’re hearing our actual bird and I can assure you his calls can be much louder.”

“A bird? Pets aren’t allowed in this building!”

“Take it up with the property manager if you’d like, but Nevermore is on our lease.” She prudently declined to mention Socrates. If this woman couldn’t handle a raven, there was no way she could deal with an octopus.

Before the woman could say anything else Lydia shut the door and locked it. She went straight back to Nevermore and picked him up, absentmindedly brushing off more molted feathers. Sensing his mistress’s distress, he rubbed his beak against her chin and crooned softly. She carried him into the bedroom and sat down beside Wednesday.

“I don’t like the Petersons,” Lydia announced.

“Oh?” Wednesday said, setting down her newspaper. “Shall I have them removed?”

“What? No! Just because I dislike them doesn’t mean they don’t have a right to live.”

“I suppose our schedules are busy enough that a murder investigation would needlessly complicate matters,” Wednesday mused. “What did they do to derive your ire?”

“The wife strongly implied we shouldn’t have Nevermore,” Lydia said, hugging the raven a touch tighter at the thought of losing him.

“Perish the thought.” Wednesday offered Nevermore a chunk of yak stew meat leftover from lunch, which he happily gobbled. “Nevermore is family.”

“Exactly!” Lydia agreed. “We never would have taken this place if we couldn’t legally have him or Socrates. I get that we’re terrible neighbors in various ways, but we’re not that noisy. Nevermore wasn’t any louder than a spirited conversation and she was still up here complaining. If they show up a third time today I’m going to do something drastic!”

“If that entails setting your slimy spirit on them please banish him before breakfast,” Wednesday said. “I cannot abide his pigtail pulling and you were… Upset when I put the offending hand through the garbage disposal last time.”

“Of course,” Lydia promised, “but I highly doubt I’m going to set Beej on the Petersons.”

Lydia was totally setting Beetlejuice on the Petersons. She didn’t have a clue what their problem was, but she was awoken from a sound slumber to the pair angrily pounding on their door. They were furious about some noise neither of them could have possibly been making that was keeping the pair awake. Wednesday slammed the door in their faces when neither of them could hypothesis as to the source of their problems nor even describe the sound in question.

“I can excuse rudeness or wrongness, but I will not tolerate both,” Wednesday said. “We are not the source of their problem. Lydia, summon your ghost.”

“They must have really annoyed you if you’re asking for a visit,” Lydia said.

“You have forbidden me from handling it myself and I have work in the morning.” Wednesday’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Let’s see if he’s half the bio-exorcist he claims to be.”

“Ooo, he’s not going to like that,” Lydia grinned. Beetlejuice was notoriously proud of his scaring skills and wouldn’t back down from a challenge. His ego ensured he’d take the bait, as he hadn’t been able to drive off the Deetzes nor affect the Addamses. She couldn’t think of another living family he’d tried to spook in their fifteen years of friendship.

“Are you going to summon him or not?”

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

“Lydia!” Beetlejuice howled, appearing with a whirlwind. Once it died down he hovered nearby and gently elbowed her. “Still slumming it with Sunday, eh?”

“Hmmph,” Wednesday huffed, crossing her arms.

“Beej, we were hoping you could settle a little bet for us,” Lydia said. “I was telling her about our hijinks when I was a teen the other day—

”—the best of times,” Beetlejuice grinned. “We were fierce.”

“And while we scared a lot of folks,” Lydia continued. “Wednesday pointed out you never carried out a successful bio-exorcism. Not one that stuck.”

“I doubt you can,” Wednesday said, “not as a washed up phantom.”

“But I think you can because you’re the ghost with the most,” Lydia finished.

“What is this really about?” Beetlejuice demanded. “Because you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes and frankly, that hurts. If there’s a scam I want in.”

“Technically, everything I just said was true,” Lydia said, because it was. Their discussion had been a few days ago.

“Level with me here.”

“I’d never ask you to settle the bet, except our downstairs neighbors have been jerks all day complaining about noises even when we weren’t making any,” Lydia shrugged. “It’s petty, but I want revenge that can’t be linked back to us.”

“One bio-exorcism coming right up. All you had to do was ask, babes.”

With that he sunk through the floorboards. Moments later they heard a lion’s roar, wolf howling, an elephant trumpet, and a lot of thudding. Then came the screams. This time clearly human. After a moment came silence. Lydia slowly exhaled and Beetlejuice rose through the floor, snickering to himself.

“You shoulda seen it, Lyds, those breathers are history!” Beetlejuice crowed then stuck his tongue out at Wednesday.

“What did you do?” Lydia asked.

“So they were already awake and miserable when I got there, alright? Some British guy was droning on about nature. So I just illustrated the show.”

Lydia exchanged a glance with Wednesday. “Was there a man narrating or did the sound come from a box?”

“Dunno. Didn’t see anyone else. He stopped after I trampled a table.”

“They likely started a David Attenborough program by accident then blamed the noise on us,” Lydia surmised. “No wonder it was irritatingly loud for them.”

“Like a certain ghost,” Wednesday added.

“Them’s fighting words,” Beetlejuice snarled.

“Thanks, Beej, I owe you one. We’ll hang out while Wednesday’s at work tonight!” Lydia promised, dismissing him before he could throw up a stink.

“Thank you,” Wednesday said. “I suppose I’ll pay for that later.”

“I was the one who got rid of him, so he’ll be mad at me,” Lydia shrugged. “He might still lob an ax at you or something.”

“I almost wish he would. It is difficult to believe, but there are times when I long for my brothers’ buffoonish attempts at fratricide. He would ape them quite well.”

“He’s certainly hairy enough,” Lydia grinned.

“Go back to bed Lydia,” Wednesday said after consulting the stove clock. “I will be gone when you reawaken, but there will be coffee waiting for you.”

“I love you,” Lydia said, pulling her in for a kiss.

“And I you.”

Chapter Text

“Happy anniversary, ma petite araignée,” Wednesday said, holding up a glass of wine.

“But it’s not our anniversary,” Lydia said. Still she gently clinked her glass against Wednesday’s. “That’s in, like, a month and a half.”

“Today marks the date I first laid eyes on you and fell in love.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but you certainly left an impression.”

Wednesday set a small crushed velvet box on the table in front of Lydia’s plate. At the sight Lydia felt her heartbeat quicken. This was the last thing she wanted and they were having such a nice evening up until this point.

“This is not an engagement ring,” Wednesday said, assuaging her fears. “You have made your feelings on that subject clear and I am not asking again until I am confident of a positive response. Also, we both know my distaste for public displays.”

“So what is it then?” Lydia asked. She caught Wednesday’s hand with her own.

“A family heirloom meant for you.”

“Oh wow, it’s… massive,” Lydia said upon opening the box.

Inside lay the largest ring Lydia had seen in real life. It was gold fashioned into the shape of a skull. Two pale sapphires were lodged where the eye sockets ought be, forming bulbous eyes. A dozen smaller gems formed two rows of teeth. She hoped they were zirconia, but in her heart she knew they were diamonds. Addamses didn’t muck about with fake jewels.

“Put it on,” Wednesday urged. Lydia could see flickers of emotion dance across her stoic girlfriend’s eyes. She did as asked.

“It’s heavy,” Lydia said. It rose nearly an inch off her finger. She was confident she could knock someone out with it if she punched right.

“That’s history,” Wednesday said. She rose from her chair and leaned down to kiss Lydia before stroking a thumb over the ring. “Let’s go home.”

“We still have to pay.”

Wednesday laid $500 on the table. “That should suffice.”

“Wednesday,” Lydia groaned. It was a nice restaurant, but nothing on the menu was in the neighborhood of that sort of pricing.

“Fine.” Wednesday dropped another two C-notes on the table. Lydia towed her out of the restaurant before she could further drive up the price. There was a reason wait staff always had a table on reserve for them.

In the morning Lydia reluctantly pried herself from Wednesday’s tight embrace. She certainly wouldn’t have bothered if she didn’t have work that day. Being a substitute did not guarantee a regular schedule by any means, but she had known since last week that she’d be filling in at a middle school today. Better yet it was for an art teacher. Lydia had been craving the chance to teach her preferred subject again instead of being stuck doling out endless worksheets or putting on an out of date film. So she was in a good mood as she dressed.

“Are you going to wear it?” Wednesday croaked.

“Wear what?” Lydia asked, startled. She had thought she was still asleep. “Oh. Right.”

“You don’t have to. It was a gift.”

“Of course I do. It was a sweet gift,” Lydia insisted, sliding on the hideous ring. She suppressed a cringe then kissed Wednesday. “See you tonight.”

When she entered the school friendly faces greeted Lydia at every turn. A number of her colleagues noticed her new ring, but immediately assumed it was costume jewelry for effect, as it was too ostentatious to be anything else. Lydia didn’t correct them.

The ring did its best to impede her ability to enjoy her work. As the day progressed it seemed to gain in mass to the point that by lunchtime Lydia didn't want to lift her left hand high enough to feed herself, much less reach for supplies above her head. It also caught on everything: papers, drawers, mugs filled with coffee or utensils, and anything else that came within a foot of the skull snagged, then went flying. Her finger felt raw and itchy under the band and this was despite the fact Wednesday had clearly gotten it resized for her. Lydia almost wondered if she had developed a gold allergy, except the thin gold chain around her neck—also a gift from Wednesday after the old chain on her mother’s necklace broke—wasn’t bothering her in the slightest.

Things came to a head during her last class of the day. They were crafting paper maché piñatas, as per Lydia’s teaching instructions, like she had done with every previous class. Personally she loved paper maché, but it was undeniably messy. The notes implied this was why the regular teacher had taken the day off, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Lydia, as being an art teacher meant inviting some mess into one’s life. Maybe the teacher just wanted to avoid the extensive clean up for once.

Just as Lydia dunked some newspaper into the glue solution so that she could strengthen a sixth grader’s project she felt the ring slip off her finger. Actually, at first she felt relief that the hot band of gold was no longer clenching her tired finger. Then she panicked as she realized what that meant. Wednesday would be upset if she lost the family heirloom less than a day after receiving it. Yanking her hand out of the glue Lydia stared at her bare finger in horror. Then she plunged both hands into the trough feeling for her missing jewelry.

The good news was that she quickly noticed when it went missing. Otherwise Lydia might have had to break open dozens of art projects to find it. The bad news was that it took her until well after the class ended to locate the ring and she had doused her arms along with her top significantly in the process. It took far longer than Lydia wanted to clean the ring and room before she could leave.

“I sound like the most ungrateful snob ever, but why did she hang this albatross on my finger?” Lydia groused after recounting her day to Parker over dinner. “I know Wednesday loves gift giving, but this is too much. It dented the drywall while I struggled with a paper towel dispenser earlier!”

“I wish someone want to give me gifts,” Parker said ruefully. “Mom’s forbidden Fester from giving me money unless I choose to return to something more ‘aesthetically pleasing,’ which means I’ll have to pick up another job. We can’t fit additional people in the apartment.”

“Could Wednesday and I help?” Lydia asked, immediately deciding to pick up the full tab. She felt guilty about her problems, which were really an embarrassment of riches, especially compared to Margaux attempting to control Parker’s behavior through financial means. “I mean, you’re family.”

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” Parker admitted.” I know I’m not really an Addams and therefore not entitled to their absurd wealth and I chose to live in an expensive city—”

“—You only moved out here because we did,” Lydia interjected.

“And to get away from my mother,” Parker grinned. “Still, it would be nice not having to share a two bedroom with four other people and work two jobs to survive.”

“Wednesday will help, if for no other reason than to irritate Margaux. She’d probably set it up so it would look like you were doing us a favor. Then the rest of the family wouldn’t think she was sowing discord, even if they’d be into that,” Lydia mused. “Wednesday still wants a spooky mansion outside of town. Would you be up for acting as caretaker in lieu of rent?”

“Shit I’d be down. Why don’t you two live in a spooky mansion already?”

“I don’t want to live outside the city. Especially without a car.”

“Wednesday would buy you a car.”

“I don’t want to drive.”

“Wednesday would buy you a driver.”

“Would you help me with the problem I need solving?” Lydia demanded, pointing at the ring. She didn’t need to rehash arguments she’d already had with her girlfriend.

“Tell her the truth,” Parker shrugged. “You love the sentiment, but you hate the ring. Wednesday won’t mind. About the only way you could upset her is if you left her.”

“I know you’re right, but I just hate doing this. Dad and Delia always get so upset when I don’t go gaga over their gifts. I guess I expect everyone else I care about to react the same way.” Lydia looked up and smiled at Parker. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”

“Every day at work,” Parker said, tapping the Apple logo on her polo shirt. “Ironically.”

Wednesday listened silently as Lydia listed all the reasons the skull ring wasn’t suitable for daily wear. However, the moment she tried to express how much she appreciated the gesture Wednesday cut her off.

“Ma petite araignée, you do not need to assuage my guilt for failing you,” Wednesday said.

“You didn’t fail me.”

“I gave you a gift that did not take your daily habits and needs into account, but did puff up my ego to see you wear it. I failed you. I will do better next time.”

“I don’t need gifts, I need you,” Lydia laughed, pulling her into a hug. “Oh, and I think I promised Parker a place to stay.”

“With us?” Wednesday quirked an eyebrow.

“No? I told her about the place you were eyeing.”

“Parker would be a good fit for the bat sanctuary,” Wednesday hummed. “I will take care of it.”

By the time their actual anniversary arrived Wednesday had purchased her spooky mansion and bat sanctuary. According to Parker the commute sucked, it was technically on an island, but she was a lot happier than she had been. Wednesday was gearing up to spend all of their weekends there—when they had them, which was fleetingly rare with her ongoing residency.

Lydia wasn’t worried about that tonight though, as she had ordered takeout to celebrate and expected Wednesday home any minute.

“Lydia,” Wednesday breathed, announcing her arrival.

Lydia smirked and glanced down at the low cut dress she was wearing. Red always seemed to leave Wednesday speechless. She sashayed over and gave her a long kiss.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” Lydia said, caressing her cheek.

Wednesday offered her another crushed velvet jewelry box. Lydia sighed, opened it, and then gasped. Inside lay a pair of delicate earrings. They were gold spiders with the ear posts emerging from their cephalothoraxes. Most of the legs were positioned so that they were reeling up a golden web encased ruby that freely dangled.

“They’re beautiful,” Lydia breathed, brushing a finger lightly down one earring. She loved the unique style. Wednesday had to have custom ordered them. “Who made them?”

“You did. I borrowed some of your sketches for the design. You deserve something you actually like.”

“I’ll cherish these,” Lydia promised. “Help me put them on?”

Wednesday carefully replaced the studs Lydia had been wearing with the new earrings. Her eyes gleamed as she drank in Lydia’s visage. Wednesday lifted Lydia’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

“Dinner first,” Lydia said firmly, towing Wednesday to the table. Wednesday’s eyes flashed, but when she pulled out a chair for Lydia she knew she had gotten her way. Lydia usually did, entirely by Wednesday’s insistence.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lydia asked nervously twirling her parasol. The market they were perusing was quite full of bustling bodies and strange fare.

“Yes,” Wednesday said. She frowned at the apple she held, shook her head, and set it back down on the vendor’s cart before linking her arm with Lydia’s. “I trust you with my family’s recipes.”

“But what if I mess up?”

“Then we will have a delightful new recipe to try.”

“I guess,” Lydia said doubtfully. She consulted the ornate list written in Morticia’s elegant script. “Have you spotted any full moon harvested henbane? I know we have the regular stuff dried at home, but I want to stick as close to her instructions as possible.”

Wednesday inclined her head and pointed at a stall between an armorer and a reptile rep. They could see bundles of various herbs on display. “That looks promising. If they don’t have exactly what we need we could buy a live specimen and harvest it ourselves.”

“You don’t want to wait that long.”

They drifted over to the stand and examined the wares. Wednesday quickly located the henbane, assessed its quality, and made purchase of a potted plant. To Lydia’s surprise Wednesday did not simply capitulate to the initial price and instead engaged the merchant in haggling. Fascinated, Lydia watched as Wednesday eventually handed over an egg and several small bones, one of which was immediately popped into the owner’s mouth and crunched rapidly.

“I’ve never seen you argue with a price before,” Lydia said once they resumed their stroll. A small-scaled figure rushed past them, disappearing into the crowd.

“When it comes to money the price never matters,” Wednesday said, shrugging. “However, a goblin’s market rarely cares for coin. Here one must always consider the cost before purchase.”

“Because they want bones?” Lydia asked. She vaguely remembered there was a famous poem about goblin markets, but not the contents of the work.

“They might want your bones,” Wednesday conceded, giving Lydia’s fingers a squeeze. “An artist’s finger bones fetch a high price at the market, though a musician’s is currently worth more.”

“Yikes.”

“Or a price might be less tangible, like the memory of our first kiss, the satisfaction of the first sip of coffee in the morning, or even the ability to pronounce a certain consonant. The options are endless, if you’re wiling to sell.” Wednesday blinked and glanced at Lydia. “Those are all costs I have refused in the past. Tangible prices are typically safer in my experience.”

“If they’re so dangerous, why are we here?” Lydia asked, suddenly feeling a lot more stressed about their Tuesday morning excursion.

“Because they’re an excellent source of resources. We're out of lindwyrm fire and there isn’t time for us to harvest some from a wild lindwyrm,” Wednesday explained. She gestured to the boisterous crowd. “Plus, I thought you would enjoy it. Was I wrong?”

“I was until I found out I could accidentally sell my soul!”

“Oh hardly. Something of that value requires more than a handshake to trade away. If someone did manage to hoodwink you into a non-voluntary separation from your soul my family has enough retainers to retrieve it from any sort of court.” Wednesday smirked and allowed her arm to slip down to Lydia’s waist. “However, I will happily ensure that does not happen by staying at your side.”

“You were planning to do that anyway,” Lydia grinned.

“Indeed.”

Lydia shifted the parasol so that they were both protected from the sun’s dreary winter rays. Then she consulted their shopping list again.

“I think the next item is powdered jackalope antler?” Lydia read. “Then maybe mandrake root?”

“That sounds right,” Wednesday said. “Onward.”

They continued their shopping and finished off the list without any unintended fees. By the time they were on their way home Lydia had decided goblin markets were fun, but never worth enjoying alone.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you’ve gotten this evening and all of tomorrow off!” Lydia giggled as she rested her head on her fist. Shifting position on the couch she ran her toes up Wednesday’s leg as she asked, “However could we fill the time?”

Wednesday caught the foot, gave it a gentle squeeze, and quirked an eyebrow. “While I have no obligations to the hospital this evening, I am alas unable to accept your offered suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“I have a social engagement.”

“You?” Lydia asked, retracting her foot. “With who? Parker?”

“No, my attending,” Wednesday grimaced. “It’s a required bonding experience. We are to sup with three other residents and their significant others.”

“And you were going to tell me about this when?”

“I… had not considered the possibility you would wish to attend,” Wednesday admitted. “They are not the sort of people we would wish to be subjected.”

“Darling, even if they’re absolutely the worst don’t you think I’d like to put faces to the names in your stories? I imagine I can handle dinner with them if you work together every day. Besides, I’m the social butterfly in this relationship; you should let me work my magic. Otherwise we can suffer together.”

“I do like that,” Wednesday agreed. “Fine. Pick out something appropriate for an informal dinner. We need to hurry.”

They were late to the dinner despite Wednesday’s abhorrence of tardiness because she was also Gomez Addams’s daughter and unable to fully control herself while her mate was changing. Luckily Lydia managed to persuade Wednesday not to leave any visible marks, as that would have delayed them further. They were a little breathless as they entered the condo of Wednesday’s attending physician. Inside Lydia could see half a dozen people who all turned to greet them. An older woman strode forward. Lydia assumed this was their hostess.

“Ah Wednesday, you nearly missed all of the cocktail hour,” she said with a thick German accent.

“A pity,” Wednesday replied, meaning anything but. Lydia repressed a giggle, but couldn’t hide the accompanying smile. The attending must have noticed.

“And who is this?” she asked in what was likely supposed to be a friendly tone.

“My partner, Lydia Deetz,”Wednesday said, gesturing to Lydia before turning to her. “Ma petite araignée, this is Dr. Pinder-Schloss, my attending. Drs. Glicker, Buckman, and Normanmeyer are also in attendance.”

“Please call me Greta outside of work,” Dr. Pinder-Schloss said with a smile.

“Dr. Pinder-Schloss has given me a number of interesting problems since I started working for her,” Wednesday said, ignoring the suggestion of familiarity. “I tend to work separately from the others due to the nature of my work.”

“Which is why socialization is so important,” Dr. Pinder-Schloss insisted. “You keep to yourself so much, Wednesday, we did not even know you were married.”

“That’s because we’re not,” Lydia explained.

“Oh, is this a new relationship?” Dr. Glicker asked, adjusting his glasses. “My parents are always trying to set me up with nice girls. I suppose Dr. Addams’s family is the same. Where are my manners? Please call me Joel.”

“Lydia,” Lydia grinned, shaking his hand. “No, we met a little over three years ago. When Wednesday asked me to come out here for her residency I agreed because, well, I can teach wherever.”

“N.J.,” Dr. Normanmeyer said upon greeting Lydia as well. “I’m surprised you two aren’t married if you’ve been with Dr. Addams for so long. She’s not the type to leaves things half done.”

“Wednesday, why are your colleagues only referring to you by your title?” Lydia asked. Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “Do you not allow them to use your first name?”

“I prefer to keep my professional interactions professional,” Wednesday said. “I cannot control my boss’s usage, but I can determine theirs.”

“Why Wednesday Friday Addams, do you have any idea how absurd you’re being?” Lydia teased, poking Wednesday gently in the cheek. “They’re trying to be friendly and resorting to talking to me because they don’t know how to interact with you.”

“Her parents named her Wednesday Friday?” Joel asked.

“Apparently,” N.J. shrugged, sipping his drink. “I mean, she does sign everything W F Addams.”

“Everyone should be nice to you,” Wednesday retorted, glaring at her. “Who hasn’t been nice to you?”

“I can’t believe it,” a voice cut through, sending tingles down Lydia’s spine. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Lydia, is it really you?”

A tall blonde woman with tanned skin and perfect teeth swept in on Dr. Buckman’s arm. She chortled and raised a cocktail glass as if giving a toast.

“Claire,” Lydia said flatly.

“Brewster?” Wednesday said, slightly tilting her head. The move was subtle, but Lydia recognized it for what it was: a hound catching the scent of blood. Lydia had avoided sharing stories that featured her former bully, but there had been enough for Wednesday to take note. And plot revenge.

“Buckman-Brewster,” Dr. Buckman corrected. She patted the manicured nails on her wrist. “We were married last June.”

“Isn’t Amanda adorable?” Claire cooed. “I know it’s, like, hard to believe that she’s a brain surgeon, but here we are.”

“Because she is in search of a brain?” Wednesday offered.

If she had been confronted by anyone other than Claire, Lydia would have nudged Wednesday and told her to be nice. However, she couldn’t be bothered under the circumstances. She had never expected to run into her here. That had shaken her.

“Wry wit as ever, Addams,” Dr. Buckman said. She turned to Lydia. “We can’t all be as lucky in our choice of significant others as I have been, but how can you stand her?”

“I happen to like her,” Lydia replied tersely. She squeezed Wednesday’s hand. “She’s practically perfect.”

“Makes sense, since you’re both freaks,” Claire muttered.

Lydia gritted her teeth. She hated that word. Especially uttered in that tone by this particular person. She wondered how far Claire would push her tonight and if she’d finally snap.

“Time for dinner,” Dr. Pinder-Schloss announced with a clap of her hands, cutting through the tension.

Dinner was located at a round table. Seating was not prearranged, which was surprisingly considering their host’s personality, so Lydia simply took a seat at random. Wednesday slipped into the one on her right, while to Lydia’s horror Claire filled in the spot on her left. Amanda was on her other side followed by N.J., Joel, a man Lydia suspected was Dr. Pinder-Schloss’ husband, followed by the woman herself to finish out the table.

Appetizers were served immediately. After a few minutes of silent eating conversation resumed when Joel asked how Claire and Lydia were acquainted. Of course he did. From the moment they recognized each other it was obvious that question was coming, but Lydia had still faintly hoped to avoid it. Before she could even open her mouth Claire was already talking.

“Oh Lydia and I are old school chums,” Claire giggled. “She was always somewhat backwards. I did my best to steer her in the right direction.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Wednesday said.

“What part of it?” N.J. asked.

“All of it.”

“My wife is a joy to be around,” Amanda said.

“For you perhaps, but she made high school a living hell for me,” Lydia said. “It would have been one thing if she were a rich popular girl too cool to notice my existence, but she took significant pains to harass and belittle my entire social group because she felt we didn’t belong. Didn’t matter what I did or how much effort I put into avoiding her, she went out of her way to sabotage my work.”

“You say that like you weren’t constantly a rainy cloud hanging over my parade,” Claire snapped. “You ruined everything!”

“How is my academic success or auditioning for the school play ruining things?” Lydia demanded.

“You know I wanted to be an actress when I was a kid,” Amanda said. Lydia wasn’t sure if she was trying to short circuit the argument with a subject change or if she was too self-centered to notice that right now wasn’t about her.

“Your existence was a blight on the academy!” Claire yelled. “You and those freaky friends of yours. Especially that Betty Juice, she was the worst!”

“Enough!” Dr. Pinder-Schloss snapped. “I am appalled to say it, but this is not how a guest ought to behave.”

“She started it,” Claire muttered.

“No, Lydia has been a model of etiquette,” Wednesday said, rising from her chair. “You, Ms. Buckman-Brewster, have been nothing but contemptuous toward my beloved and if I were host you would be removed from the premises.”

“To be fair, if you were hosting you wouldn’t have let her enter,” Lydia said.

“I do not tolerate bullies,” Wednesday agreed.

“Claire is not a bully,” Amanda said firmly. “I’ve never seen her show anything less than respect and kindness to mankind. You must be the root issue.”

“That would be due to the fact your opinion matters to her and therefore she cannot discount your humanity,” Wednesday explained. “Common courtesy is rarely afforded to those the likes of Claire Buckman-Brewster consider undesirable. I, on the other hand, consider Lydia most desirable.”

With that she kissed Lydia’s hand then each knuckle in turn. Lydia had to smile at that. She had a good woman. One who was straining for the chance to end the woman who had tormented Lydia for four years straight. That all on its own was enough of a stabilizing force to steady her emotions. Wednesday would always have her back.

“Claire, you may be right about Wednesday and me being freaks,” Lydia said, pleased she didn’t stumble on the insult, “but more importantly we’re happy, healthy, and successful in our chosen endeavors. You can feel whatever you want about me. I don’t give a shit. Put all that pent up rage toward furthering your and your wife’s life goals. That approach worked wonders for Wednesday.”

Wednesday affirmed this was the case because she was a supportive girlfriend.

“This is so rude of you, Lydia!” Claire squealed.

“Is it? Because I was just trying to steer you in the right direction,” Lydia innocently explained. Deciding she was done with Claire she pointedly turned away. “Dr. Pinder-Schloss, my apologies Greta, have you ever dealt with rage based sublimation? I imagine it could be an excellent motivation.”

For the rest of the night Lydia pretended Claire Buckman-Brewster didn’t exist. Wednesday soon caught on and joined the game. As attention was Claire’s drug of choice, it especially rankled her to have Wednesday look through her as if she were invisible.

Everything Claire said seemingly didn’t register. Neither Lydia nor Wednesday glanced in her direction and when passing things for the rest of the meal they handed them directly to Amanda. Lydia never directly spoke over Claire, but she would occasionally repeat her words, rephrased slightly, and Wednesday would react as if this was the first time they had been said. The best moment of their campaign occurred when Wednesday expertly plucked up each éclair Claire attempted to take from the dessert platter all while maintaining eye contact with Mr. Schloss as she explained the different hemoglobin tests she regularly used. Claire’s face went puce. Lydia could barely keep from laughing.

Sure it was childish, but it was less disruptive on her part than arguing with Claire. Especially as Claire couldn’t make her acknowledge her. Lydia focused on the other diners who actually liked her girlfriend. Joel seemed fine and N.J. was cool. She hoped it would translate into Wednesday enjoying something about work beyond her lab. Dr. Pinder-Schloss and her husband weren’t too bad, though the former had to thaw toward her after Lydia’s mere presence nearly upset the entire dinner.

By the time they got home that night Lydia considered it a fun evening. Sure Claire was unpleasant, but she had been handily nullified. Lydia had impressed Wednesday’s boss, made new friends, and best of all teased Wednesday extensively. From the way she was humming as they shrugged off their coats Lydia was sure Wednesday had a nice night as well.

“Would it be too far if I started sending Buckman notices of speed dating opportunities and similar events?” Wednesday asked. She had decided to treat Amanda as if she were single once Claire ceased to exist.

“No, that would be rude and Addamses aren’t rude,” Lydia said gently. “Besides, has Amanda done anything awful to you personally? Beyond background irritation levels you get from most people.”

“She was rude to you.”

“She was trying to defend her wife, which we both understand and respect, even if Claire is awful.” Lydia smiled and cupped her cheek. “You would do the same for me.”

“She’s a subpar surgeon.”

Needle her about that, not her choice in mates. Love is blind.”

“And deaf and dumb. Nonetheless I concede the point. However, if she harms you again I will end her.”

“Nah, that’s not going to happen. We totally got her number tonight,” Lydia laughed, wrapping her arms around Wednesday’s neck and lightly kissing her. “Now did you fill up on éclairs or can you still eat… something else?”

“Ma petite araignée,” Wednesday said, eyes darkening. “I always have an appetite.”

Talking ceased after that.

Chapter Text

Lydia was not pleased having to duck an axe the moment she got home from work.

“Oops, sorry about that. Thought you were Wednesday.”

“Pugsley, how did you even get in?” Lydia demanded. She dropped her purse on a side table and kicked off her shoes before running a hand through her hair. It didn’t really matter how he had arrived. He probably picked the lock like Wednesday would have done. “I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“Surprise visit?” Pugsley said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

“Your sister won’t be home until tomorrow morning. She’s got a night shift.”

“Drat,” Pugsley grumbled, crossing his arms. “How early tomorrow?”

Lydia consulted the wall calendar where they had inscribed Wednesday’s schedule. “Ah… looks like she’ll likely be back by eight. However, I don’t want you hurling an axe at her. You’ve already embedded one in the hallway, which you’re going to need to pry out, and our lease states we’re not supposed to damage the walls.”

“Fine. So what’s for dinner?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, pushed up her sleeves, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Pugsley never changed. It was earlier than she had planned to start on dinner—honestly she had been half considering ordering pizza—but getting him into the kitchen meant he wouldn’t be underfoot elsewhere.

“Can you chop without cutting anything living?” she asked.

“Of course,” Pugsley grinned, twirling around a butterfly knife that he had produced from his shoe. “How finely sliced do you want?”

“Cook’s choice,” Lydia said, handing him a kitchen knife and a bag of potatoes. “Just wash them first and remember they need to be fried.”

Pugsley’s French fries took hours to finish, so they still ended up ordering a pizza. Technically two pizzas, since Lydia wasn’t interested in anchovies and Limburger cheese on hers. They watched TV for several hours and kept conversation restricted to the show as Lydia was never certain how to act around Pugsley. She mostly saw him through the filter of Wednesday’s disdain, which wasn’t exactly benign, and perhaps it was simply that she barely spent any time around him, but he came off as a sentient potato to her. That wasn’t a bad thing exactly… Pubert was just easier to handle.

When Pugsley snorted derisively at an explosion Lydia glanced at him. “What?”

“A bomb with half that amount of C4 would have turned him into jelly and sent body parts from the onlookers flying,” Pugsley explained. “I get it’s just network broadcast, but would it have been that hard to get the details right?”

“You speak as if you have experience.”

“I do! Animal parts mostly, but Beej has been a good sport about letting me explode him now and then.”

“You guys have been hanging out?”

“He’s a good couch buddy. Always one for a laugh.”

“That he is,” Lydia agreed, uncomfortable about the spike of jealousy she felt. She didn’t own Beetlejuice, even if she could control him, and she ought to be happy he now had another friend since it meant he wouldn’t get as lonely when she was busy with other responsibilities. Especially when he and Wednesday didn’t get along. However, it was still weird that Pugsley was the one replacing her some of the time. It almost felt like they had swapped companions and Lydia didn’t like that.

“He’s told me a bunch of stories about the Neitherworld. I can’t wait until I’m dead and can visit the bug ranches. Did you know there are beetles the size of cattle?” Pugsley asked excitedly. “BJ promised to take me out to see them someday and teach me some ranching tricks, even though I already know how to rope and hogtie.”

“Yeah I do,” Lydia said, refraining from mentioning that she had seen them and even broken in a fierce ladybug over winter break when she was nineteen.

Beetlejuice had never once mentioned her needing a demise, untimely or otherwise, to visit, nor had he suggested it when they’d dragged her friends and family to the other side. It was petty, but Lydia felt far more secure about her position as Beetlejuice’s best pal if he was refusing to take Pugsley sightseeing. She wasn’t getting replaced, even if she had grown up in a way that Pugsley hadn’t.

“And like, Wednesday’s a great sister who’s willing to facilitate my trip to the other side, but I don’t know if I’m ready, you know?” Pugsley said. “Always figured I’d go up in a ball of flames.”

“I’m glad you know yourself well enough to be sure of that,” Lydia said. Pugsley grinned. Lydia yawned, stretched, and stood up. “Whelp, I’m exhausted after dealing with packs of middle schoolers all day. There are sheets in the hall closet if you’re worried about the cleanliness of the ones already on the fold out, but we did change them after our last guest.”

“No worries, Lydia. I probably won’t even bother opening the couch. I’m on a nocturnal schedule right now.”

“Right,” Lydia said and then went to bed.

She awoke early the next morning to the sound of an explosion. Rushing out Lydia found the remains of her front door smoldering. Wednesday stood in the middle of the wreckage stomping out some of the flames. Pugsley had two black eyes and a grin wide enough to cover half his face.

“I thought we agreed no more damage to the apartment!” Lydia cried, glaring at Wednesday. “The lease is very specific on allowable home modifications! I don’t want to get kicked out!”

“This wasn’t my idea,” Wednesday sniffed. “You can thank my brother.”

“I just wanted to give her a warm welcome home,” Pugsley insisted.

“By setting our apartment on fire,” Lydia said flatly. She got out the extinguisher and carefully sprayed out the half dozen hot spots she could see. The apartment and hallway were smoky, but there wasn’t anything else alit when she finished. “I’m shocked the fire alarms haven’t gone off for the building yet. This is way more than burnt microwave popcorn and the whole building got cleared out for that last month.”

“Oh that’s because the fire alarms have been rerouted to bypass this floor,” Pugsley said. “It’s super easy to do.”

“And you did that?”

“No, it was already done when I opened up the first box last night,” Pugsley said, scratching his neck. “Why?”

“Did you?” Lydia demanded, turning to Wednesday. Just as she opened her mouth to respond Lydia added, “or did you hire someone else to do it for you?”

Wednesday’s mouth snapped shut. That was answer enough.

“You’re mad. Why are you mad?” Pugsley asked.

“I don’t care if you’re Addamses, you don’t mess with the critical life support systems of a building! Most people can’t survive significant smoke inhalation and I know I can’t walk through fire unscathed!” Lydia shouted.

“The system is still perfectly functional on the rest of the floors. This was merely a step to prevent nuisance tripping,” Wednesday said. “We still have fully functioning alarms in our lodgings, they are simply not hardwired into the rest of the building’s system.”

“Then why aren’t they going off right now?”

“Socrates has already disabled them.”

Lydia turned to see the little red octopus clutching batteries in every tentacle. He waved one at her in greeting as he still crouched over the empty husk of an alarm. Lydia waved back faintly and then felt the sudden urge to sit down. Wednesday immediately helped her into a chair.

“What is wrong my love?” Wednesday asked, kneeling beside her.

“Our home is on fire, we’re going to get evicted, and you thoughtlessly put everyone on our floor in danger,” Lydia said, feeling beside herself. “I’d expect that sort of irresponsible behavior from him, but you’re supposed to think!”

“Lydia, you wound me,” Wednesday frowned. Lydia just shook her head and bit her finger. There was hysterical laughter building in her chest and if she let it out she wasn’t sure when it would stop. Pugsley knocked over a charred barstool, drawing Wednesday’s ire. “Go wait in the lobby. I will deal with you later.”

“Hey!” Pugsley protested.

Wednesday silently pointed until he followed her order. Once he was out of the way she turned her full attention back to her girlfriend. “Our apartment is no longer on fire, we are the only occupants of the thirteenth floor, so our neighbors were not put in danger, and there is no need to fear eviction.”

“How can I not worry about it?” Lydia demanded, gesturing at their former entryway. “The lease states—”

“—I care not a whit what the lease states. Why would I remove us from our home?” Wednesday asked. Lydia stared at her.

“Do…do you own the building?” Lydia asked.

“Yes.”

“This building,” Lydia clarified.

“I purchased it upon your announcement that we were to live here,” Wednesday said, inclining her head. “I do not believe in wasting equity. Why would I rent when I can purchase?”

“How are you our landlord?”

“I hired a property management company to manage the property. The only needs I would cater to are yours.”

“And our rent…?”

“Ours, like the money collected from every other tenant, is for building upkeep, the management company, and all of the respective fees and taxes that are inherent to owning property. I have no interest in making a profit off the backs of our neighbors.” Wednesday cleared her throat and glanced down before resuming eye contact with Lydia. “This was a point of contention with my financial advisors when I purchased the property, as I apparently lowered the standard rent of this building by 31.5% when I took control.”

“You old softie,” Lydia laughed because this was something she could easily grasp. “If you really don’t care about profit, does that mean you’d be willing to turn this building into a tenant owned co-op once your residency is over?”

“If we are moving out when I have finished then I am amenable to this suggestion,” Wednesday conceded. “I have a strongly vested interest in totally controlling our environment. Addamses have history with mob rule.”

“You know, if your lot wasn’t so stuck on ruling with an iron fist there’d probably be less mobs chasing you with torches and pitchforks.”

“Why, so they can easily vote us out of a community? No, if they want to drive us from our home then they had better be willing to lose life or limb for that belief,” Wednesday said grimly. “People are far better behaved when it requires personal risk to be wicked. I refuse to be physically ostracized simply for being different, though I do not care if they do it socially to us.”

“That’s a lot we’re going to need to unpack at a later date. Preferably with a therapist,” Lydia drawled. “Have you ever seen a psychologist?”

Wednesday shook her head. “However, Pugsley has caused several psychologists to retire early and a psychiatrist to do so as well.”

“That… is unsurprising. Speaking of Pugsley, can we get him banned from the building? It’s not that I dislike him, but he’s too damaging to physical property when we have a building full of civilians to worry about here. We could host him at the mansion where he’d only be a problem for Parker, who already knows how to deal with him.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Wednesday said. Her lips curled at the edges, likely at the prospect of physically removing her brother. “Would you care to call the contractor or shall I?”

“I can do it,” Lydia sighed. “I’ve already established a working relationship with them from the last several incidents.”

With that they both rose to carry out their respective tasks.

Chapter Text

“Not even a minute in and they’re already breaking out the horror movie tropes,” Lydia groaned, letting her head slide off Wednesday’s shoulder to fall in her lap. “Ten bucks says she’s dead in the next five minutes.”

“You’re on,” Parker said.

“Excuse me?” Wednesday asked. “Horror movie tropes?”

“Oh right. I forget you didn’t watch a lot of TV growing up,” Lydia said, grinning up at her girlfriend. “The particular trope I’m referring to has been so overused it’s a cliché now and this film decided to start with it.”

“And that would be?”

“Defenseless waif of a girl decides to wander alone and barely dressed into a spooky area while carrying only a faulty light source,” Lydia explained. “She’s ill equipped to handle anything she might find, will lose her light, and then winds up dead or else gets dramatically rescued by a jock who may end up dying in her stead.”

“Her phone just died,” Parker said, stuffing several kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

“I do not understand why she is in danger,” Wednesday said, frowning at the screen. “I wandered into many scenic forests like the one she is exploring when I was half her age without even a candle to light my way. Nothing ever happened to me.”

“Darling, you might be as physically small as she is, but I’d never describe you as defenseless,” Lydia said. She laced her fingers with Wednesday’s. “You’re typically the biggest threat in the room.”

“I always liked exploring with you when we were teens because I knew any predators would turn tail and run when they caught sight of you,” Parker said. “With you there it was like we were invincible, you know?”

“No, I did not,” Wednesday said.

Lydia refocused her attention on the screen when she heard growls and screams. The heroine was rescued by a boy in a track jacket, who was clawed open and eaten in her place.

“Drat,” Lydia groused and handed Parker a ten-dollar bill.

“She’s blonde,” Parker shrugged. “You knew that when you made the bet.”

“Does that matter?” Wednesday asked.

“The blonde almost always survives,” Lydia admitted. “I just figured it wouldn’t happen this time because it started with her doing something this asinine and she wasn’t named.”

“Because names matter.”

“Sure. Why bother naming a character if she’s just offed immediately? It’s a waste of effort and writers are lazy.”

“That dead guy’s going to be listed as track captain or jogger in the credits,” Parker agreed.

“How very quaint,” Wednesday said.

“Exactly. I don’t have an issue with older movies doing this because there’s a reason it’s a cliché or if new movies put a fun twist on the old formula, but this came out last year and they’re doing nothing innovative here,” Lydia said, sticking her tongue out as she made a face. “What’s the point in even watching?”

“Boobs and gore?” Parker offered.

“Okay fair.”

“This excites you?” Wednesday asked, peering down.

“God no,” Lydia laughed, “but I like the special effects, especially when they’re not just computer generated.”

“The wolfman’s supposed to be pretty badass looking in this,” Parker said. “A lot of the reviews said he was down right sexy.”

“You had the same hype for that swamp thing, but that just looked like Pugsley,” Lydia shuddered. “So I’m not trusting your judgment on this.”

“Don’t remind me,” Parker groaned. “I’m just sharing my research here, you know I don’t watch these films beforehand. It ruins the fun. I hope the reviews were right about this one though; a little eye candy would make this drek worth watching.”

“If you’re interested in wolfmen, Parker, I know a few that might be suitable to your taste,” Wednesday said. “Otherwise Mother would certainly arrange a match for you if you expressed your desires to her. She would be glad to help.”

“I’m not desperate enough to go the arranged marriage route yet, Wednesday,” Parker said. “Still hoping to stumble into something magical and organic like you two.”

Wednesday shrugged and her lips curled as she looked back down at Lydia.

“Oh, you know a lot of attractive werewolves, eh?” Lydia teased. “Is this a pet interest of yours?”

“The only wolf I would be interested in is if you happened to develop lycanthropy,” Wednesday said flatly. “Why do you tease me so?”

“Because I like it when you get possessive.”

Wednesday smirked and undid the top button of Lydia’s blouse. “I assure you I can be wholly possessive without the taunts.”

“Not on the couch while I am sitting right next to you!” Parker screeched. “Wednesday seriously, we made a pact we wouldn’t turn into your parents when we found true love. Now you’re totally pulling a Gomez! Do you not have more self control than your father?”

“That was incredibly rude of me, Parker, I apologize, for putting you in an unwanted situation,” Wednesday said. She looked down at Lydia and patted her side. “I am sorry, Lydia, but the ravishing will have to wait.”

“No biggie,” Lydia said. She yawned and stretched. “We can do that any old time. Movie night with Parker is a special occasion.”

“Thanks,” Parker said sincerely.

“What’s our death toil?”

“Three so far, I think?”

“Want to do a shot every time someone dies?”

“We are going to get so wasted,” Parker laughed. She got up to fetch a bottle of something alcoholic from the kitchen.

“I have a lot to learn about horror movies,” Wednesday said.

Lydia grinned and kissed the back of Wednesday’s hand. “I’ll be delighted to teach you.”

That earned Lydia a real Wednesday Addams smile.

Chapter Text

There was a crash as a rather large boulder broke off the cliff and fell into the roiling sea. Lydia adjusted her grip on her crimson umbrella. Initially she had planned to bring her black lace parasol, but the downpour was far too heavy for it to survive. She glanced behind her at Wednesday, who was a few paces away under a stoically practical black umbrella.

“Did you arrange this storm before or after I announced I wanted to take some nature shots on our hike?” Lydia asked. The wind ripped her umbrella out of her hands. “I could have done without the gale force wind.”

“My apologies, but this is not my doing,” Wednesday said, capturing the fleeing rainshade. With a flourish she returned it. “Magic has never been my parlance, much to Grandmama’s disappointment, and I am not so well acquainted with any weather witch to arrange this on short notice.”

Lydia kissed her in thanks. “So you’re saying with proper notice you would change the weather for me? What if I wanted something absurd?”

“If that was what you wished,” Wednesday said. She frowned and cocked her head like Nevermore did whenever he was considering a problem. “Depending on what you wanted it may take more time and expense—snow in the Sahara would require at least a coven and weeks if not months of preparation—but have I not made it clear I would do my utmost to fulfill your every whim?”

“Crystal clear,” Lydia assured her, squeezing Wednesday’s arm. “It still catches me by surprise though.”

“What does?”

“That someone else considers my happiness their top priority. I mean, Dad wanted me happy, but it was never his top priority, you know? Because if I was happy enough I wasn’t being too difficult to deal with. As for Beej, his self-interest is more important than anything else. I know we’re besties because he’ll inconvenience himself for me, but he mainly likes making me happy because he gets to have fun in the process.”

“What about the Maitlands?” Wednesday asked. Lydia was immediately grateful she knew her well enough to not even mention Delia in this conversation.

“They wanted me safe and well adjusted above all else,” Lydia explained. “Thought that would give me the best chance at being a healthy functional adult.”

“You can adjust to anything,” Wednesday agreed.

“Thank you.”

Any further conversation was derailed as lightning streaked across the sky. It lit up their surroundings slightly brighter than sunlight in that eerie way only lightning could accomplish and highlighted the fact the ocean had gone green under its rolling whitecaps.

“I need to get pictures,” Lydia breathed.

Save for burial sites, storm landscapes were her favorite sort of photos to take. When it came to colored photography it even beat that out, as Lydia loved the way Mother Nature’s hellish lighting and environmental choices queered the coloration of her photos. She never knew exactly what she was getting until the film developed and Lydia loved that about traditional photography.

Lydia had her camera out of its carrying case in an instant and madly snapped every time the sky lit up. From prior experience she knew her current set up would only yield poor results during the dark moments. If she had known it would storm Lydia would have brought along another camera set up to handle low light situations for the dark periods.

Belatedly Lydia realized she had completely abandoned her favorite umbrella in favor of her art. Perhaps she would have noticed sooner if she had gotten wet, but her upper body remained dry. Wednesday had yet again retrieved her umbrella and was using it to shield Lydia as she worked. Lydia beamed at her between lightning strikes. Wednesday might have a dour visage, but she always supported her work.

Lydia focused on the beach proper for several flashes. Through her viewfinder she captured the emergence of a waterlogged figure covered in kelp from the surf. From the looks of things he was either a nineteenth century sailor or an excellent re-enactor. Lydia couldn’t be sure. What she did know was that he was very definitely dead.

“Do you think he’s a recent casualty or was unearthed by the storm?” Lydia asked, lowering her camera.

“Does it matter?” Wednesday asked.

“Probably not.” Lydia took back her umbrella and jogged over. “Excuse me, sir, do you need assistance?”

The sailor turned to her, opened his mouth, and his jaw fell off. Lydia bent down, picked it up, and popped the bone back in place.

“I hate when that happens, don’t you? Try speaking without moving your mouth; you don’t really need to anymore.”

“My wife… I need…” the corpse trailed off, struggling to string together a sentence.

“What’s her name?” Lydia gently asked.

“Evelyn… Turner.”

“What year is it for you?” The bones rattled like they were getting angry. “None of that nonsense now! I can’t help you find your wife if I don’t know where to look, Mr. Turner.”

The rattling stopped.

“What year? And what port is home?”

“Boston… 1881… thank you.”

Then the corpse collapsed into a pile of bones with the faintest hint of mummified flesh. Lydia flinched when he went then snapped a few pictures of the remains.

“He didn’t last long,” Wednesday commented.

“No, it’s a damn shame,” Lydia sighed. “I had wanted to at least get his first name before he went. There must have been dozens, if not hundreds, of Evelyn Turners in Boston in 1881. Can you make anything out from the uniform?”

“Wool. American and rapidly decaying. You’ll have better luck from the photos when he still had an image of himself.”

“Only if he didn’t wreck the photos,” Lydia said, making a face. He might have ruined the entire roll along with any other film she was carrying. Uncontrolled spirits had that effect.

She squatted down beside the remains and began picking them up. If she had known she’d be helping the dead today Lydia would have brought a large handbag. Instead the bones went into her camera bag. Wednesday crouched down beside her to assist.

“You’re going to help him?” Wednesday asked.

“I’m kinda honor bound to,” Lydia said. “Even if it’s going to be a research nightmare. Maybe when he shows up again in three months demanding results we can get more info out of him.”

“It will take time and money to reunite them.”

“I know,” Lydia groaned. Wednesday reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

“We have plenty of both. Tell me when you are ready to go to Boston and I will arrange it.”

“Will you come with?” Lydia asked. She quickly added before Wednesday answered. “I mean, if you can without torpedoing your residency. You’re not that far from finishing and I’d hate to see all that hard work go to waste.”

“Of course,” Wednesday nodded. “If I cannot attend I’m sure Cousin Itt will. He frequents Boston. Or perhaps Thing.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said. She picked up Mr. Turner’s last bone, a phalange, probably from his left ring finger as there was a bit of gold calcified to it. She leaned forward and kissed Wednesday before dropping it in her bag. “Let’s go home.”

“Agreed.”

Hand in hand they left the beach.

Chapter Text

“Lydia!”

“Hi Delia,” Lydia said, weathering her stepmother’s tight embrace. “Dad.”

“Pumpkin,” Charles said, before also hugging her.

“Alright, Wednesday’s waiting with the car,” Lydia explained once they were finished.

Lydia led them out of the airport terminal and toward Wednesday, who was drumming her fingertips along the steering wheel. She could tell that even from a distance because Wednesday had the top down on her black convertible. When they neared the vehicle Charles grabbed her shoulder.

“Is she driving a Ferrari Portofino?” he demanded.

“Maybe? You’ll have to ask her,” Lydia said, shrugging off the hand. As Wednesday had already popped the trunk she started loading the bags.

“It could very well be,” Wednesday said, checking her nails. “I told Thing to buy me something fast and sleek in black. He has more first hand experience with purchasing cars and I trust his judgment.”

“I’m going to ride in a Ferrari Portofino,” Charles breathed, reverently running his hands along the side of the vehicle.

“Yes, in back,” Wednesday agreed.

When he stared blankly at her Lydia opened the door and popped the seat forward. Delia climbed in without protest and after a long moment of staring Charles followed suit. Then Wednesday pushed the chair back into its upright so that Lydia could slide into the remaining seat. Once they were all secured Wednesday left the curb. Lydia felt a small sense of satisfaction that she was riding in front with Wednesday. The backseat was shockingly uncomfortable considering the price of this car.

The ride home was uneventful. Conversation primarily consisted of Delia narrating their flight and how excited she was about her art exhibition opening this evening. Lydia didn’t contribute other than making vaguely affirmative noises whenever there was a lull in her monologue.

“Are you sure you two can host us?” Charles asked once they were in the elevator. “Pumpkin, I know you’ll try your best, but I can’t imagine your place has a lot of space. What with your art things and your… pets.”

“Dad, chill. Wednesday’s got it under control,” Lydia said.

“I just don’t want it to be too cramped for you. I know how hard things are when you’re first starting out.”

“I assure you your presence will not impede us in any way,” Wednesday said. “At this point I would hardly describe us as ‘starting out,’ but rather ‘comfortably established’ here.”

“Of course you are. My mistake, as it wasn’t that long ago Lydia could barely manage a studio apartment on her teacher’s salary and now she’s a substitute, which means she has even less to contribute!” Charles snapped.

“Is this seriously a dig at me for not getting my MBA?” Lydia demanded. “Because we both know I’m a much better teacher than I’d ever be a business woman.”

“And what about you?” Charles turned to Wednesday. “Lydia’s only thirty and she said you’re several years younger, so you’d have even less chance to develop any savings. Especially if you’re spending your salary on things like Ferrari Portofinos!”

“Dad, she’s a doctor!”

“And I’m sure she has student debt from medical school. Lydia, I don’t want you two out on the street because you’re too proud to accept any assistance. This isn’t any sort of lifestyle judgment, I just want you safe.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding and everyone shuffled onto the thirteenth floor.

“Worry not, Mr. Deetz, I am debt free as my family paid for my education,” Wednesday said. “If you are not comfortable in the lodgings we have provided, I will happily host you in a hotel of your choosing.”

“So you’ll accept her family’s money, but not mine?”

“Dad, that’s not…” Lydia trailed off, unsure how to determine the underlying issue or explain the Addamses’ obscene wealth. “I don't actually pay for anything? I mean, Wednesday pays all of our expenses out of her trust fund.”

“Which was originally family money, but has been mine since my birth,” Wednesday said, “and I have had full control of that funding since my twenty-first birthday. It’s an Addams tradition.”

“But,” Charles started, losing his steam. Delia wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Lydia dear, why don’t you show us where we’ll be staying,” Delia said. “I think your father needs a nap before the show. He’s been so worried about your well being since you moved out here, especially since you couldn’t come home for the holidays last year.”

So Lydia led them down the hall to the one bedroom apartment they had converted into guest quarters. There was some confusion upon entry about how uninhabited the place looked and Lydia explained this was only for visitors. Leaving them to settle in, she returned to her apartment and found Wednesday waiting for her in the living room.

“Why is your father certain I am unable to adequately provide for you?” Wednesday demanded.

“I never told him about your family money?” Lydia offered. It was the truth, but she really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Why not?” Wednesday drew near. “Have I been lacking in some manner and you chose to tell him instead of me?”

“Of course not! Our finances are none of his business, that’s all.”

“You have disapproved of my spending habits in the past.”

“Well yeah, you always go overboard and do things like buy an entire apartment building when I say I want to get an apartment.”

“This apartment building was a sound investment for a plethora of reasons.”

“You two can compare portfolios later.”

“I will. Because he needs to understand I will do whatever it takes to be worthy of you.”

“Wednesday, I didn’t tell him about your family money because it would reflect poorly on me!” Lydia shouted in frustration.

“How could that possibly be?” Wednesday frowned.

“Don't get me wrong, we’re well off, Dad made a killing in real estate, but it’s nothing compared to the generational wealth your family has.” Lydia ran her hands through her hair and turned away. “I didn’t want him thinking I was a gold digger.”

“You are not. Even if you were, I don't care. I love you, Lydia.”

“But I care!” Lydia snapped, twisting around. “After Mom died Dad went through a series of gold diggers, all of whom were awful, and eventually married the last one. We fought so much about all of them using him for his wallet because he’d bankroll everything. Don’t you see, Wednesday? I’m the leech now!”

“Leeches are adorable.”

“I’ve turned into fucking Delia. We're both artists even.”

“I cannot pretend to understand the dynamics of your family,” Wednesday said. She reached up and cupped Lydia’s cheek. “However, I can assure you that you are nothing like your stepmother.”

“I’m still using you,” Lydia smiled ruefully.

“Lydia, you left steady, if undercompensated, employment to follow me across the country at my behest. You care for our pets, maintain our home, and support me in every other way that I need while also maintaining your professions—teaching and freelance photography—not to mention your supernatural responsibilities. Under the circumstances the least I can do is support you financially.”

“You support me in more ways than that.”

“Of course I do. We’re family,” Wednesday said before pulling her down into a crushing kiss.

Lydia responded with equal ardor. She practically melted into the kiss. Especially when she realized she was crying and couldn’t tell if it was from stress or relief. Possibly even some other emotion, since seeing family always ran her through a gauntlet and this time the Maitlands weren’t even involved. She wanted out of her head for a few minutes. Wednesday was the perfect method to achieve that goal.

“Lydia, I—Oh my,” Delia said, interrupting them. Lydia jerked back while Wednesday tightened her embrace. Clearly a stepmother was not worth a break in affection. Delia’s eyes wandered around the room, avoiding them. “What interesting decorating choices.”

“We like books and weapons,” Lydia shrugged. The common areas were based on functionality.

“I thought you’d have more art,” Delia said.

“We have many of Lydia’s pieces hanging in the bedroom,” Wednesday said.

“Which you will not be touring,” Lydia added. Delia’s smile faltered. “Would you like to see anything else?”

“Your studio?”

“Sure.” Lydia disentangled herself from Wednesday and strode out of the apartment, knowing Delia would follow. “My studio’s the one bedroom across from yours.”

“Really, that seems like an awful lot of space for the two of you.”

“Wednesday wanted the whole floor. She’s not fond of strangers in her space,” Lydia explained, unlocking the door to her studio. “I spent over a year camped in a corner of the living room, cleaning up completely when I wasn’t actively working, before I found out I could have my own workshop.”

“Space makes all the difference for creativity,” Delia agreed.

She walked around looking enchanted by all the projects. In progress, finished, or abandoned all seemed to derive a childish delight in her. Lydia had to smile at that. She loved it when people enjoyed her photos and paintings. Lydia found herself explaining pieces to Delia whenever she stopped by a work for more than two seconds. Delia actually had some thoughtful critiques mixed into effusive praise. Lydia couldn’t remember the last time she had relished a conversation with the older woman. It was a little disconcerting.

“What’s in there?” Delia asked, pointing toward the bedroom.

“My darkroom. I built a bit of an antechamber just inside the door and it was totally worth it to have a proper one again. I never want to go back to developing photos in a bathtub.”

“I’m impressed by what you’ve created here. Lydia, I know we work in different media, but I can see the talent radiating out of your stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Delia squealed, pulling Lydia into a hug. “I’m so glad we’re finally bonding over art!”

“I guess?”

“Lydia, I know you didn’t want me in your life as a mother and I’ll admit that hurt,” Delia said, “but I’ve always been ready to be your friend. I’m thrilled we can finally be that.”

Lydia just smiled and bit her tongue. She knew her immediate reaction of ‘friends don’t sleep with friends’ fathers’ would ruin the moment. Maybe Delia was right for once. Now that they had a country and almost a decade of separation between them there was finally room for civility. However, Lydia wasn’t ready to consider that blossoming into friendship.

Conversation stuck to art after that, firmly avoiding anything heavy until it was time to get ready for Delia’s exhibition. Lydia changed into a black dress that went nicely with Wednesday’s chosen suit. They met up with Lydia’s parents, who were decked out in more colorful finery, and then Wednesday drove them over to the art gallery.

It was your standard art gallery: postmodern architecture, with stark inner walls, and zero clutter. The only color sources inside seemed to be Delia’s sculptures and the appetizers, which were more tiny works of art than actual food. The place reminded Lydia a lot of the Neitherworld, especially Delia’s palm hand sculpture, and she vaguely wondered if it would be worth getting Beej to sell some of her stepmother’s pieces over there. Delia would certainly enjoy the accolades.

As things currently stood she’d have to settle for West Coast hipsters and art enthusiasts. Delia seemed up for the challenge though, as she rushed to meet her public, dragging Charles along. Lydia decided to fall back, nab some of the champagne, and hang out with Wednesday. Occasionally she’d recognize and acknowledge other guests, but overall she was able to avoid awkward small talk.

“Is this something you want for your art?” Wednesday finally asked after they had strolled past all the displayed pieces.

“Sure? I mean I’d love to get my work back into a show and attract interested buyers. I’m generally low tech enough that I don’t like selling stuff online,” Lydia said, taking a sip of her drink. “That is not in any way a suggestion to bankroll an exhibition, or a gala, or buy a gallery to exhibit my stuff, Wednesday. If my work succeeds it needs to be based on its own merits, not the helping hand you gave it.”

“Your work is better than anything on display here,” Wednesday grumbled. Lydia hid a grin behind her hand.

“That’s because it’s all Delia’s stuff,” she whispered, “and we don’t particularly like her style.”

“I like your photography leagues better than any of the showcases we’ve attended. That Báthory exhibit was a distant second. I love your work.”

“I love you too,” Lydia said. “Wednesday, if Dad’s words bothered you so much, think about it this way: you’re essentially my patron. You fund my lifestyle and make it so I don’t need a day job, which means I can focus on my art. The other stuff I do for you, for us, I’d do anyway even if I were working full time because we’re partners. Okay?”

“I still want to show the world how creative you are.”

“Until they discover it for themselves it’ll be our little secret,” Lydia said, winking. Wednesday huffed, but offered no further argument so Lydia knew she had won. She kissed her temple. “I should probably mingle. This is technically a networking opportunity. Be good.”

“Never,” Wednesday smirked.

Lydia wandered around talking to various folks from the scene. Some of them seemed to know her and recognized her own work, which tended to require a more in-depth conversation on her part, but that was for the best. There were a few parties interested in displaying her work in their galleries—usually photography or painting, not both—and one potential customer she’d have to follow up with later. These were the people who got her contact info.

Eventually Lydia spied Parker standing next to a long limbed red canine in a bowtie.

“Hey,” Lydia greeted them before gesturing her glass toward the maned wolf. “Is that your date?”

“Yeah,” Parker said.

“You didn’t want to wait until literally any other night in the month?”

“And miss Delia?” Parker grinned. “Actually, this has been one of the best dates I’ve been on in a while.”

“Ouch.”

Parker lightly slapped Lydia’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean. We’re genuinely enjoying ourselves.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

An older man made a determined beeline for them. Lydia inwardly cringed and began a silent countdown to avoid losing her temper when he invariably tried to hit on them. This happened often enough at exhibitions she had created a procedure for shutting them down, if for no other reason than to avoid Wednesday poisoning them on her behalf. However, before he could reach them the wolf moved to intercept and snarled. He nearly dropped his drink in his haste to flee in the opposite direction.

“That’s the best part,” Parker announced gleefully. “No one’s harassed us once tonight.”

“I’m really happy for you,” Lydia said, squeezing Parker’s arms. “Idle curiosity, but is the bipedal form proportional?”

“Oh yeah, legs for days.”

The maned wolf snorted.

“And can hear everything we just said,” Lydia finished. Parker nodded while the wolf just looked at her like that was obvious. Honestly, it really was. Lydia smiled at the wolf. “Wednesday and I would love to have you over for dinner when you’re in a more conversational mood. We'd like to get to know you better, since anyone important to Parker is important to us.”

From the tail wag Lydia figured the invitation was accepted. She looked around and spotted Delia manhandling Wednesday. That needed her immediate intervention before she had manslaughter on her hands. Lydia hustled across the gallery. With a bit of maneuvering she was rather proud of, Lydia managed to insert herself between Wednesday and Delia without the latter noticing she was intentionally trying to keep her hands off the former. Wednesday certainly noticed though; her eye stopped twitching.

“Ah Lydia, I was just telling Wednesday all about my pièce de résistance,” Delia crowed, waving a forceful hand at a large sculpture that vaguely reminded Lydia of an Easter Island head.

“It’s certainly large scale,” Lydia finally said diplomatically. Delia beamed at them like she expected more praise. After a moment Lydia pointed and said, “Oh, I think that fellow wants your attention.”

“Anything for my fans,” Delia laughed before bustling away.

“Can we leave them here?” Wednesday asked. “No one has ever pinched my cheeks before and I cannot be responsible for my actions if she tries again.”

“Tell you what. We’ll leave soon, then return when they’re ready to go home. Deal?”

“I’ll buy them a cab if it means we don’t have to come back,” Wednesday growled.

“I think paying their fare would be adequate. I’ll cycle back when I’m ready to go?”

“Fine.” Wednesday waved a hand dismissively. “Do what you must.”

That turned out to be visiting her father, who was morosely standing in a corner holding a glass of champagne. He wore a vacant expression and didn’t register her presence until she spoke.

“Dad?” Lydia called.

“Oh, hello Lydia,” Charles said, giving himself a shake.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just… thinking about how much your mom would have loved this. She was artsy like you and Delia.”

That was the last thing she expected him to say. She still thought about her mother, nearly every day, but from how quickly he had moved on after her death Lydia had always assumed Charles avoided thinking about her. He never talked about her.

“Emily never got the chance to do anything like this. Her paintings were good too. You inherited her eye for color, even if you refuse to wear any yourself.”

“Hey, I like red,” Lydia said gently, afraid her words might derail him.

“Her paintings always reminded me of that French painter. The good one.”

“Dad, that… that doesn’t remotely narrow it down.”

“You had a picture book about him and a girl when you were little.” Charles frowned. “I know I read it to you a few times.”

“Monet? You thought Mom’s paintings were like Monet’s?” Lydia asked eagerly. He stared back blankly. “He’s the one who did the water lilies.”

“Yes! Same feel. She would have been tickled pink if her art had ended up in a gallery showing,” Charles said, crossing his arms. “I’m proud Delia got an entire exhibition of her sculptures. It’s an accomplishment.”

“Yeah.”

“Someday you’re going to have just as large of a showing for your photography and paintings.” He smiled weakly at her. “I’d like an invitation to that, even if you don’t need this old man around anymore.”

“Oh Dad, just because I don’t need your money doesn’t mean I don’t need you.” Her hand found its way into his. “I want you at all my big moments.”

“Are you going to have one with her soon?” Charles asked, jerking his head toward Wednesday. As she was watching them, she raised her glass in response.

“Dad, just for that I’m not introducing you to your grandbird,” Lydia chided.

“But Pumpkin, I love birds,” Charles protested.

“I know.”

“What kind of bird do you have?”

“A raven. His name is Nevermore.”

“Of course it is.”

“Wednesday got him for me as an egg and he’s an awkward teen now. Brilliant, playful, and attention seeking,” Lydia grinned. “He likes surprising me with new melodies.”

“Are you sure I can’t meet him?” Charles asked. He was smiling at her and for once his attention seemed to be wholly focused on her. Lydia swallowed and made a rapid decision.

“Now or never.”

“Wait, are you saying we sneak out early to go play with your raven or I never get to meet him?”

“Yep.”

Charles tossed back the last of his drink. “Let’s go. I was ready to leave after the first five minutes.”

“Yeah?” Lydia grinned. She twisted back to look for Wednesday, but she was already at her side. Wednesday claimed her other hand. Without further ado they went home.

Chapter Text

“Honestly, Nevermore, there’s no reason to be this upset,” Lydia said.

“Caw!” the raven screeched, wings flapping.

“I didn’t abandon you! Four days in Boston to deal with Mr. Turner was not an excessive absence. You had Wednesday the whole time!”

“To be fair, I was still working,” Wednesday said.

“You stay out of this,” Lydia snapped, waving a finger threateningly in the general direction of her girlfriend. She couldn’t break eye contact with Nevermore, who was threat displaying on top of her pillow. “Don’t even think about it.”

Staring directly at her Nevermore voided his cloaca and splattered his waste all over Lydia’s pillow. Lydia slowly shook her head. She lunged forward and firmly grabbed him so that he couldn’t spread his wings. Then she carried him out of the bedroom and deposited him in his cage. Pointedly, Lydia did not shut the enclosure door on him.

“Banned. You just got yourself banned from the bedroom, mister,” Lydia said. “Now I want you to sit in here and think about what you’ve done, but I won’t lock you in because your pen is not a punishment. You don’t get to go back in that bedroom until you learn bodily fluids are not to be weaponized.”

Lydia marched back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Nevermore hadn’t pooped where he wasn’t supposed to since he grew his last flight feathers. This was petty revenge and nothing more. She was so mad, but she still had to deal with the bird poop. So Lydia shut her eyes and took several deep calming breaths before tackling the mess.

To her surprise Wednesday had already removed the pillow from their bed. As she didn’t appear to know what to do with it now, Lydia rushed over to help.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lydia said, reaching for the pillow. “Let me.”

“It’s ruined,” Wednesday said, jamming the pillow into their trashcan. “He completely soaked it.”

“Ick.” Lydia wrinkled her nose and promptly sat down on the first sturdy surface that came to hand. Wednesday raised an eyebrow and gestured toward her seat.

“What’s that?”

Lydia glanced down and registered an old steamer trunk. “I dunno. Your mother insisted I bring it back for you.”

“Hmm.”

Wednesday gently swept her aside then knelt before the trunk. She pulled a skeleton key from her blouse and unlocked the trunk. When she opened it Lydia couldn’t directly glimpse its contents, but she did note Wednesday’s gaze softened.

“What’s in it?”

“Childhood mementos.”

Wednesday delicately extracted a headless doll and hugged it to her chest. Lydia moved to peer into the trunk. It held clothing, blankets, photos, books, loose wire, and other odd trinkets a child might collect. She was fairly sure she could see a crossbow near the bottom.

“Are you going to go through these?” Lydia asked. Wednesday shook her head and shut the trunk.

“Not yet. I’ll sort through them at the house. I’m sure Mother thought I would want everything.”

“She might have also just been house cleaning,” Lydia grinned. “Your family collects a lot of stuff.”

Wednesday stared at her doll. “Do you want children, Lydia?”

Lydia froze. Wednesday’s gaze had refocused on her, so she shook off her surprise and plastered on a smile. “Not real interested in being unmarried with kids.”

“Of course not!” Wednesday made a disgruntled noise. “I am also very aware of your disinterest in marriage, but in a hypothetical future where you deigned to marry me, would you want children?”

“Wednesday,” Lydia sighed, looking up. She sat back down on the trunk. Wednesday joined her. After a minute of silence Lydia threaded their hands together and looked at her. “If we were married and settled then yes, I’d be happy to have children with you. Or well, one child.”

“Why only one?”

“I’ve met your family. You’re still trying to kill your brother and it was so much worse when you were kids. I literally do not have the energy to keep our children from murdering each other.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s something we want to prevent, Wednesday.”

“Of course. One child it is,” Wednesday agreed.

“I know this is all hypothetical, but how exactly were you planning on having this child?” Lydia asked. “A donor bank? Because I’ve got basically no living relatives and the thought of using either of your brothers for source material has me ready to go militantly child free for wildly different reasons.”

Wednesday scowled and squeezed her doll. “If we reproduce it will be without male assistance.”

“Oh really?” Lydia laughed in amusement. She wasn’t sure how Wednesday possibly thought she could pull that off, but she wasn’t the doctor in this relationship. Lydia had also learned not to bet against Wednesday, especially when she was singularly determined about something and she seemed rather hell-bent here. She leaned in and kissed the corner of Wednesday’s jaw. “Well, you get right on that. For after we’re married of course.”

“Say the word and I can have a tasteful ceremony ready for us by the time we disembark the plane,” Wednesday offered.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lydia said. She tapped the doll. “Is she going back in the box?”

“Marie Antoinette… stays with me.”

There was a scratching sound at the door. Lydia sighed and got up. “Guess I’d better check on Nevermore. He needs to know that I’m not angry, but he’s still banned. Gosh, why are we talking about kids when I can barely handle a bird?”

That night after Wednesday procured new pillows and bedding Lydia had to smile as she climbed into bed. Wednesday was still in the bathroom, but Marie Antoinette lay on her pillow. Lydia picked up the doll and gave her a brief hug before restoring her to her original position. Wednesday may not have cared about most of the trunk’s contents, but Lydia was happy she had gotten her friend back. That made her efforts worth it.

Chapter Text

A flurry of bats burst forth from the belfry. What Addams chittered excitedly as his cousins stared in awe. They were all enchanted by the swirling mass. Once the bats had dispersed he became aware that someone was laughing. Turning he spotted a pretty woman crouched beside them. She had black hair, spider earrings, and a big grin on her face.

“You like the bats, huh?” she asked. What asked what kind of bats lived here and she frowned. That was troubling, he thought it a perfectly reasonable question. “Can you repeat that?”

He repeated his question.

“Species… oh, you want to know what bat species we have. Of course,” she laughed. “I’m not entirely sure what was in that particular cauldron, but I know the colony is primarily composed of big brown bats. Wednesday would like to section off the tower more so that we could more easily host different species all in one place, however we haven’t gotten to that project yet.”

What asked how they were related to her, since he was unsure of their exact kinship. From the sound of things she might live here with Cousins Wednesday and Parker, but that might not be true. Dad had always said Cousin Wednesday barely liked anyone, which was why it was such a shock she had offered to host a family reunion.

“Oh, I’m not an Addams. I just live here,” she explained once she figured out the question.

“So you’re the help?” Cousin Blink asked, fluttering her eyes.

“No, we don’t have any staff here. Why don’t you kids head to the kitchen? I have it on good authority that some fungus fudge just came out of the oven.”

The others rushed off leaving What with the lady. He wasn’t fast like the others, but knew if he didn’t hurry there wouldn’t be any fudge left. Gluttony was encouraged in this family. He appealed to her for assistance. With another smile she picked him up and carried him inside.

Gomez was embroiled in a deep conversation with Cousin Vlad and his grandmother, Blemish, when he spotted Lydia leaving the kitchen. Excusing himself from the conversation he rushed over to pump her hand and soundly hug her. She seemed a touch surprised by his vigor, but hugged him back after a moment, so Gomez knew everything was all right.

“Splendid job on the reunion!” Gomez boomed. “Everything is trés magnifique. My compliments to the three of you.”

“Wednesday and Parker did all the heavy lifting, since they know what went into an Addams family reunion,” Lydia demurred. “I just handled the food and your relatives heavily supplemented our supply.”

“But the ocular stew was your recipe, was it not? I’ve never had so many eyeballs in a bowl before!”

“Oh, it’s my modification on an old Neitherworld favorite. I like to triple the eyeball content,” Lydia explained. “That way everyone gets at least a little vitreous humor.”

“Neitherworld recipe?” Blemish asked.

“Yeah, I spent the better part of my teen years over there and picked up a few habits,” Lydia laughed.

“So you’re a necromancer?”

“I wouldn’t lay claim to that title, but most of my friends were dead when I met them.”

“You seem awfully chummy with this young lady, Gomez,” Blemish sniffed. “Tell me you haven’t gotten bored with Morticia already after you stole her from my son.”

Gomez clasped a hand over his heart and dug his fingers into his chest. The mere suggestion caused him near fatal agony. “Tish is my queen, my life, my mistress of pain and despair. I would die a thousand deaths long before I could ever tire of her. No, Lydia is my future daughter-in-law.”

“You’re wasting that on Pugsley?” Blemish squawked. “Vlad here would be a far better match for her. He’s twice the scoundrel his father was.”

“Pugsley is a great guy, but he’s the first living breathing person on my list of folk I’d never marry,” Lydia said frankly. She glanced at Gomez. “No offense.”

“Considering the circumstances I would be far more worried if you did choose to marry him,” Gomez said, smiling fondly. He could envision the blood bath that wedding would ensue and as delightful as that might be, he didn’t actually want it. For one thing, that would destroy his daughter. Wednesday was remarkably sensitive when it came to matters of the heart. She got that from her parents.

“So you’re sitting on a remarkably talented woman, who I am sure would make a fine wife, until Pubert comes of age?” Blemish demanded. “That is simply unacceptable. Vlad, show her what an excellent dancer you are.”

“Of course, Grandmother,” Vlad said, lurching forward and grabbing Lydia’s wrist. She twisted to slip out of his grasp and ducked behind Gomez. Vlad attempted to follow, but Gomez checked him. This was not at all how Gomez had meant for things to turn out. They were attracting a crowd.

“That’s not who I meant either,” Gomez said, slapping away Vlad’s hand.

“Not Wednesday,” Blemish scoffed. “That girl doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body. She’ll never marry.”

“Yes Wednesday,” Lydia retorted, “And about the only way that statement would be true is if you removed her entire skeleton.”

“That can be arranged,” Vlad said, grabbing hold of Lydia’s upper arm. “I’m more than willing to fight for love.”

“Then I will gladly provide you with that opportunity. Unhand her,” Wednesday ordered, tapping the sharpened tip of her saber against his neck. Without taking her eyes off Vlad she addressed Lydia. “I got your text.”

“History repeats itself,” Vlad said, releasing Lydia. “Fine. As our fathers before us, I’ll fight you for the hand of a beautiful lady.”

“I don’t care if Wednesday loses, I’m still not interested in you,” Lydia said, crossing her arms. “No one can force me into marriage.”

“Ma petite araignée, you wound me to even suggest I could lose,” Wednesday drawled. “Parker, clear the ballroom! There’s going to be a duel.”

Gomez glanced toward the buffet table where he last spotted his niece eating fried bat wings with Fester. They were still together, though it looked like Parker had just choked.

Lydia never imagined that hosting a family reunion would turn into a duel. An inherently dangerous dance perhaps, as that was traditional, but not a duel. From Wednesday’s countenance she had a feeling it wouldn't end as simply as first blood. She found this Addams family surprise distinctly unpleasant.

The party had reconvened in the newly refurbished ballroom. Obviously not all of the relatives were in attendance, there wouldn’t have been room for a duel in that case, still there was a sizeable crowd ringing the room. Wednesday stood dead center under the chandelier with her naked blade still in hand. Vlad prowled around the edge of the clearing. He reminded Lydia of a caged panther, though Wednesday seemed to barely pay him any attention.

“I need a sword,” Vlad announced. “I came to this reunion unarmed, as this was supposed to be a peaceful event. Will you give me a weapon or are you too much of a coward to face me armed?”

“Take your pick,” Wednesday drawled, flicking her saber toward the wall. “All of the ornamentation is fully functional.”

Lydia suddenly regretted their decorating choices.

After much deliberation Vlad eventually pried a bastard sword off the wall. He swung it a few times testing the balance and Lydia was displeased to see his movements were nearly as fast as Wednesday’s with her lighter weapon. Even if she won this duel she would likely end up injured. Vlad clearly wanted to maim.

“Fitting,” Wednesday said.

“Shut up!” Vlad snarled. “It’s your father’s fault I am what I am.”

“I meant regarding your disposition,” Wednesday said. “However, your father’s sins cannot all be laid at my father’s feet. There were plenty of women besides my mother who would have been happy to make an honest man out of Vlad Addams Sr. if he had wanted to muck about with that. Including, I believe, your mother.”

Vlad lunged forward attempting to smash his sword on Wednesday’s crown. She deflected it well enough to slide out of the initial striking range. After that Wednesday tapped Vlad’s shoulder with the side of her blade and smacked him across the face with it when he turned around.

“I see they’ve decided to forgo an official start,” Gomez murmured. His arms were crossed and he was calmly puffing away on a cigar. Normally Lydia would tell him to put it out, they didn’t allow smoking in the house, but that was the least of her problems at the moment.

“How are you so calm?” she demanded.

“Experience. Wednesday’s been able to fight me to a draw since she was eleven,” Gomez said, “and I’m the best fencer of my generation!”

“While I am the best of mine,” Blemish said. She turned to peer at Lydia. “How would you feel about an autumn wedding?”

“I’m a lesbian,” Lydia lied. Her bisexuality did not actually matter in this instance.

“And I’m a Pisces. What does that have to do with it?”

Lydia groaned and rubbed her forehead. Wednesday had better win this. These Addamses seemed wholly unwilling to listen to her and a loss would only make that problem worse. Especially if they tried to hang around after the reunion ended and force a marriage. That wouldn’t work, but Lydia was sure the fallout would be unpleasant.

There was a roar from the crowd jolting Lydia back to the present. She couldn’t believe she had gotten lost in thought during a duel. Nor could she register the sight before her eyes. Wednesday was bleeding. Blood trickled freely from a gash across the length of her left cheek down her face and neck, staining her white collar. She didn’t seem to care, her brow furrowed in concentration as she circled Vlad.

“First blooding, which means this is our win,” Blemish sniffed. “As expected Vlad Addams gets the job done.”

“They aren’t finished, Auntie,” Gomez chided. “You wound them up too much to simply stop at a little blood.”

“Are you telling me this is a duel to the death?” Lydia yelped.

“Oh probably not,” Gomez assured her. “Addamses refrain from ending family outside of childhood rivalries. No, they’ll probably go until one has been incapacitated.”

“And that entails what? Maiming? Amputation? Paralysis? Decapitation?”

“Or she could simply knock him out,” Gomez said cheerfully. “Though Wednesday’s always been more for cutting whit than brute force. Her surgical precision removing both of Pugsley’s kidneys when she was eight foreshadowed her medical aspirations. Shame she hadn’t gone for his gallbladder or spleen, we would have let her keep those.”

Lydia didn’t have the capacity to process Gomez’s remarks, as Vlad pressed for an advantage. Wednesday was on the defensive, dodging and parrying a rainfall of blows. Perhaps she hoped to tire him out before launching a successful counter attack. Lydia didn’t think that was a good plan though, as he had been forcefully swinging for at least ten minutes and his breathing was still normal. From their bouts Lydia knew Wednesday had to be feeling some physical exertion by now, especially with the hateful pressure Vlad was exuding.

Wednesday seemed to come to the same conclusion. With Vlad’s next strike she forced her way through his guard to get close. It was far too close for her to do anything with her sword. Instead Wednesday slammed her forehead into his nose, smashing it with an audible crunch. An explosion of blood geysered up and he stumbled back. However, he didn’t drop his sword.

Wednesday executed a perfect lunging jab. Her saber plunged into his chest before emerging through his back. Vlad dropped like a stone. She walked over to coldly observe his prone form, kicking his sword out of reach on her way. The hilt of her blade still vibrated slightly from the collapse.

“Have you learned your lesson or do you need to be impaled again?” Wednesday asked. She grasped the grip of her sword and gave it a light tug resulting in a garbled scream. “Well?”

“I… yield…” Vlad gasped then his face went slack.

“Did you kill him?” Lydia asked, rushing to Wednesday’s side. While they had joked about this sort of thing before, Lydia had never thought she’d have to help cover up a murder this early in the relationship. She glanced around at the sea of unconcerned faces. There were too many witnesses; they’d never be able to effectively hide the body. Someone would blab.

“Unfortunately no,” Wednesday said. She pointed toward the stab wound. “The seepage rate is indicative of a still beating heart.”

“Good,” Lydia sighed.

“However, he will bleed out if he isn’t treated immediately upon removal of the sword,” Wednesday continued. “I struck where it would do the least amount of damage—avoiding the heart, lungs, and most of his nervous system—but nearly everything in the chest is critical. I highly recommend Uncle Fester’s assistance on the patch up.”

“Of course,” Blemish sighed in agreement.

“Capital idea!” Gomez grinned.

“Oh boy,” Fester laughed, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I haven’t treated a gaping chest wound since Cousin Phlegm!”

“You aren’t going to treat him?” Lydia asked.

“After I put him in this state?” Wednesday responded, raising an eyebrow. She had a fair point, which Lydia acknowledged.

“I just thought since you’re a doctor…”

“My love, I am a pathologist. I don’t bother with a body until it’s a corpse.” Wednesday caught Lydia’s hand and gently kissed it while maintaining eye contact. “You of course, are the only exception.”

Lydia flushed at that. In Wednesday’s stark world of absolutes she was always the only exception.

“Now would you be willing to meet more of my relatives?”

“I’d love to.”

Wednesday gently closed the door behind them. She briefly admired the back of Lydia’s neck, visible only due to her current hairstyle, before turning to her mother. “Has everyone arrived?”

“Everyone expected,” Morticia said before gesturing to the final open place setting at the table.

Wednesday frowned. There were supposed to be two places left. The whole point of this exercise was introducing Lydia. She needed to feel included. Perhaps Wednesday could give up her place instead. Before Wednesday could offer, Granny spoke up.

“Sit down, Wednesday, before I kick the bucket too,” Granny cackled from her seat.

“Sit,” Lydia whispered.

“But then you won’t have a seat,” Wednesday protested. She gestured toward the table. “This type of séance only allows communication if you have a place at the table.”

“Trust me,” Lydia said and she flashed her winning grin that Wednesday was powerless to resist.

Wednesday sat. Lydia immediately dropped into her lap. Slightly stunned, Wednesday automatically wrapped her arms around Lydia’s waist to keep her from falling.

“You don’t mind if I take a seat, do you?”

“It’s yours.” Just like everything else she had to offer her lap was solely for Lydia.

“Now who is this dropping into my devilish granddaughter’s lap?” Grandmama demanded rising halfway out of her seat to peer at them. The less situated she was the more translucent she became. The rest of the departed Addamses at the table looked on as well.

“This is Lydia Deetz,” Wednesday began. She leaned forward so that her lips brushed Lydia’s earlobe. “My love, to our left sits Cousin Tracheal, Aunt Minerva, Great Aunt Calpurnia, Granny Frump, Great Auntie Sloan, Grandmama, Debbie, and my mother to finish the circle.”

“Debbie?” Lydia asked, clearing catching the lack of familial relation, unlike every other guest in attendance.

“Fester’s late wife,” Wednesday explained. “A black widow set on making uncle her next victim with a series of sloppy murder schemes. She perished in an attempt to end my entire nuclear family. All things considered I’m unsure why she bothers to attend these events. She never enjoyed the misery we inflicted upon her.”

“My plans were perfect,” Debbie hissed.

“You were foiled by an infant.”

“Only because you’re all freaks!”

“I hate how that word is weaponized against me and the people I care about,” Lydia said flatly. “If we’re all that awful, why don’t you leave so that the gentleman between you and Grandmama can have a seat and join the conversation? He looks like he’s dying to get a word in.”

“He already did!” Grandmama cackled. Debbie stormed off in a huff, disappearing from Wednesday’s view the moment she left her seat. A moment later a dapper gentleman appeared in the chair. However the moment he opened his mouth Grandmama punched his shoulder hard enough to almost knock him out of his chair and said, “How did you see my husband when he wasn’t actively participating?”

“Lydia is highly gifted in spiritual matters,” Wednesday said. It wasn’t bragging if it was the truth. “Her affinity for the dead has shaped much of her life and she has the makings of a fine necromancer.”

“The makings?” Sloan said. “That means she isn’t one yet.”

“No, though this isn’t the first time someone has mistaken me for one,” Lydia agreed ruefully. She bit her lower lip and looked down.

Wednesday could not let Sloan ruin Lydia’s confidence. She was the most talented witch Wednesday had the pleasure of knowing and it was all the more remarkable when she was self-taught. Wednesday wanted Lydia to be the best version of herself possible and while part of that task included helping her find the right teacher, it hadn’t happened yet. She needed her family to see Lydia’s potential. She needed them to see her as she did.

“She’s accomplished so much on her own,” Wednesday insisted. “Demonic summoning with a Faustian bargain. Frequent and beloved enough traveler to the Neither that she’s earned honorary citizenship. She carries out the last wishes of the dead, Auntie.”

“My relationship with Beej hasn’t been Faustian in years,” Lydia corrected. “We’re friends.”

“She made friends with the one named after Orion’s shoulder. You know the impossibility of that task,” Wednesday clarified, striking a definitive blow against Sloan’s doubts. All the guests sucked in a sharp breath when they realized to whom Wednesday referred.

“It’s true,” Morticia confirmed. “We had the pleasure of hosting him and Lydia for a memorable Christmas two years ago.”

“Thou display remarkable skill and fortitude. Not only for thy magical abilities, but for currying such favor with my descendant,” Calpurnia said, nodding regally.

Wednesday felt a swell of pleasure. She was an adult now, but having Calpurnia approve her choice in mate still meant something to her. From the grin on Lydia’s face she clearly liked Wednesday’s favorite ancestor as well. It was fortunate they could meet under these circumstances.

“If you’re going to be a wet blanket to Wednesday’s paramour, you can go haunt some other part of this reunion,” Grandmama snapped.

“That would be under your purview, dear sister,” Sloan scowled. “I’m not dead.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Granny howled. She and Grandmama high fived while Sloan crossed her arms and sniffed.

“In that case, who took Lydia’s seat?” Wednesday complained. She squeezed Lydia a little tighter and got a comforting shoulder rub in response.

“Not that I’m complaining, I’ve got the best seat in the house,” Lydia grinned.

“That would be my fault,” Tracheal apologized. “I only died a few days ago.”

“It gets easier with time,” Minerva said, patting her hand. “Why in no time you’ll be walking through walls and haunting like the best of us.”

“Have you looked at your Handbook yet?” Lydia asked gently. “It’s a confusing read, but I can’t stress how important it is. That book lays out everything about the afterlife. I have family who got themselves into a real jam when they didn’t read it.”

“Not yet,” Tracheal mournfully admitted. “I was in such a rush to reach the reunion I wandered where I wasn’t supposed to.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Morticia said. She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that right, Wednesday?”

“All Addamses are always welcome,” Wednesday rotely relayed. “Especially at a reunion.”

This statement earned an approving murmur.

“Under the circumstances we don’t remotely begrudge you the seat,” Lydia said, wrapping an arm around Wednesday’s neck and covering her mouth with a hand. She must have thought Wednesday would protest. She would not. Her lap was a far more superior place for Lydia to be than any other location in the house, save perhaps their bed. “I’m glad we’ve had the chance to meet.”

“Me too,” Tracheal said, matching Lydia’s smile.

“Why the hell haven’t you locked this one down yet, Wednesday?” Grandmama demanded, echoing a question she had heard countless times from her living relatives.

Wednesday clenched her teeth, but offered no other visible reaction. That simply wouldn’t do. She would not be provoked on this particular matter.

“Please don’t rub salt in her wounds, Grandmama,” Lydia said, twisting around as if she meant to shield Wednesday from her relatives. “It hasn’t happened not for her lack of trying. The fault lies with me.”

“Why not? You love her don’t you? Or are you waiting for a better offer?”

“Of course I love her,” Lydia responded, voice tinged with embarrassment. Both her hands found their way into Wednesday’s and gave them a tight squeeze. “As for a better offer, I don’t think that’s possible. Not for me anyway. I foresee our lives forever entangled, which had better not end for at least several decades yet.”

Wednesday nodded. She had outgrown her black widow tendencies around the same time as she had boys. Perhaps that’s what Debbie’s problem had been.

“Then why haven’t you two married?” Granny asked. “Or at least gotten engaged? I’ve seen you two together a number of times now and I initially thought you hadn’t invited me to your wedding, Wednesday.”

Wednesday stared at her relatives and wondered why they were prying into her relationship with Lydia. Was it not simply enough that Lydia had refused her copious offers? If her behavior and the duration of their co-habitation couldn’t do the trick then she was out of options to change her mind. Wednesday would give Lydia anything to make her her wife. Even pastels, or Disney, or a plastic mannequin dream home if that’s what it took—though Lydia would not be the woman she longed to marry if that was all she aspired for. Wednesday’s place was not to reason why, but to accept the reality Lydia would not marry her. Even if it hurt and not in the good way.

She looked imploringly toward her mother.

“I have wondered about this as well,” Morticia admitted, “however, I never felt it was my place to ask. Doesn’t Wednesday make you happy?”

“Deliriously so!” Lydia assured her.

“Then why not? We simply wish to understand, Lydia. Gomez and I knew we were the only ones for each other from the moment we first locked eyes.”

“It has nothing to do with Wednesday or any Addams for that matter!” Lydia huffed, sighed, and leaned against Wednesday’s chest, lying her head on her shoulder so that she could stare at the ceiling. “Truth be told, I’ve been ready to marry you for at least a year, Wednesday, possibly closer to two. But while my family isn’t as… unique as yours, it’s complicated enough I’m unsure how I could possibly have a wedding without grievously harming some of them and I refuse to do that.”

For the first time in years Wednesday felt the flutter of hope in her chest. It was not that Lydia would not marry her; it was that she felt she could not. Wednesday did not lack some esoteric marital quality that deemed her unsuitable for a life mate, even if she was a valid mate. Lydia even sounded interested in being wives with her.

“What needs to change to make our wedding a reality?” Wednesday whispered. Outside of the lady’s refusal anything could be negotiated.

“What do you know about housebound ghosts?” Lydia asked ruefully after glancing at Wednesday.

“They’re housebound? Spirits trapped in a particular location. Usually the place they lived or died as they are tethered by emotion.”

“That’s the Maitlands. You remember Barbara and Adam, right?” At Wednesday’s nod Lydia continued. “They died in their home. Can’t even step off the front porch now without getting eaten by sandworms. We’ve tried to work around it, but the last time I nearly ended up a teen bride to a dead guy. Long story, we’re friends now, and totally not the point of this explanation.”

Wednesday nodded, but made a mental note to repeatedly stab a dead man in the near future.

“The point is that I love Barb and Adam. They’ve been a second set of parents to me and I’m a lot closer to them than I’ve ever been to Delia, despite knowing her longer. Probably because they helped me through an incredibly difficult point in my life and they did it without stomping all over my boundaries or trying to erase my mom’s existence. I mean, she’s dead and gone so far I’ll never be able to reach her despite my Neitherworld trips, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever want to forget her; even if it hurts to remember. That’s a hurt I cherish.”

Wednesday’s heart ached for her.

“The Maitlands understood that in a way Dad and Delia never did. They’ve been nothing but supportive of me since day one and they’d be thrilled if I got married. More than anything I know they’d want to see my wedding and, though they’d never say it, it would kill them again to miss it. But they’re housebound ghosts! The only way they could attend is if we held the wedding at the house, but the stress of hosting a wedding at home would give Dad a heart attack and that’s even before we throw your relatives into the mix. You know how nervous he is, especially since he’s already had one. I can’t lose my last bio-parent.”

“To lose one may be regarded as misfortune, to lose two looks like carelessness,” Wednesday agreed.

“Exactly,” Lydia sighed. “I love you, darling, but I’m not going to destroy my family over a legal technicality.”

Marriage was far more than a legal technicality, but Wednesday got the point. Lydia often tried to make light of things beyond her control. Surely though there was something they could do. Wednesday wasn’t innately magical, but some of the best witches in the family were seated at this table. She appealed to them for assistance.

Sloan was, of course, unimpressed. “If that’s the great impediment to your marriage, Wednesday, are you sure you want to bother marrying this girl?”

“Oh Sloan, be nice the poor girl’s self-taught and Wednesday doesn’t muck about with magic,” Grandmama cackled as she slapped her sister’s shoulder. “Of course we can work around something as simple as housebound ghosts!”

“There are times when the veil between this world and the next is loosened, like Samhain,” Calpurnia said. “Other points allow the relaxation of the rules regarding our post mortal existence.”

“There’s always a loophole,” Granny translated. “We pick the right time and place and your dead parents can attend.”

“That’s really possible?” Lydia asked, coming to attention. Wednesday gently steadied her.

“Morticia, get out the Witches’ Almanac and look up when the rules regarding housebound ghosts will next be relaxed,” Granny ordered with a wave of her hand. “They frequently fall under the same rules as other house spirits like brownies and hobs, so check there first.”

“There’s a Witches’ Almanac?” Lydia laughed, looking a little dazed but still smiling. “It’s really that simple? We could have gotten married ages ago if we had just talked to you?”

“It’s funny how often a little communication fixes these sorts of things. We really need to get you a proper teacher,” Morticia agreed as she flipped through her almanac. “Ah, in this case communication would not have helped. There hasn’t been a point when the rules relaxed since you two met.”

“Oh? Not anywhere in the world?” Lydia asked. Wednesday felt her heart sink as they clutched each other’s hands. “I take it this is a lot rarer than spirits walking the earth.”

“Seems to be on a twelve year cycle,” Morticia read. “Oh you’re in luck, the next relaxation is in sixteen months.”

“Plenty of time to plan a wedding,” Grandmama cackled. This set the whole table into a ruckus.

Lydia didn’t seem to hear it though as she stared blankly into space. Clearly the news had hit her harder than the rest of the table and she needed to process. After all, the rest of the table wasn’t potentially getting married. Wednesday made their excuses before pulling Lydia out of the room. They needed some place private, which was a touch difficult to achieve at the moment, but Wednesday carefully navigated their way past a dozen noisy relatives to the master bedroom.

Flipping the deadbolts ought to give them a few minutes to themselves along with ample warning before outside intrusion. Wednesday liked their master bedroom and ensuite bath, though their primary residence was still the apartment. That would change eminently though, as her residency was nearly finished. Then the apartment would only be used when they wished to stay in the city. She couldn’t wait.

“It’s really that simple,” Lydia repeated from her spot sprawled on the bed.

“Apparently,” Wednesday said, crawling onto it beside her.

“My ignorance nearly wrecked everything.”

“But it did not. Now we only have to wait sixteen months for the auspicious date instead of an upwards of forty.”

“I guess.”

“There is plenty of time to plan a wedding and find you a suitable tutor to rectify your magical deficits. Assuming of course that you are willing to go through with a wedding.”

“I have a choice in the matter?” Lydia asked, smiling faintly. “Your family seems to think it’s a done deal.”

“Of course you have a choice in the matter! I don’t care what they said, this is between us. Lydia, you are more dear to me than all the poisons on the planet and I eagerly hope to fully possess you in sixteen months. However, I would no sooner force you into matrimony than willingly marry myself off to… to… to Beetlejuice!”

Lydia burst into laughter. Wednesday waited for her to regain control.

“You have no objections to our marriage?” Wednesday asked.

“Mystery destination wedding in sixteen months? I guess that’s fine if you’re footing the bill. I’ve only got a dozen people I need to invite. Do we have any idea where this is going to go down?”

“I believe we need to determine which edition of the Handbook governs the Maitlands’ afterlife and consult entrails. Mother will know more. We’ll have that information before we send out invitations.”

“Cool,” Lydia muttered. She was silent for another moment before her eyes locked on Wednesday. She flashed another devastating grin. “There’s only one more issue as far as I can see; you have to actually ask me to marry you.”

“I’ve proposed dozens of times. You know my intentions.”

“And I’ve had to turn you down every time.” Lydia’s eyes were dancing. She was enjoying this. “Come on, Wednesday, you’ve said you’d ask again the moment you had reason to believe I’d accept. I’ve got no reason not to anymore. I’m not marrying you without a proposal.”

Wednesday sighed and sat up. She stuck a hand into her suit breast pocket.

“I mean, what are we going to tell our future kid when she asks how we got married?” Lydia asked. “Because I am not telling her ‘Oh, your family thought Mom and Mum should get married so we did.’ That’s a terrible story, Wednesday!”

“Lydia Deetz,” Wednesday growled, pulling out a ring. It was a delicate gold band featuring a small diamond surrounded by equally tiny rubies. “Would you do me the greatest honor and enter into matrimony with me?”

“Have you really been carrying that loose ring in your pocket this whole time?” Lydia teased.

“I’ve carried a ring since the first night we met because I knew you were the one, though it took me some weeks of dating before I felt confident asking you,” Wednesday admitted sheepishly. “The ring’s changed a number of times, since I initially thought it was the problem. The size of this ring’s stones is indicative of your personal preference, not the depth of my emotions. If it were the latter you would not be able to lift the ring.”

“I see.”

“I learn from my mistakes.”

“You do,” Lydia fondly agreed, sliding her fingers into Wednesday’s hair.

“Will you marry me?” Wednesday asked.

“Yes, Wednesday Friday Addams, I will marry you,” Lydia grinned. Then she kissed her before Wednesday could get the ring on her finger.

Later, much later after they had both showered, patched up Wednesday’s cheek, and found the ring again, Wednesday descended the main staircase hand-in-hand with Lydia. When they reached the bottom of the stairs she loudly cleared her throat. The only attention that caught was Thing’s, which was serendipitous, as he flicked the lights on and off until the room went quiet.

“Thank you all for coming to this Addams family reunion,” Wednesday began. “As your host it is my privilege to offer you every hospitality during your stay to ensure you have an excruciatingly memorable week. If you need mandrake root for your coffee, extra chains in the bedroom, or an impalement don’t hesitate to ask.”

The crowd raised a hearty cheer.

“You all know me, as well as Parker, from years of family reunions, but there is a third person who has been essential to this event.” Then Wednesday smirked. “Allow me to present Lydia Deetz, the future Mrs. Addams.”