Chapter Text
Reggie woke up in his coffin as he usually does, his arms crossed against his chest and his eyes closed as he lets his senses wake before his eyes open. He takes a deep breath, then the corner of his lips quirk into a smile and he stays laying down. “If you wanted to surprise me,” Reggie says, his voice drawling into the air as he speaks.
The smell of Wednesday’s lili scented shampoo filled his nose, giving her away. “Use a scentless shampoo.” Without opening his eyes he reaches his hand up and breaks the tip of the arrow pointed at his nose, and disarms his sister - all the while he easily slides out of coffin with a cheeky smile on his face.
“Oh you think you’re so clever!” Wednesday complains, sitting on the lid of his coffin after she closes it, using a nail gun to seal the box. “I’d like to see you sleep without having a coffin,” she sneers at him, crossing her arms against her chest. Reggie rolls his eyes and throws her crossbow back at her as he reaches for the jacket Gomez got him as an early Mamushka present.
“I am clever Wednesday,” Reggie says, raising an eyebrow. He turns and leans his back against the wardrobe doors, squinting when the sun shines through his room. “Iccobad!” He calls out to the tree in the front yard, “the sun is -” he didn’t even have to finish the sentence, the old tree shifted it’s branches so it blocked the sun streaming into his room. “Fucking - let me finish what I’m saying next time.” Iccobad shakes their branches and Reggie rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me an attitude young thi - Thing!” Reggie screeches, jumping a mile when the hand drops from the ceiling and lands on his head, scratching his scalp with his fingernails.
Wednesday’s cackle fills the air and she jumps off the coffin lid. “Nice one Thing, that picture is going into my Photo Album of Tortured Souls.” She pulls the instant picture out of the camera and shows it to Reggie, and to his horror it shows his terrified expression.
“I hope you have an awful day,” Reggie says, glaring at her. He pulls Thing off his head and sets them down on a bedside table. “You little she-demon, make my life a living hell.” He snorts and ruffles her hair, pleased with her disgruntled complaints as she ducks out from under it and flips him over his shoulder.
“Fuck off Reginald,” Wednesday growls into his ear, her forearm pressed against his throat. Reggie’s eyes widen and he grapples against her, wrapping his own arms around her and rolling so he’s on top of her, pinning her to the ground. “Augh!” She growls, glaring at him. Reggie smirks and rolls his eyes at Wednesday.
“Try as hard as you want little devil,” he says, looking down at her. “You’ll never be as awful as I am.” He lets her go then pulls his jacket on, adjusting the collar as he walks to the door.
“My little nuisance!” Morticia says, smiling at Reggie as he jumps down the main stairs and enters the kitchen.
“Awful morning mother,” Reggie nods in greeting, settling into his usual seat. He stares at his oatmeal, as lumpy as it is he just… doesn’t feel like eating this morning. He lifts a gunk of the oats, which all stick together as a few drip off the sides.
“Is there a problem with breakfast Reginald?” Morticia asks, not turning around from the stove. He shakes his head and pushes the bowl away from him.
“No mother, just not hungry. Is Lurch driving me to school today?” He asks her, zipping up the jacket as he grabs his bag and his banjo. The bag rests against his back while he slides the banjo against his chest.
“I do not understand why you insist on dragging that dreadful weapon around with you wherever you go,” Morticia says as she crosses the room to pinch his cheek roughly. Reggie winces and pulls away from her.
“Mother!” Reggie gripes in protest. He rubs his cheek then jumps when he sees Pugsly lurking in the kitchen doorway with his father. “The
instrument
,” he says, emphasizing the word, “is what I use to torture students at school. There’s this one boy, Luke something or other - he despises the sounds it makes.” His mom stares at Reggie blankly, her arms crossed against her chest.
“Well, as long as it brings suffering I suppose it could be allowed. You still have organ lessons after school, as well as your fathers teachings,” she reminds him. Reggie nods and grabs his phone off the counter and slides it into his pocket. “Your Mamushka lessons are coming along horribly I hear.” Reggie nods, and plays a few notes on his banjo before tossing a pick at his mom like a knife, watching as it almost stabs into her arm - it would have too, if she didn’t move fast enough for her to block it.
“Reginald, enough games son. Your Mamushka means you’ll become a man, and you’ll belong with us. For real.” She wraps an arm around his shoulder and her nails dig into his shoulder. Reggie nods, he’s actually… excited. Which was weird - weirder than normal for him. The Mamushka was the one thing he had to do to become a real Addams. He knows some of the ancestors doesn’t believe in him, that they think he isn’t a real relative because he was adopted. This was going to be his chance to prove he belongs here, with his family. “Now,” she hands him a bag with a moldy apple and old sandwich in it. “Go off to school, I expect to hear all about your suffering when you return.” Reggie frowns slightly as he nods, narrowing his eyes at his mom.
“I’ll make them all suffer,” he nods, prying out of her grasp. “Father, Pugsley,” he nods at them as he walks to the front door. “Save the sword fighting for when I get home.” His father chuckles codly and nods, tucking his sword into his belt.
“Have a horrendous day at school Reginald!” His father calls out as he climbs into the car so Lurch can drive them to school.
School.
School was always interesting.
Guess it's time to figure out what chaos he can wreak on the student body today.