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Chapter Text

There was no doubt that— in every iteration of the known universe where they existed at the same time— the constant among so many variables was the intense love between Morticia and Gomez Addams. So it came to no one’s surprise that even now, as they watch generation after generation of new Addams’, their love remains just as fiery as the day they met.

Christmas was nearing and the two knew exactly what their children would enjoy.

They were ready.

So as the pair settled into bed, arms wrapped around each other, they began to reminisce. Of what, devil only knows. But ‘tis the season and all.

The First Christmas

It’s been two months since they’ve been married. They had both agreed not to get each other anything, they had both broken that agreement. Gomez, with his new watch; Morticia, with her vulture. Both cuddled up under a thick blanket by the fireplace of an old cottage Gomez had gotten just for them for the holiday. When they slept, they dreamt of a stray ember, landing on the blanket and burning them alive. It had to be the most romantic dream they could’ve asked for.

Their second Christmas was far less romantic.

This time, they both obeyed the “no gifts” rule; caught up in the frustration of holiday shopping and prepping for visiting family members. Aunts, uncles, and cousins came from all around to see the young couple. Which meant a lot of cooking was in order. Morticia and Mama were set on the food, while Lurch and Gomez readied the rooms.

When the first bell rang, all bets were off. Lurch opened the door for a flood of people to come rushing in. The few who were trampled luckily either had no bones, no nerve endings, or enjoyed the experience and couldn’t wait for round two. The rest of the day went on without a hitch.

Cousin Vlad flirted with Morticia, unsuccessfully, but managed to grab the attention of her older sister, Ophelia. Cousin Countess Aphasia du Berry was discussing make-up tips and tricks with Aunt Anaphylaxis. Aunt Phobia and Uncle Tic were dancing, happily stepping on each others toes. And it appeared that Cousin Howard lost her head… again.

Luckily, she was just playing volley ball with the kids.

Gomez watched his nieces and nephews play with a twinge of something he never felt before.

It occurred to him later, when all ghouls and goblins and bats alike were fast asleep, that he wanted more from this marriage than he asked for. He worried all night until dawn of Christmas morning, having not slept a wink.

“Querida… Morticia, my dear,” Gomez hesitated.

“Yes, my love?” She sleepily answered back.

Gomez gulped. “I was wondering about, well, our dying. And who would be there to watch the light leaving our eyes.”

Morticia became wide awake at this, but did not make a move to show her anticipation.

“Of course, you needn’t worry about this if you don’t want to yet. Or ever!” He took her hand and kissed it softly. “I’ll love you till the last remnants of the universe disintegrate into nothingness. And even then, a speck of what once made up me will call out for you.”

She didn’t speak. Wouldn’t speak for what felt like hours to Gomez.

“Querida..?” He started again, anxiety trailing down his neck. “I- I’m sorry if I offended you, my dear. Please, forget I said anything.”

“Two or three,” she blurted out. Her face flushed with embarrassment, disrupting her signature pallor.

Gomez held his breath. “What?” He whispered. Excitement and love pumping painfully in his heart.

“I- uh. Um. Two or three… children. We never spoke of having them but,” she took a deep breathe, as if trying to find the courage to speak, but couldn’t.

“We got married practically the day we met,” Gomez gently reminded.

Husband and wife looked at each other with adoration.

Morticia snuggled in closer until her head was directly on his chest. “Starting a family with you… I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time. I just couldn’t work up the nerve to say something.”

“Why?” He kissed her the top of her head.

“I was afraid of the answer,” she humorlessly laughed. “How foolish of me.”

Gomez hummed. “Terrible how two foolish people fell unhappily in love with each other.”

Morticia smiled. “Unhappily, indeed.”

Chapter Text

The new year came and went in such a blur that by the time they had stopped making the mistake of writing the previous years number down, it was Christmas again. This time, however, instead of their home being filled to the brim with noise and family, it was just the two of them.

Lurch had gone to see his mother for the holidays; Thing, Mama, and Fester had gone off to attend the Witches Covention at Florida, where a famous witch of evocation was at attendance. This left just Gomez and Morticia alone with the house. That was two weeks ago. Two separate storms had kept the group from coming home. First, a hurricane. Now, a blizzard. Which would be enjoyable in different circumstances but dreadful for when all you wanted was to spend time with your family.

Gomez and Morticia had spent the majority of the year trying for a baby— with little success. Every one line, a heartbreak; every two, a premature celebration. There were tears of frustration and fear— things that they never blamed on each other. But day after day of nothing had begun to dishearten the infatuated pair.

Still, they tried and tried again.

Gomez would be the last person to complain about constant sex. At the beginning of their marriage, in fact, he was delighted to learn that his wife’s sex drive could rival his own. But even so, he saw the toll it took on her and that was one thing he could not bite his tongue on. 

Despite all that, he felt put out by how quickly she agreed to take a break on this baby making business. He felt even more put out by how little his wife touched him now, too. And now it was the night of Christmas Eve and she had dodged his kisses for the fifth time. Which would seem like a remarkably low number of attempts, before becoming aware that Morticia would leave the room within seconds of him entering.

The pot was already boiling over. She wouldn’t touch him, barely could be anywhere near him— let alone be in the same room as him. He was sure she was hiding something from him. In fact, at some point during the day, he caught her just before she left the room to ask her where she was going. He saw the sick expression on her face before she said that she was going to the bathroom. He tried to ignore that she went down to the basement and hadn’t resurfaced until he retired to his study.

But now, nearing midnight, under the mistletoe of all places, she refused to let him kiss even the top of her head

Instead, she walked passed him and sat by the fireplace. “Remember how we spent our first Christmas together, Gomez? Just you and I, by the fire of a lovely dilapidated cottage?”

She didn’t even look at him.

Gomez couldn’t move. “Yes,” he said. He wondered when his voice had gotten so small.

“It was freezing and the bed was so soft we decided to sleep on the floor,” Morticia smiled, still not looking at him.

He wondered how she could smile while his heart was breaking not five feet away from her. “You liked it because it reminded you of slabs from the morgue.”

Her smile widened at the memory and then she finally, finally looked at him. Then quickly her smile faded. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

Gomez laughed bitterly. “I could ask you the same thing, Morticia.”

She flinched at the way he spat out her name. “Gomez, I—“

He cut her off. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, querida. Why?” Morticia’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. So he continued. “You leave when I enter, you don’t let me touch you, you barely touch me. We’re the only ones in this entire house and I’ve been alone for most of the day!”

They normally wouldn’t raise their voices at each other. But he was too frustrated and distracted by his own emotions to notice.

“It’s like you’re a ghost in this house!”

Morticia swallowed down her tears. She straightened her back, determined to keep her emotions in check. “I’m sorry,” she said evenly.

He scoffed at her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re seeing someone else.”

She gasped and he knew instantly he’d made a mistake.

“Morticia, I’m sorry. I—“

She got up and left the living room without another word. Gomez followed her up the stairs to their bedroom without a second thought.

When he got there, the door had just shut. “Querida! Cara mia, please,” he called to her. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Then why did you?” She asked behind the door.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I was hurt. Scared, I think, that you had fallen out of love with me.”

A pause.

“For someone who doesn’t know, those are two good reasons why,” she said. Gomez chuckled weakly.

“Yes, well, I have my moments,” he said. answered back with a low hum.

The silence came back once again.

Then the door opened.

If his heart wasn’t breaking before, then it was definitely shattered now. Behind the door was a red eyed, tear stricken Morticia. And no matter how much he wanted to, Gomez didn’t step forward to hold her.

“Morticia, my love, I’m so— oomph!”

He stumbled back on impact of the smaller, pale woman. After a second of hesitation, he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“I’m sorry, Gomez, mon cher,” she wept into his chest.

“It’s alright, mi corazón. I shouldn’t have yelled,” he comforted.

Morticia shook her head and looked up at him. Gomez cursed himself, seeing her eyes filled with nothing but love, fear, and sorrow.

“I shouldn’t have waited, should’ve just been honest with you. But I was afraid our relationship would change.” She wriggled her arm through his tight hold and wiped her eyes of tears. “But please believe me, you must believe me when I say I am yours and only yours. There could never be anyone else. And I could never fall out of love with you.”

“I believe you. I never for a moment truly believed you’d betray me.”

Morticia relaxed at his words, knowing she could trust in it. She rested her head back on his chest.

“But you have been avoiding me,” he stated. He felt her stiffen in his arms, but gave a nod, not leaving her place in them. “Why?”

Before she could say anything, the clock struck midnight, ringing in Christmas Day. Instead of answering his question, she led him back to the living room.

There were several presents under the tree. Morticia was looking for the one she had gotten for Gomez, while Gomez found the one meant for her. She didn’t answer him yet, but he wouldn’t push her. He told himself that she would when she’s ready.

When she finally found the gift, it turned out to be a small black box tied with a blood red ribbon. The one he had given her was also wrapped in a similar manner. He nodded at her to open hers first, to which she obliged. Inside was a book of spells. Her spells. Ones she hand crafted and wrote the instructions and recipes for on faded index cards, now leather bound, with blank pages to add to them.

“Oh, Gomez! This is lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Querida,” he held her hand and kissed it.

Morticia smiled. “It’s your turn, mon cher.”

He squeezed her hand and resisted the urge to kiss his way up her arm before letting go.

Gomez gingerly tugged at the ribbon of his gift and tore at the meticulously wrapped wrapping paper. He opened it, thinking it would be a new silk button down or tie or even something she knitted for him. Instead, it was a handmade grey baby romper. He squinted at it.

“Darling? I think you may have mixed up some gifts.”

He lifted the small article of clothing to see how any arms it had, so he could at least make a guess on whose baby it was meant for. But then, something far more interesting caught his eye. An x-ray. He smiled and picked that up instead.

“Now what is this?” He looked at it, trying to figure out which part of the body it was. Then, his heart stopped. “Cara mia… whose is this?”

The question was redundant once he saw the name. Her name. He turned to look at her, finding her smiling and just as teary eyed as himself.

“Ours,” She said

Gomez smiled. Then the smile turned into a laugh of happy disbelief. Then they both held each other, laughing and weeping with joy. Without warning, he stood with her, picked her up, and spun with her still in his arms. He stopped to kiss her, still holding her up.

He set her down again, hands not leaving her waist and head not lifting from hers. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks now,” she said guiltily. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you… partly. Because I couldn’t trust myself not to spoil it.”

“What’re the other reasons?” He asked.

“I needed to use the bathroom.” She answered quickly.

“Is that all?”

Morticia blushed. “Morning sickness and increased nausea. I didn’t want you to hear it or… smell it.”

“Querida, I’m you’re husband. I love you, bad smells and all.” He smiled at her playful attempt at swatting him.

“I love you,” she said back, getting on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Besides! If I had such issues with that, I’d never eat your—“

“Gomez!”

“What? Nobody’s home!”

Chapter Text

Little Pugsley was surrounded by family, who all cooed at and adored him. He laid on his stomach and gave a toothless grin at his family who clapped at him for raising his head. Hidden from the crowd was Morticia and Gomez, who had snuck to the conservatory to catch up on late night kisses. They went on for a while before they parted to catch their breaths. 

”Darling,” Morticia started. “Perhaps we should get back.”

Gomez looked at her in wide eyed disappointment. “But dear, we only just started!”

Undeterred, Morticia tutted. “I know, dear, but it is our baby’s first Christmas. And he is only two months old.”

“Only because he stayed an extra month in Hotel Mrs. Addams,” Gomez muttered. Until he raised his hands in defense after a stern look from his wife. “Just a jest, cara mia. But I still see no harm in being away for just a few more moments.”

As if on cue, the sound of Pugsley’s cries reached them. Morticia pushed herself out of her husbands arms to make way for their baby. Gomez cursed internally to hell and high heaven, certain that one of the two were responsible, before following her. 

“Oh please, please baby Pugsley! Don’t cry! Grandmama is real sorry she broke your new bow and arrow!” Mama was frantically bouncing up and down with the infant wailing in her arms by the time Morticia rejoined the room.

“Yeah! She’ll make it up to you!” Fester laughed at her misery.

Mama played along. “We’ll fix it right up and you can shoot at your Uncle Fester!”

Fester nodded eagerly before stopping to glare at her. “Hey!”

“Oh, knock it off, you two!” A booming voice told them.

They both turned and saw Morticia and Gomez standing at the doorframe. Morticia walked over to quickly and gently pluck Pugsley out of Mama’s hands, immediately bringing him to gentle rock against her shoulder. 

“Sorry, son.” Mama apologized.

“Yeah, Gomez, she’s sorry. It was only an accident.” Fester said, shooting a look at the broken bow and arrow, both snapped in two on the floor. 

Gomez shook his head at them and looked to his wife, who was already exhausted from lack of sleep. Pugsley continued to cry while she remained unbothered; only hushing and rubbing his tiny back. Gomez looked at his wife and child and sighed. He went to take over, only for her to shake her head, like a reflex.

“Querida, please. Go and take rest, have a bite to eat, anything. I’ll take Pugsley,” he said. “All I want you to do is to take some time for yourself. Okay?”

Morticia looked at his pleading eyes. She hesitated before she nodded. “Okay,” she said with obvious reluctance. She allowed him to take the crying baby. 

They all stared at her for a solid minute. She still hadn’t moved. 

They stared for another minute. 

Morticia sighed, exasperated.

“Oh, alright!” She walked away to the kitchen, muttering under her breath about how this was ridiculous and that she didn’t need a break.

The entire room let out a breath of their own.

Christmas festivities continued around the new father and crying baby.

It has been thirty minutes since Gomez stepped in as a father to let his darling wife rest. Thirty minutes and zero progress. 

He tried everything he knew! Rocking him, bouncing him, tossing him, making silly faces and sounds, singing lullabies until he ran out of one’s he knew and started making up new ones. He tried everything he could with no luck. Pugsley hadn’t stopped crying for even a moment. Now, they sat in the library with the trains. 

Gomez wondered if all fathers felt this incompetent when it came to their children. He wondered if this was how his own father felt raising him. For the first time in decades, he wished the old man was still around. Maybe he could tell him what to do. Then again… no. He sighed, reminding himself again who his father was. 

“You know, Pugsley, you look like my own father, your Grandpa Addams,” Gomez started. He looked down at the still wailing baby and smiled in spite of himself. “He was blond too. A ghastly color, but he pulled it off splendidly. As do you, actually. And like you, he was a large man, with a mustache far grander than mine! But don’t tell Grandma I said that,” he whispered the last line conspiratorially. 

“When I was a boy, I looked up to him. Thought he was larger than life. That nothing could strike him down! I… truly saw the best in him. I hope you can see the best in me. I hope I don’t do anything to disillusion you. That’s what I fear most of all,” he admitted. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you never doubt my love and devotion to you and your mother.

You see, Pugsley, my father wasn’t an affectionate man. Oh sure, he loved us well enough. But there would always be doubt in the back of my mind. Whenever he looked at me, all I could ever see was his scorn and open resentment. Like I was a pest. Ha! I say to him. I wouldn’t have it any other way! Of course, I’d be lying. I wanted him to want me so badly.”

Gomez stood back up to walk around the room. He stopped at the portrait of his father and himself as a boy. “There he is, see? The artist who painted this truly captured his cold eyes. I could never understand why Mama stood by him. He was never cruel, but he didn’t go out of his way for us either. S’ppose he did the best he could. Not sure if he was capable of any more.”

Pugsley’s wailing reduced to softer sobbing. Gomez leaned down to give his son a kiss on the head. “There you go, old boy. Now let’s see what can stop those tears completely, hm? Now let’s see… I know!” 

Gomez jogged over to his trains and flipped the switch on.

“Playing with these always makes me feel better! Just watch those babies go, son!”

The still crying baby watched the trains in passive fascination. Clearly unimpressed with his fathers enthusiasm and his trains.

“What kid doesn’t want to play trains with his old man?!” Gomez exclaimed. Pugsley hiccuped through his tears and smacked his dad in the face. “I deserved that.”

After a few minutes, Pugsley began whimpering again. Gomez looked around the empty library in a panic. “Okay okay! How about, uh, how ‘bout this, son?” Gomez pulled out a lever. “When I say so, we push this baby down and watch the magic happen. Ready?” 

Puglsey babbled out an affirmative… Gomez assumed. 

“Three… two… now!”

With his hand on top of his child’s, they both pushed down the lever, resulting in a fiery explosion that stopped the trains completely.

“That’s what I call a good show!” Gomez laughed. To his delight, so did Pugsley. “Ah, you like that, do you?”

Pugsley giggled and mimicked the sound of the explosion, which resulted in drool and spits of saliva landing on Gomez’s good shirt. Not that he minded. All that mattered was that Pugsley wasn’t crying anymore. 

Later that night, after putting Pugsley to sleep (which was a miracle in and of itself), Gomez and Morticia laid in their marital bed. Both exhausted from the days festivities, both far too much in love to say goodnight just yet. Gomez spun Morticia’s long, black wavy hair around his finger as she played with the buttons of his night shirt. They could still hear some stragglers out in the cemetery, drinking and dancing their cares away. They just hoped they wouldn’t wake the dead, who already went to sleep after the first five shots. The afterlife just couldn’t hold their spirits like they used to.

Morticia looked up at Gomez, with sleep and love in her eyes, and said her thanks. 

He raised a brow at her. “Darling, whatever for?”

“Handling Pugsley. I didn’t realize how exhausted I actually was,” she admitted.

Gomez missed the top of her head. “There’s no need to thank me. I am the boys father, after all.”

Morticia hummed. “Of course, dear. But you always seem so nervous with him. And I don’t see why— you’re an excellent father.”

A contemplative silence fell between the two; not uncomfortable in nature, but thick and palpable and could not be ignored. But as concerning as it was, Morticia knew not to push the issue. He would open up when he’s ready, she was sure. As tempting as prying is, she’d respect his space. Impatience be damned.

Not much was shared to her about the relationship between Gomez and his father; but from what she gathered, it was not one built in warmth. He’d talk about him in the same tone he would for news that bored him. Whenever he’d recall a memory, there would be no trace of his signature telltale smirk or smile that normally graced his face. It was just once— a year ago, just after discussing children— that she caught him staring at the portrait of his father on the mantle in the hall with a sad, wistful expression. She heard him speak in hushed tones, only making out the words “if only” and “what would you say”.

“My father left us when I was ten,” he said suddenly, slightly startling Morticia. “He and Mama got into an argument and he just… walked out the door. No word, no note. Not even a letter after a week of being gone. Money was still coming in, so we knew he was alive, at least. But we hadn’t heard from him for a long time. Then five years later, he shows up again. Thin and frail. He was dying, he said. Had a stroke and found out he had a tumor in his stomach. Stage four. He died a few months later after falling into a coma.

“I was so mad at him,” he chuckled bitterly. “I refused to even look at him. And before I knew it… he was gone.”

“Oh, Gomez…” Morticia held the hand that was still toying with her hair. 

He squeezed it gratefully. “Suddenly, my not wanting to talk to him turned into I can’t talk to him. He comes back into our lives and then he just leaves again. But this time we know where he went and we know he’s never coming back.”

There was no right words to say to this. So she held him tighter. 

His next words came in a broken whisper. 

“I don’t want to be like him,” he said, tears evident in his voice. 

“You won’t be,” Morticia said with a conviction that almost made him believe her. “You’re a good man who loves his family, Gomez Addams.”

“But Tish—!”

“You are a good man,” she said again, sternly. “Do you really think I’d be wrong about something like this?”

Gomez shook his head. “But querida, what if— just this once— you are wrong.”

“I never am.”

“But if you are…?”

Morticia took his face in her hands and made him look her in the eyes, which were lit aflame so hot that he felt his soul getting singed from the fire within them. “Then I promise you, I will track you down like a blood hound and I’ll rip you apart. Starting with your blood vessels, pulling them out like a loose thread.”

Gomez growled at the imagery. 

“Cara mia…”

“Mon cher…”

Chapter Text

By their fifth Christmas as a couple— second as a family— Pugsley started to walk. It was also around that time that all hell broke loose in the Addams Family home. See, walking in the Addams Family also came with several other superhuman-like abilities. In Pugsley’s case, this meant explosions and a seemingly imperviousness to death. Which of course meant a series of unfortunate events and near heart attacks for his parents. 

In the first hour of Christmas alone, he almost walked into the lit fireplace five times, launched himself in the adult-sized canon, hid inside Kitty Cat’s mouth, downed half a bottle of arsenic, and electrocuted himself. He shocked even Fester with the amount of times he’s gotten into trouble!

Needless to say, Morticia and Gomez weren’t planning on having another child anytime soon. 

Pugsley started talking by the sixth Christmas. 

His answer to what he wanted Santa Claus to give him this year made his father choke on his cigar. 

“Ahem! Sorry, son, I think I misheard you. What did you say you wanted?”

The chubby blond boy looked adorably up at his father and, almost innocently, said, “A baby brother!”

On the seventh Christmas, Pugsley was irritated to say the least. 

“And what do you want Santa to bring you this year, dear?” Morticia asked while braiding little Wednesday’s hair. 

Pugsley glared at the two month old. “A Time Machine.”

If they thought Pugsley was far too alive as a baby, they definitely thought Wednesday was halfway near dead. She hardly ever cried. The times she did, it was because the sun got in her eyes. As soon as she was blanketed in darkness again, she went silent. She wasn’t completely quiet though. It’s only that most of the sounds she made  consisted of incoherent babbling, silly sounds she heard daddy make, and giggles. 

And the occasional bark. 

Basically, she didn’t do much. Which meant that to Pugsley, she was useless. What good was a two month old baby if she couldn’t even bite through metal? He completely loathed his new baby sister. She was obnoxiously adorable and tiny and for some inexplicable reason everyone loved her. Especially his mom and dad. 

If they thought that Pugsley gave them hell the moment he started walking, they had another thing coming. 

Attempt #1

Pugsley waited for his mom to put his sister in the sensory gym.

“Oh~ look at you! My little scorpion. Mama’s just going to the kitchen to prepare the yak steak for dinner tonight.” She made sure to give her baby the stuffed bat that always kept her from wreaking havoc. After giving her a kiss on the cheek, Mother went to the kitchen, leaving Wednesday alone with Pugsley. 

The three year old quickly walked up to his little sister who was laid down on her back, looking up at the felt storm clouds that hung above her head like knives on a mobile. He glared at the baby one last time before swapping out the toy bat with dynamite. He quickly lit it then dove for cover. 

‘Finaly!’ He thought. ‘Time to rid myself of this demon once and for all!’

One… two…… three…!

…

Pugsley opened his eyes. Why didn’t it blow up yet? There was supposed to be baby guts everywhere by now! He peered behind him to look at his sister, who was only staring up at the clouds with her toy bat in her mouth. 

His eyes widened. “How did—?!”

Boom!

After his ears stopped ringing, all he heard was his dear sisters sweet, insidious laughter. 

Attempt #2

So maybe the dynamite plan wasn’t the best. That’s why there’s always a plan b. And Pugsley’s plan b was going to be poison. Since Wednesday was only a couple months old, she wouldn’t have the same level of immunity to poisons that the rest of the family had. This meant that all he needed was a little bit of cyanide for his plan to work. 

He took the baby bottle his mother left on the kitchen counter and, instead of just a drop, he put in about half the bottle and shook it up nice and well before placing it back where he found it. This plan was bullet proof! But in case it wasn’t, neither was Wednesday, so he could always try bullets later.

He sat by the counter and waited.

Finally, his mom walked back in the kitchen. “Oh! Hello, my sweet boy. Hungry?” 

He smiled up at her. “No, thank you, mother! Just waiting for father to come home so we can play with his trains.”

Mother smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “How nice, dear. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. In the mean time, would you like to help me with feeding time?”

“Certainly!” A chance to kill his sister by his own hand? How could he refuse. 

He took her hand and followed her back into the conservatory where Wednesday was conversing with Thing and Cleopatra. The conversation consisted solely on seemingly inane gestures, random sounds (Morse code taps from Thing), and snaps and was a language on its own that only they knew. And Lurch, but he was with 
Mr. Addams. 

“Okay, darlings. Feeding time! Here, Pugsley, I’ll lift you up and you just take the bottle and feed her, okay?”

Pugsley nodded. “Got it! Wait,” his eyes widened. “Lift me up?”

“Why of course, dear. How else are you going to feed Cleopatra?”

Instead of getting in trouble for killing his sister like he wanted, Pugsley got in trouble for spraying his mom in the face with plant water and cyanide. 

Attempt #3

Pugsley had to admit that he was getting tired of this. This time, he was just going to do it. No more plans, no more schemes. Just good old fashioned murder. He walked baby Wednesday down to the basement where he knew all the ropes and various killing tools were stashed. And not their regular deadly weapons, either. Tools that were used specifically for murder. 

He opened the dusty old drawer and pulled out a long, long, long pistol that was kept next to the water gun. It still had five bullets from the last Addams duel that used it. Placing Wednesday on an old high chair, he stepped back and aimed carefully. This was only his third time using such a device and his first time with the intention of using it on someone else. It would be embarrassing to miss. 

With steady breaths, he counted to three, before pulling the trigger. 

Bang!

He opened his eyes. And there Wednesday was, still alive. His brows furrowed in confusion. He shot again, this time keeping his eyes open.

Bang!

Wednesday giggled. 

Angry now, Pugsley fired twice more. 

Bang! Bang! 

He took the last round out and slammed the drawer closed with the gun inside. Roughly, he grabbed Wednesday and brought her back upstairs to inform their mom that her baby girl was, in fact, bullet proof. 

Needless to say, Pugsley was grumpy for the rest of the day. 

It was Christmas Eve and he was surrounded by family that loved him, more gifts than a child could ever need, and a still living bullet proof baby sister. Thing tried to cheer him up by telling him that at least he was the only son. But that only served as a reminder that he didn’t get the sibling he wished for. Instead, he got a useless baby sister who did nothing but steal their parents attention and got everything she wanted. Wednesday was two months old he wanted to return her to the hospital already. He considered throwing her into the fire, but she’d probably be fireproof too. 

“Pugsley? My darling boy, could you come hold your sister, please?” 

As much as he wanted to say no, he just couldn’t refuse his mom. 

“Yes, mother.” He walked over and let the baby fall into his arms. He scrunched his nose. She was just so… tiny. Her pale skin, while he guessed it was pretty enough, was pinkish from the cold. He nearly gagged when her tiny hand went up to touch the freckles of his cheek. “Ick…”

Wednesday giggled, which only served to disgust him more.

“I hope you know I hate you,” he told her. He was met with more giggles. “I mean it!”

Wednesday retracted her hand and looked up at him with an odd expression on her face. For a moment, he thought maybe she understood him.

“Pugsey!” 

The same tiny hand he despised now bonked him on the nose. “Hey, what gives?!”

She bonked I’m again and giggled. “Pugsey! Pugsley! Pugsey!”

He glared at her again. Except, after realization set, his stare began to soften. She just said her first word. “Wha… Wednesday?”

“Pugsley!” She bonked his nose. 

Their mom gasped. “Gomez! Gomez, come quick!”

“Tish?!” Their father came rushing downstairs to see his wife in tears while their son held their little girl. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Pugsley didn’t look up. He couldn’t. All he wanted to do was look at his baby sister. If he listened, he could hear mom excitedly tell father the good news. But all he wanted to hear was his baby sister. All he could think was that while he was busy hating her, she already loved her big brother. Where he saw his failed attempts at murder, she saw him finally spending time with her. Now, as her big brother, he vowed to always annoy her. And that if anyone was going to kill her, it would be him. He’d later learn that the reverse was also true.

Years down the line, when reading their children’s Christmas Wish List, they found three common items. 

1. Death
2. Destruction
3. Birth control for mom and dad

They decided against telling them the news.