Chapter Text
Wednesday is dreading this meeting.
It wasn't often that she received official Addam's stationery in her mail. The fine parchment and black wax was saved for special occasions, like funerals or court trials.
This time, it heralded a short talk with her parents about their dawning anniversary.
Even the thought of her parents and their romantic predispositions is stomach-churning.
The manor is as unkempt as she remembers it as the gates lazily open, not daring to scratch the paint of her car but not showing any urgency to their movements either. The grounds are overgrown, the grass coming up to her hips instead of the usual knee-length Lurch preferred, and the gravestones have flowered.
Lurch is at the front of the house, shears in hand, when she arrives, though he does little more than nod his greetings to her.
"Lurch, have you been neglecting the weeds again. They look like they've nearly been choked out by grandmama's mint." Wednesday doesn't ask, but she does tilt her head ever so slightly towards the struggling stalks. Lurch doesn't react, well-versed in the attempted lie. The weeds have all but conquered the left side of the yard, the mint somehow working with the plant instead of strangling it out. Lurch simply snaps the shears into a budding flower, the petaled head falling to the floor with a muffled thump.
Commendable.
Wednesday is about to ask him to announce her arrival, when the front door of the manor is thrown open, thwarting her plans for a quick entrance and even faster exit.
"Wednesday!" Her father is on her immediately, a sturdy hand clapping her on her shoulder as he laughs and grins. "My desolate girl, it is so wonderful to see you again!"
The parental affection is almost immediately overwhelming, her father acting as if their monthly family dinners and weekly phone calls weren't visit enough. It must be due to Pubert's recent entry to Nevermore. An empty nest drives even the best of people to insanity.
It didn't help that her parents were already halfway there with children in residence.
"Father, we spoke on the phone two nights ago; must you act as if we never see each other." Another not-question. One her father takes easily in stride. He waves her words away as he turns towards the still open door, Thing perched just inside with a freshly lit cigar.
"Bah, that damned phone is more aggravation than it's worth. I was surprised when you started using one. I did have that telegraph sent to you, just in case you wished to drop the damned device altogether." Gomez plucks the cigar from the waiting fingertips, in time for Thing to tap out his greetings to Wednesday before scuttling away into the crevices of the manor.
"I was forced into it. Enid all but threatened me with excommunication if I refused this time." Wednesday bites out, though the heat of her words lacks any true substance.
"Oh, how is Enid doing? We were going to send for her as well, but figured she might tag along with you." Her mother, stepping silently from an open doorway, doesn't startle Wednesday more than she puts her on guard. There is something about her tone, the odd look in her eye, that has Wednesday more suspicious than usual.
"Enid had a prior engagement." Day drinking with Bianca Barclay, namely, "She sends her regards, as usual."
"Such a thoughtful young woman. Gomez, darling, please remind me to invite her out one of these days. It really has been too long." Morticia sighs, and all at once, Gomez is at her side, a hand sliding up her arm and a rough whisper leaving his lips. Wednesday has half a mind to leave, already stepping back towards the front door, when her parents suddenly straighten.
"Never the matter, this discussion won't take too long. You'll let Enid know I would like to see her, won't you Wednesday?" There's a dangerous glint in her mother's eye now, one that has Wednesday wary.
"Of course. Now, if this is about my use of the family lawyer-" Wednesday starts. She had anticipated this, guessing that the anniversary letter was truly a trick to lure her here with a false sense of security. She had prepared for this, anticipated it.
"We keep that viper Cutcher on retainer for a reason, mi toxina. If you didn't make use of her, who would?" Gomez waves a hand through the air as if literally banishing the thought, and the discussion Wednesday had prepared for on the drive over, along with it. They continue to walk in silence, only broken by the sound of Lurch grunting and the shears snp-ing at more flowers outside.
The silence only lasts until they reach the threshold to the parlor, a room kept in a perpetual haze of cigar smoke and wood ash. Wednesday finds herself sitting automatically in her usual chair, a well-worn black leather that sighs as she does.
"As you know, our anniversary is soon." Morticia starts, perched on the edge of a dark velvet couch, her eyes never leaving Gomez.
"Thirty years, quite the milestone. One for the history books!" Gomez adds, pouring himself a generous brandy.
"We will be throwing a party, a ball, of course. And you will be attending." Morticia finishes, grinning when Gomez sits at her side.
"Of course. This isn't news to me, mother." Wednesday says, the picture of calm indifference, "Unless Pugsley and Pubert are being intentionally left out of this celebration?" She perks at this, fingers dimpling the supple leather armrests. The chair groans in pain.
"No, darling, your brothers will both be there." Wednesday tries to cloak her disappointment by pinching the chair into silence. Morticia clearly notices, if the way her grin shifts is any indication.
"Along with their dates." Morticia says, her shifty grin coupled now with a glint in her eye.
"No." Wednesday moves to stand, intent on fleeing and disposing of both her phone and the telegraph as soon as she gets home.
"Now Wednesday, we aren't going to force you. We just thought you should take someone." Her father tries to placate, but his side has clearly been picked. The traitor.
"Exactly, dear. In fact," Her mother's grin shifts again, dangerous, "You could always bring Enid along with you." Morticia shows no trace of it in her face, but Wednesday can sense something in her mother's voice.
"I will consider it." Wednesday fully stands now, eyes darting to her watch. "I must head home; all I had time for was a short discussion, not a full-blown demands meeting."
"I'll walk you out. I have one more thing to discuss, very briefly, mi escapista." Her father follows quickly behind her. He lacks her mother's knack for subtlety, which does soothe some of her lingering suspicion.
Not all, but some.
Her mother waves a single hand goodbye, her eyes burning holes into the back of Wednesday's neck as she stalks back down the hall she just walked.
"Now, previous conversation notwithstanding, I do feel it necessary to mention that since this will be a ball, there is an expectation that you will dance at this event." Gomez is matter-of-fact as he talks. He must sense the further downward shift in Wednesday's mood as he rushes to continue.
"The waltz, to be clear. I understand that Enid is a bit of a dancer, so you might do with asking her for a few lessons." He's talking with his hands, brandishing his cigar like he would a weapon, "I know the last time you waltzed was when Pubert was still a baby, so I figured that I should put the idea into your head." Her father says it like a statement, but Wednesday can hear the question in her father's words.
"I will consider it. Like I said only moments ago." Wednesday does her father the courtesy of not grinding the words out. Her eyes do, however, dart to his barely touched cigar.
"Right, right. And, if Enid finds herself otherwise occupied, give my old friend a visit. He has a studio in your neck of the woods, just tell him I sent you." Gomez clocks her sight, offering the cigar with a grin.
"And please, mi sombra, think everything over. It would be so very nice to give your mother what she truly wants as an anniversary present this year." Her father opens the front door with his usual exuberance, grinning as Wednesday steps outside, taking a long pull from the cigar before returning it to Thing, who had somehow reappeared.
"And what present would that be, father?" Wednesday walks to her waiting car, the pristine paint gleaming in the overcast daylight.
"Why, a wedding invitation, of course." Gomez grins, shutting the door to the manor with a wink.
Wednesday's drive home is a short one, even though she lives nearly two hours away. Her car can manage high speeds with ease, and the roads are all either devoid of drivers or back roads that Wednesday can navigate easily.
That leaves nothing but the annoyance simmering under her skin as her distraction.
A date!
And not only a date, but a strongly advised date. Due to her brothers already having dates of their own!
Wednesday nearly decides to drive straight to Vermont, just to teach her sniveling, conniving younger brothers a lesson.
She holds back, only on the basis that Enid would be left alone after her visit with Barclay. And she had given her word that she would return in time for a 'roomie debrief', no matter how much she disliked the term.
Wednesday only takes solace in her annoyance when it earns her a handful of honks and a few choice expletives, all of which stop when she shows the other driver what an unregistered firearm looks like.