To the Addams' Crypt
Enid blinked, then dragged her hands down her face, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
“…Of course she did.”
Eugene flailed beside her, eyes wide with disbelief. “ENID.”
She waved him off, too tired to engage. “What do you want me to do, Eugene? Be surprised?”
“Yes!” he practically wailed. “A normal person would be shocked! A normal person would be horrified!”
A smirk tugged at her lips as she turned to him. “A normal person didn’t marry Wednesday.”
They reached the side of the road in no time, where she pressed the Addams crest with one finger. Almost instantly, a dark mist curled along the pavement, thick and unnatural, signaling the arrival of something she had long since stopped finding ominous. Behind her, Eugene continued to pace, hands in his hair as he tried to process.
“Okay. Just hear me out. What if we let her stay at her parents’ crypt for a week? Just to—I don’t know—reflect on her actions?”
A quiet chuckle escaped as she folded her arms. “Oh, she’d hate that.”
“That’s the point!” He gestured wildly, voice cracking from sheer frustration.
The familiar black hearse rumbled through the mist, slowing to a stop. Lurch, ever composed, rolled down the window and fixed her with a knowing look—the kind a bartender gives their most frequent and problematic patron.
“Back already?” His deep guttural voice carried the heavy weight of inevitability. “What was it this time?”
“Snake venom resistance experiment.”
Lurch whistled lowly, nodding as if this was the most predictable answer in the world. “Oof. Classic.”
Eugene let out a strangled groan before dropping onto the ground like a man who had given up on everything. “I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS.”
Enid patted him on the back with a touch of sympathy before sliding into the car. The engine rumbled as they pulled away, and Eugene’s weak, defeated voice carried after them. “TELL HER SHE OWES ME A DRINK. AND A WRITTEN APOLOGY.”
She lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
For a while, the road stretched ahead in silence, the only sound the low hum of the hearse’s tires against the pavement. Lurch eventually glanced her way.
“You’re really getting used to this, huh?”
She sighed, watching the trees blur past the window. “Yeah. It’s just life at this point.”
His mouth twitched at the corners, eyes still on the road. “More like just death.”
That earned a chuckle, though she didn’t bother arguing.
Lurch glanced at her again, an eyebrow barely lifting. “Not even mad, huh?”
“Oh, I’m mad.”
“You don’t look mad.”
“I have to pick my battles, Lurch.”
He smirked. “And this isn’t one of them?”
“Oh, no, it is,” Enid said, shaking her head with amusement. “I’m just saving it for when I see her.”
Enid sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she stepped out of the Addams' car.
Thanks to Lurch driving, she had made record time getting here. At this point, the Addams estate wasn’t just a looming gothic nightmare—it was a second home, one she had long since stopped tiptoeing around. She walked with the steady, unbothered pace of a woman retrieving something she really shouldn’t have to keep retrieving.
Past the eerily familiar graveyard, the crypt steps were familiar under Enid’s boots, the mist swirling around them as she descended without hesitation.
And there she was, waiting like a child caught red-handed.
Wednesday straightened as soon as their eyes met, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress as if that would somehow help. Her gaze flicked to the side, just for a second—assessing, calculating, maybe even considering bolting—before she dismissed the thought entirely. Instead, she lifted her chin with all the defiance of someone who believed, wholeheartedly, that they were above consequences.
Still, when the silence stretched a beat too long, she resorted to her best doe eyes.
Enid didn’t budge, arms crossed, gaze unimpressed.
“Hello, mi sol,” Wednesday greeted, voice soft, deliberate, batting her lashes.
A slow arch of a brow. “Don’t ‘hello, mi sol’ me.”
Wednesday exhaled, shifting ever so slightly. “You made good time.”
“Yes,” Enid inhaled, tone flat. “Because you keep dying.”
The expression on the smaller woman’s face remained neutral, though the slight twitch of her fingers betrayed her. “It was controlled.”
A long, pointed silence.
“…Mostly controlled.”
Enid kept staring, unimpressed.
“…An acceptable level of risk.”
Not even a flicker of amusement.
Wednesday’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching near her temple. “…A calculated risk.”
Still nothing.
Wednesday sighed, rolling her shoulders like this conversation was more of a burden than her own death. “I was right, by the way.”
Enid dragged a hand down her face. “Wednesday.”
“I was.”
“You let a snake bite you on purpose.”
A single brow lifted. “I accounted for the venom dosage.”
Enid shot her a glare so sharp even Wednesday had the decency to hesitate.
“…Mostly.”
Enid’s expression didn’t waver.
Wednesday pursed her lips before finally sighing, this time with the reluctance of someone forced to admit they had, in fact, made an error. “Fine. I may have overestimated my tolerance.”
“You may?”
“I have.”
Arms dropped to her sides as Enid regarded her with a look bordering on disbelief. “I cannot believe I married you.”
A slow smirk. “I can.”
The sigh that left Enid’s lips was exasperated, but she didn’t bother suppressing the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Wednesday, emboldened, brightened. “Alright, well, lesson learned—kind of—can we go now?”
The moment she moved, Enid’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her.
“You do know we have to get past your parents first, right?”
The groan that followed was so deep it could have shaken the crypt walls.
Enid smirked. “So, what was that about not wanting to be here all day?”
Wednesday scowled, reaching out to smack her arm. “Shut up, Enid.”
The moment Enid and Wednesday stepped into the living room, Gomez lit up like a proud father watching his kid win a fight at school.
“There are my girls!” he boomed, clapping his hands together. His voice echoed through the grand hall, rattling the nearest torches. “Welcome back! You know, I just told Morticia yesterday, ‘It’s been a while since we’ve seen them. Do you think they’re alright?’ And here you are!”
Morticia, lounging in her gothic chair with the grace of a woman who had long mastered the art of being effortlessly intimidating, smirked over the rim of her goblet. “Yes. Though, I assume this isn’t a social visit?”
Wednesday huffed, arms crossing over her chest. “No. Because someone—” she shot her wife a look sharp enough to carve flesh “—insisted we ask nicely instead of kicking down the gates and leaving.”
Gomez raised a knowing eyebrow. “So what was it this time?”
Wednesday scowled, already anticipating the reaction. “Snake venom resistance experiment.”
For a beat, silence.
Then Gomez howled with laughter.
“Oh, excellent!” He smacked his knee, beaming. “I knew you had that experimental spirit in you!” He turned to Morticia, still grinning. “Didn’t I say she’d use her death creatively one day?”
Morticia, smiling fondly, squeezed his hand. “You did, dear.” Then she turned to Wednesday with the warm, doting expression of a mother too pleased with her daughter’s antics. “Oh, sweetheart, I hope you at least made it dramatic.”
Wednesday let out a slow, long-suffering sigh. “I wasn’t trying to die dramatically, Mother. I was trying to win an argument.”
Gomez grinned. “And did you?”
“Yes.”
Gomez beamed and turned back to Morticia, triumphant. “That’s our daughter.”
Morticia sighed in delight. “So much fire in her.” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Now tell me, how was the transition this time? Was it painful? Did you feel the moment of death? I do hope you took the time to appreciate it.”
Wednesday groaned. “Mother—”
“Because truly, darling, too many mortals go through death without savoring it!” Morticia lamented, as if this were the most reasonable complaint in the world. “It’s just as important as life, you know.”
Enid blinked, looking between them. “That’s… an interesting perspective.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Morticia said earnestly, sitting up straighter. “We encourage people to experience death fully! It’s part of the journey! No sense in making it a dreary affair.”
“Thank you,” Gomez chimed in, gesturing grandly. “You see, Enid, we don’t see death as this tragic, sorrowful thing. It’s an adventure! A whole new experience! A learning opportunity!”
Wednesday’s expression deadpanned. “I don’t need to ‘learn’ how to be dead, Father. I already know.”
Gomez chuckled. “Yes, yes, but you’re still so young! There’s so much more to discover!”
Wednesday groaned and threw up her hands. “I don’t want to discover it, I want to leave!”
Morticia waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you always say that.”
“Because I mean it.”
Gomez turned to Enid, grinning. “She’s always been like this. Very stubborn.”
“Oh, I know,” Enid muttered, rubbing her temple.
Wednesday, already at the end of her patience, grabbed Enid’s wrist. “Okay, great! So great seeing you both! Wow, look at the time, we must be going! Goodbye!”
Morticia tilted her head. “Now, now, darling,” she called after her. “Don’t you want to—”
“NOPE.”
And with that, Wednesday bolted, dragging Enid along with her, her expression caught somewhere between an apology and sheer resignation.
Gomez chuckled, watching them go. “Ah,” he sighed happily. “She’s so lively.”
Morticia smiled, resting her chin in her hand. “Takes after you, dear.”