The Addams' Hospitality
“Alright, let’s go, let’s go, LET’S GO.”
Wednesday shoved Enid toward the exit with the urgency of someone fleeing a crime scene but actually trying to escape an unbearably doting family gathering. Her grip was like iron, fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, practically dragging her across the threshold.
“Babe,” Enid wheezed, stumbling to keep up, “I think you’re going to dislocate my shoulder.”
“Good,” came the muttered reply of the young goth, eyes locked on the path ahead. “That way, you’ll be too distracted to do anything stupid, like—oh, I don’t know—turn around.”
Enid scoffed. “I wasn’t going to!”
Wednesday shot her a sharp, knowing look.
Enid groaned but didn’t argue. Because, well… she was going to.
They were so close. The towering gates of the Addams estate stood just ahead, freedom just a few steps away—
And then Enid glanced back.
For one second.
And saw Gomez and Morticia standing at the entrance of the mansion.
Waving at them.
She immediately stopped in her tracks.
Wednesday made a noise so strangled it barely qualified as human. “Enid, NO—”
“Wait, wait, wait—” Enid grabbed both of her hands, suddenly looking thoughtful.
Wednesday squinted at her. “Why do you look like you just got a terrible idea?”
Enid smiled. “We should stay for dinner.”
Wednesday recoiled as if she’d just been personally betrayed. “Are you out of your mind?”
Enid shrugged, all innocence. “Hear me out—”
“Hear you out? We were this close to leaving, and you—” a violent gesture toward the looming mansion “—want to stay?”
Enid gave her a pointed look. “Well, maybe this is a good opportunity for you to spend some time with your parents. They clearly miss you.”
Wednesday groaned. “That’s the problem.”
Head tilting, Enid’s lips curled. “You don’t like when people fuss over you, do you?”
“I hate it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “They act like I’m still a child.”
Enid, the traitor, grinned. “Well, maybe if you died less often, they wouldn’t feel the need to be so—what’s the word?—involved.”
The glare that followed was so sharp it could have burned her alive.
Enid just smiled.
“We’re already here,” she went on smoothly. “And since you’re so proud of your little experiment—”
“Don’t.”
“—why not celebrate with your family?”
Wednesday peeked over her shoulder.
Sure enough, Gomez was still waving like a delighted father, and Morticia stood beside him, hands clasped, radiating maternal pride.
Wednesday groaned into her hands. “They’re doing that on purpose.”
Enid squeezed her fingers. “They love you.”
“They love me too much.”
“That’s adorable.”
Wednesday stared at her. “You like this.”
“Of course I do,” Enid said, genuinely happy at the idea of spending more time with her in-laws. “Your parents are great.”
Wednesday grumbled.
Unbothered, Enid smiled, squeezing her hand. “You have parents who love you. Who miss you. And even though you act like you hate it, you love them too.”
Wednesday didn’t respond right away. She just stared, watching as her wife started to lose herself in painful memories.
She sighed. Then, reluctantly, she squeezed Enid’s hand back. “…Okay, yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
She glanced at the gates, then back at Enid—who was looking at her with those big blue eyes. Soft. Hopeful. Knowing exactly what she was doing.
Ugh.
She was weak for her.
“…Fine, you win,” she muttered. “But only dinner. And if my father starts talking about how ‘the Addams Mansion is a great place to raise a family,’ we are LEAVING.”
Enid beamed. “Deal.”
Hand in hand, they turned back toward the house.
Enid, ever the traitor, was looking entirely too pleased with herself as she practically dragged Wednesday into the grand dining hall like a child being forcibly escorted to a family gathering they had zero interest in attending. The table was extravagant—candles casting long, flickering shadows across silverware that gleamed like polished bone. Goblets of deep red wine sat between ornate platters of food—some of which likely weren’t meant for ordinary humans.
Gomez beamed as they approached, arms spreading wide. “Ah, there you are! Just when I was starting to think you’d leave without even sparing a thought for your poor parents—not even staying for dinner!”
“Believe me, we tried,” Wednesday muttered.
Enid nudged her playfully before pulling out a chair. She flopped into it with all the enthusiasm of someone being forced into an intervention.
Morticia, seated beside her, reached over with an elegant hand, resting it lightly over hers. “We’re so glad you stayed,” she said warmly. “We never get to have you both here long enough.”
Gomez, already pouring himself a goblet of questionably dark wine, leaned forward, his expression soft with paternal fondness. “You never visit enough, kid. I mean, sure, you die a lot, but you always leave so fast.”
Wednesday sighed dramatically. “Because I don’t live here anymore.”
Gomez waved a hand. “Eh. Details.”
Across from her, Enid was clearly enjoying herself, smiling fondly at the whole scene, clearly enjoying herself. She was always up for some Addams Family time.
For one brief, fleeting moment, it seemed like the conversation might move on to something else.
And then—
“You know,” Gomez said, his tone far too casual, “the Addams Mansion is actually a very respectable place to raise a family.”
Wednesday froze mid-bite.
Enid, entirely at ease, hummed in interest. “Oh?”
Wednesday kicked her under the table.
Hard.
Gomez nodded, sipping his wine. “Oh, absolutely. It’s been so long since we’ve had the pleasure of little demons wreaking havoc around—”
“Father—”
“—plenty of real estate, too! Lots of privacy! We have a lovely tower that would suit you both perfectly—”
“Father.”
“—and of course, if my impulsive daughter’s experiment inevitably ends in her untimely demise, you’d already be here—”
Wednesday threw down her fork and groaned, slumping back in her chair.
Gomez turned to Enid, ignoring his daughter’s very visible suffering. “What do you think?”
Wednesday glared at Enid so intensely she could have cursed her where she sat.
Enid, to her credit, paused. She took a long sip of wine, as if genuinely considering the offer, then carefully set her glass down. “I do love spending time here,” she admitted.
Wednesday kicked her again.
Enid coughed. “But I think we’re still a bit… young to settle down and raise children.”
Gomez sighed dramatically. “Ah, well. A father can dream.”
Morticia, watching the entire thing unfold like a well-rehearsed play far too delightedly, turned to her daughter with a knowing look. “You really should visit more, darling.”
Wednesday pressed her hands against her face. “I do visit, Mother. It’s just usually not by choice.”
Gomez chuckled. “And whose fault is that?”
The young ghost stabbed a grape with her fork. “Not important.”
Enid, ever the peacemaker, nudged her gently. “They do miss you, you know.”
Wednesday sighed, because she knew it was true. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Gomez clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! So you’ll stay for the night, then?”
Wednesday snapped her head toward Enid so fast her braids nearly smacked her in the face.
Enid, mid-drink, froze.
She smiled.
Soft. Innocent.
Wednesday gasped in betrayal.
Enid, still smiling, turned back to Gomez. “We’d love to.”
A final kick under the table.
Enid winced, but her smile did not waver.
Gomez’s face lit up with a broad grin, while Morticia elegantly clasped her hands together. “Excellent!”
Wednesday slumped back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as if praying for divine intervention. None came.
Across the table, Gomez was already pouring another goblet of wine, while Morticia cheerfully arranged the dessert plates. Enid, her own wife, was sitting there with that pleased little smile, clearly enjoying herself far too much.
This was her eternity.
Not tragic. Not sorrowful.
Just… relentlessly doting parents and a wife who sided with them too often for her comfort.
Wednesday sighed deeply, reaching for the wine.
It was going to be a very long night.