Chapter Text
It was a wonderful evening on 1313 Cemetery Lane. It was the kind of dark that suited the Addams the best. Deary, cold, broken with flashes of lightning, or the soft glow from the dinner cauldron. The storm that had persisted the full daylight hours, continued mercilessly into the twilight. Rain lashed at the drafty panes in the attic. Lightening highlighted the cobwebs in the most ethereal glow. Thunder rumbled and shook the mantelpiece decor.
Puglsey, the son, and Wednesday, the daughter, sleepily listened to their mother’s voice as she read from her book. Their hair was still wet from their bath in the rain, both heads dark and shiny like oil slicks against their pallid skin. Wednesday’s doll matched the pajamas the children wore, thick flannel, adorned with embroidered bats and spiders.
Gomez couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of his handsome wife with his two, beautiful, haunting, children. Cuddled under their mother’s wing, like two raven chicks who craved the warmth of their parents.
“Mi amor, if you keep reading they’ll need to be carried up to bed.” he said around his cigar. The polish he was using on the rapier made his nose tingle, and a feeling of anticipation could be felt in the gleaming metal. Should he prepare for the night with his wife? Whips? Chains? The Electric chair hadn’t been used in some time….
But he wasn’t the only one who felt the energy in the air. Grandmama scurried down the stairs, a ratty shawl slung over her shoulders.
“What's the matter Mama?” the stout man followed his mother to the front door. He tightened the dark robe with a yank. Grandmama often had spurts of energy like this, but so rarely right after supper.
“Visitors! They are coming up the drive now..” Granny cackled. Before Gomez could ask if she had been imbibing in the fortune telling gin, she cut him off with, “I saw their car break down 10 minutes ago. He couldn’t get it fixed. He’ll catch his death out there……”
Gnarled, wise hands flicked on the outside light, and turned on the lights for the living room, earning moans of displeasure from the sleepy kids.
“....Oh and he has a wife and child too! I wouldn’t have chosen the white dog myself, but you don’t choose which animals choose you.” Grandmama rattled on, “we must let them stay the night!” Her lined face split into a grin. The old crone rocked in her faded bat slippers, her eyes lit with glee. There was no point in trying to distract his mother from the idea of overnight guests, not with that glimmer in her eye, and her guest slippers on.
Gomez unlatched the door to see two tall figures and two shorter ones approaching the end of their pathway. Even at this distance he could see the little girl's vibrant pink hair, and her faithful steed. The poor dog looked soaked to the bone, copious amounts of fur flattened to a wiry frame. His humans didn’t look much better, their knit sweaters good for cold dry weather, and not the storm.
“Hello! Come inside!” Grandmama hollered from the porch. “Just give the gate a good smack and it’ll let you right in!”
Morticia joined her mother and husband on the porch. She had not yet dressed for bed, and her nails carded through her husband’s thick locks. “Dear, should I prepare the guest room? Pugsley will have to put away his bomb kit thats on the bed.”
“That is a perfect idea Tish.” he murmured to his wife. “And perhaps a spare set of clothes?”
Morticia squinted at the family making their way up the drive. “Of course dear. I may have something of Ophelia’s for them.”
Morticia had sent the children to clean the guest room, “properly” of course. She glided up the stairs after them, to ensure they did a thorough job. A non-Addams guest would not appreciate decapitated dolls or hanging cleavers above their sleeping heads.
Loid was tired. Dead tired. His muscles were already sore from his previous mission, and the storm had started some shivering he couldn’t stop. It was supposed to be the start of a weekend trip as a family. A vacation! 36 to 48 hours of uninterrupted rest and relaxation.
His car wasn’t supposed to betray him like this. Late at night, during a thunderstorm, near a cemetery and only one possibly habitable house nearby. The repair would require a replacement part and daylight to fix properly.
“Papa! I saw a light on at that creepy house! Maybe they could let us stay the night?” Anya said when he sat back down in the driver’s seat in defeat.
“I didn’t see any lights…” Loid started. But if he focused through the sheets of rain at the structure, there was a weak glow of candlelight from the upstairs floor. “Do you see it Yor?”
Yor narrowed her eyes too, and a porch light blinked on.
“Let’s go. Anya has to use the bathroom!” The child looked at her fluffy pet. “I bet they even have a big bone for Bond!”
The vision Bond had said so. A tall woman like Yor gave Papa clothes, and a short man showed Mama a sword (so cool!) and two kids her age were handing over a huge bone to Bond in the static.
Loid heaved a heavy sigh and agreed. “At least we would have a dry place to wait for a cab.”
The walk to the creepy mansion was only the same distance as three city blocks, but the storm had decided to rage further, sending even more water pouring from the sky onto the stranded travelers. Loid could feel water in his shoes now, squishing in the loafers. Yor’s hair, which had been left loose before leaving the house, was now a waterfall of inky hair around her face. She was being led by Anya, who almost got knocked over by a stray gust of wind. Bond’s fur was melting onto his frame, shrinking from fluff to lanky form.
Yor gave the gate a good thump at the old lady’s insistence, the screeching cry of the hinges was muffled by the slap of rain on pavers and leaves. The exterior of the house was painted darkly, and blended into the storm clouds above. Bare trees and pointed wrought iron fencing did not look welcoming at all. Lightning flashed aboved the house, sending the image of the old lady and younger man into stark relief.
It was like seeing two ghosts come to life. The old lady’s hair was frazzled and gray, and Yor thought she could spy mushrooms and moss growing in the wooly shawl around her shoulders. The shorter man was stout, in a way that made Yor a bit nervous. Her hits on men like the stranger never went quickly. Their eyes seemed to reflect the light from the porch, like a raccoon that skittered across the road at night.
A proper witch lady! Thought Anya as she clambered up the uneven porch steps. She would try to read their minds, but she had to pee so bad!
“Where can Anya find the bathroom?” she demanded of the stout man with a thin mustache.
Gomez laughed at the blunt question. What spunk! “Oh Ho! It's down the hall past the knight on the left. Grandmama will show you.”
Grandmama rustled over in her bat slippers and ushered Anya with a hand on her back across the living room. “Don’t worry dearie, the lion’s roar is worse than its bite!” Luckily for the nerves of the bedraggled travelers she had merely pointed to a lion rug on the floor, pulling Anya around so she didn’t trip on his head.
Loid watched the old and the young turn left past a full suit of armor. The Grandma pulled towels from inside the room and shut the door with a creak.
The house was clearly old, and in need of a thorough wipe down. A positive of all the dust, in Twilight’s mind. No one could sneak around here without someone noticing fresh tracks where they shouldn’t be. Is that a real bayonet on the mantle?
Yor tried to be courteous of all the water dripping from her hair and squeeze out as much excess onto the porch as she could. She still saturated the entry rug with rain, the faded red now darkening in a widening puddle. It’s easier to clean a waterlogged carpet then a blood stained one…
“I’m so sorry about the carpet sir.” Yor said as she tried to continue and squeeze water out of her sweater halfway in the doorway.
“Pah!” Grandmama shoved a thick black towel at the young woman. “I was just too lazy to hang them out in the rain to get washed. Don’t worry yourself dear.” She pointed to the coat rack made of exotic antlers.
“Hang up what you can and we’ll get you some dry clothes.” The crone shoved another thick towel at the blonde man. “Storms gonna last another three days according to my bones.”
“I don’t think we could possibly impose that long.” Loid protested. “I just need a new timing belt for the car and I can get us out of your hair.” He shivered still, knowing if he was going to sit down, he was going to pass out from exhaustion.
Twilight did not sleep in enemy territory without a sweep of the premises at least. He had to keep his family safe. For the mission. He had to at least contact WISE.
He had to contact WISE. Shit. He had insisted on this vacation. But now WISE will just want him to return home and cut his vacation short.
“May I borrow your phone at least?” the blonde spy requested after shucking off his sopping wet sweater. His button up had been a crisp white, but now was transparent and clinging to his torso like a second skin.
He could feel the burn of his wife’s stare on the spot between his shoulder blades. The first time she was going to see his bare torso was in some sort of haunted house? With strangers around? That wasn’t even close to romantic at all!
Gomez watched the couple out of curiosity. They didn’t cling to each other out of fear like previous neighbors had. The husband, tall and handsome as he was, didn’t try to peen or show off in front of his wife. The wife, who had a similar haunting beauty to his own wife, (of course no one was as haunting as his Morticia) seemed to forget about herself as her husband peeled the thick wool over his head.
Gomez was also tempted to drool at that sculpted back teased under translucent cotton. He caught the ruby eyes that dilated and the heating of her face. Curiouser, as she gave up on wearing the red sweater to reveal the modest black shirt, the corner of Gomez’s eye spied the back of the husband’s neck redden and his shoulders creeped higher in embarrassment.
“I’ll show you the phone, old chap! Tish, my lovely wife, is getting some dry clothes rustled up for you. I insist you stay the night! We still have plenty of dinner left for you to eat, and I’m sure my boy can dig up a bone for your hound!” Gomez had Loid at the phone in a few short strides, and returned to Yor at the door still.
“I’m sure my wife has something that’ll fit you just fine.” The owner of the house took the raven haired beauty by the elbow further into the living room, like a true gentleman of course. It was a light touch, but her nerves demanded a firmer push.
For such a soft face, this woman has some rigid muscles. Her neckline showed delicate jugular arteries, flanked by strong muscle. She smelled of the rain, but also under that and under the sweet scent of shampoo, was the metallic tang of blood.
Old blood, the kind that soaked into cuticles, and carpets after a tragedy.
It made Gomez’s own blood sing.
Grandmama had retrieved Anya from the bathroom and was in the process of drying the child.
“Look at that candy hair! Like the worst sunrise!” the crone teased, sending Anya into a fit of giggles.
Hmph, what a pity, why waste a perfectly horrid child with pink hair? She’s so tiny, gotta keep her from the greenhouse. “The clips will have to come off dear.”
“Oh.” the little one’s voice was meek. “Do I have to? I don’t like having them off.”
Grandmama stopped blotting the water from the child’s dress. She got level with the bright green eyes. “You could have horns under those and I wouldn’t care to mess with them. Your hair will be hard to brush with those clips in. We can put them back in after okay?”
Little hands with chipped glitter polish pulled the cones from pink hair. In spots no bigger than a pumpkin seed were bald spots, shiny with scars. As Grandmama dried the rest of her hair, the strands settled to mostly cover them.
“Oh darn, no horns. Such a pity.” she lamented to Anya. “I had hoped I’d grow horns when I was your age. Nice curled ones like a ram.”
Anya sniffled at that. “Anya wears these to match Mr. Chimera!”
They joined Yor on the couch, Anya snuggled up to her mother despite the damp clothing between them. Yor’s arms automatically pulled her daughter close and smoothed the damp pink hair back.
“Yes, this is Loid Forger,” he said into the antique phone to the WISE contact. “We hit a storm and are currently staying at this number’s address until the storm lets up and can get a new timing belt for the car. I won’t be able to address emergency patient calls for the next day at least.”
“Of course, Doctor. I hear the storm is sticking around for a while. We can reach you at this number, yes?”
“Yes. Let me confirm the address,” Loid covered the receiver and called to the mustached man. “I’m sorry sir. Could you tell us your name? I want to confirm the number in case they need to contact me.”
“No problem old chap!” Gomez smiled at Loid and waved at the tall woman gliding down the stairs with a small child on one hip and another in tow with a stack of clothing.
“You’re at the Addam’s House my boy! 1313 Cemetery Lane!”
With that information relayed to the agent, there was a long pause of static.
“I hope we’ll meet again on the other side, Doctor.”
Click.
What was that supposed to mean?