Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. All credit goes Charles Addams and Paramount, as well as any other company that holds the rights to the sketches or the various tv series and films. If you see anything you recognise, it does not belong to me. You can't sue me, I don't have any money.
Author's note: My first fic in this category, so please be nice.
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Rain battered against the grimy windows, blurring his view, but this morning he didn't notice. The tiny bundle in his arms squirmed and sniffled slightly, but didn't wake. His son, his perfect baby boy.
He could remember the births of his children in the most vivid detail…
Wednesday was born just after midnight on a chilly autumn morning, along with the first frost that heralded the coming of winter. It was a foreign concept to him, but that night, having been banished to his study by the women, he felt true fear. Would he be a good father? Would he be able to raise his firstborn in the way an Addams should be raised? This child would one day need to carry the bloodline forward, ensuring the survival of this branch of the family tree. It would be his responsibility to guide this child, and he did not know if he would be capable of it.
The young midwife sent to inform him was forced to repeat herself twice before the words sunk in.
"Congratulations sir, you have a daughter."
The little porcelain doll, already so much like her mother, was practically weightless in his arms. Swaddled in a rough, grey blanket she seemed to have decided on her own name: 'Wednesday's child is full of woe'.
Pugsley was born nearly a month before he was expected to arrive. With his light hair, plump body and the never ending energy he reminded him painfully of Fester, clearly taking after his paternal grandmother, an outsider married into their family to ensure their survival. They had a son, the male heir his parents had hinted at. Wednesday wasn't entirely impressed with the new arrival but she seemed to accept her duties as older sister eventually. Even now, the two could fight like cat and dog, but united they were a formidable force.
Their third child came as a complete surprise. After Pugsley they wanted more children, but when months turned into years they had eventually given up hope and accepted their fate. Morticia's pregnancy, following just months after his brother's return, was celebrated throughout the family, but it certainly was not easy. Plagued by nausea and exhaustion she was put on bed rest twice and at times they feared for their unborn child, but it was unfounded.
Much like his sister the little boy was born at the turn of the seasons, spring was turning into summer and the days were slowly growing longer.
He studied his newborn son more closely. For all the boy looked like him, there were distinct hints of Morticia as well. The perfect combination of both his parents. He slept soundly, as only an infant could, swaddled in the same grey blanket that once belonged to each of his siblings in turn. An Addams by birth.
This would be their last child, of that he had no doubt, but he would be raised with love and care in the Addams way, he would see to that.
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