A/N: So it's the amazing Gleefully Wicked's birthday, which calls for WxL fluff. Ellie, may your day be full of showtunes and attractive, scantily-clad people. Happy birthday. :)


Nothing says "matron of honor" like a very pregnant woman in a hideous yellow gown.

Wednesday sighed. No matter how many times she closed her eyes and counted to thirty, the mirror wouldn't show anything but…well, a very pregnant woman in a hideous yellow gown. One hand strayed to the curve of her stomach.

"I know it's her favorite color, but come on," she muttered under her breath. "I look like the sun."

"What's that, Di?" a male voice called from outside the door.

"Nothing. Come in."

The door creaked open and Lucas entered, dressed in a tuxedo with a cummerbund and boutonierre that matched her dress.

"Almost ready?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just lamenting your mother's color choices."

"Hey, it's her wedding," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, you look lovely."

Wednesday looked away from the ebony-framed mirror and raised one eyebrow. "I look like an egg yolk."

Lucas grinned and moved to stand next to her, placing his hands on her stomach.

"An egg yolk? Really?"

"Don't. You. Dare," she said. But despite her glare, the young woman's lips curved upward.

Her husband rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Oh, come on. You walked right into that one; it's not my fault."

As he wandered over to the mirror and adjusted his black bowtie, Wednesday tugged on the satin of her dress uncomfortably. Lucas glanced at her.

"You okay?"

"This isn't a maternity dress; let's leave it at that," she answered with a sigh.

"Doctor Harris did say any day now."

She nodded. "That's what worries me."

Without a moment's hesitation, Lucas walked over to her. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up so their eyes met.

"Diana, you're going to be a great mother. I know it. Don't worry."

Memories sprung unbidden to his mind, of a day nine months before.

"They accepted it!"

The front door swayed in the wind, still open, as Lucas raced toward the stairs. Papers flew from a folder clutched in his hand, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Di," he called, taking the creaky wooden steps two at a time, "they accepted it! I'm going to be published! I-"

It dawned on him that the house was unusually quiet about the same time he reached their bedroom. The usual sounds- explosions, gunshots, knives being thrown, or some concoction furiously bubbling on a lab burner –were conspicuously absent. Slowly, the young man approached the closed door to the connecting bathroom and knocked gently.

"Wednesday?"

No answer. His joy began to give way to worry, and he knocked harder, causing white paint to flake away from the wood.

"Wednes, are you in there?"

"It's not locked." Her voice, even muffled through the door, held a note of…what? Lucas couldn't tell. Something he'd never heard in it before, but what exactly was a mystery. Turning the brass knob, he pushed the door open.

Still as a statue, his wife sat perched on the edge of the claw-footed tub. Just as he noticed the strip of white plastic in her hand, she spoke again.

"I'm pregnant," she said quietly.

And just like that, the meeting with the publisher was driven entirely out of Lucas' mind.

A crash from outside jolted Lucas from his thoughts. Wednesday glanced out the window.

"Why did they want to have the wedding here, again?"

"You'd have to ask Mom," he replied. "Unless Lurch said why."

She shook her head. "No, and I never thought to ask until now. He just said they wanted to get married at our place and I didn't see any reason why not, so…"

Lucas chuckled. "Can you believe they ended up together?"

"Yes," Wednesday answered. At his look of disbelief, she continued, "They connected that first night she came here. I was watching from the upstairs landing when they met, and it was just…zing!"

"Did you just say 'zing'?"

"Shut up; I can't think of a better way to describe it."

Lucas straightened her ever-present ruby locket, hanging on its thick chain beside the one he'd given her on their honeymoon. "No, I understand. When we got home, she couldn't stop talking about him. Dad went crazy when they started writing to each other."

"Not to mention," Wednesday added wryly, "that they started dating two weeks after the divorce came through."

"God, sometimes I wonder why Mom and Dad even got married in the first place." He, too, stared out the window at the organized chaos on the lawn below.

After a moment (during which Lurch appeared to be breathing into a paper bag under Gomez's guidance, Wednesday answered, "They were in love. Or thought they were."

"I guess you're right," he replied. "That's why most people get married, after all."

His wife nodded, looking in the mirror in yet another fruitless attempt to adjust her dress. "It's why we did."

"Because we thought we were in love?!"

His look of mock horror earned him a (comparatively) gentle slap on the arm. But as she turned to face him, her brown eyes were warmed by a smile.

"I don't think I'm in love with you, Lucas Beineke," she said; "I know it. You are my light, my heart, and stuck with me whether you like it or not."

Lucas slipped his arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer. "Good," he whispered in the moment before their lips met. "And I love you, too, my Wednesday."

Both were too preoccupied to notice when the altar spontaneously combusted outside.


A/N: Hope you liked it, Ellie!