A/N: Look! I'm updating like a responsible adult who honors her commitments! ^^"
No other relevant/interesting news. Enjoy, and I still don't own anything.
"Look, Jon, this means a lot to me. Please?"
Jonathan Sedge shot his erstwhile roommate an incredulous glance over the soy sauce.
"Lucas," he said, gesturing dismissively with his chopsticks, "You know I'm happy to be your best man. But when you tell me you're getting married on Halloween, in a cemetery, at midnight- what is this chick, a vampire?"
Lucas swallowed a bite of sweet-and-sour pork and groaned. "Come on, you met Wednesday! I thought you two got along fine!"
"She said 'Hello' and then stared at me until I left," Jon replied. "There was barely any getting along, good or bad.
After taking a sip of his drink, he ran a hand through his spiky blond hair and continued, "And it seems like she's running the show here. You're acting totally whipped, man!"
The young poet opened his mouth to leap to his beloved's defense- and promptly shut it again. Because, try as he might to ignore it, what Jon had said was true. He hadn't tried to take an active part in the wedding preparations- in fact, to date he'd barely given input beyond absently nodding consent. Supposedly he had veto rights, or so Wednesday had told him on multiple occasions, but he'd never really given it much thought. At the beginning of the process, Mal had taken him aside and attempted to impart fatherly wisdom.
"Son," the contractor had said, "the thing about weddings is, they drive women temporarily insane." A thoughtful pause. "Or more insane, in this case. But my point is that a woman spends a lot of time planning her wedding before you even enter the picture. So she won't take kindly to you butting in. It's her day. Take my advice and let her do whatever she wants with it."
But the more Lucas thought about it, the more preposterous the idea of his fiancée having childhood wedding dreams sounded. Funeral dreams, maybe, but-
He became dimly aware that Jon was talking again.
"…sorry, but that's just how it looks from here." The other man sat back in his chair, regarding Lucas with a slightly anxious look. Lucas took another sip of his drink and considered how to respond.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I get that. I guess it's just- I didn't want to make it more stressful for her, you know? This isn't exactly her thing."
Jon snorted, earning a glare from his dining companion, who continued, "But you're probably right that I should be more involved, okay? I'll talk to her about it tonight."
"Hey," the blond replied, shrugging, "It was just my opinion."
They sat in silence for a moment, picking at the greasy remnants of their dinner. The check came and was dealt with, and they were putting on their coats when Jon spoke again.
"And, hey, Lucas? I'll do it."
Deep in the bowels of the city, a battle raged. It was the timeless struggle between good and evil, a war to decide the fate of humanity. The masked crusader valiantly weathered blow after blow from a giant, white-cloaked figure, all the while mustering his strength for a final, death-or-glory attack. As he held his fiery javelin poised to strike…the phone rang.
Groaning, a tall, olive-skinned young woman pushed her chair away from the drawing board and picked up the receiver.
"Consuela Santiago. Yes? Yes! Oh my god, it's been ages! How are you?"
She leaned back and propped her feet against the table, careful not to smudge the half-finished comic page. As a voice chattered on the other end, Consuela smiled.
"Engaged? Wow, that's- no, of course I'm not surprised. Well, maybe a little bit." A note of excitement crept into her voice. "Is it Joel? We all thought- okay, okay, calm down! It was an honest mistake."
Idly twisting a dark curl around one finger, she sighed. "Six years. It still feels like yesterday. I've never had that much fun, before or since. Although, what I did to the bullies at school the next year was pretty satisfying."
More muffled speech from the other end of the line. The young artist sat up straight, scooted the chair over to a cluttered desk, and began thumbing through a datebook.
"Yeah, I'm still in the city. I'm in graphic novels, actually, working for this company called Gravitas. No, you wouldn't have heard of it; it's pretty new. Heatstroke? Ring a bell?" She finally seemed to find the right page in the book, one relatively free of inked scrawls.
"It looks like I'm free on Halloween. What's going on?"
A moment later, she clapped a hand to her mouth, smiling still more broadly. "Your bridesmaid? Oh, Wednesday, this is- sure, yes, I'd love to! Thank you so much! What? No, that's not a problem; let me pencil it in."
She groped around in the mounts of papers and Post-It notes before finally locating a pen. As she scribbled in the datebook, she muttered to herself, "Dress…fittings…5….PM…"
Her attention returned to the phone. "Okay, got it. I'll see you on Monday, then? Great. Yeah, you too. Bye."
Consuela hung up, stretched briefly, and pushed the chair back towards the drawing table. After glancing down at the page before her, she chuckled softly and began replacing the superhero's javelin with a bow and flaming arrow.
A/N: Consuela, in case you were wondering, is not an OC. She appears briefly in "Addams Family Values" as one of the other not-so-cheery Chippewas who is cast as an Indian in the pageant. I think you can also see her pie-ing someone in the face during the actual pageant scene. For Jon, though, I take full responsibility.