A/N: Wow. Weeks of writer's block and now that I have a sociology essay to be proofreading, the ideas are coming thick and fast. [sigh] C'est la vie, I suppose.

Also, 13th chapter! Yay! ^_^

As a child, Lucas Beineke had always associated Christmas with joy, light, and merriment. And also with complicated, pointy plastic toys made in China and taking two AA batteries (which never seemed to be included), but that part tended to get lost in the mists of nostalgia. With such a high standard for Christmases, he'd always expected them to be doubly jolly when he was grown up and had a family of his own.

Shivering in a cemetery on Christmas Eve and trying to talk his wife down from a panic attack, surprisingly, had never entered his mind.

"I'm pregnant. Oh god, I'm pregnant," Wednesday said, her breath coming in white puffs. Lucas fought to keep his frustration in check.

"Yes. You've been pregnant for three months now," he reminded her calmly. "And when you told me, it didn't seem to bother you at all."

Her dark eyes remained wide and fixed on the distant trees. "It hadn't really sunk in. Lucas, in six months a tiny, helpless creature is going to be relying on me for care. Its survival will be in my hands. What about this doesn't strike you as a terrible idea?"

Much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. No, he said firmly to himself; bad Lucas. Your job is to convince her she's wrong.

The young man pulled his striped scarf tighter around his neck and sat down beside his wife. Taking her cold, pale hand in his gloved one, he said earnestly, "Di, you'll be a great mother. I'm sure of it."

A snort was the only reply. Lucas tried a different tack.

"I've seen you take care of plants. And animals; what about those thoroughbred spiders when you were little?"

This time there was only silence from the black-clad figure to his right. The former Ohioan sighed, placed a hand under his wife's chin, and turned her face to his.

"Wednesday, listen," he said earnestly. "You said that Addams blood always breeds true, right? That means our child won't just be an ordinary baby. He or she will be an Addams- and that means there's nobody better to raise him or her than you."

He laughed quietly. "Actually, if anyone will have a problem, it'll be me. Imagine me trying to keep up with a kid from your family."

At last, a smirk cracked Wednesday's shell-shocked expression, and Lucas breathed an inward sigh of relief. She raised her free hand to stroke his cheek.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll try to keep him or her from hurting you too badly."

Lucas shot his wife a devilish smile. "That's your job."

Wednesday responded by digging her nails into his cheek. As she felt the skin barely break, she leaned forward, lips half-parted in anticipation-

-only to have her husband back away slightly. With a rueful sigh, he released her hand and stood.

"They're waiting for us," he said with a jerk of his head towards the crumbling house in the distance.

For a moment, it looked as if the young woman would protest. Then, she, too, rose from the bench. Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, she let him lead her away from the graveyard.

"I don't know how I'm going to say this," she muttered. "Merry Christmas; I'm pregnant?"

"Sounds like a good start," Lucas replied. "I know your mother will be happy."

At that, Wednesday stopped short. "Oh no. I forgot about Mother. I'll never hear the end of it. She'll-"

Her husband mentally kicked himself. And now we're back to square one.

-ONE YEAR LATER-

"They're here!"

Morticia looked up from her knitting with a bemused smile. She would never understand why, after the fuss and anxiety and acrimonium, her son was always so pleased to see the Addams-Beinekes. The 13-year-old who had disapproved so violently of their union now stood at the dining room window, watching his sister and her husband climb the front steps.

And daughter, the femme fatale reminded herself, with a glance at the half-finished romper in her lap. Though still an infant, Nell was already a lovely child, and black so flattered her.

The deafening sound of a foghorn shattered the silence. Lurch moved to open the door, but Pugsley was faster.

"Wednesday!" he cried, embracing his sister- who shifted the wriggling, gray bundle to her other arm and delivered a crushing blow to his stomach.

"Merry Christmas, Pugsley." She wandered into the parlor, leaving the pudgy teenager to exchange awkward glances with his brother-in-law.

"So," Lucas began, "are you having a good Christmas? What did you ask for this year?"

"The head of the jerk who got my sister pregnant."

Lucas regarded the boy calmly. "Really?" he replied. "Small world. I asked for the head of the jealous brat who nearly wrecked my parents' marriage."

Pugsley smiled and tapped some ash from his cigar into a wilting houseplant. "You're learning fast."

"I have a good teacher," the young father replied, glancing at his wife. She appeared to be remarking on a mass of black yarn hanging from Morticia's knitting needles. Lucas looked back at his brother-in-law and gestured to the low steps before them.

"Shall we?"

As they entered the parlor, Lucas noted the room's festive transformation. A garland of what appeared to be taxidermied bats hung from the molding- or at least, he thought they were taxidermied until one moved. The fire crackled in the hearth, just barely low enough to avoid scorching the fur-lined stockings pinned to the mantle. There was a sixth oversized sock this year, he noticed, with Nell carefully embroidered on the black velvet. And, of course, in one corner stood the Christmas tree: a mostly-bare pine hung with broken, red and green baubles and old-fashioned lights that looked like a house fire waiting to happen.

With a small, contented sigh, he added his packages to the pile of haphazardly wrapped gifts under the tree. They were among the few that weren't smoking or marked with toxic waste symbols. Straightening up, he felt something sharp against his back.

"Alright, you devil," hissed a heavily accented voice from behind him, "I have uncovered your plot. Where is the infant princess? No lies, señor, or I run you through!"

Lucas grinned and turned to face his father-in-law. "Wednesday's got her. I was put on pack-mule duty for the night."

"Ah, my sympathies," Gomez replied, lowering the rapier pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. "Felíz Navidad, son; the merriest of Christmases to you!"

He strode towards his daughter. "Paloma, always so wonderful to see you. And how's the little she-devil, eh?"

Nell paused in her attempt to eat her mother's hair and turned her large, brown eyes on her grandfather. Gomez instantly melted.

"There she is!" he cooed, holding out his arms to receive the bundle of blankets. "Who's the prettiest little imp to ever stalk the earth, hm? Is it you? Is it you?"

Shaking her head fondly at her father's baby talk, Wednesday turned back to Morticia.

"So no, to answer your question, we did not get her the Barbie. What kind of mother do you think I am? If Lucas hadn't stopped me, that salesgirl would have been ashes."

The older woman smiled approvingly and patted her daughter's cheek. "Well, some people are just disturbed, my dear." Suddenly, Morticia jolted up as if stung by a hornet.

"Oh no. I've just remembered that I left the yak roast in the oven. Un moment, s'il vous plait."

Wednesday just managed to extricate the baby from Gomez's arms in time before he rushed to his wife's side and began pressing kisses to her wrist. As she watched her parents engage in the usual token struggle, Lucas moved to stand at her side.

He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Together, they took in the happy chaos around them.

"Merry Christmas, my Diana."

-
A/N: Happy holidays to everyone! :)