Work Text:
Pressing her back against the uncomfortable leather seat, Morticia took a second to rest her eyes. She tried to focus on the sound of rain beating against the car, filtering through the trees and pooling on the familiar patch of road.
She was positively exhausted.
February was a busy time for the Frump family, requiring members from all over to congregate. As if cursed, members seemed to either drop dead, become violently ill, mysteriously disappear, or some mixture of all three. This year was particularly deadly and as difficult as it was to plan eight separate funerals, Morticia also had the misfortune of dealing with multiple quarrelsome relatives. Sensing her struggle, Mama eventually took pity and decided to send her home early.
Later she would have to find a way to repay her mother for covering for her, but all she wanted to do right now was see her children then sleep for a day in her husband’s arms.
Opening her eyes, she sighed and instructed the driver to park in front of the house. He gave her a nervous look but complied. Fortunately, Gate seemed to sense her presence and opened up to let them in without incident. As they neared the driveway, Morticia couldn’t help but notice how dark the house looked. Well, darker than usual.
Wait.
Her eyes narrowed, scanning the dimly lit driveway. Where was the hearse? It was far too late for the children to be out of the house, and Lurch was a homebody at heart. That left Gomez and Fester. Her heart sunk a bit, wondering if Gomez had done something rash again in her absence.
“Here?” the driver spluttered when he stopped in front of the steps.
Not having the time nor the energy to deal, she merely offered the man a smile in return, paying him, collecting her things, and shutting the door behind her. The car couldn’t speed off any faster.
Umbrella in one hand and luggage in the other, Morticia climbed up the rotting stairs and pushed open the heavy wooden doors with a creak.
It was past the children’s bedtime, but she still expected to hear their mischievous patter across the floorboards. She expected to hear Lurch dutifully playing the harpsichord before bed. Or Fester and Dementia chatting away. Even the sounds of Gomez in the throes of grief would have been more tolerable. Instead, she was met with absolute silence and near-total darkness.
Her body shuddered, gaze following a trail of lit candles on the floor. It ran past the vestibule and the foyer before disappearing up the staircase.
It looked like the beckoning of Satan.
For the first time in a while, Morticia was left utterly confused. Did Gomez do this? And where were her children and the others? She stood frozen for a second longer than she would have liked, catching her bearings. With a dull thud, she dropped her luggage and umbrella on the veranda before crossing the threshold.
She was tempted to call out into the darkness, but given that it was a 50/50 chance of this being her husband’s doing or the work of a psychotic killer with a taste for romance, she decided not to take the chance. Instead, she relied on muscle memory to reach for the switch on the wall.
Light flooded the room, fully revealing the thick black candles and along with them, what looked like blood-red rose petals littering the path. Morticia took a step forward to inspect her home. Everything looked in order, no broken furniture or signs of a struggle to indicate foul play. She eyed the still lit trail of candles and rose petals disappear up the stairs. Whomever it was that did this clearly meant for her to follow. She turned on her heels to gather her things when her eyes aligned on something taped to the door. A note. One that her tired eyes completely missed.
She snatched up the note, releasing a breath when she immediately recognized her husband’s aslant handwriting.
‘A taste of what’s to come, my dear. We have the house to ourselves, come upstairs and we’ll make the best of it.’
As much as she wanted to murder Gomez for making her disoriented, a small smile tugged at her lips. It would be a shame of her to spoil his little gift, so she switched off the lights, and shut the door, letting the darkness swallow her.
The click of her heels echoed through the house as she followed the candles. Gomez always had a penchant for the dramatic. When he wasn’t lavishing her with jewels and furs, he would surprise her with tickets to luxury restaurants, the opera, impromptu vacations and the like. And for whatever reason, he always insisted on getting grander as the years went by. But this was different. Utterly theatric yet subtle in a way she wasn’t expecting.
Halfway up the staircase she heard the faint sound of music. Her heart fluttered a bit when she recognized the smooth melody and the languid double stops. It was the song he had played for their first anniversary. On that glorious cruise that sunk off the coast of Florence. The Violin Sonata.
Her interest only piqued further when the scent of bitter almonds met her at the entrance to their wing. She followed the trail into their bedroom where it stopped at their bathroom door. She bit her bottom lip, Gomez’s romantic proliferations caused her chest to bloom with a strange giddy sensation and her body shivered slightly as she crossed the room, beyond eager to be in her husband’s embrace again.
She heard it before registering his presence. The bathroom door slamming open. And in an instant, she was engulfed by a pair of strong familiar arms.
“Mon Cher!” she gasped as Gomez picked her up bridal style.
“Cara Mia!” he drawled before bringing their lips together. One arm flung around the back of his neck and the other cupping his cheek, she poured out her frustrations into the kiss. He reciprocated in earnest, groaning deep with longing into her mouth. She didn’t know how she managed to survive not seeing or touching him for an entire week. He sucked her tongue into his mouth suggestively. She responded by biting down on his lower lip until she tasted copper.
“Ouch!” he grinned, breaking the kiss. He put her down and wrapped his arm tight around her waist, pressing kisses along her face and jaw, “Darling, I missed you so much!”
“Mmm as did I,” she sighed as his lips lowered to nip at her neck. After a minute, she took his face into her hands, content with simply just gazing at him for eternity. That is until she recognized the mischievous glint playing in his eyes. One that meant he either did something cataclysmic, or he was excited about the potential of doing so.
“Darling, what did you do?”
Gomez grinned wider, and the shadows from the candles made him look even more demonic than before. It was also at that moment she realized that he was wearing his silken bathrobe rather than his night clothes.
Instead of replying, he opened the bathroom door for her to see.
She gasped.
Dozens of thick, blood-red candles sat aglow in their grayscale bathroom. Strategically placed on the cabinets, in the shower, lining countertops, and in the sink, the room was flooded in candlelight. Red and black rose petals decorated the porcelain floor, some forming symbols of love, others scattered alongside the candles. An old record player tucked between the sink and the toilet played their song. And at the center of it all was their large obsidian bathtub. Black candles circled the base and at the rim sat a loofah, a bottle of shower gel, and various oils and perfumes. The water looked a misty, milky color, and smelled delicious. On a small table next to the tub held a wine pitcher with a bottle of Don Perigone and two wine glasses.
He embraced her from behind, “ Mi amor, I know we don’t officially recognize Valentine’s day, but I do intend to make up for my bad behavior last year.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, “Besides, I know how horribly tense you get during this time. What do you think?”
What did she think?
When Gomez would come to her with a gift, usually every Wednesday, and always around mid-afternoon after Cleopatras feeding, a small conceited part of her would hope for jewelry of some kind. Silver rings and bracelets were at the front of her mind. Ones meant for small events like the auction or at fundraisers, and others worn for his eyes only. A nice diamond necklace was also appreciated if only to add to her collection. Sometimes when she felt devious, she’d hope for a new pair of ruby or onyx earrings to rile up the bitter women she was forced to associate with at of Gomez’s functions. And she did feel a sense of gratification when she would walk past her closet full of clothes he bought that she would seldom wear more than once. It was vanity, plain and simple and she saw no reason to quell it. Neither did Gomez for that matter because he would always get her exactly what she wanted.
And while she certainly didn’t expect jewels, she also couldn’t say she quite expected this either.
Morticia turned around in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss. She loved it. In fact, she might even love this a bit more than her precious stones. But she’d never let him know that.
She brought her lips to her ear and whispered, “Mon coeur, je t’aime plus que je ne peux jamais décrire. Yes, I love it. And darling please don’t fret over last year. I missed you just as much.” Last year she was gone for nearly the entire month. And while she didn’t attempt anything quite as drastic as flinging herself off a balcony, Mama did have to keep a watchful eye over her lest she did something foolish out of misery.
Gomez nodded keenly and took her hand, leading her to the tub, “Cara, I did some research and I found that apparently milk and water do wonders for your skin! And I added a few cyanide caps just to be sure.”
“Very good darling.” She made a show of turning around and gathering her hair to one side, “Unzip me?” she asked under hooded lashes.
Gomez’s body shook with glee as he rushed to unzip her dress and pulled it along with her underwear to the floor. She reached behind to unhook her bra and stepped out of the puddle, making sure to rest it somewhere it wouldn’t catch fire. Gomez on the other hand practically tore off his robe and discarded it on the floor before climbing in. He took her hand in his and guided her into the tub. Her muscles immediately relaxed when she came into contact with the warm milky water. She sighed and leaned back against her husband’s chest.
His fingers dipped below the water to trace lazily up and down her sides, drawing patterns across her stomach and thighs.
“Gomez,” she smiled at his teasing.
He chuckled behind her, fingers gliding back up her sides and out the water where it found purchase pressing and kneading into her shoulder blades. Her eyes nearly rolled back at the sensation.
Yes. This is what she needed.
Her sighs of pleasure encouraged him to press harder, gathering her hair to one side so he could massage her neck as well.
“Cara, you’re so tense. Did something terrible happen on your trip?”
“Hmm? Yes, well not so much terrible, more so terribly irritating,” she sighed. “All that talk of money and estates makes me weary. Aunt Norma died unexpectedly and her will seemed to be the only thing of importance to her children and sisters.”
“Aunt Norma. Was that the tender-hearted one who goes mad with love each year and-”
“-Tries to poison her husband and children, yes.” she finished for him. “I suspect one of her sons got to her first.”
“Ha! I wouldn’t be surprised. The land under that old motel she clings to must be worth a fortune by now!”
She hummed her affirmation and they fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. After he was done, he reached to the side to pour them both a glass of wine.
“To us,” they toasted with a clink. She downed the glass, not realizing how thirsty she was, and poured herself another.
“Scooch,” he instructed after finishing his glass, reaching down to tap her backside playfully, “let me massage your feet.”
Fully relaxed and on the verge of getting tipsy, she giggled, doing what he asked. She laid her head against the opposite side of the tub and let her body sink further into the concoction while he worked on her feet. After a few rubs, Gomez began to do something incredibly childish. That is, he started playing this little piggy with her toes. She laughed, splashing him and undoubtedly ruining a few candles in the process. He beamed, nibbling at her toes playfully.
At some point in the night, they drained the tub and filled it back up with warm water. Gomez had taken the opportunity to leave for a new minute and came back dragging an old tv on a stand, along with a copy of Nosferatu and two plates of sauteed bloodworms.
He pulled her onto his lap in the tub just as the credits rolled, where they spent the following hour and a half feeding each other between languid kisses and devoted whispers of love and worship.
She tipped her head back for another kiss, hand sliding behind his neck to keep him there. He gripped her waist from behind, pressing her into his chest. The tv was blank and the record player was off, so the only sound heard beyond the ripple of water were their sounds of pleasure.
“Hmm, Gomez…” she sighed into their kiss. Her body was alight but her brain was far too tired to comply.
“Tish, mia piccola rosa di radica,” he chuckled. In the morning, if she remembers, she would have to punish him severely for thinking he could get away with that compliment. But until then, she simply rested her head against his chest and tried not to fall asleep right there.
“Oh Tish, you’re exhausted. Come, let me take you to bed.”
“No,” she mumbled, not unlike a child, “Do me one thing first.”
“Anything you wish.”
“Would you sing to me?”
Gomez smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I’ll do you one better,” he said before gently untangling their limb and climbing out of the tub. She immediately hated the lack of contact and leaned back to watch his movements. He padded over to the nearly abandoned record player, tinkering with it for a moment before it began paying Donna non vidi mai.
“Donna non vidi mai simile a questa…” he sang, slowly walking back to her.
Nearing the tub, he got down to one knee, “A dirle io t’amo, a nuova vita l’alma mia si desta!”
“Gomez Addams mi chiamo!” he intoned, bringing his hand firmly to his chest.
Carefully jumped into the tub, he pulled her close, “Come queste parole profumate mi vagan nello spirito e ascose fibre vanno a carezzare,” he crooned into her ear.
He rocked her in his arms, humming the rest into her ear
“...Sussurro gentil, deh, non cessar.” he finished softly, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“Oh Gomez!” she cried. She wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face into his neck. Her heart was soft for him and her eyes teary at his beautiful rendition and the beautiful night he gave her.
Gomez slid his arms behind her back and under her thighs, lifting her into his arms. He stood up and carried her shuddering body into their bedroom. He made quick work of drying them both before pulling back the sheets and laying her on the bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The next day she woke up naked, warm, and wrapped up in several layered blankets. The bathroom was cleared of any evidence of what occurred the night before. All except for the faint scent of bitter almonds.
That day she decided to spend it with her children. Helping Wednesday with her witchcraft, planning a study schedule for Pugsley, and taking Pubert to his playdates. That night, however, when they were alone and he was panting from the relentless whippings she gave him for his little compliment, she tipped his head back and placed a tender kiss on his forehead, and whispered her gratitude into his willing mouth.