Hey thanks for the reviews on the first chapter.

Morticia Addams stared out in the velvety night, watching as her son and nephew trampled across the grave yard, dragging mucky spades behind them. Rankle was smaller than Pubert and had to stride to keep up with her athletic son, who also had the advantage of a year. But the moon bounced off her nephew's bald head, much like his father's and it made him look wonderfully ugly in the light.

She turned from the window, "It's a lovely evening."

her husband looked up from his book, "Indeed it is."

She smiled slightly at him. He returned it as he stood up and strode to the fire, lifting the bull clock from Versailles and twisting it. It had been a fabulous heirloom which his great Uncle Jean had plundered during the Revolution.

"Tish?"

"Yes?" She knew exactly what was coming, and with a sigh of quickly dying patience, raised a sceptical brow.

"Is Wednesday coming home tomorrow?"

She smiled pleasantly, "My darling husband, don't you believe me?"

he laughed slightly and made towards the door as the two boys came into the room, reverently holding a dead cat in the air and swinging matching rusty, blood covered axes .

"Look what we have Mother," Pubert smiled, "We got the cat that's been annoying Kitty."

"Good boy," she smiled slightly, imagining the dead pussy cat annoying the life out of poor Kitty cat, "But I thought you'd bury it."

She looked at Rankle, who smiled, "We thought Grandmamma would like it for dinner."

She patted the skin on his head, "How sweet of you."

"So boys," Gomez was behind her, his hand on her back, "Are you looking forward to the party?"

Rankle dropped the cat and rotten blood seeped from the stiff body onto the dusty floor, "Yes, I am! And Mother and Father will be back too."

"Yes," Gomez clapped his hands together, "I forgot to say Fester phoned earlier. Says the storm is wonderful and that Dementia narrowly missed being decapitated by a tree. Best hurricane they've ever seen."

"I'm jealous," Pubert mused slowly, climbing onto the couch, "Can't we go storm chasing?"

"We just returned from Montmartre and Pigalle," Morticia scolded gently, "And it's too boisterous for you, my darling boy."

Her son smiled slightly, "Maybe next year."

"Maybe," she laughed slightly.

"Where is Leucosia?" Gomez questioned, with a loving air of curiosity.

"Playing in my dressing room," Morticia answered.

"I shall go get her," Pubert suggested, motioning Rankle to follow him out of the room.

"They are quite the Motley Crew," Gomez laughed and came to stand behind her as she stared out into the night. He wrapped his arms round her waist and held her against him. She twisted her body at an awkward angle to kiss his jaw line.

"Imagine Tish," he laughed, "I can hardly wait! All my children in the one house in over six months, for an entire holiday. The boys, my daughters, my brother's family" he squeezed her side suggestively, " my wife… Everyone I want here."

"I know darling," she leaned back and kissed him briefly, "But it shall be exhausting, already the preparations for the party have begun. I feel Mamma will cook herself to exhaustion if Lurch doesn't over dust this place. He's been sprinkling it everywhere, and he's been trying to weed out the swamp. Oh, and Wednesday is bringing guests also."

At this he tensed, but immediately relaxed as she dug her nails into his wrist.

"It will be such fun," he laughed gleefully as he spun her dramatically in his arms, "I shall dance you off your feet!"

She laughed gleefully, "I shall hold you to-"

"Hello!"

The three children, the youngest deviants of the Addams clan, were standing on the threshold of the door. Gomez eyes lit up as the youngest in the middle ran towards him, her black hair flowing behind her. She was, in all aspects, an absolute miniature of her mother; even down to the red lipstick which had obviously been stolen from the dresser in the aforementioned dressing room. Where Wednesday's face was round like her father's, their other daughter's face was angular and aquiline and she pointedly refused to braid her ebony hair. He let her fly into her arms, and twirled her round lightly.

"Hello my little devil," he cried, setting her down on the floor. She moved to cling to her mother's legs.

"You had fun in my dressing room," Morticia smiled down at her youngest daughter, "We haven't seen you all day. Your lipstick is lovely, my darling."

"Thank you," she pouted, "Do I look pretty Father?"

"The very vision of your mother," he laughed as he set himself down on the couch and motioned to his knee. Leucosia, namd after the siren, settled herself on his lap, as Pubert and Rankle settled at his feet and Morticia took a seat in the old Queen Anne by the fire.

Morticia stared at her daughter and vividly recalled the night she had told her husband and how Wednesday was now at college and Pugsley had embarked on yet another rehabilitation course. She sighed contentedly.

"Father," Pubert requested, with the debonair air he had rightfully inherited and was very comfortable in, "Shall you tell us a story?"
Morticia smiled at her husband and cocked an eye brow.

"Indeed," he settled back and scratched his brow, "What shall I tell you?"
Leucosia, forever astute and wonderful tapped her father's shoulder politely, waiting it out as her older brother and cousin made loud suggestions.

"Father?"

"Yes my darling?"

"Tell about when I was born, or you and Mother meeting-"

"Oh but no " Pubert protested, with Rankle quick at his following protestations.

"No, darling," Morticia smiled slightly, "What about the Werewolf story, all of you like that."

All of them seemed to consider for a moment, and then each shook their head in agreement. Gomez cleared his throat dramatically, earning himself a laugh from the avid little group awaiting his gruesome, comforting stories. Morticia saw this as an opportunity to attend to her woefully neglected roses.

"Well," she stood, "Excuse me, I shall leave father to entertain you."

************

"Mother?"

"Yes dearest?" Morticia closed her daughter's wardrobe, and laid a silk dress over the chest at the end of the bed, with flat pumps and black stockings. The room was very precocious, with small perfume bottles on the dresser and shelves lined with old books that had been passed on; grim fairytales and anatomy textbooks.

Morticia turned to her daughter, who had carefully lined her current reading books on her night stand beside a small bottle of cyanide.

"When Wednesday comes home tomorrow I shall be so excited," she smiled lightly, "she promised me when we last spoke on the phone we could play Surgeon, if Pugsley and Pubert would oblige."

"I am sure they will, your brothers would never forgo a game involving surgical instruments."

"Of course not," she slid down in her bed as Morticia pulled the silk sheets up to her chin and sat down on the side of the bed, which was a monstrously carved piece of wood.

"Of course," she mused cleverly, with a quiet and thoughtful tone she had taken from her Mother, "Pugsley now has Rosa, perhaps she would like to join in."

"Indeed," Morticia conjectured, secretly amused by how wonderfully considerate her youngest was. "Well my darling it is late and we have a busy day tomorrow," she bent to kiss the little girls forehead.

"Goodnight Mother."

"Are they all in bed?" Gomez looked up from his vantage point on the silk sheets, sliding his glasses down so he could look over the silver frames.

"I see you're ready for bed," she raised a brow and disappeared into her dressing room, which was a massive

"My pyjamas were crying out," he laughed, kicking off his slippers onto the wooden floor.

"I bet they were," she answered dryly as she emerged, her night gown trailing behind her. She threw back the silk sheets and climbed in.

"Arm," she demanded as he raised his hand so she could lie on his chest, "Pass me my book?"

Slipping on his glasses he handed her the heavy tome and kissed her forehead gently as he took up his own book again. They read in contented silence for a while before it became too much for him. If she was being honest, she had expected it all day but had not thought it would come this late.

"Tish?" He had that tone of innocent curiosity, which was so transparent and nonchalant that it carried with it a ton of anxiousness. She laughed inadvertently, earning herself a frown.

"Yes Gomez?" she pressed her head against his chest and placed her book in his lap.

"Do you think any of Wednesday's guest are…" he looked awkward.

"A love interest?" She finished kindly, "Most probably."

He huffed slightly, "But I mean…"

"Gomez Addams, be quiet," she warned with a curt stare, "I wish her all the love, passion and excitement in life."

"She is my daughter," Gomez defended weakly, "And I don't want her mind wasted."

"Oh no," she laughed cruelly, "I cannot wait until Leucosia has a love if this is how you react with Wednesday! For your boys it is alright to be passionate but not for your daughters?"
he blushed slightly and then smiled, "Yes."

"I'll let you mull over that chauvinistic interpretation of romance," she raised an irritated brow.

"But I know what boys want," he protested, "I know what they're after…"

"And it never changes," she teased, rolling over to lie on her back.

"it does not," he laughed.

"If she is in love, she will be happy. If it is a fling so be it," she concluded.

"I will choose to suppress my irritation with all males who threaten my dominance of my daughter's lives," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Petulant man."

He switched off the lamp and placing both of their books to the side, slid down in the bed and folded her in his arms.

"That's why you love me," he kissed the back of her neck.

"That's why I love you," she answered, pulling his hands to rest on her abdomen, so he was nearer her.

Hope you enjoyed, please R&R,

M

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