AN: Hellooooooo!
I will be adding some chapters to this, lots of fluff, and non sexual intimacy. I have made a few changed since I initially uploaded this yesterday, grammatical ect.

His annual depression.
The anniversary of his brothers parting.
It had built up over the last week she noticed. He was either staying in bed for extended periods of time, and when he was up, he was locking himself away in the office, over working, trying to occupy his mind.

Morticia made her way to their private wing of the house. Both of her children were tucked away in their beds, this was the only time the house was deathly silent.
Coming up to her husband's study, noting the door was slightly ajar, a steady cloud of cigar smoke clouding the entrance.
Upon entering the room, dimly lit by the candelabra hanging from the ceiling, she saw him, leant right back in his leather chair, rocking back and forth slightly. His legs stretched out in front of him a half empty bottle of Scotch stood next to a half full glass, the cigar tray filled with ash. His organised paperwork strewn across the floor.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" she asked, making her into the room, seating herself in front of Gomez, perching on the edge of his mahogany desk.
He shook his head, exhaling the smoke from his cigar and placing it on the ridge of the ashtray before picking up the crystal glass and downing the last of the liquor within, savouring the burn in his throat. He was never much of a talker when he was down, he preferred his solitude, a drastic change to his normal flamboyant personality.
"I know you're hurting mon amour, just know that you're not alone."

Leaning back into his desk chair, he glanced at his wife. His beautiful wife. Pale, mysterious, the most loving creature he has ever encountered. He was not being the husband she deserved at the moment, and not once did she complain about his demeanour.
Sadness washed over him.
"I'm going to lose you." He said gloomily. Morticia looked at him perplexed.
"You are not going to put up with this forever."
"You're not going to lose me, mon amour." Not wanting to entertain his overdramatic, undoubtedly alcohol induced doubts.

He released a bemused sigh, he didn't believe her. Who would put up with someone who spent days in a depressive mood every year? Unable to move on, unable to forget. He ignores everything, and everyone during this time. Including the woman sitting before him.

Morticia observed him, she could tell the voice in his head was running laps around his conscious. He looked tired, exhausted even. His normally put together appearance was not his priority, he looked dishevelled which no doubt, was making him feel worse. His normally trimmed and tidied facial hair been left to cover his olive skin of its own free will. His smoking jacket thrown carelessly over the back of his chair, his shirt untucked, belt undone.

Gracefully standing up from his desk and reaching out for her husband's hand, Morticia offered a gentle smile. A silent request.
Reluctantly, he locked his fingers around her hand, leant forward and placed a lingering kiss against her palm, before pulling himself up from his chair, wobbling slightly on his feet, stubbing the remainder of his cigar out and throwing it carelessly on his desk. Morticia looked at him and caressed his stubbly cheek, feeling him lean into her hand. "Suis moi, mon amour." She purred.

Leading him from the room and a few doors down to their bedroom, and without stopping, and refusing to relinquish his hand just yet, she continued to their bathroom, before setting his hand free from her soothing grasp. Considering his office was dimly lit, she decided to recreate that same atmosphere for him in the bathroom. Reaching into his chest pocket for his lighter, and turning to light the small candelabra in the corner of the tiled room.

Making her way back to her husband, she ran her hands up his arms and untied his neck tie before placing it in his trouser pocket. Her hands running back up his chest, tugging his waistcoat from him, and undoing the buttons to his shirt, drawing it from him in the process and tossing it into their laundry hamper.
Placing a chaste kiss to his lips, her fingers ghosting over the skin of his stomach, she pushed him gently to sit on the edge of their bathtub.

"Just stay right here, okay?"
Gomez nodded. Closing his eyes as her fingers lovingly grazed his chin.

Running the sink full with hot water, she reached for a small brown bottle of eucalyptus oil, adding a few drops to the water, giving a delicious scent to the steam that rose from the basin. Placing her hand on her husband's cheek and caressed his face. Leaning down and placing a tender kiss against his lips.
"Some of this has to go." Running her vermillion nails through his unkempt beard.

Plunging a small fluffy towel into the sink, and wringing out as much water as possible, she folded it and placed it on her husband's face, her hands applying a gentle pressure. Leaning forward again and placing a loving kiss against his forehead.
Gomez closed his eyes and released a sigh, the steam and near searing heat doing wonders for the muscles in his jaw, kept clenched by his subconscious.

Removing the damp towel, she massaged his favourite shaving oil generously into his skin, and picked up his silver cut throat razor from the edge of the sink. Gomez eyed her curiously, cocking his brow.

Pressing the blade carefully into the skin under his chin, she looked into his eyes, a smirk hidden behind a loving gaze before carefully dragging the blade over his skin before rinsing it off in the water next to her and repeating the process.

Gomez closed his eyes, wordless, not needing to speak at the minute, not wanting to speak, the silence was comforting, as was the sound of the water swishing when she dipped the blade in and the smell of mint in the air.
He opened his eyes once he felt her lips against his, lingering, her free hand scratching gently against the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

Gazing up at his wife, he fully relaxed under her skilful hand. A smile gracing his handsome face for the first time in days. Many ways she had shown love and care to him, this was no different. He allowed her to adjust the position of his head with each stroke of the blade. Pressing her lips forcefully against his as she pressed the blade to his skin again. Gomez flinched at the sudden increase of his heart thumping in his chest, his fingers digging into his palm as her teeth grazed his lip, before she pulled away and continued her attentive caress to his face with the sharpened blade.

Making the last swipe over the side of his cheek, removing the last of the stubble, delighted with her handywork, even prouder there were no cuts to his skin.
Allowing the used water to drain, the tap was quickly turned on again, grabbing for a second black towel, she submerged it into the fresh water and drained it as much as possible before gently wiping it over his skin. The slight sting from the eucalyptus oil bringing him out of his relaxed daze.

"There." She breathed out, placing the blade back on to the sinks edge. "My husband is back."

"Querida.." he mumbled, grabbing her by the hips with both of his hands and bringing her to sitting on his lap. "Thank you." He whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her perfume.
Morticia smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his now soft cheek and under his chin, making him look at her. "De rien chèri"
"Je t'aime" she whispered against his lips. Gomez kissed her, no matter his moods, he could never refuse the French words of love that only he would hear.