The party made her skin crawl.

Morticia clutched the stem of her glass so tightly she feared it might break. Then she would have no respite.

Mr Chambers was a very extravagant man. And in some ways, she could understand the friendship between him and her husband, but she always likened the rotund man as more of a friend to her sister, Ophelia. They certainly shared the same taste in decor.

Morticia was like a ghost in the hall. Floating by, never to be noticed amongst the drunken businessmen and young, doe-eyed hopefuls.

Except Gomez. No matter where she went, his gaze followed. She kept her back to him, but he was never deterred. It made her very uncomfortable.

She wished someone would order the large windows to be closed; the wind bit at the exposed skin of her thigh. Morticia crossed an arm over her chest and brought her glass to her lips.

She wanted to go home.

After another minute, she resigned herself to her fate and walked back to her table. By then, Chambers found it fit to regale the crowd about his monthly trips to exotic brothels, and his admirers exclaimed in faux glee like the simpering fools they were. Morticia wanted to scoff and roll her eyes at the mini spectacle but remained silent, not wishing to sour the mood.

She smiled when Gomez jumped up to pull her chair out.

"Cara?"

"Yes, darling?" The music was the loudest here. The vibrations made her teeth clatter.

Gomez took her hand in his, trailing kisses along her fingers. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you feeling unwell?"

Morticia offered another smile, this time a bit more genuine. Gomez was the perfect man for her. And so handsome too, she was proud to say. Decades of consistent sword fighting seemed to pay off, as she could see his toned muscles even through that striped suit she adored. And oh, she both envied and loved the genes that made him so exquisite with salt and pepper hair.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you've been acting a bit...flighty lately."

"Flighty?" Morticia quirked a brow.

It was only slightly amusing watching Gomez come up with his next reply. Sometimes she loved to make him sweat in public.

"Tish I-"

A loud slam of the table startled them. All eyes turned to Chambers' boisterous reaction as their waiter returned with drinks. Morticia cringed internally when his minions reacted in kind and waited patiently for her wine.

Château Lafite was never her favorite brand. It was too expensive to have such a bitter aftertaste, and it often sat heavy and red on her tongue. But tonight it was like her comfort drink. Merlot stained the inside of her glass as she filled it a modest halfway.

Everything was on one tab, so she ordered the whole bottle. Fuck Elliot Chambers.

Gomez watched with a scrupulous eye as she guzzled down half her glass like water.

"We should go home," he said after a moment.

"No." The wine began to warm her belly, and her tone was a bit rougher than she intended. "Darling, I'd hate to tear you away from your...friends."

"Tish, it's you I'm worried about. Forget them," he said and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Let's go home, yes?"

She nearly gave in at that moment. She truly did. Yes, let him take her in his arms and try not to break down on the way to the hearse. Let him carry her into the house and in their room. Crawl into his embrace and confess all the doubts and weaknesses plaguing her for ages now. Let him comfort her as she made an utter fool of herself within the comfort of her own marriage bed.

Gomez ran a hand through her hair. She let out a sigh as his nails grazed her scalp. His fingers glided down her hair, and in the gleam of the light, nearly, but not quite hidden by inky black hair, was a single silver strand.

She felt a pang in the pit of her belly.

"Gomez, it's fine. But I am feeling a bit restless. Nothing a quick walk around the room can't help."

If Gomez was suspicious then, he was on high alert now. " But Tish, you just sat down. I'll walk with you," he said standing up.

A hand settled on his shoulder blade, gentle yet commanding as she rose. Their eyes stayed locked as she pushed him down, breaking only when she took a moment to drain the rest of her glass. His eyes trailed over the immodest dip of her decolletage.

"Gomez." His eyes flickered back up to hers.

"Sit. Stay. I'll only be gone for 10 minutes."

Gomez stared at her for another moment, no doubt contemplating whether to object or give in to his most base instincts. But in the end, he could do nothing else but nod obediently.

Morticia smirked, resting her empty glass down, and leaned to kiss him before walking away.

She felt perhaps it was cruel to seduce her husband into submission. Or at the very least, unfair to him, so she doesn't do it often.

But it was times like that when she felt her most powerful; When she would be busy with her task, feigning ignorance to the effects she had on Gomez. It reassured her in the very early days of her marriage that he was much too obsessed to cheat. And over the years, she reveled in his obsessions that boosted her confidence and assurance. She both pitied and enjoyed the jealous looks she would get from associates' wives when their husbands would let their eyes wander as well.

She loved him, of course. More than she was capable of loving anyone and anything besides her children. And she would die for him and with him when their time came. But nowadays, she craved more.

Because Morticia Addams was a woman with needs. Selfish ones, she'd admit but needs nonetheless.

So she made her way across the room for the third or fourth time and ignored Gomez's piercing gaze. She followed a very familiar path and willed her hips to sway softly to the music.

A few girls swarmed her with words of affectation past saccharine smiles, but Morticia regarded them politely and carried on. With the way they dressed, she imagined they would eventually catch the eye of some wealthy gentleman in need of an ego boost.

Men were hardly capricious by nature. In fact, they were quite obvious with their desires. It must have been an evolutionary thing that had them, without fail, lusting after young women with pretty faces and a slender body.

And though she would never describe herself as pretty, men had always wanted her. And she enjoyed turning them down.

That is until she turned 45.

It was silly to think that at some arbitrary age she would look in the mirror and notice lines that weren't there before. That suddenly she would run her hands along her body and skim past places that were not quite as firm as they used to be.

It was very silly. Morticia a month ago would have laughed at the very idea.

A few gentlemen offered her a smile, a fleeting glance in her direction, before refocusing on the younger girls.

So she fled, defeated, and humiliated to the restrooms.

Morticia was more relieved than she cared to admit when her dress fit. It was a suggestive little number, not quite appropriate for a birthday party. And that was exactly why she bought it.

She'd been so sure of herself earlier. The deep burgundy paired so well on her pale skin. And Gomez seemed to be the most enthusiastic, raining kisses along her arms, across the whisper-thin straps of her gown and singing praises so lewd, it made her knees weak.

She looked in the mirror and ran a hand over the soft velvet.

This was a mistake.

She wished she just allowed Gomez to take her in their foyer and to bed.

Past your prime.

The thought which simmered at the back of her mind began to fester. Morticia clutched the marble countertops and took a deep breath.

It was a cruel thought, she'd said reassuringly to herself nearly a month ago. No need to overreact.

But right now, Morticia saw not a dignified lady in red, but an old woman playing dress-up in her daughter's closet. Had she truly turned into one of those desperate women she used to mock in her youth?

The thought alone mortified her.

Morticia shivered, suddenly aware of how exposed she really was. She crossed her arms and turned away from the sad sight staring back at her. Hot tears burned at the back of her eyes. She gave a sharp inhale, wiping furiously at them to ensure they would not fall. It would be too much for her to take. To break down here and be seen red-eyed when Gomez escorted her out. She wouldn't be taken seriously. Of course, let a man lose himself for a moment and be deemed brave. But she didn't have that kind of luxury.

And she would not be branded forever as Gomez Addams' hysterical wife.

Morticia ripped a piece of paper towel from its dispenser and soaked it in the sink. The cool sensation grounded her as she pressed it against her neck and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello, Mrs Addams."

The voice startled her, though she was quick to recover. The girl was a dainty little thing with sun-kissed skin. Morticia hid her displeasure well at her blindingly yellow floral dress.

"Good evening."

The girl gave her a sweeping glance over, and Morticia would have been offended if she didn't do it subconsciously as well. She joined her at the sink, a tube of pink lipgloss already perched at the edge of her lips.

"Lovely party we're having," she said with a lilt as sweet as the delicate curl of her ringlets.

"Quite."

The girl caught her sarcasm and pitched her a sly smile. "I know how you feel. I had to get away from the chaos, as well."

"I see." The girl observed the towel still pressed to her neck. Morticia promptly threw it away. "Are you with Mr Chambers?"

She shook her head. "Mr Maxwell. Either way, I plan to leave with any one of them if they don't gorge themselves to death."

Morticia laughed for what seemed like the first time all night at the flimsy joke. The girl was almost too deceptively sweet, with thick long lashes hiding the mischievous glint in her eyes. She almost reminded her of herself at that age, minus the childish aesthetic.

"I was actually trying to catch Mr Chambers' eye at the balcony," the girl continued. "It's beautiful this time around. But the drunk hardly noticed."

Morticia rolled her eyes. "Of course he didn't, the trick is to get them alone." Persuaded by the girl's curiosity, she added, "Don't you know the quickest way to a man's heart is through his inflated ego?"

The girl arched both brows as if she were hearing this all for the very first time. And in that instance, she looked much younger than she really was. Of course, Mr Chambers and co would love her.

"I never thought of that before! Gosh, I'll have to try it." The girl stuck the tube back in her purse with a new sense of agency.

"Mrs Diane Chambers. Has a nice ring, doesn't it?" she giggled and pushed through the doors, the click of her heels echoing after her.

Morticia glanced back in the mirror with a small grimace. She was far above wondering what Diane had that she didn't. Of course, they would want the young, pretty thing in new wrapping and toss her to the side. Never mind the girls they lust after could be as old as their daughters.

Morticia, and presumably the other older women, did nothing to deserve that treatment. In fact, the younger girls did nothing to be looked at as another pair of legs to parade around by day and finish into by night.

She looked at herself in the mirror with distaste. And here she was now, another pawn in their game competing to be the belle of the ball.

She felt disgusted with herself, like some sort of clown; A toy for amusing men like Mr Chambers or any of the others.

Most of them were boring and not particularly handsome, nor did they try to be appealing. So why must she continue to dress up to amuse them while they dictated who felt attractive or not?

The very thought that they held some kind of power over her made her nauseous.

She knew her Gomez was different from the rest. He gave her his power so willingly to share, and she was always grateful for that. But in the end, even he couldn't help her. For outside the comfort of their home, she still fell in step behind him, vulnerable to stereotypes of old nagging wives and cheating husbands.

She hated that feeling.

And she hated having her power taken away.

Morticia turned on her heels and marched out the door. She needed that power back, and none of these men would provide it. But Gomez, she was sure, would offer his up again and again at her request.

The cool breeze chilled her heated body. She scanned the hall, satisfied that most had either left or gone outside. Morticia paced across the room and paused, taken aback at her husband's present company.

A gaggle of girls sat around him. Gomez, to his credit, looked uncomfortable, but Morticia didn't particularly care at that moment. Because her attention was on that tart from earlier sitting on her chair.

Trying to seduce her husband.

It enraged her.

Gomez noticed her right away as she stalked over to them. A few girls also noticed. Wide-eyed and frightened, they wisely got up, But that stupid little girl didn't.

She snatched the girl's wrist as it went to touch Gomez's arm. The girl gasped, and a lesser Morticia would have torn her face to ribbons.

"Morticia!"

What was left of the party watched as her chair slid across the floor. The girl shrieked, and so did Gomez but for different reasons. Morticia let go of her wrist and she tumbled to the ground.

She watched her scramble away, off to scavenge and peck at another broken marriage with a strange feeling of success. That is until her husband's grip closed around her elbow.

"We'll be on our way." Gomez's words were sharp and scathing directed to both her and their host.

Gomez parked the car outside Gate, punctuating his irritation with a heavy slam of the door behind him. Morticia flinched, and for a second, she wondered if she might have done something irreversible until he opened her door and offered his hand.

The walk through the grounds was deathly silent. Gomez was stiff and rigid beside her, yet so was she. He directed them over to the cemetery.

"I don't like you keeping secrets from me," he muttered.

She said nothing.

"And I don't like you thinking that I don't notice when you're upset. You're not as illusive as you think."

Gomez guided her over to their love seat, chipped and scratched from years of overuse. She didn't look at him. Out of fear, shame, or some type of misplaced anger, she wasn't quite sure yet.

"Does this incident have anything to do with your new wardrobe change?"

"Partially."

"Tish...Morticia. Look at me."

"No," she said. "Why must I? As if a man could ever really understand-" she paused and took a slight breath to slow her racing heart.

"Try me."

Morticia swung around, suddenly furious at him. At his devilish good looks and kind eyes. Gods, he looked so lovely in the moonlight. She ached to throw him on the rack and wring him until he bled. Then, and only then, she would kiss his wounds better.

"I'm getting older, Gomez."

Gomez grabbed her shaking hands in his and pulled her closer. "And?"

"And...less sure of myself."

Gomez blinked at her as if expecting something more. She gritted her teeth behind her frown, anticipating his look of pity.

"Oh. My darling, forgive me, but I wasn't-." He chanced a caress of her face, ghosting his fingers across the dip of her brow down to the taunt lines set at her jaw. "Why would you think so?"

His eyes, so soft, and concerned, and ignorant.

Morticia ripped her hands from his grip and pushed away from his embrace. She attempted to get up, but Gomez wrapped a firm arm around her waist and pulled her back down.

"Gomez stop!"

He reared back, and even she flinched at the force of her shout. Stone eyes, cold and unblinking, cast judgmental looks at her from their posts. Morticia felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She wanted desperately to crawl into bed and forget this night, but Gomez's arms remained firmly around her waist.

"Morticia, I love you." He said between ragged breaths, eyes wide and unsettled, "Tell me the whole truth."

She turned away once more. "Why are men allowed to age like wine while women wither away?" she whispered into the dark.

"Beauty and wisdom is a destructive combo, Tish," he replied gently.

"Explain."

"Well, speaking as only a man," he jibed, "the perks of being beautiful. The attention and influence and validation is a powerful weapon. To gain wisdom and intelligence with age on top of that...well, that person could probably rule a section of the world."

Morticia tapped her vermillion nails against the worn stone. "And?"

"And men, well most powerful men, don't like this in a woman for whatever reason. So they give them one or the other. Beauty without brains in your 20s, brains with faded looks in your 40s."

She let Gomez gather her hair to the side and run his lips across the chilled skin of her collar. "Societal pressure is cruel and unrelenting. It's impossible not to stumble at some point." When he was done, she offered him a grim smile.

"Are you saying that I was unwise in my youth?"

Gomez laughed. "Quite the contrary, my dear. You never really considered yourself a beauty like your peers, did you?"

Morticia smirked and looked down in a show of modesty. Gomez loosened his hold around her waist, instead gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"You are a bewitching creature. From the day I first saw you until now."

"And when I have no more beauty nor wisdom left to give? Will you still desire me then when I'm only skin and bones?"

"You already know the answer," he whispered.

Morticia pulled away and tugged the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

"Then show me."

Morticia couldn't sleep. Not while her mind still reeled.

As her eyes wandered, she absentmindedly twirled Gomez's hair between her fingers. She stared at that damned red velvet dress ripped to shreds and hanging carelessly on her dresser. It was expensive. Though she supposed after a night like this, she'd probably never wear it again.

She thought about Gomez's words. He was right, of course. But it only just occurred to her that she never actually thanked him with words. She would have to do it tomorrow as soon as he woke up.

After she plucked another silver strand from her head. She'd already made up her mind about that. And she would probably do it again the next time she spotted another one.

Gomez groaned softly into the column of her neck. She turned to kiss the side of his head. "Did I wake you?"

"I never went to sleep." He shifted in her embrace, resting his head down on her lap. Morticia reached to trail a nail along his naked torso.

"I knew what you were intending earlier...With that dress."

She hummed, resting her hand over his heart. "Are you angry with me?"

"We all have our vices, darling. Some more devious than others. It just so happens that your affinity for attention fits right in with my affinity with having the room know that no matter how much they want to, they can only look."

"I love you," she said simply.

Gomez laced their fingers together and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

Beginning the slow streak to being comfortable and beautiful as she aged would be difficult, she already knew. But her husband proved time and time again how wonderful he was for sharing his power with her. Eventually, she would reach that stage, and if Gomez offered to help her along the way, she'd gladly let him.