A/N: Happy New Year, you guys!
When Morticia meets Gomez Addams the attraction is instantaneous, mutual and overpowering. Except, he's married to her sister. They cross the line. An alternative take of how they got together, exploring morally grey areas i.e. adultery.
The title is derived from the Christian Decalogue aka The Ten Commandments, the sixth being 'Thou shalt not commit adultery'.
A huge thank you to LittleObsessions for beta-ing this story and her encouragement.
And to Aftenstjerne for no other reason, than being awesome and cheering on for every dumb idea I have for this story.
The Sixth
Chapter 1
The loft apartment near the Landwehr Canal was almost completely silent, except for the quiet rustling of the pages of the daily newspapers; everything from Die Welt, through Le Monde, to the British The Times laid neatly next to a half-finished breakfast set for two, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the vast space, mixing with the aroma of her morning tea.
The balcony door was open, despite the chilly air and drizzling rain. It was a truly miserable summer this year and Morticia could not be more pleased. Although, perhaps wearing only her black, silk robe was not the most sensible attire in present conditions.
"You've got a letter," Klaus announced, already impeccably dressed in his Bundeswehr uniform, turning the ornamented envelope in his hands."It's from the United States."
It took one look at the envelope to recognize her mother's script, as well as her absurdly decorated stationery. She did not make a move to retrieve the envelope from her lover's hand though, and she watched from the corner of her eye as he put it neatly on the breakfast table, near her half-empty teacup.
"I don't believe I'm familiar with this word," Morticia said, pointing at the newspaper article she was reading, prompting Klaus to peer over her shoulder.
"Den Verfassungsschut," he read out loud."The constitutional protection."
"Hmmm, it does make sense now," she mused."I must say German has the longest words."
"Your German is excellent, Liebchen."
"It's passable," she muttered, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a dainty sip.
"It must be excellent if you managed to get suspended from your history class," Klaus supplied with amusement, placing a small kiss on her pale cheek before taking a seat at the table in the chair opposite hers.
She barely lifted her gaze from the article she was reading.
"The professor is a pompous, self-impressed lowlife...not dissimilar to yourself," she supplied smoothly.
He tilted his head and laughed at her dig.
"So I've heard."
"He can sprout all the philosophies he desires, it doesn't change the fact that eugenics is not a science," she pointed out before adding."The science of the absurd, perhaps."
Klaus muttered in agreement, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
"Nazis did not disappear when we've lost the war, Liebchen," he supplied, his tone unconcerned, as he proceeded to add his customary three heaped teaspoons of sugar into his coffee."In fact, they're doing very well under the current administration."
"Your father certainly does," Morticia pointed out flatly, rising her eyebrow at him.
"Exactly."
Morticia set her teacup onto a saucer and carefully folded the newspaper, putting it on the pile with the others before her gaze dropped to the envelope on the table.
She could already imagine the content of the letter; they seldom differed from one another.
She sighed and picked up the pristine white envelope, trying not to roll her eyes at the gaudy flowery design as she slid her long, vermilion nail under the sealed flap.
She opened the single, folded piece of paper and leaned back in her chair, biting her nail gently as she was suddenly filled with a jolt of lukewarm amusement.
"My sister is getting married," she informed him.
"Oh… how exciting," Klaus commented above the rim of his cup of coffee."I like weddings."
Morticia stared at her mother's neat writing for a moment before slowly and deliberately tearing the letter in two and throwing it on the floor, where it landed soundlessly on the polished wood.
"We should get married," Klaus supplied brazenly, not for the first time. In fact, he'd been pushing the issue for quite some time now.
"Don't be ridiculous," she retorted, barely looking at him, and returned her interest to the article in the newspaper.
It was becoming progressively irritating. Granted, he was ridiculously handsome and she quite enjoyed his company. He was also the first man to actively encourage her passions - whips and chains, pain and lust, and all the delightfully sinful things he allowed her to do to him but she could already feel her interest in him waning. Besides, marriage had never interested her in the slightest.
Her sister, however, was bred for marriage.
"You'd be mad not to marry me."
She finally took her eyes off the newspaper and looked at him with a look that was both coy and mocking at the same time.
"Why, darling, madness is always a preferable state of affair to marriage."
The house was buzzing with last-minute preparations, her obscenely expensive wedding dress ready and waiting, her make up impeccable - which was just as well because Ophelia hadn't slept a wink the night prior, she was too excited to sleep.
She leaned closer towards the mirror to make sure the dark rings under her eyes were covered; then she dabbed the small brush into a loose powder and blew gently on it before smoothing the small, shiny particles along her cheeks.
"The nerve of that girl."
Her mother, on the other hand, was seething - and rightly so since her sister had apparently decided that the celebration of Ophelia's wedding was not worth her time after all.
How typical of her. Even on such a blissful day, Morticia could not summon an ounce of decency to take part in the most important moment of Ophelia's life.
Jealous as always.
"Oh Mama, you know Morticia," Ophelia tried to appease her frantic mother. "She's such a wild little thing. Wherever is she now, anyway?"
"God only knows," her mother replied, turning the envelope in her hand."It was sent from Berlin two weeks ago."
My wholehearted congratulations to dear Ophelia upon her wedding. It's always a celebration when one's life ambition has been accomplished.
I might even attend the feast of snobbery this wedding will inevitably be, providing nothing more enticing comes my way.
Please send my sincere condolences to the groom.
Love
M.
"Not a word for months and months and now this!" Her mother complained.
"Oh, well maybe for the best," Ophelia mused, not taking her eyes from her reflection in the mirror as she pursed her lips.
"How can you say so?" Her mother said, in disbelief."This wedding is a huge social affair, everyone will be there but your own sister. What will people say?"
"What they always say," Ophelia retorted calmly, picking up a can of hairspray to touch up her hair a bit."Morticia is a peculiar little thing, no point dwelling on her actions. She does as she pleases, as always."
"Feast of snobbery!" Her mother continued."She called your wedding a feast of snobbery."
"A delightful feast of snobbery, I say," she smirked."Oh, Mama, I don't care what she thinks, I'm so blissfully happy I could dance on the rooftops."
Truth be told, Ophelia found her sister's behaviour absolutely pathetic, embarrassing - that's what it was. It was only small mercy her fiance was so understanding about her sister's absenteeism, although Ophelia could only imagine what he thought of the fact that her own sister would not be attending their wedding. It was beyond mortifying to have to explain Morticia's behaviour.
Jealous, pathetic little wench; but no matter. She wouldn't let her sister spoil such a blissful day. In less than a few hours, she would officially be Mrs Addams. She would be part of a fortune, she could never have even dreamed of being - not that her own family was poor, far from that - but being an Addams was as close to the aristocracy as one could get.
Highly eccentric, yes, but eccentricity was a prerogative of those who were as disgustingly rich as the Addamses. When a fortune like that came to play, no one gave a tinker's wink about their peculiar behavior. Why, all her friends had almost died of jealousy when she told them about her engagement.
She could have never imagined a better husband for herself - rich, charming and so unbearably handsome, Ophelia was sure she would be envied through the whole of eternity. Gomez Addams was better than any man she could have ever dreamed of, they were an absolutely stunning couple - especially when it was validated on Page Six.
Her mother's features softened.
"As you should," she smiled and came over to stand behind Ophelia's chair, resting her hands on her daughter's shoulders."I'm so happy for you, my darling, and we're all so proud of you."
Ophelia beamed at her, wrapping her hand around her mother's palm.
"This is the life I've always dreamed of, Mama," she said, biting gently at her bottom lip." Gomez is everything I ever wanted and more," she mused happily."He's so suave and handsome and rich. Oh Mama, I feel like I'm living a dream."
The room was dark and the air heavy with the scent of cigars as Gomez Addams laid stretched on his four-poster bed, cigar in one hand, his left arm propped under his head, bedsheets spread lazily over his naked body, silently pondering his last few hours of bachelorhood.
It was an unbearably hot summer and even the Addams mansion wasn't able to escape its humid, oppressive heat. Just as well, he thought, it was only suitable that the weather on his wedding day would be depressingly sunny.
Oh, perhaps he was being unfair.
She was a nice girl, after all, perhaps a bit too flighty but certainly very beautiful and the sex wasn't bad at all. They were a suitable match - at least according to his father - and Gomez did not necessarily disagree with that assessment. Maybe, a little, possibly. She said she loved him and maybe she did. Not that it mattered but it was a nice feeling - to be loved. A bit overwhelming perhaps; it was disconcerting to look into her eyes and see such an open adoration, knowing he would probably never look at her that way.
Not that it mattered. Love mattered the least in this union.
It was the right thing to do. This was what he owed his parents for his despicable actions. This was what he deserved for his betrayal.
And he longed to punish himself, as he had these past ten years. And this marriage, depressing as it was to him, was what his parents wanted. This was what he owed them.
He longed to prove to them that he could be more than his selfish actions. He could have a wife and children that would carry the Addams name.
He would do things as they should be done.
Perhaps Mama was right, this was what he needed - a wife and a family -, some routine into the otherwise chaotic mess that was Gomez Addams. Something stable and predictable, instead of chasing constant excitement. He wasn't entirely opposed to that.
Many of his friends had crossed the line into the life of holy matrimony and they were not complaining. They had gotten married, had children, some had mistresses, some didn't but, all in all, nobody was complaining. It was the natural way of things. Marriage, children and all that.
Children.
This time next year they would probably welcome their first child. He realized he wasn't opposed to that either. It would be nice to have someone to love.
The door to his bedroom opened swiftly, without the courtesy of knocking, but he couldn't help but smile when his cousin barged in.
Why isn't it the lucky groom!
"You should be a comedian, Itt," he deadpanned, releasing a grey puff of smoke from his lips.
Cold feet?
Gomez shrugged at the question as he watched his cousin walk over to the window and pull the heavy curtains aside. He frowned when the sharp rays of sunshine fell directly on his face.
The ceremony starts in forty minutes, get your arse out of the bed and into the shower.
"I have time," he insisted."Pull the blinds, old man, this sunshine is unbearable."
Itt blatantly ignored his request, coming closer to the bed.
Your mother told me to tell you that if you'll be late for your own wedding she will skin you alive and feed you to the vultures.
He smirked.
"Now, why is this a more enticing prospect than my wedding -"
Don't be a drama queen. Your bride is already on her way.
Gomez sighed in exasperation, the wedding was taking place at the mansion anyway, all he had to do was walk downstairs.
"I have time," he repeated, taking another puff of his cigar.
Come on now, make some effort, his cousin admonished, surely you don't want those daisies to faint in disappointment.
Gomez couldn't help but snort in amusement.
"No," he replied quietly."I certainly wouldn't want that."
Mooove, Itt urged him again, your miserable ever after awaits you in thirty-two minutes.
He stopped at the top of the stairs, momentarily overwhelmed by the task before him but he chastised himself immediately.
Stable and predictable wasn't bad and he owed his family some stability.
He caused them enough drama to last for a lifetime, he told himself as he inhaled deeply and slowly descended the stairs into this new, wholly stable and predictable life of holy matrimony.
A/N: Thank you for reading!