She could listen to him for hours.
Eavesdropping? Maybe.
Intentionally? Not at all.

Morticia seated herself, relaxing on the porch swing, the old, rusty steel hinges releasing the most beautiful screech as she pushed at the floor of the balcony with her foot, her slim fingers wrapped around her cup and nails gently tapping the fine porcelain.
A gentle sigh left her lips as she sat sipping her hogweed tea, enjoying the heavy rain that fell just a few feet in front of her whilst she was shielded by the canopy overhead.

Her husband was in the family room, taking a call from a cousin in Spain. Someone she had met briefly before, but she could not place his name or his face. Gomez was not too far away from her at all, she could hear his conversation clearly, yet she had next to no clue to what they were discussing.

Morticia did not speak fluent Spanish, French was more her forte. The odd word she could understand of course; Spanish and French shared a common link to Latin, some words vaguely similar, although she did not know enough to piece their conversation together.

Hearing the odd Spanish word from Gomez was not unusual. He cursed in Spanish, his own well-found loophole after finding out how much his wife loathed expletives. He bestowed Spanish words of love upon her daily, no, ihourly/i, in fact, and he often sang old Spanish melodies, the same ones his grandfather Alvaro Addams, sang to him when he was a young boy were now the same ones he had sung to his own children.

Although fluent in the art of the English language, when he was angry or flustered a verbal waterfall of sentences mixed in English and Spanish, a complete word jumble would fall from his lips. It humoured her tremendously, much to his annoyance.

To observe a full blown discussion in his mother tongue was rare, yet as she sat on the covered balcony, tea in hand, she allowed her eyes to drift shut as the biting cold blew strands of her hair across her face, and focused on the sound of his voice in the next room.

The delightful downpour in front of her not strong enough to drown out his call. Sipping the bitter tea, she relaxed back into the dark purple cushions of the porch swing, listening to him glide from one vowel to the next with a comforting smoothness, paying particular attention to when he expertly rolled the 'R' in certain words without missing a beat. Her favourite part of hearing him. He almost did not sound like her husband right now, his tone was deeper, orotund.

A strong guffaw of laughter followed by an enthusiastic thigh slap startled her from her thoughts, echoing slightly, making a smile peak at the corners of her mouth. His laugh was certainly infections, one of her most cherished sounds.

Noticing the rainwater began to pool at the far end of the balcony, which was not covered by the awning and brought her shawl up to cover her shoulders, giving her a little protection from the bitterly cold breeze, a welcome contrast to the slight burning in her chest from the tea.

"Adiós por ahora!" He chimed jovially.

Placing the receiver down, Gomez exhaled, a smile on his face as he shook his head at the light-hearted banter he shared with his cousin Sebastián. Four years since he last saw him at his wedding, far too long.
Raising himself from the plush recliner, he stretched slightly, enjoying the dull ache in his spine, adjusted his jacket and placed his half-smoked Cuban in the breast pocket.

Gomez noticed his wife sitting peacefully on the porch swing making his way to the window to marvel at the rain. He smiled at the sight, she loved the rain just as much as he, if not more. It was almost rare to see Morticia having some time to herself; if she was not assisting mama with spells, she was tending to Cleopatra or the children.

"Querida? Enjoying this glorious weather?" he questioned, his hands poised on either side of the doorframe, looking up and admiring the beautiful storm clouds that overlooked the manor and cemetery, inhaling the glorious scent of rainfall mixed with a slight hint of her perfume as the breeze blew past her.

She hummed pleasantly in response, eyes fixated on watching the drops bounce off of the iron railing that rimmed the balcony. It was delightfully relaxing.

"Immensely, imon cher/i.." she purred her usual seductive tone.

Gomez smiled lovingly at his gothic temptress before rushing to join her on the porch swing, grasping her smaller hand which rested neatly in her lap, placing a longing kiss against her delicate wrist. Morticia watched him, a smile on her face as she allowed her nails to lovingly graze against his jaw. He was so handsome, an alluring mixture of dark eyes and olive skin encased in a burgundy brocade smoking jacket, the scent of his cologne and the ever faint smell of explosives.

Morticia shrugged her shawl down, draping it over both of their shoulders after noticing a shiver rushing through him, it was not much, but it gave them both a reason to sit closer together, each using the other for warmth; not that they ever needed an excuse.

The couple felt more comfortable now they had physical contact with the other. Gomez holding onto her hand, caressing each of her fingers delicately, whilst she leant back against him, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder.

"I love listening to your Spanish.." she smiles, entwining her fingers with his before placing a tender kiss on the back of his hand. A move she rarely made, but one he loved dearly.

"Would be frightfully alarming if you didn't 'Tish.." he joked, earning him a brief humoured exhale from his wife.

"Gomez?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do something for me, s'il te plaît.." her eyelashes fluttering over her dark eyes. More of an order than a request, he has never turned down anything she has asked.

"Anything for you cara mia. Whatever your request, consider it done within an instant." releasing a knowing groan and kissed his way over her hand passionately, over her black velvet covered arm and shoulder, his eyes meeting hers, almost desperate to fulfil her any want, need or desire.

"Say something to me in Spanish, something, Iromantic/i" she asked coyly, glancing at him for a brief second.

"Ever the linguaphile, querida." he whispered against the hand he lifted to his lips once more.
"I adore that about you 'Tish."

"Coming from the man who swoons whenever Je parle Français? I find that almost ironic.." she quipped, a teasing glance being shot at her husband.

"'Cara mia…" he groaned, looking into her eyes, desperately fighting the urge to drown her in kisses, instead of leaning and placed a brief peck against her covered shoulder, resting his chin against the same spot.

Gomez pondered for a moment, so many words he could shower her with, however, suddenly the man whose vocabulary knew no bounds, was stunted. How was he meant to romance her in a single phrase?

A woman worthy of entire novels, manuscripts, fountains of words, yet she wanted something so small.

Gripping her hand tighter, he placed his finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. Pressing his lips against hers gently before pulling back ever so, and touching his nose against hers, whispering against her lips.

I"Me tomó una hora conocerte, y solo un día enamorarte, pero me tomará toda la vida olvidarte…"/i

Morticia's breath caught in her chest briefly, her hand squeezing his as it rested in her lap before raising her brow, a silent request for a translation.

"It took me an hour to meet you, and only one day to fall in love with you, but it will take me a lifetime to forget you.." he breathed

"True words, no matter what language it's in, mi amor" his fingers finding her wedding band, giving her finger a gentle squeeze.

I"Mon sauvage…/i"