A/N: Hello and welcome to the insanely long chapter 11 that I have rewritten three times in its entirety, I had a really hard time with it, so please be kind. :D Warning of explicit smut at the end of this chapter but that really applies to this whole story, so lol. But be forewarned, if you do not wish to read this type of content. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter 11
Ten days before Christmas the temperature plummeted to below zero and the whole city was covered in a heavy curtain of snow. The air was biting cold, and with the sky almost permanently obscured by the grey rug of clouds, there was a certain promise of more snowfall over the weekend and as the festive period neared closer, Gomez found his mood to match the weather almost perfectly - he hated Christmas. Not that they celebrated it in any way, well - not anymore, not for the past decade. His parents' way of coping with it was to travel - they booked vacations near Christmas and were away from the country until early New Year, sometimes longer. Gomez's way of coping was to indulge in a never-ending string of parties, the less conscious he was of the time the better. This was his way: parties until the early hours of the morning, sleep until late afternoon, wake - up, shower, and then repeat the whole sequence again and again until they were safely in January and he could bury himself in work anew.
He despised the Yuletide season - a yearly, striking reminder that his misdeeds had broken down his family. His jealousy, his insecurity, and his menace drove his brother away. It will be ten years in just a matter of days, ten years from this fateful, horrible night from which the was never going to be absolution. He couldn't even beg him for forgiveness because the search for Fester turned out to be futile, as expected, no less, Gomez knew very well that if his brother didn't want to be found he would practically drop off from the face of the Earth until he decided to show up again - if that would even ever happen, no one held grudges like an Addams. And until then all there was left for him was this abyss of existence, consumed by guilt.
Well, not all, there was also her - the reason he looked forward to waking up each morning, the reason his world was less bleak, if only temporary. The reason he was in love, in over his head, completely undone by the sheer intensity of his feelings for her and how good it felt to be with her, he never knew one could derive such pleasure, such blissful content by just being in someone's presence. He thought he would probably be perfectly happy to spend the rest of his miserable existence simply admiring her, merely being able to feast his eyes on her sublime presence.
He has never seen a creature so maddeningly beautiful, so irresistibly enchanting.
He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her - asleep in the bed, wrapped in the grey silk sheets, her pale hand resting beguilingly just next to her face. He was entirely content to merely watch her like that, the gentle, almost indiscernible, rise and fall of her slender form as she breathed, as if frozen in her slumber. Just the thought of seeing her was making this horrible time of the year, if not exactly happy, then at least bearable.
He felt incredibly lucky to have acquired this apartment so quickly, which often happened to the properties when someone got murdered in the said property, and Gomez always found it bizarre that they would be so eager to sell, and so cheaply since everyone knew that a gruesome event like that only added to the value of the estate. Alas, not only the owners have sold it to him practically on the spot, cash in hand, and much for much less than Gomez was offering, but they have also, disappointingly so, already cleaned up after the murder so, unfortunately, he and Morticia didn't have a chance to enjoy the lovely macabre of the scenery - pity, but hardly a conundrum. There were other perks of the apartment, especially since it wasn't technically an apartment but the ground floor of a two-storey house that the previous owners converted into two separate studio apartments - some family feud or other and Gomez hadn't been able to buy the entire thing because, as it turned out, the owner of the upper floor lived abroad and couldn't be contacted for the next six months. It hardly mattered though, since there was no one living above them at the moment.
He wasn't entirely fond of the white walls and bright, meticulously polished oak-panelled floors but it didn't bother him enough to do anything about it at the moment. What mattered was that it was spacious and provided them with much-needed privacy. He also absolutely adored to watch Morticia putting her little touches to the apartment - and also not so little, considering the number of plants she managed to bring in, in the space of a few days: deadly nightshades, hemlock trees and others that he was entirely unfamiliar with.
There was also a nice kitchen annexe which contained mainly Morticia's favourite tea but also, to his delighted surprise, a brand new Morrocan style, stove coffee brewing pot Morticia bought and it made him smile when he noticed it, he found it very… endearing, sweet of her - it was a little thing but it was nice to know that she thought about him even as she was purchasing such mundane things as the coffee pot.
He squinted gently, focusing back on the lines of writing in front of him and made a small note on the margin. He should probably put the light on, it was past four o'clock and it was already getting dark outside, but he didn't especially like the sharp, artificial lights and he was reluctant to wake Morticia up by putting them on. He turned his gaze again towards the large, king-size bed against the east wall where Morticia was currently napping and couldn't help the wide grin that formed on his face and, as if she sensed his self-satisfied smile, her eyelids fluttered briefly and then opened, meeting his gaze.
"Don't look so smug," she told him, stretching languidly in that feline manner of hers.
He wore her out, and he was damned proud of that fact.
"Tired, Tish?" He teased, twirling his pen in between his fingers.
"It happens when one has an insatiable demon for a lover," she replied, turning towards him, she bent her arm, propping her head on the pillow of her hand."What are you doing?" She asked, nodding at the papers on the table where he was sitting, near the windows.
"Work," he replied, almost apologetically, waving the neatly annotated stack of papers."I have a meeting with them on Monday morning, my father wants to buy their land, so I'm going through the contract to make sure he wasn't signing into another money drain."
"One would think that, with all that fortune, you'd all live in a permanent state of leisure," she commented dryly, smiling at him.
"Living a life of leisure with an unexplained fortune is a sure way to invite an angry mob," he replied lightly."Or the IRS, both are highly inconvenient. We've learnt our lesson."
"An angry mob attacked your family home?" She clarified, raising her eyebrows in astonishment."In this day and age?"
"No, it was almost a hundred years ago but it happened more than once in the past and we're not eager to repeat it," he explained, putting the contracts away and made his way towards her, joining her in the bed."My grandfather started the investing business - for tax purposes, it keeps nosy people off our backs."
"Smart," she commented, sliding her palm behind his neck before bringing him down for a slow, lingering kiss."And do you always work half-naked?" She teased, taking into his practically nude appearance, save for his black, silk boxer shorts.
"Mmmm," he nodded, pushing the bedsheets off her naked form and before she knew it, she was nestled under him and in his arms."It saves time."
She let out a small chuckle before framing his handsome face in between her hands and brought him down for another slow kiss.
She was never more grateful to her father's campaign manager for practically forcing Ophelia to join the charity, and even more grateful that Ophelia managed to somehow get herself into some feud with Leaticia Hornby and was now up to her neck with preparations for some last-minute charity auction which meant she and Gomez had much more time to spend together. Even though, it was very much a 'when the cat's away' situation, something she was very much inclined not to ponder about, especially since there was a rather unexpected side effect of spending more time with Gomez - the fact that, very much true to Debbie's words, she realized how much it actually bothered her, the clandestine side of this affair, the fact that she was able to have him to herself for almost a whole day but then he had to leave her and go back to his wife.
She was not prepared for how much she would miss him being part of her day.
It bothered her more than she was prepared to admit, it made her feel angry and she didn't know at whom or what to direct the unwelcomed feeling because, after all, it was not supposed to be complicated - her own words, her won rules, that she had practically blown into atoms. She supposed falling in love was always bound to make things complicated, she was extremely naive in thinking it wouldn't. Naive to think it would be 'just an affair.'
She refused to think about it, though, she wanted to focus on the present moment, on enjoying being with him here and now, without the thought that he had to leave in a few hours looming above them but it was becoming harder and harder to do so. She wanted him, she realized, for herself - selfishly and unapologetically - to the point when she started to entertain the most ridiculous thoughts: what if her sister found out, what if they actually told her, what if they just ran away together -
Stupid.
Absurd.
Ridiculous and unthinkable but she almost wished it would happen, craved it even.
Yes, it was impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, she couldn't help those thoughts invading her mind.
What if she told Gomez how she felt? That she was in love with him, madly and irrevocably, even though she's already suspected he knew that, because she found it pathetically difficult to contain her feeling for him lately, and she was certain it showed in almost every way: in her touch, the way she looked at him, even the way she made love to him felt different. She had immense trouble letting him go, to the point where she yearned to tell him how she felt and deal with the consequences of the aftermath or…or buy the first ticket to anywhere in the world and run away. One of the two.
"What?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts and she blinked, realizing that she was staring at him.
What if she told him? Now. What would he do? She knew he felt the same way, he loved her, he didn't have to say it, even though the thought of hearing him say it almost made her heart flutter. If he said it, it would make all the difference, it wouldn't make her feel so conflicted and vulnerable, but what would he choose to do? They would admit their feelings for each other and then what? Continue their clandestine affair, forever locked in the knowledge that they could never be truly together?
Or would he choose the impossible? The unthinkable option?
"Nothing," she said instead, caressing his bottom lip gently with her thumb, realizing instantly that she couldn't make love to him now, she felt too vulnerable, she would probably break into tears and she hated the thought of that.
She needed to get herself together first, regain her equilibrium, she was saved by the loud rambling that reverberated from Gomez's stomach.
"Well, that was sexy," he deadpanned.
"Hungry?" She laughed, grateful for the respite in the seriousness of her musings.
He shrugged before realizing that neither of them ate anything since the morning, entirely too engrossed with the carnal pleasures of each other.
"Fancy some early dinner?" He asked." I think there is some Korean place nearby, I can go get us some food."
She shook her head.
"Finish what you're doing," she offered, pointing at his unfinished work at the table."I'll cook dinner."
She laughed at the absolutely stupefied expression on his face.
"Since when do you cook?" He asked, half-convinced she was jesting.
"Since today," she replied in a deadpan manner and laughed again, because Gomez Addams looked suddenly very stressed."I'm jesting."
"Are you, though?" He didn't sound overly convinced.
"I can cook," she assured.
"Do we even have any groceries?" He asked.
"We do indeed, miraculously so," she smiled at him, pushing him gently away and swung her legs onto the floor, reaching for her underwear and his burgundy shirt. "I have done this adult, responsible thing called grocery shopping. Debbie would be disgusted."
"Rightly so, this is truly shocking behaviour," he commented dryly before narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Who are you?"
He laughed when she grabbed the pillow off the bed and threw it at him and he allowed it to hit him in the chest.
"Do you want dinner or not?" She asked, slipping into his shirt, barely buttoning it.
He pretended to ponder upon her question, earning himself another pillow thrown at him. He caught it this time.
"Let's have it," he decided."There are worse ways to die."
"You should feel very privileged," she told him in a deadpan manner, twisting her long hair into a bun on top of her head before reaching into her purse, retrieving a few metal hairpins, and sliding them into her black tressed.
"I feel very privileged by being in your divine company alone, cara mia," he retorted grandly." You don't have to cook for me."
"That is an extremely correct response," she praised, letting out an amused laugh."You should still feel very privileged, though, because you're the first man I'm going to cook for, if not accounting for the mud pie I made for my father at the tender age of five and he refused to eat it."
"Shocking," he replied in a deadpan manner."I'm appalled at his blatant lack of manners. I thought you said your cooking skills are nonexistent."
"Well, that statement was true at the time," she replied, opening the fridge and, to Gomez's unbridled surprise, she had indeed taken out some products that at least looked edible. "Can you get me the wine, please?"
"Oh yeah?" He asked, grabbing a half-filled bottle of the wine they started yesterday." What changed?"
"Well, your mother gifted me a plant that turned out to be the fussiest eater in the history of botany," she explained, pouring a generous amount of oil into the pan."She forced me to learn how to cook. Coq a vin happens to be her favourite and Debbie approved of it as well. I added some arsenic, of course, for some reason none of the recipes mentions it."
"Coq a vin…that's French," he moaned, grabbing her hand and started to peppering it with loving kisses. "You cooked coq a vin for a plant?" He clarified, entirely too amused by the idea.
"If she doesn't like the food, she spits it right back at me," she explained, apparently unperturbed by Cleopatra's behaviour. "Gomez, darling, I need my hands free to cook," she added lightly.
He groaned in disappointment but dutifully let go of her hand,
"She doesn't sound like a gift to me," he laughed, picking a sliced cube of fried pancetta from the pan and popped it in his mouth."Sounds like a punishment."
"That's what I told your dear Mama," she smiled.
He frowned, chewing on the pancetta, realizing he was actually starving.
"When?" He asked, pouring them two glasses of wine.
"Couple of days ago," she explained, slicing the onion before putting it in the pot with the chicken."I bumped into her at the shop and he invited me for tea. We had a lovely time together."
Gomez made a strangled noise, somewhere between a weep and a groan.
"My brain cells can barely comprehend such levels of awkwardness," he remarked in a painful whisper.
Really, his mother having teas and whatnot with his lover, who happened to be his wife's sister, was a bit too much for his tastes.
"You've asked," she smiled at him before rubbing more salts into his wounds," I like your mother, she's lovely. She offered to tutor me in witchcraft."
"That would be the day," he laughed, despite himself.
"I politely declined."
"I think your mother would have a stroke if you've started practising witchcraft," he commented dryly, taking a sip of his wine.
"Hence why I've politely declined," she smiled at him."Although, it's a tempting offer."
He gazed at her curiously.
"Would you like to?"
"Study witchcraft?" She asked and shrugged when he nodded."I've never entertained such an idea before meeting your mother, to be honest. I wasn't aware one could just study witchcraft, I thought one had to be magically predisposed or something along those lines. What?" She asked when he laughed.
"Magically predisposed?"
"That's the way it happens in books," she insisted, smiling at the almost childish simplicity of her answer.
"If Mama offered to teach you then she must have judged your predisposition as sufficient," he assured." Otherwise she wouldn't have offered," he added, setting the wine glass back at the counter before leaning towards her and placing a kiss on the back of her exposed neck, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"You're doing an excellent job at making sure I burn this food to ashes," she turned her head towards him, her eyebrow raised in a half-amused, half-reprimanding manner."I call it blatant sabotage."
"Is it my fault you're so deliciously irresistible?" He murmured against her lips."I can never get enough of you."
She smiled, patting his cheek in a gentle manner.
"Later, darling," she promised, letting out a small laugh at his disappointed growl. "Later," she kissed him and was momentarily lost in those half-lidded eyes.
Lost in the ferocious certainty that she was simply madly, madly in love with him, in love with every little wonderful part of him and she didn't know how to contain it, how to prevent those feelings from spilling out of their constraints.
"What?" He asked.
She shook her head and smiled gently.
"Nothing," she assured him. Again. Unsuccessfully if his doubtful gaze was anything to go by.
"It doesn't look like nothing," he smiled at her encouragingly. "Anything you want to tell me?"
She merely shook her again head but looked at her softly, propitiously, cupping her chin gently in between his thumb and forefinger, locking her gaze with his.
"Tish?" He prompted, his toned tinted now with mild concern. "What is it?"
"It's nothing, it's just… feels strange," she said, forcing a small smile on her lips." To spend the whole day with you. If feels -" she paused, unsure how to dress her feeling without making them so desperately pathetic.
"Feels good," he said confidently.
"It does," she nodded, her lips stretching into a tender smile. "It feels really good, to be with you."
He smiled, obviously pleased with her words, he loved the way she looked at him, no one ever looked at him the way that made him feel so special, so good, so… at home … he felt incredibly comfortable with her.
"I know, I'm a charming fellow," he replied cheekily, making her laugh.
"Alright, shoo," she told him, breaking the moment and pushed him gently in the direction of his unfinished work at the table."Let me finish cooking or we shall starve."
He kissed her cheek but dutifully made his way towards the table. Apparently, though, Gomez Addams couldn't help himself if he didn't have the last word.
"As long as we still have sex before we starve," he deadpanned."I'm fine."
"This is delicious," he praised, tearing off another piece of chicken and popping it into his mouth with an appreciative murmur. "I can't believe you've learnt cooking in such a short time."
"Thank you," she smiled, accepting the compliment, her face illuminated but the candlelight."I had a good cookbook."
"I'm sure it takes more than a good cookbook," he insisted, sounding almost offended on her behalf that she dared to think so little of her newly acquired skill. "This is amazing."
"One can accomplish many things in a short time with the right tools."
"Or the right people," he remarked pointedly, wrapping his fingers around her palm and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.
"Yes," she agreed but then her smile momentarily faded.
It was so wonderful to be with him, and yet every little delightful moment together was marred by the unwelcome realization that it would soon have to end. She knew this from the very beginning but, for some reason, nowadays she found such thoughts almost unbearable. It would almost be easier to never see him again than to be faced with a constant reminder of what she could never have.
Him.
She could never have him. He didn't belong to her and he never would. And it was all pointless.
She cleared her throat, willing herself off the unwelcome thoughts.
"I'm thinking of going back soon," she said slowly, in such an offhanded manner that for a moment he didn't seem to register what she was telling him" To Europe," she clarified, when he looked at her with a bemused expression and waited for his reaction.
He seemed to freeze in mid-movement, biting his lower lip in an apprehensive manner as she looked at him expectedly.
"When?" He managed to ask, the feeling of an impending loss was so acute he felt suddenly dizzy.
"Christmas, or just after," she was looking straight at him when she said it.
"But that's less than two weeks away," he pointed out as if she was not aware of it.
"I know," she nodded."But I think it's for the best."
She's been considering this idea for some time now, painfully aware that the more she prolonger it, the harder it would be to leave him and it was hard enough already. She could as well tell him now, so they could enjoy the little time they had left together.
Unless -
"Best for whom?" He whispered, the words seemed to choke him.
Unless he too was considering the impossible.
"It's the wisest course of action under the circumstances," she amended, taking a deep breath before continuing," this…us, it can't go on indefinitely. It has to end at some point. It would only make it harder if I stayed."
"Don't go," he asked her, swallowing heavily."Please."
She bit her lips into a thin line, she didn't want to impose any decisions on him, she didn't want to give him ultimatums. Either they were on the same page or they weren't, simple as that.
"It's becoming hard for me," she proceeded cautiously."It's hard for me not to make this complicated. It's hard for me to… to watch you, with her."
It felt only slightly less pathetic than telling him outright that she was hopelessly in love with him.
"What would make you stay?" He asked, his tone acquiring a fervent note and before she knew it, he was kneeling at her feet, his hands wrapped firmly around hers, pressing a desperate kiss to her knuckles."What can I do to make you stay?"
"I don't know," she replied in a painful whisper.
He looked up at her, taken aback by the startling vulnerability in her and immediately realized how false her statement was, that it wasn't the case, that she knew, she knew exactly what she wanted but they were both aware that saying certain things out loud would change everything. It would make her too vulnerable and he knew exactly how much she abhorred feeling that way.
He didn't, though, he had no qualms about appearing vulnerable or pathetic. Isn't it what he was all his life, after all?
"What if I told her?" He offered, his tone desperate.
She tightened her fingers around his, her hands were suddenly shaking and her heart was beating so hard it made her feel slightly lightheaded. She could barely comprehend that they were really discussing such a possibility.
"Would you do that?"
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he replied fervently." I would die for you, I would kill for you, I would…," he paused and swallowed heavily."Anything. Anything you ask me - just say a word and I will do it."
"I'm scared to ask you," she finally said, trying her utmost to blink away the tears that threatened to come, her voice barely a whisper, "I'm scared…if we can handle what comes after, if I ask you."
He didn't have an answer to that, didn't have sufficient words to appease her fears, there were no such words. The situation was a mess, and there was no way out of it without creating even more mayhem, so he kissed her instead, hard and demanding, and she moaned at the sheer ferocity of it.
He couldn't bear the prospect of losing her, he could even imagine living without her at this point. He kissed her again, and again, he barely registered taking her clothes off, all he wanted was to lose himself in her, to prevent them from arriving at the point of no return, stop her from ending things.
"I want you, so much," she whispered, kissing and biting his neck, as he pressed her against the wall."God, what are you doing to me that I can never get enough of you?"
"Tish," he groaned, painfully aware of how hard he already was for her.
"Mon savage," she moaned encouragingly, deliberately, in a low, breathless whisper that made him feel as if he was suddenly struck by a thunderbolt.
"Say it again," he begged and her lips hovered just above his, nipping at the soft flesh enticingly.
"Mon savage," she whispered again and gasped when he let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a howl and the lust in his eyes was almost as exciting as it was terrifying and it went straight to her head, she was beyond ready for him as she reached between them to guide him inside her. He pushed into her so hard she couldn't help but cry out.
"Don't...don't hold back...just," she moaned, her words punctured by his thrusts."Fuck me."
She almost screamed when he acquiesced, surrendering to the white, hot need and the pleasure of it hit them like whiplash as she heard his howls of ecstasy, and he pounded into her so hard she could barely breathe but she urged him with all the sultry French endearments until there was no coherent thought left in her, only this unbelievable pleasure coursing through every fibre of her being.
And him.
"So," Stan announced, closing his diary with a loud snap and removing his sunglasses," with the exception of one more party that you most definitely need to attend, we're all up to date and can safely wrap up for Christmas."
Her father's campaign manager gathered them together for the last 'update and prep session' as he obnoxiously called it, and why, for the love of God, was he still wearing the sunglasses, indoors and in the winter was a mystery to everyone.
Morticia was trying her best not to shift impatiently, she didn't feel that anything they'd been just told even remotely concerned her, not to mention it was unbelievably tedious and her grandmother was not here to suffer with her. Patricia Frump excused herself with the Christma tea at her poetry club, which Morticia suspected had rather something to do with the filth she was trying to publish.
"We have some exciting things to come in the new year," Stan continued, gathering his things."Hope you all have a good rest because it's going to get really really intense."
Impeccable choice of words, Morticia thought, trying hard not to avert her eyes off her father's campaign manager. Intense, it's really a mild description of how things are going to get if they really went ahead with Ophelia about the affair.
"Well, thank you, Stan, for everything so far," James Frump smiled and shook his hand."Have a wonderful Christmas, best wishes to your family."
"My pleasure," Stan smiled before suddenly turning towards Ophelia, who barely paid him any attention all afternoon, apparently busy with preparation for the upcoming charity auction."Oh, by the way, that charity auction - really brilliant idea."
"Yeah, thanks," Ophelia replied moodily, pouring over some brochures.
"We can tie it beautifully with the campaign and don't forget the most important rule of fundraising - go big or go home!" He added cheerfully and Morticia had to bite her cheeks to prevent herself from laughing because her sister looked like she was eager to tell him exactly where he can go with this particular piece of advice." I already arranged for the ad in the local newspaper - don't thank me! And there will be a piece after the event so I hope it's not going to be a big flop because," he laughed and then winced immediately after."Imagine the embarrassment - anyway, gotta plane to catch. Thank you for the lovely lunch, Mrs Frump."
"Always a pleasure, Stan, safe journey," her mother replied, smiling at him warmly and at the same time she appeared to almost restrain herself from pushing him towards the door.
Stan turned towards Morticia.
"Well, Empress of Gloom, I guess we'll see each other after Christmas," he remarked sarcastically."
"We can both pray for the opposite," she replied smoothly.
"Perhaps you can try to be more cooperative in the new year," he told her in a reprimanding tone." You know, new year - new you, and try not to cause any scandal while I'm away."
"Hmmm, I don't know, it's a four-hour flight to Texas after all," she deadpanned."Anything can happen in four hours."
"You're hilarious," he rolled his eyes before sliding his sunglasses back on his nose."Even you can't cause mayhem in four hours."
"Don't underestimate my powers."
"Stan, don't encourage her," James Frump interjected with a painful expression, placing his hand on Stan's white-fur-collared jacket covering his arm."Let me walk you out. Tish, may I have a word with you later?"
Morticia frowned in surprise but nodded, trying to fend off any paranoid thoughts of what her father could possibly want to talk with her about.
There was no way her family even suspected what was going on, or her mother would already have ripped her apart. Nevertheless, every time one of them, especially her father or Patricia, asked her to meet them for lunch, she immediately panicked. Guilty conscious, no doubt.
"Sorry I'm late," Patricia announced, sashaying into the parlour just as Stan was leaving, sounding very not sorry at all."The poetry club ran late. Did I miss anything?"
"Just Stan being his insufferable self," Ophelia replied, letting out an exasperating sigh."Okay so now that the annoying twat is gone, let's get to the important stuff."
"What important stuff?" Patricia asked, sitting next to Morticia." Goodness, what a day. Hello, darling," she greeted, patting Morticia's knee in an affectionate manner."Have you noticed that your dear Granny has no drink in her hand? You should do something about it."
Morticia shook her head and couldn't help but smile at her at the subtle command.
"Gin?" She asked, already getting up to fetch Patricia's drink.
"Yes, please, bless your heart, oh - no ice," Patricia nodded, leaning heavily against the sofa and stretched her arms against the backrest. "So, what's the important stuff?"
"That blasted charity auction. This is the venue," Ophelia pushed the brochure across the coffee table."I've already booked it because it's just murder finding the place at such short notice."
"Ritz?" her mother exclaimed in disbelief.
"Ugh, I know," Ophelia nodded with a wince."Plaza was already booked."
"It must have cost a fortune this time of the year," Patricia pointed out, accepting the drink from Morticia and patting the space next to her, indicating that Morticia to sat next to her.
"I don't know, who cares, Gomez is paying for it," Ophelia shrugged."I needed to organise this thing in less than two weeks, I need professionals. Here, have a look at the guest list - oh, check those cute invitation designs, aren't they chic? I just love them," she giggled, pushing two separate guest lists towards them, her expression turning sour."Only half confirmed attendance - assholes."
"Well, it is all very last minute," her mother pointed out."Even we had to cancel dinner party so we could come."
"Okay but so what," Ophelia rolled her eyes and shrugged carelessly."All I'm asking is for a little support, in a good cause - hardly a sacrifice now, is it?"
"That's not what I suggested," her mother appeased."Of course, we all want to support you. It's a wonderful cause."
"I don't care about the cause," Ophelia replied."I care about making a huge amount of profit to shut that old crow's mouth once and for all."
"What did I do?" Patricia asked.
"I meant Mrs Hornby, Granny," Ophelia explained.
"Oh, hear hear then," the older lady replied."She had a huge crush on your father back in the day, did you know?"
"Please don't remind me," James remarked, walking back into the parlour and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
It didn't escape Morticia that he seemed to be drinking quite a lot lately. Not enough to warrant a concern but definitely more than usual.
"Ewww, Papa, what on earth?" Ophelia winced."Mrs Hornby? Really?"
"I say the infatuation is still strong," Morticia supplied, smiling meanly at her father when he shot her a painful look."Judging by the effort in which she keeps batting her eyelashes at our dear Papa. These are all old money," Morticia pointed at the guest list, turning towards Ophelia.
"Yes, of course, who do you think I'm going to invite to a charity auction, a hotdog vendor?" Her sister asked in annoyance.
"I simply think you will have more profits if you expand the guest list beyond the realms of your immediate social circle," Morticia replied, ignoring the cattiness in Ophelia's tone."There are -"
"I'm not going to invite every peasant and crook who got lucky selling stolen goods," Ophelia shot back."A peasant is still a peasant, no matter what their bank account says."
"Considering the fact that most of the old money profited from slavery, hardly anyone can stand on the moral pedestal here," Morticia explained, trying not to get her annoyance better of her.
"I really don't have time for your history lessons, Morticia," Ophelia hissed, exasperated."All I need is to make enough money on this auction to shut that old crow's mouth for the next five years, so if you have anything remotely useful to contribute, I'm all ears, otherwise, you can save that social justice crap for someone who cares. I'm already spending an ungodly amount of time organising this stupid event that I couldn't give a less damn about if I tried."
Morticia barely managed to open her mouth to come back with an equal response when their mother clear her throat.
"Actually, Morticia might have a point," she said, gently caressing Henrik's back and the little pup let out a lazy, half-hearted bark. Her mother seemed to be permanently glued to the animal nowadays.
"Mother, you can't be serious," she retorted."Leaticia Hornby is just waiting for me to screw this thing up. It's bad enough that half of the Addams clan are insistent on coming to 'support' the cause and you want me to invite some blokes who got rich two weeks ago? Surely, you're jesting."
"What you need is people with money who are willing and are able to spend a lot," her mother pointed out."And you're rather pressed for time."
"This auction is already going to make more money than those pathetic cake bake-offs ever did."
"You might be careful with that," James continued, taking a small sip of his whiskey." Organising a cake sale generates considerably fewer expenses than organizing a full-blown dinner and charity auction," he pointed out."What is your budget?"
"What do you mean what is my budget? I don't have a budget," Ophelia huffed impatiently as if she found the whole idea ridiculous."It doesn't matter how much it costs, Gomez is going to cover it."
"Of course, he will," her mother appeased."But you need to make sure the costs do not exceed the profit."
"What the hell does that even mean?" Ophelia asked, covering her face with her hand and moaned tiredly."I'm so fucking tired of this crap."
"You need to make more money than you spend on organizing it," Patricia explained."Even if Gomez is paying for everything."
"Well then make sure you all show up and buy some trinkets at the auction," Ophelia retorted sharply." I've set a target at fifty thousand dollars profit and I'm damn well going to reach it - oh, before I forget," she added, turning towards Morticia and pointed at her with index finger which Morticia found immediately irritating."I need a speech written before Wednesday, just not too wordy. Something about poor people, widows and orphans and the need for charity and Christmas blah blah blah. I don't have time to hire a speechwriter and at least it will cut the costs."
"Do you know what costs nothing, though?" Morticia asked serenely.
"What?" Her sister snapped.
"Manners."
Ophelia sighed in a vastly exasperated manner and rolled her eyes.
"It would be a miracle for you not to make things difficult," she remarked snidely.
"Please and thank you are not difficult."
"Please make sure it's done by Wednesday and it's not obnoxiously wordy," Ophelia replied sarcastically."Not everyone had a boring childhood and spent her days with a dictionary as a friend."
"Okay, you two, that's enough," James interjected firmly, ignoring the two annoyed glares from his daughters, the last thing he needed was the two of them getting at each other's throats."It's Christmas, perhaps it's time to bury the hatchet."
"Ho, ho ho," Patricia Frump bellowed in agreement, taking a hefty drink of her gin before addressing her granddaughters."And preferably, not in each other's backs."
Harald Addams took one last look at the pair of tickets and a chalet reservation before putting it back neatly in a leather folder and depositing it safely back in the desk drawer. He was actually looking forward to getting away from the country for a while and this year he and Eudora chose to tour Serbia for their six weeks vacations, their first stop being Belgrade to visit Eudora's distant cousin Gordana and her new husband. It will be good for Eudora to get away as well, she seemed rather stressed and subdued as of late. Granted, this wasn't the jolliest season of the year for them, with another anniversary of Fester's disappearance approaching, which made them all a bit more subdued than usual, but he sensed that, for whatever reason, there was more heaviness in her this year. Perhaps because it was ten years this year. Ten very long years.
She slept less and worried more, buried herself in the kitchen, making - what he judged by the time she was spending there - a decade worth of supply of her concoctions. She needed a break, away from everything.
Thing jumped on the desk and tapped a quick succession of questions.
"No, just me and Eudora for tonight, Thing," Harald replied, making his way towards the sofa, next to the fireplace." Ophelia is out, busy organizing the auction and Gomez," he paused, realising that he actually had no idea where his son was." Actually, where on Earth is this boy these days? I hardly see him."
Thing stretched his fingers - an equivalent of a shrug - and tapped.
"Don't get sassy with me, Thing," Harald scolded, pointing at the little pet warningly."I am well aware you're not his nanny. If you were, you'd be six feet under."
Thing tapped again.
"We've been through this already, nobody knows where the rest of you is, Thing," Harald remarked impatiently." Next time when someone threatens to cut you into thirty little pieces, take it seriously."
"Don't tell me he still moans about the missing body parts," Eudora said, entering the parlour with a tea tray. "Thing, it's been over a century, I think it's safe to say the rest of you had decomposed a long time ago."
Thing tapped moodily and jump off the desk, making his way out of the parlour before stopping suddenly for one last tap and promptly disappearing out of sight.
"Did he just call us heartless monsters?" Harald asked, perching his glasses further on his nose.
"Sweet, little Thing," Eudora smiled, pouring them two cups of henbane tea."He always has a good word to say about everyone - well, almost everyone."
"Speaking of monster," Harald continued."Any idea where Gomez is?"
"The city, I suppose," Eudora shrugged, sitting next to her husband and lifted her teacup, taking a small sip of the steaming beverage."Perhaps he has some work to do."
"On Sunday morning?" Harald asked doubtfully, resting his gaze on her suspiciously."I hope he's not doing anything stupid."
He didn't miss the way his wife tensed, almost involuntarily at the off-handed question and he instantly knew that she was hiding something from him. He couldn't be married for over thirty years and not learn the subtle nuances of his wife's body language, in fact, any husband with at least one brain cell should make his utmost priority to learn such behavioural cues.
Happy wife, happy life.
"Anything of interest going on with Gomez these days?" He asked, watching her carefully."Anything I should know of? Anything you want to tell me?"
"Not that I'm aware," she answered, but she barely glanced at him when she said that and it made him instantly suspicious.
His wife had an unfortunate habit of covering for Gomez's various shenanigans over the years, which perhaps was partially his fault because he had very little patience with that boy who seemed inclined to resist any authority. The number of stupid decisions in his son's life was staggering, he was hot-headed, impulsive, way too emotional and prone to such dramatics Harald could never understand him. If he didn't keep him on a tight leash, he was like a tornado and it seemed that the only way to tame him was to constantly put him in his place. He was sure, that the only reason Gomez managed to achieve anything in life was thanks to the consistent use of almost military-grade discipline Harald imposed on him. Not that his son ever showed any gratitude, he didn't seem to understand that Harald was doing it from the position of love, not to punish him but to make him better, to harness him, to show him what he could be if he stopped being such a whirlwind of untamed emotions.
"It's the time of the year when Gomez inclines on doing something stupid, after all," he commented sarcastically.
It was the truth, though, Gomez never joined them for the winter vacation, he preferred to drink and party his way through the Christmas and New Year period. Happy that there was no one around to give him hell about it, no doubt.
"I wish you'd stop saying things like that, especially next to Gomez," Eudora rebuked gently.
"Why? It's a tradition," Harald added sardonically.
"It doesn't help anyone."
"It's not like there's anything that would actually help, now, is there?"
"It would help if we all stopped punishing ourselves and each other," she replied somewhat angrily." If we stopped chasing after what we don't have and focused on what's good for us in our lives," she paused, swallowing heavily and looked at him uncomfortably."I'm sorry, darling, I don't know why I'm so snappy, I didn't mean to - "
"What's going on?" He interjected, his tone was sharper than he intended but he just sensed - no, he knew, he knew there was something going on behind his back and he knew the person involved would be Gomez Addams, no less, because his wife wouldn't cover for anyone else."What has he done this time?"
"Nothing," she exhaled tiredly, setting the teacup and the saucer back on the coffee table but she could feel his vexed gaze boring into her skull."I don't know," she admitted in a jaded whisper."Maybe it's nothing, maybe I'm exaggerating -"
"Exegerrating what?" He prompted insistently when she stayed silent, he was already aware of the anger building inside him because he hated seeing her so upset.
"I think that, maybe I'm wrong, but I think… I suspect," she said cautiously before turning towards his abruptly," I don't want you to get upset and confront him because maybe it's nothing, maybe it's just me - "
"Confront him about what exactly?" He asked impatiently.
"I think…he might be seeing someone," she finally said, biting her lips apprehensively." I noticed…a stain - a lipstick, on his collar, and it couldn't be Ophelia's," she explained haphazardly, pressing her fingers tiredly into her forehead."I don't know - "
"Damn him, I knew it was too good to be true," he muttered angrily, standing up so abruptly he startled her.
"Maybe it's nothing -"
"The hell it's nothing," he hissed angrily, placing the length of the room." You know it's not nothing how -," he paused, exhaling sharply."How long has this been going on?"
"I don't know," she replied.
He stopped and turned abruptly towards her.
"Don't lie to me," he insisted frostily."Don't try to protect him -"
"I'm not lying," she replied angrily."I don't know how long, I don't know if there's anything going on at all."
Harald snorted derisively.
"This is what he was doing working late?" He asked."I should have seen it-"
"Stop it."
"Selfish cad-" he raged, resuming his pacing."He has no shame, I swear, I will give him such hell he will remember for the rest of his life -"
"You will do no such thing," she interjected him sharply.
"Darling, you can't seriously expect me to sit by and watch him ruin another person's life," he retorted angrily."You asked me to trust him, to give him a chance -"
"You never gave him a chance," she breathed out in a quiet rage."You never, ever gave him a chance to move forward from what happened."
"Why should I?" He hissed back."Why should he move away from what happened when his selfishness broke this family apart and now he's back, breaking it again. This was his chance - this," he waved towards the direction of Gomez's marital bedroom."He could have had a wife and a family but, obviously, it was too much to ask of him."
"Harald -"
"Don't," he continued sharply."I don't want to hear you defend him."
"I'm not going to defend him - "
"What then?" He demanded.
"Let me handle it," she pleaded, trying to calm him down."Let me try to resolve this."
He stopped, looking at her intently.
"How?" He finally asked.
"Arguing with him will not do anything good, it won't help," she said instead, curling her fingers around his forearms." There's so much at stake, Harald, we need him to see reason, we need to," she paused, closing her eyes in a desperate plea."Before Ophelia finds out, he needs to realize the mistake he's making by gambling with his marriage. But arguing with him is not the way."
"What do you suggest, then?" He asked, calmer now somehow.
"I think there's a way," she whispered slowly." I don't know if it will work," she warned, her tone unbearably weary," but it's the only way we have."
"You should come with me to my parents' for Christmas," Morticia offered again, putting another layer of black mascara onto her long lashes.
She had exactly ten minutes to get ready before her father got here and she was still in her robe. It turned out, thankfully, that all her father asked was for her to attend a dinner party with him because, apparently, her mother refused to join him.
It wasn't the ideal way in which Morticia preferred to spend her Friday evening but it was certainly a way better outcome than what she imagined her father was going to ask her.
"Why the hell would I want to do that?" Debbie asked, popping another chocolate praline into her mouth, as she settled comfortably at Morticia's bed.
"So we could suffer together," Morticia supplied, fanning her hand at her eyes to speed up mascara drying, so she wouldn't smudge it while getting dressed."And I don't want you to spend Christma alone."
"Cute but actually Geoff invited me to spend Christmas with him," she replied."You know, the good, old surgeon feels terribly sorry for me since I'm a poor orphan whose parents died tragically in the house fire," she informed her in a dry tone.
"A fire of your own making," Morticia pointed out, smiling at her friend.
"It was their tragic decision to buy the wrong Barbie," she deadpanned.
"The nerve of some people," Morticia shook her head sympathetically.
"Where are you off to, anyway?" Debbie asked casually."Another sexapade with the hot lover?"
"Well, actually, I'm attending a dinner function with my father," Morticia smiled, taking her dress off the hanger.
"Ehm, whyyyy?"
"Because he asked me," she shrugged, putting the dress on."Zip me up, would you?"
"Sure," Debbie nodded, licking the chocolate off her fingers and then wiping her hands into her dress."Isn't it what he has a wife for?"
"I think they had a spat again," she informed her."It's their Christmas tradition."
"Jolly," Debbie smirked."Your ass looks amazing in this dress."
"I know," Morticia smiled, taking one last look at herself in the full-length mirror.
The dress was all soft, black silk with the enticing lace all the way from the upper bodice, through the long sleeves and open back giving way to the flowing, floor-length skirt.
"I'll get it," Debbie said when the loud knock reverberated through the apartment."Finish getting ready."
By the time Morticia made it to the kitchen, which took less than three minutes by all counts, Debbie was already in the process of unpacking the cardboard box - with Morticia's name on it, no less.
"What the hell?" Debbie frowned, removing the small bronze sculpture. "Why is he sending you porn?"
Morticia couldn't help but snort at the crude description, never in her life had she heard anyone referring to Rodin's work as porn.
"It's Rodin," she explained, placing the sculpture depicting two naked young people kissing on the kitchen counter.
"Never heard of him -"
"It's called The Eternal Spring," she attempted to explain.
"Tish, it's porn."
"It's art," Morticia corrected kindly."It's one of the figures from Rodin's Gates of Hell, it's very beautiful, inspired by Dante's Inferno."
"Mhmmm, yeah, it's still porn," Debbie rolled her eyes and went to pick up the phone that just started ringing. "Hello," she said in such a monotone tone as if she was just completely over everything in life, listening mutely for not more than five seconds before extending the receiver towards Morticia."It's for you - the guy who sent you porn statues."
Morticia shook her head indulgently and took the receiver.
"Hello -"
"Greetings, gorgeous," Vlad's cheerful voice reverberated through the phone."I can only assume you've got my gift."
"I have indeed."
"Can you explain your mean friend this is not porn?"
"Futile undertaking," she replied smoothly."How are you, Vlad?"
"Good, getting ready for the dinner party, actually," he replied."I was wondering if you fancy some drinks later tonight."
"I'm afraid I'm attending a dinner party tonight as well," she told him apologetically, even though she did not feel like having drinks with him at all.
"Oh?"
"My father asked me to attend a function with him tonight," she explained.
"Wouldn't be at Werthheimers, would it?" He asked.
"I'm not even sure," she replied slowly."I think so."
"Lucky stars," he supplied jovially."We'll have drinks tonight, after all, I'm going to be there as well. I have a little surprise for you."
"Amazing, I guess, I'll see you there," she replied, trying not to roll her eyes to the high heavens, and hung up, sighing tiredly.
She should have ended it right after the night they spent together. What was she even thinking of prolonging it until now, when she knew very well even then, that nothing would come out of it?
Although, truth be told, she tried to tell him that numerous times but Vlad was just so insistent she just gave in, deciding to let it run its course. In fact, she barely paid him any mind at all, because her every thought was filled with Gomez Addams and there was simply no space for anything else.
Alas, though, she would have to deal with it once and for all.
She turned towards her friend and groaned in exasperation.
"You know, if someone treated me with such blatant disregard as I've treated him these past weeks I wouldn't speak to them for the rest of my life. Let alone buy them gifts and ask them out for drinks," she announced, quite irritated by the inconvenience of it all.
Even if it was, at least partially, the inconvenience of her own making.
"Tell me about it," Debbie concurred."You couldn't be more bitchy if you tried. Guy's a doormat. I guess men like mean bitches who treat them like dirt."
"I didn't treat him like dirt,-"
"You kinda did."
"Regardless, I shouldn't be breaking up with him," Morticia insisted, checking her hair in the wall mirror in the hall."He should be breaking up with me."
"Have you ever even been dumped before?" Debbie asked, raising her eyebrow sceptically."With those legs? And that tiny waist?"
"Well, no, I haven't," Morticia admitted."But I should have been at least twice. Thrice at this point, if we're counting Vlad. Would you do me a favour and send it back to the sender?" She added, pointing at the opened package.
She tried not to laugh at the way her friend's face instantly brightened.
"Ooooh, are we finally dumping Mr Can't- take-the-hint-she's-not-that-into-you?"
"I will try," Morticia sighed.
"Remember, if all fails, we can always kill him."
She should have instantly realized that they would be here as well but as it happened the idea hadn't crossed her mind at all, not once, until she arrived with her father at the grand mansion on the outskirts of the city, populated with the most affluent residents whom she barely remembered the names of and, alas, there she was - her sister and her dear husband. How did she not realize that they'd be at the same dinner party when Gomez even told her they'd be attending a party tonight, was beyond her.
Ophelia waved at them half-heartedly in greeting, in the midst of some animated conversation with another couple, and Morticia tried to ignore the way she clung to Gomez, her hands woven around the bend of his elbow. Also, more to the point, she tried to ignore how absolutely irresistible Gomez Addams looked in a full evening tuxedo, or the fact that he barely spared her one glance before promptly returning to his conversation.
"You look lovely, poppet," her father complimented her gain."Thank you for doing this."
She nodded, smiling at him softly.
"Must have been quite a fight for mother to chose not to attend with you," she supplied dryly.
"If anyone asks, she has a migraine," James Frump replied tiredly but keeping his customary smile firmly plastered on his face.
"That bad?"
"Nooooo," he shook his head."Worse."
"What happened to the Christmas spirit and burying the hatchet?" She teased.
"I think it's safe to say that the hatchet is now buried firmly in my back," he replied in a deadpan manner. "I thought you said you're not seeing Vlad anymore?"
"I'm not," she replied, surprised at the change of subject."Technically. Why?"
"Why, because he's coming towards us as we speak," he muttered and waved in the direction of Vlad advancing towards them with a happy grin on his face.
"I meant to tell him it's over but I had…," she paused, suddenly lost for words."Other engagements."
"Is Christmas really the best time for this?" Her father reprimanded gently.
"I don't know, let's ask the hatchet in your back," she replied sardonically, earning herself an exasperated glare.
"You're on your own with this," her father muttered as Vlad approached.
"Traitor," Morticia replied quietly and pinched him in response for a good measure before smiling at Vlad in greetings.
Her father, true to his word, excused himself shortly after exchanging a few words with Vlad, sparing her a knowing look, which she reciprocated with nothing but a blank stare.
She couldn't believe he expected her to break up with Vlad in the middle of a dinner party.
"You look stunning," Vlad complimented, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
She has never broken up with a man before, not in person, she usually wrote them quite touching (in Debbie's opinion) Dear John letters and then just packed her bags and left. It saved everyone unnecessary drama, in her opinion.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"I hope you liked my gift?" He promoted, taking two flutes of champagne from the passing waiter and handed her one.
"It's beautiful," she replied, accepting the drink." You shouldn't have, though."
"Nonsense," he replied jovially, picking her hand and placing a quick kiss on her knuckles."I love buying gifts for you."
"No, really," she insisted, gently extracting her hand from his." I don't feel comfortable about you investing yourself into something that will never be anything more than friendship," she told him openly.
"You shouldn't fret about such things," he smiled at her, as if utterly unaware of the meaning of her words."As I said, I love buying you gifts."
Well, no one could tell her she didn't try being subtle.
"Vlad," she said gently but firmly still."I don't want you to buy me gifts."
"Why not? Didn't you like it?" He asked, perplexed." I thought you said Rodin was one of your favourites?"
"I liked it alright," she assured."That's not the point."
"Well, what is your point?"
Perhaps Debbie was right, it would be easier to just kill him.
"My point is that we," she motioned between them." Us - together, it's not going to happen."
"Why not?" He frowned.
"I just… don't feel it," she explained further."I like you. You're a very sweet man but…this isn't working for me on a… romantic level, I'm sorry."
"My dear, I think you just need more time to think about it," he smiled at her indulgently, in a way that she found a bit condescending."We hardly spent any time together. Don't rush into any decisions."
"I don't," she interjected."I really do not need time. It's just not going to happen, I'm really sorry."
"Well, if that's how you feel now," he nodded at her."There's nothing left for me to do but accept it for now and be patient."
She frowned.
What. On. Earth.
"Actually, I think a nice holiday abroad is what we need," he continued as if completely unaware of her stunned expression. "How about Italy? I love Italy."
She blinked, for a moment absolutely taken aback to say anything at all. What the devil was he talking about? Surely, he understood what she was telling him?
"I don't think it's a good idea, Vlad," she finally said. Slowly.
"I think it's a fantastic idea," he countered lightly."Trust me, you will love it."
"I think it's a horrible idea," she insisted."Look, I'm really sorry, I understand this is not what you expected -"
He shook his head and smiled at her.
"Morticia," he said, looking at her indulgently as if he was merely amused by her words."It's quite alright. I understand. "
He smiled and then winked at her before, in some bizarre sequence of events, he leaned towards her and… kissed her. On the lips.
"This is all new for you," he said softly."You need to take your time."
He placed a brief kiss on her cheek, and then he was gone. Leaving her too stunned to do anything but stare after him, utterly stupefied.
"What on earth was that about?" Her father's voice reverberated next to her a minute later."I thought you were supposed to break up with him?
She shook her head mutely.
"I don't know," she finally answered."I truly have no idea what just happened here."
Wrath wasn't even an adequate word.
Nor was anger, or fury, or indignation.
There was probably a word that adequately described his current state of being, combing all: his anger, his jealousy, hopelessness and desperation but he just couldn't think of one at the moment. Oh, and he needed to add despairingly in love to the mix. What was the word for such a state?
Why didn't she mention she was going to be attending this dinner with her father, so at least he could prepare himself mentally instead of being assaulted with the vision of her feminine perfection and it took almost inhuman willpower to tear his gaze away from her. He tried his utmost not to look at her but she looked so irresistibly delicious, he couldn't help himself, and so apparently at least half of the male guests here. It didn't help the unwelcome feeling of jealousy that was building inside him as he watched her conversing with Vlad, when he had to watch his cousin kiss her and could barely stand it, gods he hated it, hated, hated, hated it.
Why was she still seeing him, anyway? Why wouldn't she end things, when she knew how he felt about her? When he would do anything for her? Didn't she realize that if she'd only asked, he'd give up anything and everything for her, if she -
"Doesn't she look stunning, old chap?" His cousin asked silkily as he joined him at the table. "Although, at least pretend to lower thy gaze," he added facetiously, elbowing him on his side."You're married, remember?"
Like he could ever forget. Like his marriage wasn't hanging above his head like the Sword of Damocles ready to decapitate him and his misdeeds with him.
"Jealous, cousin?" He taunted meanly, he just couldn't help himself, even though what he was doing to him was nothing but abominable. If his cousin only knew that he didn't just stare, that he knew every delightful inch of that glorious body, that he was just madly, madly in love with that woman.
"Hardly," Vlad replied, drowning his champagne in one go."I have nothing to be jealous of, oh, did I tell you? We're going away for the holidays."
Gomez almost choked at his cousin's announcement. What in the actual -
"We?" He managed to ask.
"Morticia and I, of course, a little Italian gateway to Turin, just after Christmas" he replied, smiling at his cousin's reaction."She will love it."
Gomez could feel his whole body freeze in a silent rage. It suddenly appeared too much of a coincidence for Morticia to mention her intention of going away and Vlad to mention a trip to Italy around the same time. Surely, she didn't mean she was going with him? It didn't make any sense, why would she do that?
"Poor thing, she's so in over her head for me, she doesn't know how to handle it," Vlad sighed, his tone a mixture of amusement and tenderness, leaning back in his chair as if he didn't have a care in the world."She was so taken aback when I told her about the holidays - speechless, I tell you! Truth be told, it was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but oh what the hell, I just couldn't wait to surprise her."
Impossible. He was lying, he must have, there was no way Morticia was going anywhere with him, it didn't make any sense at all. He had no idea what his cousin's game was but he was absolutely sure Morticia was not hiding this from him, or worse - lying to him. It was all some ridiculous coincidence. All that didn't change the fact that he wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smile off his cousin's face.
"I keep forgetting that she's still so young, you know," Vlad continued, entirely oblivious to his cousin's distress and then laughed." It's all a bit overwhelming for her, I can tell she's not used to such strong emotions," he continued, swirling his brandy," but let me assure you, old chap, she has nothing to worry about, she'll be returned from this trip with an engagement ring on her finger."
The hell she would be.
"You're the first to know," Vlad continued, looking at him pointedly, a satisfied grin on his face."You're like a brother to me, after all, and she's the woman I've been waiting for. Imagine, I have you to thank in a way, if it weren't for you we wouldn't have met. It seems like a destiny - don't laugh, I know how cheesy that sounds, but think about it, you marrying Ophelia, then Balthazar's funeral, it just all fell into place, don't you think?"
Gomez didn't reply because suddenly the guilt was all too much. The thought of what a despicable betrayal that was, to do this to someone who was like a brother to him. Was it even possible, for both of them to fall in love with the same woman, the same night, at the same moment even? Did his heart stop beating at the sight of her? Did he too gazed into those dark eyes and was lost, enslaved to her, just as Gomez was?
"Is this really what you want?" He found himself asking."Do you love her?"
His own words seemed to cut through him like a dagger, a painful, horrible realization that the history was repeating itself, that he was doing it again.
He was betraying another brother.
"Oh, absolutely," his cousin confirmed eagerly. "Trust me when I say, that by the end of the next year, she will be Mrs Addams."
Morticia Frump decided that it was one of the most bizarre evenings that she ever had the misfortune to experience. Setting aside the fact that she made a deliberate effort to avoid Gomez and Ophelia as much as humanly possible, because she could barely stand watching him play the perfect husband. Whenever she noticed him considering coming over to talk to them, she made a deliberate show of turning away from him and engaging in whatever conversation was currently ongoing.
It was stupid, pathetic and juvenile. She was perfectly aware of that, and it did manage to turn the perfectly happy and gregarious Gomez Addams into someone resembling a thunder cloud.
Or an axe murdered.
A caged animal, waiting to pounce.
The point was, he was certainly not happy.
It wasn't all that difficult to avoid them though, because, with the exception of a little hand wave in greetings - for the sake of appearances, no doubt - Ophelia didn't make any attempts to even acknowledge neither her nor her father.
That wasn't in itself out of ordinary, Ophelia always gave James Frump the silent treatment whenever their parents happened to be at odds. It didn't even matter who was in the wrong, Ophelia always took their mother's side and blamed their father by default. Morticia often received the same treatment, she never managed to understand why exactly, guilt by association, it seemed.
Another bizarre part of the evening was Vlad Addams.
So bizarre, in fact, that after a while, she started to question her own sanity.
He asked her to dance, which she politely refused. He chatted with her and with her father as if nothing has happened, like she didn't just break up with him an hour ago, to the point when she really, really started questioning her own sanity, questioning if their conversation, where she very clearly, in her opinion, ended things between them, really took place at all.
"Is Gomez alright?" Her father asked.
"Why do you ask me?" She replied quickly, a little too quickly, judging from her father's surprised expression, but she was genuinely taken aback by the question.
"Because he's staring in our direction looking furious like a devil himself," he told her lightly.
She turned towards where her father was pointing - Vlad and Gomez sitting at the table together, apparently engaged in a deep conversation, but whereas Vlad looked like he had no care in the world, Gomez looked like was two steps away from setting the said world on fire.
Their eyes met, and she felt the breath caught in her throat at how ridiculously tempting he looked like this, it made her knees weak but, somehow, she managed to merely spare him one look and then, very deliberately, turned away from him, as if she couldn't be bothered with acknowledging him at all.
"I haven't even spoken two words to him tonight," she replied, quite unable to help the defensive tone that crept in.
"One look from you is sufficient to make people crumble," her father deadpanned.
"You look quite stressed yourself if you ask me," she pointed out, deliberately changing the subject."What's going on with you tonight?"
"Ugh, I had one tense conversation," he admitted jadedly.
"With whom?"
He exhaled shortly and shook his head.
"Nobody," he replied tiredly, smiling at her."Nobody. Nothing to worry yourself with. Some people just insist on being difficult, that's all."
Morticia frowned, watching him drown another whiskey - at least third in the last hour. She placed her palm on his shoulder in a comforting manner.
"Do you want some fresh air?" She asked."You look rather pale."
"You're the one to talk," he retorted teasingly but then nodded. "Might be a good idea. It's rather hot in here."
They went to the terrace and her father immediately reached for his cigar. Morticia leaned against the balustrade, watching him with a small smile - so much for the fresh air. She tried not to look back to the party where Gomez indeed looked like he wanted to set the whole world on fire but there was nothing she could do about it - at the moment.
"You must be freezing," her father said.
"I'm fine," she assured."I will ask for my cloak when my limbs start turning into icicles," she added lightly, but it elicited barely a small smile from her father.
He looked so stressed, she was in half-mind to suggest he did some breathing exercises to relax him because he looked like he was going to snap in half any second.
"Papa, are you alright?" She asked with evident concern."You look rather ill."
He shook his head, waving off her concern.
"Everything I have ever done was with the best intentions," he suddenly said, looking across the vast garden in front of him.
"Right," she said slowly, not at all sure what prompted such a declaration from him.
"I want you to understand that. I only ever wanted the best for you."
She frowned at him, half-bemused, half-worried he was in the midst of some meltdown. Perhaps this campaign was stressing him more than she realized.
"Are you dying?" She asked, watching him with confusion.
He let out a mirthless half-laugh before replying,
"No," he shook his head." I'm not dying. I just…," he paused and sighed heavily."I always wanted to be the best father I could be, for you…and your sister."
"As far as I'm aware, you've done an excellent job," she replied reassuringly.
"I wouldn't go that far," he breathed out, half-turning towards her."But I love you very much, you know that, don't you?"
"Of course, I know that," she smiled at him."Papa, are you sure you're not on your death bed?"
He couldn't help but let out another small laugh.
"Pretty sure."
"Because this sounds like a dying man talk," she said, before adding in a smooth, facetious manner," either that, or you're drunk."
He laughed then, loud, amused laughter, shaking his head at her.
"Maybe a little tipsy," he admitted.
"Tipsy, huh?"
"Makes me a tad gushy, overly sentimental," he defended half-heartedly."But I mean every word."
"Hmmmm, I think I have a remedy to your over sentimentalism."
"What remedy is that?"
She crossed her arms against her middle and regarded him somewhat challengedly.
"Do you remember Hubert and Henry?"
"Your pet vultures," he nodded."You were the only seven-year-old who didn't want a pony for her birthday."
"Hmmm, yes well… they didn't destroy your precious Faberge Egg," she informed him stoically.
"You didn't - "
"Cousin Melancholia and I used it instead of tennis balls," she remarked smoothly."It was not a good idea."
He turned towards her in outrage, the colour returning to his face almost immediately.
"Those were priceless," he said in a tone somewhere between an outraged squeal and a hiss.
She dared to merely smirk at him.
"They were gifted to your great-grandfather by none other but Damat Ferid Pasha - "
"The Grand Vezir of the Ottoman Empire," she finished for him, her smirk stretching into a knowing smile."Still feeling sentimental, Papa?"
"Thank God, this was the last Christmas party we had to attend," Ophelia remarked with relief on their way from the dinner party, staring into her compact mirror as she applied a fresh layer of her lipstick."Gerald and Holly were right not to attend, it was dreadfully boring, don't you think? Well, you don't have to answer, you looked like you wanted to murder someone the whole evening. You're really in a rather foul mood lately, darling, it's not fun when you're like that."
"My apologies for ruining your fun," he replied moodily, shifting uncomfortably at the back seat of the limousine Ophelia insisted they hired for the event. He'd much rather had Lurch drive them in his beloved Packard but Ophelia didn't even want to hear of it.
"All I'm saying," she sighed, turning towards him just slightly."Is that you could at least make an effort. I hope your mood improves by the time we arrive at the club - "
Poor chances of that. Nil chances, in fact.
"Because I'm planning to finally have some fun, I'm so damn tired of those preparations for the charity auction I deserve a night of pure fun, so please make some effort, would you?"
He could not make an effort even if he wanted to, he didn't feel like going to the club and getting drunk. He felt like howling with misery, blowing up some trains, killing someone and then he could drink himself to sleep.
"As a matter of fact," she said, snapping the compact mirror closed, turning towards him with a sultry look on her face and before he knew it, she was straddling his thighs and pressing her lips firmly against his."We can start the fun now."
"Not here," he said, pushing her gently away.
"Why the hell not?" She giggled."The partition is closed, anyway. Come on," she urged, placing small kisses along his jawline."It will help you relax."
"Ophelia, stop it -" he thought there was little hope for her to listen but something in his voice made her falter.
"Jesus, since when you're such a prude?" She asked and rolled her eyes."You used to be way more adventurous than that."
"I'm just not in the mood," he told her and almost winced at the pathetic cliche of his excuse, even though it wasn't even an excuse.
He was really not in the mood.
"Oh come on, what kind of excuse is that?" She snorted."Men are always in the mood."
"Not always," he retorted in annoyance.
"What the hell is wrong with you all this week?" Ophelia huffed impatiently, getting off him and returning to sit next to him, crossing her arms around her middle."Even your parents behave as if somebody died."
"It's a difficult time of the year for us," he told her defensively.
"Oh my God, you're not still on about Frasier, are you?" She sighed in annoyance.
"Who?" He frowned at her in confusion.
Who the hell was Fraiser?
"Your brother, Frasier -"
"Fester," he corrected, irked."His name is Fester."
"Fine, whatever, I honestly don't understand what is the whole fuss about," Ophelia insisted, ignoring his words and leaning heavily against the leather seat."Morticia barely sets foot at home all year and no one is being dramatic about it - I mean it's not like he's dead or something. If you ask me, it's ridiculous that he's being so hurt by a simple argument, seriously, Morticia and I would barely speak to each other at all if we didn't argue."
"You don't understand," he told her, trying to contain his anger. How could she be so dismissive? She had no idea what they all went through, how dare she tell any of them how they must feel."I broke his heart."
"Oh please, Gomez, are you serious?" She snorted, adding derisively," broken heart. Let me tell you something," she turned towards him."None of you have any idea what a broken heart is, you were both young and stupid and Fraiser was being overdramatic, which seems to be a running trait in your family. Broken heart? Give me a break. My father obliterated my mother's heart, he breaks her heart every single day for the last twenty years but she had learnt to rise above it. She doesn't make some unnecessary drama out of it."
He could scarcely believe the audacity and cruelty of her words, how easily she seemed to invalidate their pain. What did she know? How dared she judged them and the way they coped with Fester's disappearance and compare it to anything else when there was nothing she could compare the pain of his betrayal to, the pain of not knowing if his brother would ever set foot in the Addams Mansion again, let alone the pain of never being able to ask for his forgiveness.
"Stop the car," he told the driver sharply and opened the car before it had a chance to stop.
"Where the hell are you going?" Ophelia hissed.
"Out," he shot curtly, already half out of the car.
"We're in the middle of the road for fuck's sake," she shouted."Get back, for the love of - you're being ridiculous -"
"I don't care," he cut her off tartly, and slammed the door, only narrowly avoiding being hit by the car behind them.
And he didn't care about that either.
Morticia never thought someone could look entirely indolent and unmistakably dangerous and the same but Gomez Addams managed to achieve just that.
He was half-sitting, half-laying on the chair next to the empty fireplace, his shirt and cravat were partially undone, legs placed wide apart and a bottle of wine in one hand, the other propped in a closed fist against his cheek. The near-total darkness, safe from the faint shine of the streetlight, didn't do anything to soften the silent fury in him. Indeed, he looked furious as a devil himself.
She made her way further into the apartment, dropping the keys on the kitchenette counter.
"Had a nice time at the party?" He asked dully."Don't turn the lights on, they hurt my eyes."
She complied, faltering momentarily, allowing her sight to get used to the darkness.
"Are you drunk?" She said instead, nodding at the bottle of wine in his hand, as she deposited her cloak neatly at the back of the chair.
She was still wearing her party dress, the silk shimmered faintly in the weak light.
"Not yet," he replied silkily.
"Were you planning to get drunk?"
"Seems like an excellent idea after this evening from hell," he retorted, watching her deposit her earnings at the table before slowly making her way towards him."How did you know I would be here?"
"I didn't," she replied." I took my chances. You seem rather angry," she noticed languidly, untying the straps of her high heels before kicking them off rather carelessly under the table.
"Extremely."
"Why are you angry, Gomez?" She asked, her voice unnervingly calm, almost taunting as she came to stand just in front of him, the skirt of her evening gown brushing his knees.
"You know why," he replied, almost furious at her blase tone.
"Hmmmm," she hummed, reaching behind her back, slowly unzipping her dress."Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
He didn't reply. He didn't take his eyes off her either. He watched her pull the lace sleeves of her dress down her arms agonizingly slowly before allowing the material to pool at her feet. She didn't let him feast his eyes on her, though, wearing nothing but the lace lingerie and black stockings as she hooked her finger into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her long legs. He couldn't help a sharp intake of breath when she smiled at him knowingly and then slowly went down on her knees, resting her hands on his knees.
"Were you jealous, Gomez?" She purred, sliding her hands up to his thighs and watched his jaw set in anger, there was lust there too.
"I hate seeing you with him," he hissed.
"Is that why you're so angry?" She asked silkily, undoing his trousers."Is it the thought of him touching me that upsets you?"
He bit his lips, stifling an agonizing groan when she wrapped her hand around his length, her lips just millimetres from him and it took all of his willpower not to push his hips towards those enticing lips.
"Or is it the thought of me touching him?" She whispered, brushing her tongue slowly around the tip."Like this."
She didn't wait for his answer, taking him into her mouth and he howled - with lust and the sheer rage at what she was suggesting, the sound of a glass bottle hitting the floor reverberated through the room and she sunk her mouth further down on him, embracing the base of his cock with her thumb and forefinger, pulling gently downwards and moaned, when she was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
"Don't close your eyes," she told him silkily when he moaned and tilted his head back, gripping the armrests so hard she was sure it would crumble."I want you to watch me."
He swore but kept her eyes on her obediently and as she moved her mouth luxuriously over the length of him, delighting in his sharp intakes of breath, the torturous way he struggled not to succumb to her cares. She moaned, sliding her free hand down her stomach, she was so wet with the lust for him she could barely stand it.
"Don't," he hissed, clutching the armrests tightly."Don't touch yourself."
She let out a half-desperate, disappointed groan but complied, sinking her nails into the skin of his upper thigh instead, moving her mouth faster and heard him swear, his palms gripping the edges of the armchair even tighter, she could feel him pulsing gently in her mouth but, to her annoyance, he still hadn't made a move to touch her. She stroked him with her hand for a moment before running her tongue all the way from the base to the tip, covering it with her mouth again and tightening his hold on him, sucking gently before twirling her tongue around the tip and going down on him again.
"Gods… fuck, Tish," he moaned loudly in warning, unable to hold off any longer, and almost came apart at his seams when she grabbed his hand and placed it on her throat, so he could feel the gentle motions as she swallowed.
He seemed to snap then, grabbing the fist of her hair and pulling her towards him to kiss her, tasting himself on her tongue - a delightful, violent, breathless kiss, and she moaned, fisting her hands into his shirt.
She was so aroused her whole body was shaking with the need for him.
"Turn around," he told her as they stood at the foot of the bed, and he took off the silk cravat from around his neck.
She felt him approach and press against her, completely naked now, and then covered her eyes with the silk material, tightening the knot behind her head.
"You were so eager not to look at me tonight," he whispered to her silent question."I want to accommodate you."
She felt her lips go suddenly dry and almost wept with delight at the mere prospect of what was to come. She moaned with unbridled pleasure when his hands roamed over her body, he slid his warm hand down her ass, cupping her firmly before slowly sliding his fingers in between her thighs, caressing the sleek flesh there and he couldn't help but gasp.
"You're so wet for me already," he whispered appreciatively, dipping his fingers into her but then withdrawing immediately.
"Gomez -"
"Why did you do ii to me?" He asked, sliding his hand in between her thighs again and heard her moan.
She swallowed heavily, hyper-aware of him - his hands, his soft breath against the back of her neck, the intoxicating scent of him, it was making her feverish with the lust for him.
"You know why," she managed to reply.
"Perhaps," he agreed reluctantly, prodding her slick wetness with his fingers.
"Gomez -" she moaned, it was becoming increasingly hard to string a coherent sentence when his hands were making her want to weep with pleasure but she forced herself to continue."You're becoming very careless."
"If he touches you, I'll kill him," he promised, his voice velvet smooth.
"He will if I let him," she retorted, her senses so focused on his touch she couldn't help when her lips parted in a loud, reverent moan when his hands squeezed her breasts and then pinched her already hard nipples.
She was deliberately goading him and he knew that, but she was making him mad with jealousy, all the same, the mere thought that someone would touch her like this. He howled, deep in his throat and swept the heavy curtain of her neck and sank his lips into the sensitive skin, his hands back on her breasts.
The sensation was almost too much, and her knees nearly gave way.
"Gomez," she said breathily, then cried out when he sank his teeth into her and sucked at the delicate skin. She felt her grip on reality spin."You're going to leave marks," she warned him, but even to her own ears it sounded feeble.
"Yes," he hissed into her ear."Perhaps I want to…mark you. Perhaps… you want me to mark you too."
She wanted to reply but the heat in between her thighs was becoming unbearable and he was obviously determined to drive her insane tonight. And she never wanted to plunge into insanity so desperately.
"Please," she whispered hoarsely." Please just - "
He silenced her with his lips and she moaned loudly as he forced his tongue into her mouth.
"Get on your hand and knees," he told her and his palms rested on her hips when she complied.
"You wanted me to be jealous?" He asked, caressing the smooth flesh of her ass."Is this what you wanted?"
She didn't reply, she could barely focus on anything but the satin bedsheets under her and his soft hands caressing her, squeezing the aroused flesh, his fingers prodding in all the delightful places, and then withdrawing deriving a frustrated moan out of her. She wanted him so much her whole body was shaking, and she couldn't help but move her hips towards him and heard him hiss.
He was unbelievably hard, aching to bury himself in her. She tried to press against him again but he stilled her, and she gasped in delight when he delivered a sharp slap to her ass.
"Not yet," he reprimanded her firmly." Did you want to make me jealous?" He asked, squeezing the supple flesh, hard enough to leave bruises, before delivering another slap and she moaned her pleasure into the satin coolness of the bedsheets." Tell me."
"Yes," she hissed impatiently although she could barely form a thought, almost delirious with the lust for him."I want you…so much…Gomez - please, just - "
He drove into her sharply, without giving her even a second to adjust to him and she gasped at the fullness of him, her knees almost buckled under the sheer force of his thrust.
"This is what I wanted to do to you all blasted evening," he rasped as he pushed into her roughly, eliciting another loud moan of pleasure, then withdrew almost fully before pounding into her aggressively again. "Like...this."
She had no words to reply to him, she could barely remember what they were talking about or why he was so angry. She steadied herself on her elbows as he was pounding into her so hard she could barely breathe and it felt so unbelievably good, his touch, his jealousy, his anger, his roughness, she felt her head spin at the sensations.
"Mmmmm, gods -, " she cried out when he pushed deeper into her, his fingers digging painfully into the swell of her hips and she came so hard she wept, aware of nothing but the white heat, the ecstasy of him as he kept pounding into her, his breath ragged. She buried her face in her fisted hands, moaning, weeping at the dark, unbelievable pleasure of him but he didn't allow her respite, holding her hips firmly in place as he continued his thrusts until she thought her legs would give away if he didn't grasp at her hips so firmly.
It was simultaneously too much and not enough, every single nerve of her body seemed on fire, his touch seemed to burn the marks on her skin and yet she couldn't get enough of him. She felt another wave of a sinfully blissful heat spread through her core and she cried out again, fisiting her fingers into the bedsheets and this time she felt him tense against her and he groaned, low at the back of his throat, howling his release into her, breathing heavily and before she knew it, he withdrew from her and pushed her onto her back, immediately claiming her lips into a hot, intense kiss, and she moaned into his mouth when he buried himself inside her again.
"Mine," he rasped, tearing the silks cravat off her eyes as moved his hips aggressively."Say it."
She shook her head and her lips turned into a sinfully sultry smile.
"Mine," she said instead, fisting her fingers into his hair and kissed him violently, moving her hips sharply against his trust before biting into his lower lip until she felt the soft flesh rapture under the sharpness of her teeth and he screamed, jerking against her as he came hot inside her again, before collapsing on top of her.
She didn't know how long they stayed like this, wrapped in each other, but her legs were still trembling and his breath was still uneven when he rolled off her and onto his back on the bed, breathing heavily.
"Is this your idea of punishment Gomez?" She asked after a while, her tone mildly teasing as she turned to her side and placed a soft kiss on his upper arm."Because this is no way to punish me, it was absolutely amazing. We'll have to do this again."
He laughed then, pulling her closer to him so her head was resting on his chest, and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head.
"Not sure who I was trying to punish," he mused sardonically before releasing a painful whisper, " but don't do this to me, don't turn away from me again, I can't stand it."
"We were in public, Gomez," she pointed out, swallowing heavily before she allowed the uncomfortable words to leave her lips," And you have a wife…I'm not your wife."
"Don't need a reminder," he told her sharply.
"Seems like you do," she retorted firmly."My father was there as well."
He sighed tiredly, conceding to her words.
"I can't do this anymore, Tish," he told her suddenly, and felt her immediately tense in his arms but she said nothing, so he pressed further, in a slow, painful whisper," I can't lie to her anymore. And I can't be a husband to her."
"What are you saying?" She finally asked, lifting herself from his chest to look directly into his eyes, her heart beating wildly. She didn't want things to be half-said, or assumed or, worse - unsaid.
"I'm in love with you," he said, gazing at her softly."I love you, Tish."
She swallowed heavily, her heart beating so hard she thought it may burst any second. There was no way back from this, she realized, they would either end it now or proceed with the impossible and she found herself suddenly filled with apprehension.
"And what are you going to do about that?" She finally asked.
The same challenging words she said to him that afternoon at the graveyard. The first time he kissed her. She needed this, she needed a complete certainty from him, not perhaps or maybes or romantic platitudes whispered in post-coital bliss.
"I want to tell her," he told her slowly as if judging her reaction to his every word." I don't want to lie to her anymore, I want…," he paused and inhaled deeply before running his fingers gently along her jawbone."I want you - forever."
She seemed to relax visibly, if only a little.
"Do you realize what you want to do? Do you realize the consequences?" She asked him carefully."This is madness, Gomez."
"I know," he nodded."But no less than staying married to a woman I could never love. No less than the eternal torment of not having you in my life," he swallowed heavily before letting out another painful whisper,"I can't live my life if you're not in it."
"Gomez," she murmured, capturing his lips into a tender kiss.
He was telling her what she longed to hear from him but the reality of it was suddenly frightening and overwhelming. How could they possibly go with it? It was unthinkable.
"No one will approve of this," she pointed out."Imagine the scandal, and - my father? Gomez, I can't do that to him."
"Do you love me?" He asked instead, his tone almost eerily calm.
"It's not a matter -"
"It's a yes or no answer."
She sighed, didn't bother averting her eyes or any timid nonsense, she held his gaze steadily and found herself nodding.
"I do," she whispered."So much, but it's not enough, can't you see?"
"It's enough for me," he replied, kissing her firmly."We'll make it enough. Amor vincit omnia," he quoted, eliciting a small, shaky laugh from her.
"I think history proved it time and again that love doesn't in fact conquer everything, Gomez" she pointed out with mirthless amusement."We'll tell them," she swallowed heavily."And then what?"
"We leave, let the dust settle," he replied, with such a simplistic, surprising conviction, that she almost allowed herself to believe that it was what it would take, except it wouldn't.
It would be emotional mayhem.
Once they've admitted to their misdeeds, there was never going back, there was no understanding and no forgiveness, they'd be just the two of them and the aftermath of their betrayal.
"That dust might never settle," she told him somberly."They might never forgive us."
"Then so be it."
"You don't really mean that."
"I do," he assured her, tightening his arms around her."I can't spend the rest of my life being married to a woman I can never love. I love you, Morticia, more than I can put into words, I can't imagine living my life without you in it, by my side, forever."
"It will break her heart," she said."It will humiliate her. I don't want to hurt her like that -"
He nodded, he understood what she was telling him, painfully so. He understood it more acutely than she realized.
"Tish… your sister is married to a man madly in love with another woman," he explained, his tone hopelessly honest." I lie to her every single day to be with you. She doesn't deserve it. She deserves to be truly loved, and I can't give her that. She deserves more," he insisted, gazing at her pointedly."And so do you. You deserve more than a clandestine affair."
"It doesn't bother me," she told him softly."Being your mistress, it's just a label, labels don't matter."
"It bothers me," he replied, touching the side of her face in a gentle caress." It matters to me. You're more than that," he whispered."You're everything."
It never occurred to her, never crossed her mind that it mattered or even bothered him, it never mattered to her, she didn't need to be validated by status but at the same time, she realized that his words oddly pleased her.
"How are we even going to tell them?" She asked and felt him exhale a relieved breath. "What's the etiquette of telling your wife you want to leave her for her sister? Do you just spring the news at her between aperitif and dinner or wait until Christmas."
"I'll speak to her after the charity auction," he told her, ignoring the sarcastic tone.
She blinked, taken aback.
"That's just four days away," she breathed out shakily."Four days."
"Yes."
She held his gaze, almost shocked by the silent resolve in his eyes. She pressed her lips together.
"She will never forgive us, Gomez. What we're doing…it will hurt so many people, so many people who might never forgive us."
"I know," he whispered."But I don't see any other option."
"Except for ending this," she said weakly.
"And spend the rest of our lives in regret and misery? Bitter and broken-hearted?"
"Yes," she nodded, before adding in a deadpan manner," my parents seem to be doing it since forever, obviously it works for them," she paused and then inhaled deeply, shaking her head before whispering, "I'm sorry, I tend to use dark humour and sarcasm to deflect from the complex feelings that I have no emotional capacity to handle - I'm really good at this."
"I've noticed," he nodded, adding smoothly."I usually just blow up trains and fall in despair."
"We're clearly meant for each other, then," she let out a small, shaky laugh and leaned to place a soft kiss on his lips." If she wants to snap my neck for this," she supplied evenly."I won't even say no."
"Do I get to have a say in this?" He deadpanned, frowning.
"I don't think she will consider your veto as even remotely valid," she retorted in kind, and then smiled at him weakly."Are we really going to do this?"
He nodded.
"I love you," he said firmly, trying to reassure her."I will be there for you, every step of the way, I swear to you. Tell me what you want, and I will give it to you."
She gazed at him softly, almost overcome with the enormity of the task before them and the sheer ferocity of her feeling for him. She was terrified of both, and yet, she trusted him.
He made her hope that perhaps there was no such thing as impossible.
Perhaps impossible was just a label.
"You," she whispered finally, claiming his lips into a firm, desperate kiss."I only want you. Forever."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Thoughts and constructive criticism are appreciated. x
