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Morticia was bored. So very, very, very bored. It wasn’t often that she and Gomez had to go out to dinner with random people, but when it did happen she knew she was in for a somewhat bland evening. This dinner, however, was taking the cake. The couple that offered to take them out were doing so as a thank you, since Gomez gave them $10,000 in startup money for their business after meeting at an art exhibit one night. They were nice enough, sure, but if Morticia had to hear one more thing about their last trip to Wisconsin, she was going to jam a fork through her ear.
However, since apparently that was considered bad manners, she had resorted to drinking. Heavily. Which was not something she would normally do, but these were extenuating circumstances. She was currently on her fourth glass of wine, which was always where her superb tolerance would end.
Gomez, the darling man that he was, was completely a light weight. Two glasses of whisky would do him in completely if the first didn’t already. Morticia usually remained composed and sober for this reason, in case she needed to help him with, well, anything.
But hearing the word ‘cheese’ for the millionth time was what really did in her patience. And her sobriety. So when the waiter came by, she ordered a fifth glass, and Gomez took notice. He didn’t say anything outright, he never would in front of anyone, but he began observing even more than usual. The way Morticia swayed slightly in her seat whereas she would normally be as stiff as a board. How she began to giggle at simple things. Morticia never giggled unless they were alone and unless Gomez did something completely amusing. The way she started to get rather handsy beneath the table cloth…
“Tish,” he murmured quietly while the other couple were engaged in the dessert menu. “Are you quite alright, my darling?”
“Hmmhhh?” she turned her glassy, dark gaze on him, her eyes just slightly out of focus. “Of course. Are you quite alright?”
Gomez smirked, the twitch of his mustache causing Morticia to giggle yet again. He shook his head in amusement. “I am not the one who has had nearly an entire bottle of wine.”
“Oh… not quite yet I haven’t,” she said with a pout. “I think I’ll need a few more glasses.”
“My dear, I may need to cut you off,” he whispered, discreetly reaching for her glass.
Morticia smacked his hand away. “You cut me off I cut you off. Which would be a shame because wine makes me dreadfully horny.”
Gomez’s eyes bulged in shock. Their dinner guests laughed uncomfortably. Another thing about Morticia is that when she’s drunk, her voice often rises from it's demure, even tone and can become what some would consider loud.
Gomez chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “Morticia has such a wonderful sense of humor, does she not?”
“Gomez, darling,” she sighed, tipping her head back to drain her glass. “Je veux partir.”
“Oh, Tish,” he groaned, reaching for her arm. Though Gomez rarely showed any amount of self restraint in any circumstance, he stopped himself as he reached her elbow. “En un momento, mi querida.”
She lifted her head up and let out a small giggle. “Gomez, you know what you do to me when you speak Spanish.”
“Um…” said the man whose name Morticia had already forgotten. “I just realized how late it was. We should go relieve the sitter.”
“Then allow me to get the check!” Gomez said loudly, his head craning around for the waiter. “We wouldn’t want to keep your babysitter all tied up now would we?”
“I know what I’d like to tie up,” Morticia said in a not so subtle tone.
A surge of lust ran through Gomez at that statement. Instead of waiting for the waiter, he slapped a wad of hundreds down on the table and stood, pulling Morticia up with him, completely forgetting that it was the other couple that was supposed to be paying. “It was very nice having dinner with you both,” he said in a rush, shaking their hands.
“Yes, lovely,” Morticia added in a fight to remain composed. A fight she was currently losing. She was only still on her feet because of Gomez’s arm around her waist. “Why don’t we do it again some time?”
“You little liar,” Gomez hissed in her ear while his smile stayed affixed to his face.
“You love it,” she hissed back, nipping at his ear lobe.
The other couple took their leave rather quickly, bolting out of the restaurant in a way that said they would not be doing this again. Morticia laughed, all but draping herself across Gomez as he steered them out of the restaurant. “Oh, Morticia, were you really that bored?” he chuckled.
“Yes,” she groaned, throwing her head back. “My god, could they have been more dull?”
“Querida, lower your voice,” he said with a soft laugh, pressing a finger to her lips. “They could still be close by.”
Instead of responding Morticia nipped playfully at his finger before bubbling over with laughter. Gomez looked at her with a mix of amusement and awe as their car pulled up. They had used a service, figuring Lurch could use the night off, so they had no problem instantly putting up the partition as the car pulled away from the curb. Morticia slumped against the seat, still laughing uncontrollably as she swung her legs over Gomez’s lap.
“I really don’t remember the last time I heard you laugh so much,” he observed. “It might have been when we went to see that production of Les Miserables.”
“Gomez!” she gasped, lifting a leg and placing it on his shoulder, happy she wore a dress with a slit. “That was French!”
Gomez let out a surprised laugh, looking between her leg and her face. “Cara mia,” he sighed. He slid off her shoe since the spiked heel had nearly impaled his shoulder, and while that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, he rather liked the suit he was wearing. “What am I going to do with you?”
Morticia smirked, wiggling her shoulders ever so slightly. “I have a few ideas.”
“Oh do you?”
“Yes… let's go to Taco Bell.”
Gomez shook his head, positive that he misheard her. “My darling… did you say you wish to go to Taco Bell?”
Morticia nodded, her dark eyes wide. “I think I would actually cum if I got my mouth around a cheesy gordita crunch.”
Gomez’s jaw dropped open in utter shock. “Then by all means… we will get you a cheesy gordita crunch.” He leaned forward and knocked on the partition. “Excuse me, good sir, could you please take us to the nearest Taco Bell?”
“You got it!”
“Oh, Gomez, you’re so wonderful,” Morticia sighed, sitting up to loop her arms around his neck. “I love you very, very much.” Her hazy eyes narrowed in on the small mini fridge in the back of the town car. She reached forward and yanked the door open, pulling out a bottle of champagne. “Look!”
“Don’t you think perhaps you’ve had enough?” Gomez gently asked.
“I am a grown woman, darling,” she said as she began shaking the bottle. “And I say we drink more.” The cork popped, flying around the back of the car, bouncing off the windows before it finally stopped after hitting Gomez in the forehead. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry!”
“Think nothing of it,” he said with a grin, shaking the champagne suds off his hand. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long sip before handing it over to Morticia. “And who am I to deny my wife a night of folly?”
Morticia grinned, happily taking the bottle and taking a very long sip. This resulted in her hiccuping loudly and bouncing off the seat and to the floor. She looked stunned for a moment before collapsing into another fit of giggles. Gomez laughed as well and loosened his tie before pulling off his jacket. “I suppose this night is going to be much more fun than we initially thought.”
…
“Well, you have your cheesy gordita crunch, what do you think?” Gomez asked as they sat on the stone couch in their family graveyard. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
Morticia moaned around her mouthful of cheese and meat. “It's so disgusting, it's delicious,” she said, her eyes rolling back. “Why haven’t we gone to Taco Bell before?”
“Because you say that mainstream food is for sheep.”
“Well baa baa,” was her response as she took another giant bite. “I’m a happy little sheep.”
Gomez raised an eyebrow. “That is not a phrase I thought I would ever hear you say.”
She smirked and reached for the nearly empty champagne bottle. “I am full of surprises, my darling.”
“I must know if the Taco Bell did what you said it would?” he inquired, resting his chin on his fist. “Did you cum?”
Morticia stopped mid chew, looking like she was seriously thinking it over. She frowned, looking down at the remaining few bites in her hand. “No!” she said, sounding so completely disappointed that Gomez almost wanted to fight the offending mexican food.
“Don’t look so sad, mi querida,” he said, brushing his hand across her cheek. “The night is still young. You will have many more opportunities to do just that.”
…
“Tish, I am not giving you my knife until you tell me what you plan on doing with it,” Gomez said in what he hoped was a stern tone. “I am sure that in your state if you plan on throwing it, you will actually kill me and we are supposed to die together.”
“I am not going to throw it,” she insisted as she began haphazardly tossing her shoes behind her. They landed with a thunk somewhere in the graveyard as she continued to stare intently at him. “Gomez!”
“Fine!” he relented, pulling his smallest knife out of his pocket. He cautiously placed it in her outstretched hand. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I know how to handle a knife!” she said in a tone reminiscent of a snotty teenager.
Gomez cautiously watched on as Morticia gathered the fabric at the bottom of her dress and began slicing through it until she was left with a makeshift, mid thigh dress. She grinned in satisfaction and discarded the extra fabric with a flourish that nearly knocked her off her feet. “I felt too constricted, now I can move!”
“Tish… what are you planning on- no!” he cried as Morticia took off. “Morticia! Come back here!”
Gomez didn’t have to worry for too long, since Morticia promptly tripped over a headstone and disappeared into the low hanging fog carpeting the ground. His concern for his wife weighed out how comical the scene before him actually was as he dove to the ground to try and find her.
“Gomez,” Morticia groaned from somewhere not too far away. “Gomez, I fell on the knife!”
Gomez scurried toward her voice, assuming the worst as he came upon her lying flat in the grass. “Tish, where is it, where's the knife? My darling, are you alright?”
With a pout that could make his heart break, she raised her hand to show the tiniest slice running down the side of her hand. “I’m sorry, my dearest, I think I will be leaving this world before you.”
Gomez let out a relieved sigh as he looked down at his wife. “I don’t think it's quite so dismal, querida. My apologies if that disappoints you.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapping the red silk around her delicate hand. He tied it off and kissed her hand as if he was patching up one of his children after an explosion gone wrong. “All better.”
“Gomez, you saved my life,” she said, reaching up to cup his face. “Fuck me.”
He opened and closed his mouth, the feelings of arousal and responsibility waging a war inside of him. “Morticia you are very drunk.”
She pouted, her tantalizing red lip jutting out. “But you promised!”
Gomez stifled a laugh. Never once had he seen Morticia as drunk as this and he had not expected the child-like behavior, though he was finding it rather amusing. Usually she’ll just get uncharacteristically giggly and loud.
“How about you sober up a little bit and then we’ll see where the night takes us,” he said, pushing a strand of hair off her face.
“You no longer desire me,” she said with a forlorn sigh as she let her arms fall dramatically back against the grass. “All I have left to look forward to now is a dull life of knitting tea cozies.”
“Morticia,” he said in as serious a tone as he could muster. “I desire you more and more with each passing second. I am only trying to respect your current… condition.”
Morticia’s eyes widened a fraction, her lips pulling into an o shape. “Gomez, you’re so very, very sweet. I love you. Will you marry me?”
“Querida mia,” he said with a cackle, scooping her into his arms. “We’re already married.”
“Oh how wonderful,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “That makes me happy.”
…
“Tish, don’t do this, he’s asleep!” Gomez whispered from the doorway of Pugsley’s room.
“I just wanna kiss him goodnight!” Morticia whispered back before crawling into Pugsley’s bed.
Gomez cautiously watched on as Morticia snuggled in beside her son and wrapped her arms around him. Instantly Pugsley lifted up his head, squinting through the darkness in confusion. “What's going on?”
“Mama loves you, Pugsley,” Morticia said, stroking her hand over his short hair. “You’re such a smart, sweet boy. I don’t ever want you to grow up. Be my pocket Pugsley forever.”
In the darkness Gomez could see the fear on his son’s face. “Father, what's wrong with her? She smells very flammable.”
“Nothing is wrong with your mother, you’re just dreaming,” Gomez said as he walked into the room. “Come on, Morticia, leave the boy be.”
“No,” Morticia whined. “He’s going to grow up and go to jail and I’ll miss him so much.”
“Darling, we Addams men always find a loophole,” Gomez said, wrapping his arms around her small waist to pick her up. “There is no need to worry.”
“I don’t think this is a dream,” Pugsley whispered.
“Goodnight, son,” Gomez said over his shoulder as he carried Morticia out of the room. “Make sure the bedbugs bite.”
Once safely in the hall, Gomez set Morticia back down on her feet, which he soon learned would be a mistake. “That was fun!” she said. “I’m going to go say goodnight to Wednesday!” she bolted down the hall, leaving Gomez scrambling to catch up.
“No, Tish! If you wake up Wednesday she’ll stab you!”
…
“No, Morticia, you cannot ride Kitty!”
…
“Morticia, please, if you use a tattoo gun on Uncle Fester’s head he is just going to wake up.”
…
“You cannot prank call Lurch’s mother, querida! She already doesn’t like us!”
…
“Tish, no, no, no! You will hate yourself forever if you order those pink curtains! Step away from the laptop!”
…
“No, it's alright, who needs their grandmother’s ashes anyway? I think I might like them better on the carpet. No, no, please stop crying, this is what she would have wanted!”
…
“I’m really sorry you had to find out this way. I remember how I felt when I learned there are no actual rats in ratatouille.”
…
“While I find that hilarious, I don’t think you can text Lily that you think Herman is a punk ass bitch.”
…
“No, no, Morticia, get down from the chandelier! We never should have watched that Sia video!”
…
It was nearing three o’clock and Gomez was bone tired. However, Morticia was not and was currently stumbling around their bedroom dressed only in Gomez’s silk smoking jacket with her mass of raven hair piled in a knot on top of her head. “Gomez, do you really think that rug looks good there?”
“I agree with whatever you have to say,” Gomez said with a sleepy smile from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed. “But any redecorating can be done tomorrow, my dearest. Come to bed, por favor.”
Morticia spun to look at him with a grin, gripping the lapels of his jacket to expose a bit more skin. “Spanish, Gomez, you know what that does to me.”
He extended his hand toward her, a twinkle in his tired eyes. “You aren’t nearly as vocal about that as I am, querida.”
“Well I should be,” she said, taking his hand, letting him pull her against his body. “I find it very erotic when you speak Spanish.” She leaned in close until their noses were touching. “Mon cœur.”
“Oh, Tish,” he breathed, kissing her softly. “This night has been rather adventurous, and there is no one I would have rather done it with.”
She grinned, kissing him softly once again. “Am I sober enough now that you’ll have sex with me?”
He laughed and leaned back slightly. “If you can tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”
He held up four fingers, looking at Morticia expectantly. She pursed her lips, crossing her arms across her chest. “Quatre.”
“Muy bien, querida mia,” he said with a large, beaming smile, pulling her back into his arms. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like my jacket back.”
“This jacket?” she asked, shrugging so a sleeve fell down, exposing a pale shoulder.
Gomez nodded, reaching out to tug the belt. “Yes, that jacket.” It fell in a pool around her feet as Gomez closed the small gap between them. Their lips met in an instant and Gomez felt complete relief. The only trouble Morticia could get in this way was the best kind possible.
…
Morning rolled around, as it always seemed to unfortunately do, and it was painfully obvious that Morticia wasn’t going to be functioning very well that day. Gomez was prepared with a glass of water and cup of coffee for when Morticia eventually forced her eyes open, whenever that might actually be.
“Good morning my gorgeous ray of moonshine,” he said with a slight laugh. “How are you feeling?”
Morticia glanced around the room, confusion written across her face… which was also plastered with hair. “I feel absolutely horrendous. What… what happened last night?”
Gomez grinned, pushing the hair off her face before handing her the glass of water. “You found dinner so boring that you had five glasses of wine. Then a bottle of champagne in the car, which you drank most of. Needless to say it was an interesting night.”
Morticia squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh dear. Do I even want to know how I behaved?”
Gomez laughed, kissing her temple to delay answering. “I was rather entertained, if that helps.”
“It does not.”
“Let's just say it involved Taco Bell and chandeliers.”
Feeling even more confused than before, Morticia lifted her hand which was still wrapped in Gomez’s handkerchief. She untied it to see the small gash running through her pale skin. “And how did this happen?”
“You ran away with my knife and tripped over a headstone. You thought you were dying.”
Morticia groaned, throwing her head back. “Gomez, don’t ever let me drink that much again.”
“Oh, but it was so fun to see you get giggly,” he said, earning a sharp glare from Morticia.
“I do not giggle.”
“You do when you’re drunk,” Gomez muttered, pulling a cigar out from under his pillow. “Also, you might need to go prove to Pugsley that you’re not insane.”
Morticia slid back down, pulling the covers up over her head. “I need a nap first.”
“Whatever you say, Morticia mia,” Gomez said, patting the top of her head. “Whatever you say.”