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The necklace on the display was perfect. It was simple and grey, with a red fox charm.
Gomez Addams took the small things he knew about his wife and gripped onto them with a passion rivaled by no one else.
She had said it in passing, as they had watched a fox cross their property during the night while sitting together. It had been a perfect moment, the moon bright and his arm wrapped securely around her shoulder. Their baby, Wednesday, rested at her breast.
And in that moment, in the dead of night, there had been a flash of red.
“A fox?” Gomez had guessed.
“Perhaps. Or an active murder,” Morticia said, stroking an ice-cold finger down the baby’s cheek as she started to move.
“It’s a fox,” Gomez confirmed, having squinted at just the right time to see the animal shape of the darting red figure as it streaked past the window again. Morticia didn’t look too disappointed by this, her eyes resting on the window and looking out at the night. She was even more radiant in the dark, in Gomez’s opinion.
“Fascinating creatures,” Morticia murmured, “almost as venerable as coyotes and hyenas. I’ve found scavengers to have far superior intellectual capabilities than most others, despite their… less than positive reputation.” They’re like us. Gomez caught the unspoken words.
That also explained why he had walked in on her dissecting a coyote the other day.
His mind drifted back to that running red creature, so beautiful and lovely and scorned. Then he glanced at Morticia. Beautiful and lovely and scorned. And, oh, the elegance of foxes, their sleek and smooth body and piercing eyes. No creature could ever match up to his wife, but perhaps a fox could come close.
The woman in front of him was everything. She amazed him everyday. Her elegance and darkness. Her witty remarks. Her constant, studying presence. The part of her that dreamed and had fun with him. He didn’t just enjoy her presence. He thrived in it. And of course, that space at her breast where their infant fit so perfectly. Gomez could usually only spot a tuft of her black hair peeking out from the safety of her mothers arms and dress.
And he fell in love with Morticia all over again at the sight. And this strange, tiny human, who had solemnly entered the world four months before and declared herself his daughter with a sorrowful cry that shook his very soul.
That fox. He was now in a small store, looking at the tiny fox charm. Morticia could no doubt use it to hold a number of spells. He looked at the price, then lifted it up. Perfect. He felt eyes trained on his back. They never seemed to escape him no matter where he went. The people they belonged to changed every time, but the staring remained. He had never pinpointed the exact cause of it. It was probably because he was an Addams. Their very presence seemed to cause unrest in most. But sometimes he wondered if there were other factors.
His weight. His darker skin.
He ignored the stares as usual, holding his head up. Morticia never looked down, Morticia was confident. Grandmama never looked down. She was confident. Fester always gleefully met people’s stares with the most disturbing expressions he could muster. Even Wednesday, his literal baby, held people’s gazes with morose ones of her own. Grandmama had declared it a sign of great intelligence. Gomez was leaning on the idea that she’d inherited some of Fester’s oddities. Most likely, both were true.
The person at the register didn’t just stare. He glared. Gomez bought the necklace and left. He’d send his newly acquired alligator after anyone who was mildly annoying. Now the Addams family swamp finally had purpose. He stepped out of the store and refrained from hissing at the sunlight. He was fairly certain he was distantly related to vampires somewhere down his family line. He hid the necklace in his pocket, crossing the street.
There she was, in the exact place he had left her. He frowned, “Tish, weren’t you going to buy another set of knives?” She gave him a long look, then glanced down. Her chest was covered by the black cloth she carried with her everywhere. Ah. He chuckled to himself as a small fist hit against the edge of it. The baby flapped her arms constantly, even though the rest of her body was eerily still.
“Did you get what you needed, my love?” Morticia asked.
“I did,” he smiled, the two waiting for a few minutes for the baby to finish nursing. Gomez finally looked over, “she cannot seriously still be eating.” Morticia shrugged in response,
“Let’s get the knives now, she’ll either stop with the movement or simply continue.” He nodded and reached for her hand once Wednesday had been shifted to one arm. She took it and gently squeezed it. He felt overwhelming love surge through him like he always did when he touched her. Nobody’s stares ever mattered when they were together.
They needed knives, right. Grandmama had eaten their last set. Morticia had a preferred place to buy them of course, Gomez gladly following her. He touched the cloth once they were in front of the building, smiling as his fingers brushed against a healthy and full stomach. No child of his would ever go hungry. “Did my mother eat all of the knives?”
“Yes, all three types. Culinary, recreational, and defense-based,” Morticia nodded, “we need three new sets.”
“Three?!”
“She’s your mother.”
“Indeed…” They looked at each other with loving eyes.
The inside of the store of Morticia’s choice was more than acceptable. The lights were dim and shadows were cast on the floors. It was exclusively for knives, apparently. “How did you even find this place?” Gomez asked, awe clear in his voice as he examined a fancy set of “recreational” knives.
“A friend recommended it.”
“The serial killer or the ghost?”
“They both have names, you know,” Morticia smirked, her fingers brushing against his arm. Gomez leaned forward to kiss her, stopped by a well-aimed kick from Wednesday’s tiny foot. He smiled and looked at his daughter getting glared at in response,
“My little storm cloud.”
Morticia’s well-trained eyes selected three perfect sets of knives, Gomez succeeding in kissing her this time. He could still remember the first time they had bought knives together. He’d known then and there that she was the woman he wanted to marry. The way she methodically tested them out on random passersby. The intelligent gleam in her eyes. The overwhelming beauty of her figure. “My love,” Gomez whispered, overcome by all of these feelings once more. She kissed him again.
His hands hovered over her breasts, a place he hadn’t touched since Wednesday, who was quite demanding when it came to nursing, was born. They had swelled since the birth of the child, becoming more abundant rather than shrinking like Grandmama had claimed they would. Morticia was all the more alluring, if that was even possible.
And not just her body, her spirit, she -
“-Gomez? Are you alright? You’re staring at nothing,” Morticia touched the side of his face. He nodded, heat rushing to his cheeks.
“Just fine, my love.” Morticia smiled and they became lost in each other's eyes, as they were apt to do. Wednesday picked that moment to start squirming. Morticia looked down at her,
“I think she’s hungry.”
“Impossible, the little devil-spawn ate but half an hour ago!” Gomez exclaimed, his eyes softening as he looked down at his child, “only four months old and you’re already better than your papa at getting women’s attention.”
Morticia stopped where they were to briefly feed her, keeping her mostly covered, though her arms would occasionally flap. Gomez went to buy the knives.
“Excellent taste,” the cashier said, and Gomez took note of the scales on his neck. He was probably some form of dragon, they were quite good at appearing human when they wanted to. Gomez nodded and took the bag once the knives were secured inside. Then, he went back in the direction of his daughter and wife. There was an unfamiliar man standing in front of them. Something didn’t about that didn’t sit right.
“- Like I said, it’s entirely inappropriate for you to be doing… this, in a store, ma’am,” the man said. His voice was pretentious and, quite frankly, annoying. Morticia was unfazed, adjusting the baby’s position,
“I’m feeding my daughter. She’s hungry.”
“You’re exposing yourself in public.”
“I’m not exposed. You can barely even see her,” Morticia remained calm and collected, her eyes flashing over to Gomez for a second. Oh, his fists had clenched. He unclenched them. He had learned early on in life that any indicator of violence from people like him, even in self-defense, would be used against them. And, while he certainly enjoyed the occasional dramatic escape from law enforcement, suddenly he had an infant. Infants were helpless. She relied entirely on them, though he had a feeling that would change the moment it could. But he wouldn’t let her down regardless. “Now,” Morticia said, bringing both arms to their child and holding her steady, “step away. Before I make you.”
“You can’t control me,” the man said, “freedom of speech.” Gomez raised an eyebrow.
“And you cannot control me,” Morticia replied, “I will say it only one more time. Leave us alone.” The man took a step forward in response. And his hands went to the baby, to pull her away from her mother’s breast.
Multiple things happened at once. Wednesday let out a single whimper. And Gomez felt rage burn through his body, right down to his blood. His daughter had barely cried since she was born, let alone whimper, preferring an eerie silence. And this man had made her frightened.
He was ready to rip him to shreds right there in that very store. But Morticia was one step ahead of him. In only seconds she’d turned her body and hidden their child, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it until there was a snap. She exchanged eye contact with Gomez as the man howled in pain. Yep. It was probably time to leave.
The cashier walked over to step in, Morticia gliding out of the store. Gomez followed. They didn’t stop moving until they were a good distance away and Morticia let out a sigh of relief, reaching out and touching Gomez’s arm.
“Home?” She whispered. Gomez nodded,
“Home.”
Five hours later found them sitting on a large couch together in their family living room, his hand in hers.
“Should we turn in for the night?” Gomez asked, his eyes flitting to Fester, who was currently staying for a few months while on the run from the mafia, the Coast Guard, and the FBI. He was asleep in one of the armchairs, Wednesday resting against his chest, also asleep. The uncle and niece had taken to each other immediately since her birth, and Fester could spend hours just holding her and talking about random, often nonsensical, things. Wednesday in turn uncurled her tightly-wound body when she was around him and sometimes, rarely, smiled.
“Yes. He can put her in her crib himself if she wakes up,” Morticia said. They headed down a large hall to their bedroom, the eyeballs sewn into the walls staring at them as they walked, hissing as Gomez opened a window and they were touched by moonlight.
They settled down together on their bed after getting dressed in nightclothes, Morticia briefly leaving the room and coming back with a smile.
“What?” Gomez asked.
“Oh, nothing. Our alligator, Fluffy, I believe Grandmama named him, just has a new target. I tracked down the man from today. What do you know, he has an above-ground pool.” Gomez’s heartbeat quickened and heat rose to his cheeks,
“Oh, mi amor, I grow more in love with you with each passing day,” he whispered, kissing her hand. Morticia gave him an elegant smile, and he suddenly remembered the necklace, still in his coat pocket. He rose from the bed and took it out, “close your eyes.” Morticia raised an eyebrow, but did so, Gomez putting it into her hands. “Open them.”
She slowly did so, looking down and smiling again, “it’s lovely,” she squinted at the charm, “a fox. Beautiful and scorned.”
“Yes,” Gomez said, “a beautiful fox.” They moved closer to each other, the man wrapping his arms around her, “I love you.”
“And I love you,” Morticia said. They pressed their forehead together and Gomez knew that all was well. This was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. This was the woman who owned his heart.
And she was beautiful, inside and out.