It was the perfect weather for Valentine's day.

There was a thunderstorm.

The desperate wails of the winds was delicately besotting to the ears; the lashing of thunder stirring the violent storm clouds in a glorious frenzy.

It was devastatingly romantic.

The shutters were pounding against the window sills like a wild animal.

On days like this, she would have been more than content to relish the climax of the storm with her passionately affectionate husband, Gomez.

They would quietly slip away for a little while. Go to their favorite hideaway, which was in the attic. They would talk for hours (In any language.), re-live the ecstasy that was their love story, the embers of their passion renewed with a fiery flame. (They did share an affection for the art of arson.)

Yes. She adored going up there with her beloved, especially when the lightning started to become erratic. It was exceedingly erotic. That gloomy, melancholic, dusty room that was filled with enough antiquities to fill 2 museums - or, rather, 5 mausoleums for that matter. That, or Gomez's favorite - the swamp.

They would sit in their favorite spot, right underneath a great dead old oak tree.

If the storm was only just beginning, Gomez would spread a picnic cloth and they would simply lie down and watch with starry eyes as the cumulus clouds would begin to form in the firmament.

The placid lake would begin to stir, the restless waters moving with the command of the wind.

They too, would become rather deliciously restless. They would slip into something less concealing. Gomez would start to kiss her fingertips; his lips would roam all the way to her shoulders, her cheek, her neck and would begin to travel - elsewhere.

She sighed with a silent frustration. The lovely Matriarch of the Addams family was in a secret crisis.

It was gone. Gone! Today of all days. The most romantic time of the year, and it just had to go missing when the day was starting out so well. It seemed like she was spending the day in torment instead of delirious rapture.

The ring had been missing for nearly 14 hours to be precise.

Her wedding ring was missing. The thought alone was enough to make her momentarily ill. But despite the physical allure of her femininity, it was hiding an extremely strong character beneath her sultry murmurs and silky fingers. She could overcome anything.

But alas, if something precious to her would be lost, she'd be a little lost herself. But never her composure, that was a gift she had since birth. She was the epitome of calm, cool and collected. Even if she was anxious or worried, (or on the verge of anger at breaking point.) you couldn't even see her flinch.

At the moment, however, she was feeling a little light-headed from pacing back and forth in the conservatory. She was perfectly hidden from view, thanks to her eccentric array of plant life. She was so antagonized, that throwing herself off a cliff was starting to sound relaxing.

The light patter of her heels could be heard, the tendrils of her gown trailing behind her.

She was trying to recount the events of the night before. Somehow hoping to find reason in the midst of irrational thinking.

Or irrational thinking in reason.

Nevertheless. Something is bound to remind me exactly what happened to my dear wedding ring.

She could clearly remember bathing. She had tied her hair into a disheveled bun and placed her ring on the sink. Quite shortly before commencing to the porcelain tub filled with a moderately amount of scalding water.

The sink!

That was it. Her ring must have fallen into the sink, and into the pipe drain.

It still should be there. There's only one way to know for sure. She thought to herself.

She quickly walked to where Thing's box was, and knocked.

And like always, Thing was there to lend a hand - or a finger.

"Thing, may I borrow a wrench please."

Thing nodded and presented her with an old metal wrench.

"Thank you, Thing." She said in typical Addams fashion.

She studied the silver object in her perfectly manicured hand. She decided she didn't like it. It was quite heavy for her delicate hands, but she knew it was the only way to find out whether her ring was in the drain or not.

She had to take the back stairs. She didn't want Gomez to distress himself. And also, she felt incredibly guilty for having told a little lie to him last night. He was about to give her right hand a kiss as she brushed her hair, but she feared he would notice her bare ring-finger; the poor dear gets into terrible episodes of depression when he's distressed, and so she told him that her right hand was a little sore from knitting. He didn't mind at all to kissing her left hand.

Morticia suppressed a tear as she ascended the stairs. She felt heavy despair of having to lose something so precious, and having to lie about it to her beloved Querido. Lying to him was simply unbearable.

She proceeded to the large cavernous hallway; the long carpet masking the sound of her footsteps. But the way the floorboards creaked and moaned beneath her feet was a dead giveaway.

"C'est terrible." She muttered softly as she carried the horrible silver thing in her hand. It was clashing with her dress.

"Morticia!" Gomez's voice was booming throughout the entire house.

Oh dear.

Thankfully, it was her left hand he had grabbed.

"Tish' " He said in an impassioned voice, "You know what that French does to me." He started kissing her palm and proceeded to her wrist and went higher and higher.

"Darling, control yourself." She replied in her low voice that was as smooth as black silk. She was trying to conceal the wrench from his peripheral.

"Querida, you know I can't resist you even if I tried. Literally." He replied with a romantic grin, gently grabbing her closer by the waist and nuzzling his nose in her hair.

"Querido." She fondly coos, Her slender hand making its way up to his face; her long nails lightly scratching his cheek.

"You minx." He says naughtily.

He was about to ask Morticia if her right hand still felt sore, but before he could ask, they suddenly heard a loud bang that rattled the entire mansion.

"Darling, do tell the the children not to play with the dynamite caps outside."

"But Cara Mia, the children love their dynamite caps!" Gomez exclaims, sounding a little alarmed.

"I know darling, but not in this weather. The rain will moisten both the matches and the dynamites."

"That's true." Gomez agreed, his left hand placing a lighted cigar in his mouth.

"Why don't you go get the lightning rod from the playroom and indulge them a little?"

"But Passion Flower, don't you know what day it is today?" He whispered seductively into her ear.

"Yes, darling. But the children first, us later." She replied, her smoldering eyes lingering with the promise of - later.

She watched with loving eyes as her husband went back down the stairs. Amidst the insanity her day has gone into, Gomez could never fail in pulling her out of the whirlpool of despondence she sometimes sinks herself into. A sly smile pulled at her lips as she caught a glimpse of his broad and muscular shoulders. She always liked the way his suit clung to him; clinging to his masculine form with such finesse and class. She liked to marvel at the strong muscles that outlined his fresh white shirt in the morning, just before he would put on his formal coat. She found it intoxicating.

Morticia continued on to the bedroom and closed the door. A coquettish smile touched her crimson lips as she walked past their large bed with its thick dark Grey eiderdown, the waft of his Argentinean cigars still lingering in the air.

The room was dense, dreary, cold and Grey. It was just crammed with eclectic vases from Persia, a carpet made of fur from a Sasquatch (Faux of course. Ever since they knew Sasquatches were beginning to become endangered.), a crystal chandelier from France and of course - Gomez's collection of hunting knives mounted on the walls. She just adored it. Especially the old tapestries that hung on the walls, it could might as well date back to the 1600s.

She entered their spacious bathroom and knelt in front of the pipe.

Outside she could hear the giggles of her children and their father playing with the lightning rod. The storm was still quite strong.

If only it hadn't gone missing. Today would have been just delightfully perfect.

She wanted to spend time with her loving husband and children, but alas fate has dealt her a difficult hand.

She turned off the water's source beneath the sink, and started to clamp the wrench onto the drainage pipe.

It was a rusty old thing, possibly ancient. It was almost impossible to undo the drainage. Her hands were throbbing from pulling and turning when it suddenly came off; sending her to the ground, excess water shooting out of the pipe and onto her delicate face.

"Look at me, I'm turning into Uncle Fester with the plumbing." She exasperated dubiously.

Obviously the ring isn't there.

She got up, straightened her dress and grabbed a towel nearby as she gently patted it on her face. She set the wrench down into the sink and went back into the bedroom.

She sat in front of her elegant vanity mirror and fixed her hair; a light furrow in her brows as she tried to recall the other places she had gone to within the house. Her beautiful pale face, deep in thought.

Her agile fingers worked efficiently as they untangled her curls. Properly setting them back into their luxurious coifed form with a quick run through her Victorian hairbrush.

Then suddenly, while she continued her combing, she remembered.

I went into Gomez's study after bathing. He was there reading a newspaper from last week.

She placed the brush back down. She pursed her ruby lips, folded her arms, and thought again.

She wanted that book on Egyptian mythology to read before sleeping and she also wanted to make sure her darling husband would soon go to bed after his readings. He did have that problem with his sinuses, and she didn't want him catching a cold.

He was in his formal silk dressing gown when she came in. Her darling mon chér looked every bit of the continental paramour. His hair was neatly slicked back; his deep-set eyes engrossed in the article he was studying. The bottom half of his face was covered by the papers in front of him.

But he knew.

Knew as she walked in, concentration on reading was non-existent.

"Darling, aren't you coming to bed yet?" She inquired, walking over to him barefoot in her black negligée; her pale skin luminous against the dark fabric. Her hair was lusciously tousled, a vision of sultry loveliness. There was a gentle sway in her hips when she didn't wear heels.

Gomez glanced at her with a debonair smile. A desperate attempt in concealing his sensory overload, "In a while Querida, after I finish reading the science section."

She stood next to him as she took a peak at the paper; her black tresses gliding past his nose.

"Tish' your scent, it drives me wild!" Gomez soars to his feet and takes her in his arms.

He kissed the ends of her dark hair, her neck and her collar bone.

"Darling, please. Finish your paper first. Kissing later." She whispered into his ear.

"Alright." He replied, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he sat back down into his leather chair.

"I'll just grab a book to read in bed." She says softly as she briefly turns from him to grab her book of interest.

Her eyes were scanning the menagerie of books that were stuffed in their mahogany cases. All of them, divinely decrepit and covered in dust.

Morticia had no idea her castilian lover was watching her surreptitiously from behind his newspaper. No matter how hard he tried, his entire focus was shifting towards her. The mundane little bits of scattered information on the article about a giant squid consuming an oil tanker was beginning to bore him. Her magnetism was absolutely maddening. He loved every minute of it.

What sweet misery of longing she has bestowed upon me!

His deep brown eyes were aglow with a hot flame; he sat there and admired the sensual silhouette of her curves, he casually folded the newspaper and tossed it back onto his large desk. He took a drab from his cigar and puffed out the remnants of smoke through his lips before tossing it away. A cheeky smile was on his face as he surprised her from behind. He pressed a passionate kiss on the nape of her neck, his hands sliding against her waist. He couldn't take it anymore.

He took Morticia in his strong arms, and carried her with him across the room. He sat her gently on the desk, his traveling hands had outlined the shape of her sinful figure. She looked up at him slowly. Her hands were still on his neck from when he carried her; Morticia's eyes glistening with an illicit desire.

And this time when she spoke, her voice was hushed and husky - she said Bubele.

Somewhere in Europe, a volcano erupted.

"Lie down, love." He whispered lovingly.

Her blue eyes locked onto his. A vixen-like smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

He could hear the beat of his Spanish blood coursing in rhythm as she replied.

"Oui."

Somewhere in China, an earthquake cracked The Great Wall.

She had forgotten all about the book she wanted to read.

This is more fun.

There was newspaper everywhere.

And at least 2 broken desk lamps. . .

Oh. It must have fallen on the carpet when we. . .

I'll look into it.

If only Grandmama and Uncle Fester were here. They would know how to find it fastidiously. Its a shame they had to go shark wrestling during such a catastrophe.

She quickly exited her boudoir and back into the corridor.

Morticia arrived in the study a few moments later.

She leaned against the doorframe. A romantic sigh escaped her crimson mouth at the sight of utter chaotic disarray. Her mind was so preoccupied with finding the ring, she completely forgot to ask Lurch to clean up the enchanting wreckage she and Gomez made last night. As much as she loved wrecking things with her mon amí, she did have to keep a neat and tidy home.

She'd have to find the ring first, however, before she called for their butler.

She walked into the room, her heels were lightly stepping on broken parts of glass and vases.

She'd have to start near Gomez's desk.

She saw the frantic scratch marks on the wooden plains and blushed.

Where could that ring be? She silently asked herself.

She gently nudged a piece of broken lamp to the side and knelt near the desk.

She was somehow trying to feel the flooring with her bare hands. Hoping deeply that it simply might have gone underneath the carpet.

"Querida? Where are you?"

She could hear Gomez's voice in the hallway.

Oh no. How will I tell him?

Morticia starts to get on her feet. Her lips delicately quivering as tears formed in her indigo eyes.

She did not have the strength to let him see her like this. Instead of facing the door, she faced the window. Her heart in agony. She watched the storm with moist eyes.

How could she lose something so beautiful, so precious, so very dear to her heart?

That ring symbolized the promise of their undying love.

What has she done?

Gomez finds her standing by the window.

She was standing so still and solemn.

"Darling, last night was certainly invigorating wasn't it?" Gomez teases, walking across the room with a smile. He places a hand on her shoulder.

Morticia turns to face him. All humor is erased as he looked into her tortured eyes. He is immediately pained to see her in tears, as if someone had stabbed his heart with a white hot blade.

"Querida Mia, what happened?" He asks, taking her in his arms as he holds her tightly.

"Darling. Its horrible," Her voice breaks as she rests her head on his chest,

"What is it love? Tell me." He says with a silent alarm. He soothingly runs his hand through the small of her back.

"Please don't think ill of me darling. But, I lost something precious last night." She whispers into his chest.

"It can't be that bad, love. Whatever you lost, I"ll get you another one. Or 5, or even 20. Please don't cry darling." He says soothingly, placing light kisses on her temple."

"But darling," She says, looking up at him with saddened eyes, "I lost my wedding ring." Morticia confesses as she shows him her naked ring finger.

She looked at him as his signature chuckle played across his features.

"Darling, this is serious. I-"

Suddenly she hears music echoing from the downstairs phonograph.

It was the song they played on their 3rd honeymoon.

It was called Sabor a mí by Eydie Gorme.

"Darling?" Morticia looks at him, a questioning look on her face.

Gomez holds her closer, "Tish' remember our 3rd honeymoon? That exotic cruise in the Caribbean during the yearly typhoon?"

"How could I forget?" She replies seductively, "But darling my ring?"

"Ah, yes."

He pulls out a small red box from his pocket, and places it within the concaves of her palm.

"Its my surprise for you my Passion Flower. I took your ring. Please forgive me, I know I worried you terribly." He says mournfully, looking down at the floor.

"Gomez, darling. I didn't know." She looks at him with a loving smile, "Of course I forgive you." She says gently. She tenderly caresses his face with her hand. Her heart was beating with relief.

"Go on, open it Cara Mia." He says, with a boyish excitement.

Her eyes sparkle as she opened the intricate box in her pale hand.

There nested in ebony silk was her wedding band.

Only something was engraved at the the center.

She carefully took it out. There, in intricate lettering, were the words Te Amo.

"Oh, darling. Its beautiful." She says looking up at him. A glimmering tear was swimming in her right eye.

"Allow me Querida." He says proudly, slipping the ring back into its rightful place.

Morticia looked on with immense joy as the wedding band shined against her ivory finger.

"Oh Gomez. Its so wonderful, thank you my darling," She exclaims softly as she wraps her arms around his neck. Clinging to him affectionately. "You've certainly outdone yourself Bubele."

"Tish' that word," He says defenseless, a light shiver running through his spine. "You know I can't stop spoiling you with my love, Querida Mia." He says with a soft voice, "You know darling, if I hadn't known you were crying over your ring, I would have been inclined to think you lost one of the children." He said with a puckish chuckle.

"Oh Gomez," Said Morticia, playfully slapping him on the chest, "You're such an awful tease."

"Only with you."

She caresses the nape of his neck; their bodies beginning to sway to the music echoing in the air around them. He gently spun her around the room with precision, either of them never minding the scattered pieces of broken furniture.

"Morticia," His lips were barely inches against her ear, "Do you remember that vacation we took to Brazil with the children?"

"How could I forget?"

"The children were collecting sea urchin by the shoreline. We had that marvelous picnic at midnight, Samba on the beach followed by a magnificent tropical storm." He says fondly,

"The weather was divine." She murmurs into his chest with content.

"We sat down and waited for the storm to landfall. You were in my arms. I"ll never forget how you looked. You were bathing in moonlight (shortly before the storm clouds surged.), your hair like black sand." His eyes fluttered briefly at his reverie.

"Your running away with memories again, darling."

"Only memories of you, love."

The song was starting to finish as their dance came to an end.

Morticia slips away from Gomez's arms as a taunt to him. She walks to the window in anticipation for Gomez to follow suit.

Within seconds he was behind her. Pulling her rather roughly against him, sliding his hands onto her waist. "You elusive temptress." He says with pleasure. He was able to catch a glimpse of the amused smirk that formed on her lips.

The storm outside was wreaking havoc on their front lawn.

"Morticia," Gomez said. His large hands rubbing against the curves of her waist, "I think the storm is going to last for hours." His voice was trailing off dreamily.

"Would you like to go-"

"The Swamp." She finished his sentence.

She turned to look at him with her eyes of hidden love and lust. Those eyes that haunts him with deranged passions.

"But before we go, we need to get your whip."

The wind outside continued to howl as more lightning struck the skies.

They were in for a lovely day and a perfect Valentine's day.

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed my naughty one-shot. Consider it an early Hearts day gift from me to you. ;) Please do check out the song I used in the fic, and the English meaning, its ridiculously romantic. Also, consider this version of The Addams Family to the 1960s TV show with Carolyn Jones as Morticia and John Astin as Gomez. I just adore and love those two together!

This was my first time creating a fic for The Addams Family, so let me know what you think my darlings! Please R&R, you know what it does to me. ;) I send you all my love.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN anything.