It was hot.
The sun had no mercy as its rays blasted past flimsy clouds. Parting the diaphanous fog that usually surrounded their grand estate. The sky, sadly, was a cheerful shade of blue.
Their grand mansion, which used to stand proud and tall; seemed to droop now because of the heat.
It was unbearable. The air was warm and disconcertingly moist.
But despite the unpleasant weather, Morticia proved to be tenacious as a black scorpion and adamant as a desert flower in the middle of the Sahara.
If Uncle Fester hadn't eaten the room thermometer in the conservatory, (It was already becoming a habit.) surely it would have just burst at the rate the heat is going.
Well, you can't have everything.
Morticia thought as she fed her carnivorous plant. Even her garden was suffering; poor Cleopatra barely ate. Her tentacles were just all dried up from the blinding light the sun was projecting.
And worst of all, the rose thorns she had freshly cut from her garden were suffering the most. Their thorns used to be sharp (It broke skin upon contact.) and abundant, but now, they proved to be smaller and shriveled from the intense sunlight.
She sighed sadly as she examined the rest of her beloved plants. Clearly, the day was not going too well.
How could it? The sun was out.
Despite the humdrum ambiance of a dismal sunny day, she proceeded with the normal house routines.
She fed the piranha (Komodo dragon meat this time.), and naturally gave the remaining bones to her darling vulture Zelda.
And of course, she gave Kitty her daily sustenance of milk. It was her favorite - milk of yak.
Lurch would take care of lunch. She gave him specific instructions on how the sheep's eyes should be prepared, Gomez and the children would be getting hungry soon.
As she left the kitchen (Lurch was still groaning. He was deciding whether he should remove the sheep's eyes before, or after decapitation.), the heat was rising to an all new high. She was glad her beloved husband was in his study playing with his trains. At least he would be cozy and safe from this infernal heat.
The children would be alright in school, (She made them bring a retractable awning. Pugsley made it of course. The excess pointed nails on the sides add a touch of home, wherever they go.) but for now they all would have to bear this heat.
Dear Mama, I wonder if the weather was any trouble to her down in those caves. (Gomez's mother was on a crocodile wrestling marathon in Africa.)
She walked through the halls quietly. The quick sound of her footfalls echoing out into the living room.
Oddly, without her noticing it - she felt faint. And her dress was beginning to feel tighter than normal. She sat herself down in her favorite chair; brushing the thought away as she commenced her knitting. Her tender hands started to softly grasp the needle and yarn, easily making quick loops along the way.
Gomez was out in the hallway, he had just finished wrecking his trains. He was making his way to the living room to join her.
He could hear his beloved Querida call for Lurch and asked him for tea.
There was something strange, something a little off about her today, Gomez noticed. Not in a physical sense, (A day doesn't go by without his beloved wife looking her best.) and that was the point. Morticia had no off days.
Gomez's inkling was right. As Morticia sat there, she was slowly noticing how raw her throat was feeling.
Gomez saw Uncle Fester come his way into the corridor. He grabbed his Uncle aside who was carrying his newspaper and glasses.
"Gomez, I don't have time to power your trains. I gotta read my newspaper." Uncle Fester exclaimed in his squeaky voice.
Gomez glanced at the paper Fester had in his hand, "But Uncle Fester, isn't that newspaper dated from twenty years ago?"
"Exactly. I gotta keep myself updated you know?" He replied, starting to leave as he spoke.
"Wait, wait a second old man," Gomez said, pulling him back. "Uncle Fester, I think something's wrong with Morticia." His voice was heavy with worry.
"Morticia? She's as healthy as a cactus." said Uncle Fester with his lips twisting at the corners, his semblance of a smile.
"Precisely. But today, I'm really concerned Uncle Fester. I think she has a cold."
"What makes you say that?"
"I heard her talking to Lurch, just now."
"That's it? How are you sure she has a cold anyway?" Uncle Fester asks, his nonexistent eyebrows raising in surprise.
"I should know, her voice lowered an octave."
"Go talk to her Gomez, I'm sure its nothing serious. Now, if you need me, I'll be in my closet where at least the temperature is decent enough for reading!"
Gomez watched his Uncle walk away, his bald head shaking to the sides as he mumbled something about the heat.
He chuckled as he watched Fester disappear out into the right corridor.
Gomez walks into the living room, a fond smile on his lips. He made his way towards Morticia and surprised her by placing a loving kiss on the top of her head.
"Gomez, darling. You startled me." said Morticia, a saucy glint in her eyes. "Did you enjoy blowing up your trains dear?" She asks, lightly touching his hand before returning to her knitting.
"Oh Querida Mia! It was marvelous. I used fresh explosives, there was nothing barely left of the trains."
"That's wonderful dear."
"Oh, Tish," Gomez says, kneeling beside her, "It was a glorious explosion. I wish you were there to see it." He said rather sadly.
She looked at him as she paused her knitting. Feeling incredibly guilty.
"My Caballero Mio," She crooned affectionately, stroking his cheek with her free hand. "Forgive me, darling. I was so preoccupied in the conservatory today. I'll make it up to you - bubele." Her last words came out as a soft purr.
"Oh, Morticia. Those words." He found himself lightly blushing as he indulged himself in kissing her hand, and all the way up to her arm.
They were momentarily interrupted when the mail came in.
While Morticia sorted out the mail (It was odd, they didn't know anyone named Bill.), Gomez spoiled himself by lighting one of his hand-made cigars from Cuba.
He watched her intently as she sorted them out. He sat on his favorite chair, next to hers as he puffed out the exotic smoke from his mouth.
"Darling," Morticia said, looking at him with glimmering eyes, "You're staring again."
He let out a bashful chuckle, "Can't a husband admire his beautiful wife?"
She looked at him and smiled demurely. Morticia then tilted her face towards him; her ruby red lips pursing together as she made a light and sultry kissing sound. Her version of blowing a kiss.
He shivered with pleasure.
Gomez continued to watch as Morticia set the letters aside to continue her knitting.
He still could not shake the feeling that she might be feeling unwell.
"Darling," He started to say. The ghost-like smoke emitting from his cigar, "I'm terribly worried about someone."
"About who, love?" She inquired, looking at him with indigo eyes. Her quick hands, creating another loop in her yarn.
"About you, darling." He replies, raising a tender hand to her forehead.
"Me? Whatever for dear?" Morticia asks, a little perplexed.
"I heard you speaking to Lurch earlier. You're voice did sound a little lower."
"Darling if I hadn't known you had a cold, I would have been inclined to think you had malaria." He teased lightly.
Morticia looks at him, "Gomez, darling. You're such a beast." Her voice husky.
Gomez chuckled, but he still had to know if she really was fine. His expression turned serious, he takes her hand in his, "Tell me darling, are you really feeling alright?"
Now that she thought about it, she did feel a little weary.
"I don't think its anything to be alarmed by sweetheart." She says softly. Reassuring him lovingly, running her free hand lightly over his hair. "I just think it has something to do with all this ghastly sunshine."
"You're right Querida, I merely glanced at the window today and I thought I l went partially blind."
"My poor dear." said Morticia as she caressed his hand.
"But not to worry, my dearest. I read the paper this morning," He paused, a sly smile on his face. "There's a storm coming tomorrow."
A sensual smile played upon her glamorous features. They were both thinking the same thing - Lover's Leap.
Morticia returned to her knitting, while Gomez stood up from his chair and walked over to Thing's box.
He knocked a few times and punctually, Thing came out.
"Thing, a little music please." said Gomez. (Lurch was still in the kitchen preparing eye of sheep.)
Thing obliged and popped right up next to the old phonograph with a record. Soon the entire room was filled with music.
It was a tango.
The beat was sensual, erotic. Deliberate. A burning passion within its rhythm as the music progressed.
He tossed his cigar aside as he walked back to where Morticia was.
He bowed and gallantly offered his hand, "A dance Querida Mia?"
She took his hand and replied, "Yes, darling."
He lead her to the middle of the spacious room. He spun her gently in his arms, before his hand rested firmly on her delicate waist.
They both begin to sway, their steps in sync as the music played on. Their bodies creating the lyric to the song. A hidden riddle to a horizontal wish. Their bodies were pressed closely together as they danced, but despite the fact that they were fully clothed, the intensity of their passions was explosive.
The dance was like a coy flirtation. He would lead since he was the man, but he was helpless with her feminine teasings. She knew how to move, and precisely when to move.
The music was beginning to beat with an enticing rhythm as the Spanish guitar played out its song, echoing into their hearts.
It was like an intimate conversation between their bodies. Each touch needing a response, each caress striking a chord to their insatiable ardor.
Their steps were beginning to quicken as the song reached its climax.
He could hear the delicious sound of her breathing as they continued to dance, he pulled her closer. The possessive lover in him needing her ever so close.
The song was nearing its end as he dipped her to the side in his arms. She was perspiring lightly, a bead of sweat was rolling from her neck and down in between her soft bosoms.
He was barely able to control himself as he hovered above her.
"Morticia," He whispered. Her name played out an entire symphony of music in his heart. And a flame in his veins.
"Gomez." She answered, her gaze locked onto his. Her eyes glowing like two torches in the night.
He knew what he wanted, hungered for.
Her lips. The red wine of love, and he wanted to drown in her.
He moved closer as his mouth was barely a breath away from hers.
They were about to close the remaining spaces between their thirsting lips.
When the bell for lunch rang.
Their tall butler walked into the room.
"Lunch, is served." He groaned.
Somewhere in Italy, Mt. Vesuvius erupted for the second time.
Lunch was just absolutely delightful. They had steak of yak and eye of sheep. It was a lovely afternoon (Despite the lingering heat.), the children were there, Uncle Fester and the rest of the family. Grandmama was missed, of course. But aside from that, Gomez and Morticia always enjoyed spending time with their family. Blood is thicker than water.
The blinding light continued for the rest of the day. But the heat finally broke when early evening came. The sky was slowly filled with dark velvet clouds, carrying the promise of rain. It was a refreshing sight to see.
Surprisingly, they finished dinner earlier than expected that evening. And everyone excused themselves to their respective rooms.
Except for Gomez and Morticia.
They decided to stay up, a little late.
He practiced his aim with his turn of the century crossbow (He needed Uncle Fester as the target, Lurch was too tall.), while Morticia was having her after dinner tea. She mildly felt a little better since morning, but the rawness in her throat was still there.
She continued to sip her tea. The warm liquid felt good against her tongue, the taste traveling down into her throat. Her sultry eyes watched fondly as Gomez aimed the crossbow at the target on top of Uncle Fester's head. (A single grape.)
She was enjoying the evening. But however, a slight throbbing in her head was disturbing her peace of mind. She felt slightly intoxicated.
Gomez had fired another shot from the crossbow and missed. (Barely missing Fester's head) Uncle Fester continued to tell Gomez to aim at the grape and not at him.
"Darlings," Morticia said softly as she walked over to them.
"My dear, care to take a shot?" Gomez asked, offering her the archaic weapon.
"Not tonight, sweetheart. I think I'll go upstairs and rest for a while."
She walked over to Uncle Fester and kissed him on the forehead. "Good night Uncle Fester."
"Querida," Said Gomez, taking her hand. "Must you go? The night is still so young."
"Its only for tonight, darling. I just feel a little tired." She says, touching his cheek gently.
"Very well. I'll be up in a short while." He replied, kissing her hand before she turned to leave.
The two men watched her climb the stairs. Her elegant form ascending each step gracefully, then turning right before disappearing out into the hallway.
"She seems to be really tired today," said Uncle Fester.
"I know, I should go up with her." Gomez replied, his face was thoughtful. "Listen, old man. I think we're going to have to finish our target practice tomorrow."
"Alright. But before you turn in Gomez, give one last shot. One more for the road?" Said Uncle Fester, changing the target into an apple and placing it in his mouth.
"You sly fox." Gomez chuckled.
He aimed his crossbow. And before his hand was steady enough, he pulled the trigger. It sent the bow flying across the room and hitting the large stuffed bear in the eye, which resulted in prolonged moans and growls of pain.
Five minutes after Uncle Fester and Gomez yanked the bow out of Bruno's eye, they said goodnight. Though Uncle Fester said he was going up to his tree house before turning in.
"See you at brunch." Gomez called out before proceeding to the stairs.
He went up the stairs and turned a corner into the hallway.
He easily found his way to their bedroom door and quietly cracked the mahogany door open.
The room was dim as he entered, closing the door behind him. His darling wife was fast asleep on the bed. She had been reading and fell asleep; (The works of Edgar Allan Poe.) the lamp on the nightstand glowed a dreary yet hazed yellow in the darkness.
He walked over to her from the depths of the dark. (Stumbling only once.) He stood there for a moment; a fond smile on his face as gazed upon his beloved's sleeping form. Gomez gently brushed a hair away from her closed eyes.
She looked so beautiful. He could not believe that such beauty, such a woman could belong to him.
He carefully slipped the open book from her hands and placed it on the nightstand. He then covered her properly in their silk sheets, tucking her in. She stirred lightly, barely half awake, "Gomez, come to bed." Morticia murmured under hear breath.
"Querida," He whispered, leaning down to kiss her gently on the corner of her mouth. "I love you."
Gomez then proceeds to the bathroom to change into his silk pajamas.
10 minutes later, shortly after turning out the lights, he was in bed.
He was cautious in making as little movement as possible, so not to awaken his slumbering wife.
He slowly slid beneath the sheets, slipping his hand onto her waist, pulling her closer. And instinctually she responded, (Even in deep sleep.) resting her head against his chest. A content sigh escaped her lips.
Her hair was sprawled out across the pillow like a million silk threads. The faint light of the moon pouring in through the window shutters; tracing the haunting beauty she possessed. (At least being ill agreed with her.) He inhaled deeply, the hypnotic essence of her scent was blurring his senses till he too fell into deep slumber.
A/N: Hey guys! Hope you all enjoyed this one. This one-shot came as the inspiration from the light cold I suffered last week, haha. I was blowing my nose and voila! It was there and refused to go away till I had written it down. xD Anyways, you all know what to do my loves. Please R&R, you just know it drives me wild. ;)
I do NOT own anything.