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Beautiful and Scorned

Summary:

Gomez is very much in love with Morticia. Especially after she breaks a man's wrist in the middle of a knife store.

Ft. baby Wednesday, she's about four months old when this takes place

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.