Free Write - Gomez Addams

[icarus_chained]

Title:  Thorns
Rating:  Um. PG-13, I think, but it's the Addams, so caution
Fandom:  The Addams Family
Characters/Pairings:  Gomez, Fester, Gomez/Morticia
Summary:  Fester tries to guess his brother's favourite weapon
Wordcount:  789
Continuity:  Set not long after the first movie
Notes:  for bradygirl_12 . I'm afraid it focuses more on the brothers than she wanted.

Thorns

 

　

"Come on, Gomez! They must be your favourites!" Fester frowned in exasperation, his heavy face folding into a pout. "Not even a sabre? Throwing knife? You always were fond of blades, you know."

Gomez shook his head in fond denial, smiling. "Sorry, old man. The sabre has a touch of class, most definitely, and the knives bring a lively atmosphere, but they wouldn't be my favourite weapons, any of them. Guess again."

Fester grimaced, turning stiffly in place as he thought about it, his movements as lumbering yet oddly frenetic as always. Gomez smiled at the sight, so glad to be able to see it again, to have his brother near him once more. To play again the games of their youth, to taunt and tease and attempt homicide together! Oh, it was wonderful. And to see him with the children, to see them playing with explosives and poisons together ... he had dreamed of it, in those long years without Fester. He had dreamed of seeing that day.

"Poison!" Fester cried, turning to face him once more, almost echoing the thoughts. Then he turned back almost as fast, shaking his head. "No, no. More Morticia's line that yours, eh, Gomez?" He looked back over his shoulder with a knowing leer. "Always had a talent with the belladonna, didn't she?"

Gomez laughed aloud, grinning at the memories and the salacious look on his brother's face. "Indeed she did!" He slapped his thigh. "You remember the time she poisoned the trigger of your railbomb experiment?" He grinned, matching Fester. "We had to have you exhumed after you woke up!"

"Yes, and the coffin was too small," Fester groused, grinning. "You'd think Mother could have measured me properly!"

"We forgot to take off your dynamite jacket," Gomez admitted. "It added about five inches to your girth." Fester smiled in nostalgic remembrance. "But you've forgotten the game, old man! Come, guess again!" Fester frowned, and paced, and paced some more, while Gomez watched in amusement, but finally he stopped, throwing up his hands.

"I give up! Tell me your favourite weapon, then!"

Gomez looked at him for a minute, smiling faintly, tauntingly, just long enough to Fester's expression to grow mutinous and ugly, like Gordon's, then he leapt to his feet with a cry like an excited child, and darted over to take his brother's hands. "Fester. Fester, Fester. You really can't guess?"

Fester softened, shaking his head, smiling at Gomez' antics. He'd always been indulgent, Gomez remembered. Always willing to go along with his games. The best of brothers.

Smiling wickedly, Gomez leaned in, whispering in his brother's ear, secrets like when they were children. "Thorns," he growled, laughing delightedly. "Thorns."

Fester pulled back, looking at him curiously, disbelievingly. "Thorns?" he repeated, and Gomez nodded, grinning like a fool. He could see Fester wanting to ask, but not wanting to have to, and he waited, with malevolent patience, until he could see his brother cave. "Alright then!" Fester threw up his hands in exasperation. "Why thorns?"

And then, though his smile stayed in place, it became something different. Not just a boy, jesting with his brother, but a man, thinking decidedly adult things. "Because," he purred. "They're Morticia's favourite." Fester blinked at him, and Gomez grinned, slow and hungry, passionate and mad. "Whips of rose-stems, Fester! Thorns, gleaming in the twilight, dark as death against her gleaming skin, ruby with the wine of her blood! And her smile! Her smile of pain, of ecstasy! My brother, no other weapon could compare! Not having seen that sight! Not after the thorns, decorating her flesh."

He sighed, wistful and wondering, adoration in every line of him, lost in the daze of memory, until a faint sound from Fester brought him back with a start. He looked at his brother, and saw with astonishment that there was something close to envy in his eyes. Fester, who could have had any woman he wanted, dead or alive! Gomez couldn't understand it, unless Fester was jealous that Gomez had been the one to win Morticia. He wouldn't blame him for that. His Dark Goddess had no equal in this or any other world.

"Fester?" he asked, not wanting to hurt his brother. Not in the heart, anyway. But Fester shook his head, and when he looked back at Gomez, he was smiling, an older brother proud and happy for the younger.

"You're a lucky, lucky man, brother," the pale man said, grinning, and winked. "A very lucky man. It's a wonder no-one has tried to steal all that luck."

And Gomez grinned, rich and competitive, holding out his hand for their own little ritual. "They have tried," he noted cheerfully, while Fester stared up at him from the floor.

"And I hope they'll continue to do so!"