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The day he'd been kicked out of the Netherworld and returned to the home that had started all of this. When he’d come through that door, shocking and surprising everyone. Everyone except her. She’d seemed as though she hadn’t expected him to be here, but was neither surprised nor disappointed. And the momentary light of unexpectedness quickly gave way to one of his favorite expressions of hers, that sly, mischievous smile. The one that spoke of being up to no good and loving it. What wonderfully cruel and hilarious ideas did she have running around in that pretty little head of hers, he wondered?
“Hiya Beej,” she greeted, unaffected by all the yelling and screams of horror. God he’d missed that sound, missed hearing that sound around her, “What’s up?”
He wanted to hug her, show her how much he’d missed her. His best friend, his -technically speaking- cursed little bride. The only one who’d looked beyond his exterior, been willing to help him, been willing to forgive him even after everything he’d done. And she was close, so close, so why not? He’d immediately swept her up in his arms, spinning them both around and laughing maniacally, “Seems that little plot to get rid of me backfired babes,” he informed her, knowing she wasn’t going to be nearly adverse to this development as everyone else was, “So now, I’m stuck here with a buncha stiffs, and some dead people too, present company excluded as always you know.”
Lydia laughed, “How flattering,” she drolled, rolling her eyes in amusement, “More mommy issues?”
“More like Mommy Consequences,” he’d muttered, “‘Oh, Beetlebreath, feeding your mother figure to a sandworm was wrong! No, I don’t care if she was neglectful and abusive, you still shouldn’t do it!’ and other fun intricacies of dealing with dead folks with their stakes shoved up their asses,”
“Thought Vlad Tepes had already gone to hell,” Lydia quipped, making no move to extricate herself from his hold. It wasn’t something that went unnoticed by him, or any of the sternly glaring adults in the room.
“Not before sending several hundred other schmucks there first, with those stakes too might I add,”
Lydia giggled, “I figured as much, well, if I had to deal with an eternity of infinite discomfort I might be a little less reasonable too.”
“Don’t go trying to make me feel bad for them babes, they were the ones going up against the original Vampire.”
“Was he actually a vampire?”
“Pfft, nah,” he shook his head, “Vampires aren’t real. Ghosts and demons yes; sparkly ken dolls with repressed hard-ons to match? No.”
“Shame,” Lydia murmured, corner of her mouth upturned as though she found all this extremely funny. He wondered what about it was, aside from the fact that he had the next foreseeable eternity to drive everyone else around them absolutely off their rocker bonkers.
“Disappointed Lyds?” he teased, only barely managing to ignore the little niggle of jealousy that reared his multicolored head. Why he was jealous, he still couldn’t figure out. But the thought of that sort of thing being Lydia’s type as opposed to… what? She wasn’t really interested in creepy old guys, a fact she had made clear, along with her clarity on just what she’d considered him to be.
“Only for the girls who are into that sort of thing,” Lydia replied, finally realizing that maybe he should set her down before her father turned puce, “I find my tastes are a little more… refined.”
“Care to share with the class Miss Deetz?” he asked, raising a brow at her as the corners of his own mouth turned up in an exaggeratedly lascivious manner, “C’mon, you can tell me!”
She’d scoffed, “Yeah… I don’t think so Bugbrain. Besides, I’m guessing if you’re my problem now we’re gonna need to find a space for you to actually stay.”
“He’ll stay outside the house,” Charles put his foot down, “I may be forced to let him stay, but it’s not going to be under my roof.”
“Come on dad,” Lydia rolled her eyes as Beetlejuice set her back on her feet, “Can’t he just stay in the basement? It’s not like the Maitlands or anyone else like using it for that matter.”
“I thought you wanted to turn that into a darkroom,” Barbara reminded her, clearly looking for an excuse to banish Beetlejuice as far away as they could manage to.
“Like it isn’t big enough for both?” Lydia countered, folding her arms and raising a brow, “I don’t need that much space,”
The adults were all a little flustered, clearly having expected her to be just as upset about his return as they were. But her nonchalance and even veiled happiness was throwing them off. And while they didn’t like it, they didn’t want to argue with her about it either. So they all grumbled and wandered off at their own pace, each of them shooting a glare at the demon Lydia was now owner of.
“I suppose we’ll need to find some stuff to make the basement a little more… habitable,” Lydia mused, “Unless you can juice yourself up some accommodations.”
“As long as it’s in the perimeter of the house, I shouldn’t have a problem,” Beetlejuice replied. The basement was actually rather big, considering it was a house on a hill. And he was able to snap up a few things, an armchair, a bed, some other mundane stuff that made it look like someone dwelled there. When he was done, he turned around and spread his arms before flopping back into the juiced up bed, “Ahh, much better than a tomb.”
“You lived in a tomb?” Lydia asked, somewhat intrigued by the prospect, “What was it like?”
“Not nearly as comfortable as advertised,” Beetlejuice replied. He sat up and found Lydia was much closer to him than she had been just a moment ago, “Babes?”
“Real talk Beetlejuice,” she put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m… really glad you’re back.”
She had a shy smile on her face as she looked at him, eyes darting to and from him every other second or so. There was a sense of apprehension and anticipation in the air, as though there was something he was supposed to pick up on. Something he was supposed to do. Something she wanted from him. But he didn’t know what he could. Beetlejuice knew what he wanted, he wanted to kiss her. To take those pouty little lips with his own and tell her that not everything they’d shared had been selfish or a trick. But she took her hand away, the spell was broken, and the moment was lost. So instead, he’d let a wry smirk turn up one corner of his mouth and with a wink he replied,
“Glad to be back kid.”
BJ BJ BJ
It was Halloween and together they were doing what they did best. Spending the night in and binge watching horror movies only to pause when the inevitable knocking came on their door. The Maitlands had found they could leave the house on Halloween night, haunting perimeter restrictions be damned and had wanted to make the most of it. Her father and Delia had gone out on what they called a “double date”. Lydia had had to refrain from rolling her eyes at them, she knew they were all a thing, she just hadn’t said anything, waiting for them to come to her about it. At any rate, she and Beetlejuice were watching movies only to prepare for a good scare or two when the trick or treaters came a knocking. Was it cruel? Yes. Sadistic and more than likely psychologically scarring? Absolutely. Helping her reputation as the town weirdo? Not in the slightest. But was it fun? More than anything else in the whole world.
Lydia was -surprisingly enough- wearing the red dress from their ill-fated wedding. Why? She had said she’d hadn’t had time to figure out what she’d wanted to be and buy the supplies to create a costume of her own. So she’d thrown on the dress, asked Beetlejuice to juice her up a headpiece, and they’d gone from there. All night, she’d been telling everyone she was Bloody Mary, or the Countess of Bathory -that second one was lost on a lot of the plebs but he appreciated the callback, Erzabet had been one kinky piece of ass which he’d always appreciated- and then when she’d gotten them prepped he swooped in for the scare. Her evil and maniacal smile when she watched them scream and drop their candy running was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Couple it with the most beautiful sound in the world and he was raring for just about anything he could get.
It came to a head when Lydia and him heard what was likely one of the last victims to wander to their doorstep that night. They shared a knowing look, pausing the movie and standing from the couch. Lydia brushed down her dress, adjusted her headpiece so that the veil covered her face, and asked him,
“You ready?”
“More than ever,” he rubbed his hands together, “So… what are we going for this time, huh Lyds? Bucket of blood? Lovecraftian horror? Abstract concept of cultural anxieties?”
“Maybe we should just kiss this time,” Lydia shot back. Beetlejuice started, certain he’d heard her wrong,
“Uh… mind running that by me again Babes?” he asked, half hoping and half dreading that he’d heard her wrong.
“Kiss Beej,” Lydia clarified, “You know; K. I. S. S? Keep it simple stupid,” she placed her hands on her hips and looked at him, “What did you think I was talking about?”
“Uh…” he would have thought that was obvious, but if she wanted to remain oblivious he could play that game too, “Well, you know, you breathers and your slang terms for everything,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his head, “Simple, right, sure thing Babes,” Beetlejuice manifested himself into a giant snake and said, “It’ssss Sssshowtime!”
Lydia opened the door to, surprise surprise, some teenagers who’d gotten a dime store mask or two and paired it with the darkest clothing they owned. Beetlejuice and Lydia didn’t know what was the more insulting part of this; the fact that they were trying to get candy they could have bought for themselves, or the distinct lack of effort they’d put into their attempt. While they loved a good scare, they made certain that those who’d put in effort had gotten something for it. Any dropped candy bags on their porch were replaced with bags full of gummi insects for their troubles. But this? Seriously?
And it seemed that they were just as baffled by Lydia’s choice to dress up and embrace the holiday. One of them, voice snotty and pubescent, looked Lydia up and down and asked her,
“What are you supposed to be?”
Lydia had let out a little huff of laughter as she felt Beetlejuice coil at her feet in preparation, waiting for his cue. She looked at them and with the brevity of a death knell she told them, “I’m the Devil’s Bride,”
Beetlejuice snaked out from under her skirt, rising so that his golden reptilian eyes and sharp, hungry maw could only just be discerned in the darkness. The teenagers blanched, but trying to be brave they said, “Nice rubber snake lady, now give us some candy,”
Lydia just laughed, “You hear that, darling? The little snots say they want a treat. You think they’ve earned it?”
And Beetlejuice’s replying chuckle was low and deep and gravelly, “No,” he hissed, “But, they’ve sssscertainly earned a trick!”
And with that he reared back and struck, bypassing Lydia as she sidestepped with perfect timing. God slash Satan they were so in sync it wasn’t even funny. Beetlejuice snapped and bared his teeth and fangs, letting some ectoplasmic looking drool drip from his mouth as he hissed,
“Ssssay Babesss?”
“Yes dear?” Lydia sounded the perfect, devoted, darling stepford wife. Just as she had the night she’d first set him free. Her hands ran themselves along his striped scales as she made a show of caressing him to up the fear, horror, and disgust lurking in the dumbasses eyes. With a little bit of luck it would be going on a trip straight down to a soiling puddle. God her hands felt good, a feeling he tried to ignore in favor of the other pleasure he was anticipating in the form of a good scream or two.
“I’m feeling a little, hungry,” he murmured, “Know where I can find a sssnack or two?”
“Well, you are watching your diet,” Lydia reminded him, “But lucky for you I think I see two rats out on our porch,”
“Jusst what I had in mind,” Beetlejuice laughed. Then he unhinged his jaw and let the teeth fall further than they had previously. He reared back to strike again, and only barely missed the hem of one of their hoodies as they fled into the night. He returned to his regular form laughing up a storm, slinging an arm around Lydia as she slammed the door shut and continued to shake with her own mirth.
“Aw man!” Beetlejuice exclaimed, “That was classic!”
“Yeah,” Lydia agreed through her own chortles, “Those idiots never saw it coming!”
They laughed for a good couple of minutes, surrounded by nothing but the encroaching darkness warded off only by the dim blue lighting of the tv screen. When it finally subsided, they seemed to realize what position they were in, curled close together with his arm looped around her and her hand lightly brushing his chest. And because of the posture, their faces were closer together than they normally allowed. And there it was again, that longing, that yearning, that feeling of being on the precipice of something greater than both of them. Something they could take the plunge into together, but that it would irrevocably change everything. That burning desire to kiss her and damn the consequences, tempered only by the fear of disdain and disgust should he have failed and seen something that wasn’t actually there. So, instead, he withdrew and clapped a more platonic hand on her back,
“Said it before, and I’ll say it again Babes; you’re a natural at haunting a house.”
“So I supposed I’ll be well prepared once I die then, huh?” Lydia asked, trying to inject a bit of dark humor into the sudden awkward turn the moment had taken with his actions. But the thought of Lydia dying, of joining the ranks of the dead for any reason at all filled him with more terror than being rejected. But he couldn’t tell her any of that, then she’d know he cared, a lot more than he was supposed to.
“Ha,” he scoffed, putting on a mask of false lackadaisical, devil-may-care levity, “With me around kid, I’m guessing that won’t happen as soon as you think,”
“How very sweet, in a rather obnoxious and kind of condescending way,” Lydia remarked, “C’mon, those zombies aren’t gonna disembowel themselves Beetlejuice,”
“Right behind ya Lyds!” he called, silently promising to himself he’d never let any harm come to her so long as he could help it. And thanks to their wedding, he very much could.
BJ BJ BJ
Despite seeing plenty of bacchanalian celebrations over the course of two agreed upon millennia and counting, Christmas still kind of threw Beetlejuice for a loop. He didn’t understand why so many breathers had picked the birth of this one guy -admittedly a pretty chill guy- as the reason to celebrate the joy of giving and blessed tidings to all. Especially when one; this was the wrong damn season for it in the first place, and two; Jesus had been the religion a lot of them liked to hate on the other three-hundred and sixty-four days of the mortal year. But perhaps the most annoying part about it this year was the bickering of the little polyship over how to hang decorations and make things look nice.
“Charles,” Adam sounded resigned but trying to attempt for geniality, “You need to move that ornament, it's too close to another red one.”
“Adam,” Charles sighed, “It really doesn't matter,”
“Yes it does!” Adam protested, “You're going to throw off the whole coordination of the tree,”
“We're not entering this in a tree decorating contest,” Charles parried, “It'll be fine if it's not perfect,”
“But-”
As they continued on Beetlejuice wished he wasn't so damn good at losing things or else he would have gladly taken off his ears and put them somewhere he didn't have to hear this conversation. Babs and Red weren't daring much better in the kitchen. There was less arguing, but more no one being able to make up their damn minds as Barbara scuttled around the room making gingerbread and Delia tried to decide what kind of liquor to spice the eggnog with. A whole other breed of middle class vanilla irritation he didn't want to deal with. He loved the drinking and celebrating part of the holidays, but the peace on earth and kindness to all irritated him beyond the reasons of why the hell humans only designated this one time of year to do it and proceeded to be assholes all the rest. But as he decided to leave he saw Lydia, leaning in the doorframe, watching with bemusement as her father figures bickered.
“Hey Babes,” he greeted, touching down to stand beside her, “Gotten into the Christmas spirit yet?”
“Not quite,” Lydia remarked, “Good thing you already look like a goth candy cane, no need for you to change your clothes.”
“Good thing too,” Beetlejuice agreed, “Because I wasn't going to either way.”
“How is it you don't smell bad?” Lydia wondered, stepping a bit closer as if she would be able to discern some difference in the way he smelled in a closer proximity, “You're dead, and otherwise disgusting. But all I can smell is earth, and…” she inhaled a moment, “I don't know what else that is, but it certainly isn't brimstone and smoke.”
“The whole being dead thing,” Beetlejuice replied, “Eventually you just… stop smelling like stuff.”
“Huh,” Lydia shrugged, leaning back against the frame, “Weird.”
“Thought you liked weird,”
“Yeah, I do,” She admitted, “But what about you Beetlejuice? You seem confused as to everything going on.”
“Just marveling at human hypocrisy I suppose,” he replied, “Why you breathers choose the absolute worst time of the year to be “nice” to one another is beyond me.”
“Ha,” Lydia scoffed, “You’ve never seen a Black Friday sale Beej, and that’s what kicks off this whole season. Rampant capitalism and materialism and beating the crap out of one another a day after professing thanks for the sake of a blender that’s five dollars cheaper than it normally is.” she sighed, “Still, it isn’t all bad,”
“Oh no?” Beetlejuice crossed his arms, “And what’s so good about it? Spreading cheer? Singing carols? Ugly sweaters?”
“And here I thought you didn’t know anything about the holidays,” Lydia drawled, only barely hiding her amusement, “No, there’s one tradition my family always does that’s pretty funny.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Beetlejuice asked.
“Mom always called it sneak attack,” Lydia glanced away for a moment, he couldn’t tell why she did that. But usually any time Lydia mentioned her mother it was with some sort of wistful longing. But her words, now those had his attention,
“Ooh, what’s that?” Beetlejuice asked, eager to know more, “Do you sneak up on someone and scare the shit out of them? Can I play, can I?”
She giggled at that, “No Beetlejuice,” she told him, “It was mom’s favorite way of getting us to embarrass one another. Every day up until Christmas morning, one of us -well, one of my parents for a while when I was too little to reach the doorframe- would hide a sprig of mistletoe or holly above one of the doors. And then, we’d wait for a victim.”
“Okay…” Beetlejuice drawled, “And then what?”
“Well, you call out sneak attack and give them a kiss. Then it’s their turn to hide the sprig and sneak attack someone else,” Lydia explained, “It should be interesting, since my parents and the Maitlands have been trying to keep the affection to a minimum around me. And considering Delia’s probably gonna put it on the frame of the most awkward door possible to try and corner someone. So that should be fun,”
“I just imagine her tackling whoever it is,” Beetlejuice snickered, “Ah man, imagine if she spooked Adam and Babs so badly they went intangible and she went right through ‘em!”
“I’m about tempted to set up a camera to see that,” Lydia remarked, “But I bet you’ll be the one who hides it the best.”
“Maybe,” Beetlejuice agreed, “So, when do we set it up?”
“Who says it hasn’t been already?” Lydia asked in reply, looking a little more smug than usual.
“Wait… where?” Beetlejuice asked, looking around, everywhere except where he probably should have been looking. With a victorious smirk, Lydia uncrossed one of her arms and pointed directly above them. And there, hanging from the ceiling was a sprig of evergreen and blood red berries. Well, shit, he’d been had, hadn’t he? Damn, why was it that Lydia was the only person who could pull one over on him like this? Maybe he trusted her too much, or underestimated her, or maybe both. He should have known this was her angle, why bring it up if her plan hadn’t been to… wait. What in the hell was her plan? Was she giving him a heads up so he wouldn’t get caught? Then they would she have waited to let him know it was there until after she’d told him about the game? She couldn’t… actually… want him to…
“Sneak attack Beej,” Lydia remarked dryly, stepping forward and inclining her head upwards. No, no, no! This couldn’t… he had to be dreaming. But… no, this was another one of her practical jokes, a prank, albeit not a very good one. She’d said it was all part of the game, and wouldn’t it be hilarious to hit him with the one thing she knew he was weak to, physical displays of affection. Love, and caring. And he knew she cared about him, they were best friends, she was glad he came back. But they were nothing more than that. But why -his mind argued- would she choose him to be her victim? She was cruel, but she wasn’t a bitch. Panicked eyes glanced down and saw her eyes closed and lips slightly puckered. He wanted to, oh God he wanted to. But Lydia didn’t see him like that, and she wasn’t someone he could force a non platonic kiss on. She wasn’t Adam, or Barbara, or hell, even Chuckie or Delia. She was Lydia, and she meant more to him than that. But he wasn’t about to run away like some pussy. So he grabbed her by the shoulders, tugged her closer, and placed a kiss on the crown of her head before releasing her.
He shot her a frantic smile saying, “Good one babes, my turn now!” before immediately disappearing, missing the look of confusion and disappointment on her face. What he did not miss, however, was the stern lecture he got from Charles on how they’d never had a tradition like that what the hell was he talking about and would you get off my husband this instant Beetlejuice!
Beetlejuice spent the rest of that month sulking out on the roof, confused beyond all belief, and unwilling to face Lydia despite how much he missed her. He was only convinced to come back in by the Maitlands of all people,
“Come on Beetlejuice,” Barbara placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, “Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”
“Christmas is a time for family,” Adam added, “And, whether we like it or not, you’re a part of our family now.”
Beetlejuice sniffed, “You really mean that?”
The Maitlands looked at each other for a moment, then at him. They’d never seen him so lost and desperate before. He really was like a little kid, despite being thousands of years older than them.
“Of course,” they said, “Lydia’s missed you too.”
And despite how he felt, how he was trying not to feel, Beetlejuice could never deny Lydia anything. The fact that she wanted him around, in any capacity well, he would be happy with that. He’d certainly made due with less.
BJ BJ BJ
It was a somber day in the Deetz-Maitland household. The anniversary of Emily’s death. Charles and Lydia were obviously taking it the hardest, them being the only ones actually connected with the departed matriarch of the Deetz family. It was hard for him to watch, he wanted so desperately to comfort Lydia, to let her know that he was there. But he didn’t understand, so he couldn’t make it better. He knew Lydia had loved her mother dearly, and had been grieving her loss in her own quiet way, masked by torture and pain. And as much as he wanted to believe he made her happy, he just couldn’t compete with the memory of a woman he’d never met.
Despite being banished to the house he’d haunted, Beetlejuice still had connections on the other side. Tina, for example, or as she demanded he cal her, Tia Tina was in charge of a good deal of the underlings who could be put to work sifting through files. If he couldn’t bring back Emily, maybe at least he could bring them closure as to where she’d gone. But of course, looking in the mirror had only brought bad luck,
“Lo siento Rayas,” Tina had said as she appeared in the glass, “We have absolutely no records for an Emily Deetz,”
“What? How?” Beetlejuice asked, “You have files on everyone! Even the Maitlands for Satan’s sake and they’re not even in the Netherworld. If she died she should have received a handbook right? Even if she didn’t go there, she has to have something, doesn’t she?”
“I’m truly sorry Betelito,” Tina apologized, “I know you were trying to do something good for once in your entire paradoxical existence, but wherever Emily Deetz went after she passed; it wasn’t here, and it didn’t leave a trace.”
“Someone’s soul can’t just up and disappear like that!” Beetlejuice protested, “There’s gotta be some mistake!”
“Believe me,” Tina assured him, “I’ve had more than half the new arrivals department dedicated to the task. No one should be without files unless they’re still alive. But there’s absolutely nothing on Emily Deetz. Her padres? Her ancestors? Primos y primas? We have them all right here, but it’s honestly as if the woman never existed at all.”
“What am I supposed to do then!” Beetlejuice raged, “I can’t just… I can’t go back to Chuck and Lyds with nothing!”
“And I can’t give you what I don’t have,” Tina replied, now growing a little irritated with the tantrum he was throwing, “I know Rayas, I know how much you care for your little mortal and her family. She’s… changed you, for the better. But there are some things that, even in death, are out of our hands. Tell her at least, that you tried.”
“If I weren’t banished I’d be ripping that damn file room and your incompetent lackeys apart,” he snarled.
“But you are and you can’t,” Tina replied smugly, “Coquito, what she needs is the people she loves around her. And the fact that you haven’t been exorcised yet says a lot about that. Go be there for her, especially since her mami can’t.” the green skinned woman sighed, “Look, I don’t know how much longer I can without alerting the Powers that Be, but I’ll try and keep the search going and I’ll let you know if I find anything, ok?”
Beetlejuice sighed too, “Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, “And Tia?”
“Si?”
“Gracias, por todos,” Beetlejuice waved his hand and the communication faded away. And he stuffed his hands in his pockets feeling lower than grave dirt. Why couldn’t he have just done this one thing for her? Given her this one little gift, that might help her heal? He couldn’t stand to see his babes hurting like this, but he couldn’t just hunt the damn woman down himself either. He wanted to punch something, and settled on the mirror before immediately repairing it. There was the muted sensation of glass shards sinking into his skin, but no pain that seared across his cold flesh like it likely should have. He didn't even care.
Beetlejuice went to the only place he knew of where he couldn't make things worse for Lydia, the roof. He'd been spending a lot of time up here recently, thinking everything over. One year since her mom had bitten it. Six months since everything had happened between them. He thought back to that day, that moment. Where everything had gone wrong. He should have let her speak, he shouldn't have let his own experiences dictate things. He should have bothered to ask more about Lydia, and maybe made an effort to understand. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe they would have been similar as they had played out. As it was now, Beetlejuice couldn't even make it up to her. Here was the day he was supposed to be there for her and where was he? Out on the roof feeling sorry for himself. But this wasn't about him, it was about Lydia. His best friend, and he needed to be there for her.
He went to her room, Lydia and Charles had spent a good portion of the day together, not yet ready to make the trek back to New York to visit Emily’s grave. The wound was still too fresh for that. But once they had returned home Charles had barricaded himself in his office while Lydia had done something similar in her own domain. Beetlejuice popped in and immediately regretted it. How could he be there for her if she only seemed to want to be alone?
“H-” he cleared his throat, “Hey kid,” he greeted, “How ya feeling?”
“Sad, and depressed,” Lydia replied, rolling over from her face down position on her bed,“But not ready to jump off a roof and impale myself on a bird bath so… baby steps I guess.”
He felt his gut twist. Any attempt at levity to try and cheer her up instantly vanished, “Look, I wish I knew what to say, what to do to put that smile back on your face,” Beetlejuice sighed, “Or even, just make it hurt a little less. You breathers got so many feelings, and hell, I've been dead so long I guess it’s easy to forget that for a lot of you, it’s more permanent. Look,” he fiddled with his hands, “I’m not so good with words when it comes to being sincere ‘n shit but… I’m sorry you gotta go through this. Isn’t there anything I can do to make it better?”
“Well…” Lydia thought as she looked at him, “You could… hold me I guess,”
She slumped forward on her knees and held her hands out to him. He hauled her up into his arms and let her rest in his lap as he floated them above her bed. Lydia buried herself into her chest, hands fisting in his lapels, and began to cry. She shook and trembled with the enormity of her grief, muffled wailing occasionally resounding through his ribcage. Beetlejuice felt his beatless heart break. Damn. Damn this woman for leaving her daughter behind without leaving a trace, or even an answer. Damn her for making his precious Lydia cry. Striped arms curled protectively around her, not knowing what else he could do. How he wanted to gently lift up her face and kiss those crystalline tears away. But that would change everything, and with no certainties he wasn’t willing to risk it. Instead, he stroked her hair, and her back, and let her cry herself out until there was nothing left to cry. He knew Lydia hadn’t cried around Charles, she may have teared up, but she wouldn’t cry around him. So she had been holding all of this back all day long.
Lydia finally let out her last hiccup and lifted her head. The bawling had caused her makeup to smear and run, but she was still the most drop dead gorgeous thing he’d seen in millennia. Her glassy eyes looked up at him and her lips were still kissably pouty. Oh fuck him. Were this anyone else he wouldn’t have hesitated for even a moment to plant one and damn the consequences. Grieving widow or daughter? Please. But Lydia was Lydia, and she was better than that. Lydia leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, just breathing for a moment. He could feel the undeniable evidence of her living status as it came in gentle puffs that brushed against his lips. Almost a kiss, but not quite. Beetlejuice let out a sigh through his nose and leaned his forehead back against hers.
After a moment, she broke apart and looked at him, a small smile gently tugging at the corners of her lips,
“Thanks Beetlejuice,” she whispered.
Beetlejuice let out a mirthless huff of laughter, “Anytime Babes, anytime.”
BJ BJ BJ
Love was perhaps the most violent thing on the planet. Empires had been toppled, armies had been slaughtered, wars had been fought and won and lost, all in the name of love. Men had died because of love. Though, as Shakespeare had once argued, not because of love. Blue balls, yeah, he could see that, because in the end, it was the desire to get laid that really drove a good number of those conflicts. And that held true even through to today. Well, that was the only explanation Beetlejuice could come up with for Valentine’s Day at any rate. The desire to get laid would make a man spend all manner of money for the unspoken promise of sex. And because he was a married man not having sex with his totally platonic best friend who he’d married for a green card don’t get it twisted, he decided not to celebrate it at all. Which, took the pressure off immensely, since Lydia said she preferred celebrating discounted chocolate day anyways. He thought for a moment, of juicing up some treats for the Deetz-Maitlands, but had overheard Babs and Red in the kitchen a couple days before the big event whispering about something involving whipped cream and melted chocolate and had decided that they probably had everything covered. Besides, the gift of nothing to them would apparently be a gift he received tenfold back on if he let things play out as he was thinking they were going to.
So, here he was. The supposedly most romantic holiday out of the whole damn year and he was sitting on the couch watching sappy Hallmark flicks. Great way to spend the day, but it wasn’t as if he could head to the local whorehouses to work off some tension so watching the softest of softcore tripe he could manage without getting Lydia in trouble was as good as it was likely going to get. Until, Lydia got home. She may not have liked school, but damn did that uniform like her . Wait, no, bad, bad Beetlejuice. Despite how hot and amazing and gorgeous he found her, -and he did find her guilty of all three- she was his best friend first and foremost. And she had never expressed any interest in him like that. She trusted him enough to cry on him for Satan’s sake. If that didn’t speak of firm real estate in the friend zone he didn’t know what did. So… repression, repression, repression. He was good at that, fooling himself to be able to keep acting like everything was fine even when it clearly wasn’t. And if he couldn’t fool himself into thinking he was alright, he could use the next best tactic; distraction!
“Hey Lyds,” he called, immediately turning to the chick finally getting over her crush on the piece of shit boy toy she’d spent the whole damn movie pining for instead of the guy who was… to be quite frank just as bad but at least he had committed to her, “How was school?”
“As good as one might expect of Valentine’s Day at an all girl’s school,” Lydia remarked, taking off her shoes before leaping over the back of the couch to join him, “Plenty of sapphic, quasi-lesbian undertones for everyone who decided to give someone else a gift.”
“Lesbian stuff is hot,” Beetlejuice remarked, “You breathers are so confusing. Don’t have sex, well do but don’t have this kind of sex because it’s a sin, don’t figure out how to satisfy yourself so you can tell your partner how to satisfy you… And I thought Hell was full of dumbass rules.”
“Right,” Lydia drawled before rifling through her bag. It was then Beetlejuice made the mistake of looking at her. Damn, the way the was sitting really highlighted the way those cutsey little Catholic girl knee high socks didn’t cover what the hem of her skirt left exposed, “Anyways…” Lydia continued, pulling a box out of her bag, “I know we said we weren’t gonna do anything but…” she paused for a moment, for what reason though he couldn’t fathom, too distracted by not trying to be distracted by her less than ladylike sitting position, “Um… Claire! That’s right, Claire and her cronies thought that they were being oh so funny. So, here,” she shoved a box at him.
He took one look at the label, “Chocolate covered beetles?”
Funny, a truly Brewster level prank. Lydia was more tolerant of bugs due to exposure around him, so Claire probably thought it was absolutely hilarious to buy her a box of chocolate covered bugs. But only Claire would also think to leave the damn wrapper on and advertise what exactly they were. Oh well, her loss that Lydia wouldn’t be the one enjoying these little delicacies. He tore open the box and had at it, stuffing the already dead insects into his mouth two or three at a time. Lydia watched this absolute massacre of the sweets with bemused interest. She giggled,
“Nice table manners you got there,” she informed him, “But maybe slow down, I think you missed a spot,”
He stopped stuffing his face long enough to ask, “Missed a spot of what?”
“I think there may yet be a part of your face not covered in chocolate,” Lydia giggled again, sliding closer as she reached out a thumb to swipe some of the stained sweetness off the corner of his mouth. And then, with his mouth hanging open, he watched as she stuck her thumb into her mouth and sucked the chocolate off. Beetlejuice nearly dropped the box onto the floor. Never more than anything had he wanted to be that digit as Lydia pulled it out with a pop and a self satisfied smirk, “Not bad,” she purred, adding another lick to the tip as though she’d missed some minute speck. She had to be doing it on purpose, there was no way she wouldn't get some sort of sick and twisted satisfaction out of riling him up like this, “Considering it’s been coating bugs. Got anymore Beetlejuice?”
His throat was dry. Any attempt at speaking was likely going to come out garbled, incoherent, probably strangled and definitely was going to make him look like a damn fool. So he wordlessly, silently just… set the box down in her lap and disappeared from the living room. Lydia pouted as she placed the cover back on the box and let out a sigh.
Beetlejuice reappeared in the basement panting hard and feeling a sensation not unlike a racing heart pounding in his chest. Good god, what did she want from him? Was she doing it on purpose? Was it all supposed to mean something? What did he know? He wasn’t any good at affection or even realizing what consent was unless it was very visibly enthusiastic. Lydia had made it a point of how much she hadn’t wanted to be married to him. And regardless of the purposes of the marriage originally here they were stuck together for better or worse. And they’d made the best of it, obviously. But Beetlejuice had very firmly put Lydia in a very rigid box of best friend after the whole Creepy Old Guy fiasco that had been their wedding. He thought she had done the same. Was he simply projecting something he secretly wished could be true onto their interactions? It was likely, he’d done something similar to the Maitlands after all. But Lydia was usually very quick to shatter expectations and dispel foolish notions.
“Beetlejuice?” Lydia’s voice rang through his head, “Are you alright?”
And unlike the time she’d asked Delia, she actually seemed to mean it. Beetlejuice, unable to handle the strain of all these conflicting thoughts, collapsed into his armchair and called back,
“As abnormal as can be Babes!” in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. The echo of footsteps down the stairs, however, told him he had probably failed on that account.
“You look terrible,” Lydia remarked as she gave him a once over. It wasn’t an insult, he usually did. But for her to voice it meant he probably looked worse off than usual. She walked up to him, placing a hand along his forehead,
“Well… no fever, not that I really expected one,” she murmured, more to herself than him. Sweet Satan her touch felt so good, “And you’re always pale, so I guess that’s not really helpful… But you seem a little sweat slicked. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have some sort of… demon pox or ghost flu do you?”
“Uh…”
“Do demons even get sick?” she asked, always ready to turn a situation into a learning experience about the realm of death and after death existence, “And if so, is there anything I can do to help?”
She looked so earnest with her concern for him. If he had a working heart it probably would have gripped him with a sudden pain. Cupid sure was right on the mark with those arrows of his today. Beetlejuice could feel himself trembling and struggling not to as Lydia tried all the breather methods of checking someone’s health. Her hands felt so good against him, was this supposed to be a punishment for all he’d ever done? Get stuck with feelings for a mortal and no way to act on them without the crippling fear of rejection and definite possibility of her wanting nothing to do with him ever again even though he was stuck in this house, in her life, for the next foreseeable eternity? Pretty damn effective way to learn a lesson because god was he willing to repent at this moment. But only long enough to be able to do every filthy sinful thing running through his mind too quickly to be fully coherent.
“I…” he began before being choked over by his own well of emotions as she turned those doey, soulful eyes on him. Please tell him he was imagining things, please tell him she hadn’t leaned in closer, close enough to touch, close enough to… kiss. He had to be imagining the what felt like barely a hairsbreadth of space between them. Even so, he turned his head away for a moment as he answered her, “I’ll be fine babes, just need a little me time if you know what I’m saying.”
“You time?” her lips quirked into a smirk, “So long as I don’t find any unwanted fluids in my developing supplies Beetlejuice. And make sure you clean up after yourself, alright?”
“God you’re worse than my mom!” Beetlejuice complained as she began to walk back upstairs.
Lydia’s response was something sly out the side of her mouth, but Beetlejuice was sure he had to have been hearing things. There was no way she’d said, “Yeah, but you don’t want your mom as badly as you want me, now do you?”
Right?
BJ BJ BJ
Despite the fact that time moved differently for the dead, Beetlejuice remembered this all important day of days. He couldn't help but have this one day engrained upon his blackened soul, and on his body. He fingered the puncture wound’s scar on his best through his clothes as he thought about the day. The day he’d learned what it meant to truly live. The day he'd married Lydia. Second in its importance only to the day he’d met Lydia. But given that those events were only three days apart and Lydia was not a party person Beetlejuice hadn't said or celebrated anything. Yet.
This was a first anniversary. Their first anniversary. And even if their marriage meant nothing, even if they were only best friends and nothing more, he wanted to make the day special. And maybe try and erase the bad memories surrounding what he'd done. Just because she'd forgiven him didn't mean he hadn’t done something that needed to be made up for. And only because it was Lydia would he be willing to do anything about it. He wasn't able to do much, but he still had some pull down below and so he'd used it to locate a very particular piece of jewelry to get wrapped up for Lydia. And then… well, he didn't exactly know how to make things better beyond that. But he could try!
He had the whole day planned; first they would head out to the graveyard to talk to the local spooks and take some photos. Then, while Lydia was busy developing he’d get a horror movie marathon prepped and ready to go. And after that, he’d have some delivery brought to the house for one good scare to cap off the night. It was perfect! If only she would wake up. Beetlejuice began pacing as she continued to sleep in. It was only four am, why wasn’t she up yet? When he decided to ask someone else, knowing how much Lydia was willing to be uncooperative if woken up too early, the Maitlands -in their own bed for once, what a surprise- had told him she was likely still asleep because it was four am and way too early for any person with any semblance of a soul to be up and about. Likely, they added, why Beetlejuice himself was up instead of sleeping. If he didn’t want an angry Lydia on his hands, he would do well to find something else to occupy his time. Beetlejuice decided to annoy Tina through the mirror until Lydia woke up.
When she did, he was as excitable as a puppy,
“C’mon babes!” He cajoled her, “Up and attem! We got a big day ahead of us!”
“A big day?” Lydia yawned, rubbing her eyes still half asleep, “For what Beetlejuice? What's so special about today?”
Somehow, it hurt that she didn't remember. But he didn't exactly blame her. It had been a traumatic experience for her, she'd been forced to marry a demon and then had murdered someone. Despite how blasé she'd been about it since, despite how dark her soul was, killing someone wasn't something she was capable of doing without any remorse or lingering guilt. So if she'd repressed it to try and spare herself some mental anguish, he could understand that. All the more reason to make this day count even more. This was a do-over. A way to make things right.
Beetlejuice cleared his throat, “Does it matter?” he asked with a grin slightly more forced than usual, “Every day’s a special day when we’re together. BJ and Lyds against the world, right?”
She let out a little giggle at that, “Right,” she yawned again and scratched at the back of her head, “Ugh, I need a shower,”
“Says who?”
“Not all of us like the feeling of sweat and decay clinging to us Beetlejuice,” Lydia remarked, “I’ll be down in half an hour, then we can go on this big thing you clearly have up your sleeve, okay?”
“You mean I have to wait even longer?” he whined, falling to his knees in the process.
“Unless you want your magic associated with cleanliness, yes,” Lydia quipped, “Why not go watch some tv or something?”
“Uh…” he hesitated, thinking of the movie pile he’d left out ready to be watched. He didn’t wanna mess it up if she came to join him instead of walking right on into the kitchen like he was banking on her doing, “Nah, you know tv nowadays, nothing but fake relationship reality bullshit. If I wanna see some drama, I’ll mimic one of your parents voices and start a fight that way.”
She couldn’t help the snort of amusement, even as she tried to be stern with him, “You really need to cut them a break,”
“I’d be happy to, if they didn’t make it so easy,” he shot back, “Get dressed Babes, I’m gonna go bother Babs and Adam for breakfast.”
“But you don’t eat people food,” Lydia pointed out as she gathered her things and headed for the bathroom.
“You’d be surprised what I can do given proper motivation,” he promised her with a rakish grin, disappearing before she could further retort.
He sat patiently at the table, waiting on Lydia. Adam and Barbara busied themselves making, plating, and serving breakfast meanwhile Charles and Delia did their best to ignore the demon at the table. Charles by hiding behind a big unfolded newspaper, and Delia by rearranging her silverware until food was set in front of her. Beetlejuice heard footsteps down the stairs and got very excited. Finally! Lydia was coming! But that excitement was morphed into holy shit shock the moment he saw her. Damn him to hell and back she was wearing stripes. Red and black ones, to be clear, but still. Stripes. His thing was stripes. She knew that. Everyone knew that. What the hell was she trying to say by dolling herself up and decking herself out in an outfit like that? He thought it had been made very clear where he stood in terms of the romantic to platonic spectrum with her, but this was something that made him pause. He was always in stripes, very rarely in anything else. Which meant that by wearing stripes, she had chosen to coordinate with him. But this wasn’t like a friends thing, because friends tended to twin or go for a theme if there were more of them. This seemed more like a… coupley thing. Like when he’d ended up in a red tuxedo to match her red wedding dress.
Beetlejuice tried not to sigh, he was probably overthinking things. Lydia probably had no special reason to wear that dress. As though reading his mind Barbara asked,
“Why Lydia, what a pretty dress, something special happening today?”
“No, not really,” Lydia replied lightly, “Just felt like dressing up a little,” her eyes turned to Beetlejuice, “You don’t… mind, do you?”
Was he crazy or was she fluttering her lashes at him, just the tiniest bit? Beetlejuice felt like he was about to swallow his own tongue. And… wait, what was that pose she was doing? Hands clasped in front of her like a perfect little angel? Fuck, her arms were… her chest was…
Beetlejuice cleared his throat and tore his eyes away, worried his hair was going to turn pink, “N-no,” he assured her, wincing at the way his voice cracked just a little, “Not at all,”
“Good,” Lydia declared, sitting down and eating her breakfast, “I’m really interested to see what exactly it is that was so important you decided to try and wake me up at four am this morning,”
“Ah, you know about that?” he chuckled nervously.
“As it turns out, having you around has made me into a bit of a… light sleeper,”
Was there something he was supposed to take from that? Nah, probably not. Lydia finished eating and they went out to the graveyard. Beetlejuice had hidden the present for her, and ironically enough it matched her dress. She did seem surprised when the specters presented it to her, wrapped up in stripes and a little black bow.
“What’s this for?” she asked, looking over to him.
“Why it’s our anniversary after all,” Beetlejuice shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying his best to make it seem like it wasn’t as big a deal as it was and very obviously failing, “Y’know… of the… day we first met!”
“Oh my,” she pulled out a string of garnets and rubies, each of them looking like a drop of blood chained and beaded, “It’s beautiful,”
“Buncha rich assholes that managed to escape the French Revolution had these made after the fact,” Beetlejuice explained, “S’posed to be a sort of symbolic beheading or whatever. Figured that since they’re all dead now one of ‘em wouldn’t miss it too much. Do ya like it?”
Her soft smile was all he ever could have asked for, “It’s beautiful,” she told him, turning as she added, “Help me put it on,”
Beetlejuice was blown away by the simple act of her lifting her hair out of the way and letting him see her neck. Lydia’s hair was still short enough that this shouldn’t have been an issue regardless, and she could have very easily put it on herself. But she’d wanted his help, and he was struck by just how… intimate it felt. Like he was seeing a part of her he wasn’t supposed to see, because no one saw it. Why did this prospect make him feel more nervous than if she’d started stripping in front of him? It was a thought that caused his hands to tremble as he took the ends of the chain in each and slowly brought the choker around her neck. His fingertips gently brushed against her skin as he fastened the clasp, and the warmth stayed with him far longer than it should have.
The rest of the day was all smiles and laughter between them, the last of their favorite horror movies currently playing as they enjoyed takeout from containers thanks to the poor scared shitless deliveryman. That had also been a barrel of laughs, lo mein leeches, hilarious. Lydia set aside her food onto the coffee table and curled up, tucking her feet beneath her skirts. Beetlejuice only barely registered this movement, and any others she made until he realized just how close they were, with her cozied up right besides him. Okay…
He felt a small hand on his chest, with a grip that tightened in conjunction with a feminine gasp as the monster got the upper hand in its battle with the heroes. But Lydia wasn’t scared, she was excited. She’d told him she’d always rooted for the monsters when she was a child, and felt so bad knowing how they all ended. Even so, Beetlejuice glanced down to see her up against his arm, holding tight to the lapel of his jacket. Close, so very close. Too close one might argue. And Lydia took that moment to look up at him, big fathomless eyes flickering in the light of the tv’s screen. There was a certain sort of tension in the air. One he’d sworn he’d only convinced himself was there several times prior. Lydia’s gaze darted away for a brief moment, coupled with a swipe of her tongue over that pouty bottom lip of hers. She seemed nervous, or something. He couldn’t tell what that emotion she was buzzing with was really.
“Beetlejuice?” she began softly, almost drowned out by the noise of exaggerated manufactured screams.
He paused the film and looked at her, “Yes?” was that too eager? He was probably a little too eager.
“I was… just kidding earlier,” Lydia admitted, “I knew what day it was the whole time.”
“I mean, it was an unnecessary joke, but hey, aren’t all of ‘em?” Beetlejuice offered back.
“What I’m trying to say is,” Lydia shifted up to her knees so she could be at eye level with him, “I do have a present for you, I’m sorry I waited so long but you’ve been doing all this for me and you even gave me this choker and,” she sighed as she fingered the jewels, “Well it just wouldn’t mean anything if it wasn’t today, right?”
“I mean… if that’s what you want Babes,”
“Good,” she replied, “Now close your eyes,”
“Ah no,” Beetlejuice denied before he could really think about it, “I don’t trust you.”
“And I shouldn’t have trusted you, so we’re even,” Lydia arched a brow at him, “Close your eyes,”
“Do I have to?” he whined. Lydia rolled her eyes,
“Yes, but I’ll let you complain about it if you want,”
“Well doesn’t that take the fun out of everything,” he sighed resignedly and did as he was told, “There, I closed my damn eyes. Can you give me my present now?”
Lydia let out a breath of laughter, “Sure big guy,”
There was silence for a moment. The silence that indicated the lack of noise. It was suspicious, somehow more suspicious than the idea that Lydia had remembered what day it was and had prepared something for him that he wouldn’t have found while setting up his surprise for her. But just as he was about to ask what was taking so long he got it. Lips, soft and yielding against his own, followed by a hand on his shoulder to steady her. Beetlejuice’s eyes shot open in disbelief. But his eyes didn’t lie. Lydia was there, kissing him. And then she pulled away to gauge his reaction. Except for one thing, now that he had the confirmation of her interest he wasn’t willing to let her get far enough away. His hand reached for the back of her neck, pulling her back in for another kiss. And another, and another, and another. Beetlejuice had thought coke was addicting, but the real drug was making out with Lydia Deetz. Soft warm lips, and an equally delectable tongue that curled around his, punctured by short breaks because she was still breathing and still needed to, only to dive right back in. She tasted like everything he’d ever wanted and more. There was magic in her kiss, the kind of power thousands would die for, and thousands more would kill for. Thank Satan he was already dead, because he wasn’t willing to give this up. And that was how the Deetz-Maitlands caught them what felt like several hours but was probably only about forty minutes later, making out on the couch like a couple of rambunctious teenagers; complete with Beetlejuice pinned down on the seat of the couch.
Shocked and horrified screams broke them apart, but not far enough to let go of one another. Well, at least it fit in with his reputation. And he couldn’t even get in trouble this time, because all evidence was clearly pointing to his Lydia being the aggressor in this situation. Even as dazed as he was, with the aftertaste of Lydia still burning on his lips, he noticed the enraged expressions on three out of four adults’ faces. Charles was turning blue while Adam was redder than the demon had ever seen him. Impressive considering the latter had no blood in his nonexistent veins. Babs was just plain… he didn’t even know how to describe the expression she was making. Somewhere between horrified, disgusted, and perhaps morbidly curious? Sounded about right. Again, fit in with his brand, which was to shock and horrify everyone. Well, everyone except Red. Red was cool, she’d done enough stuff to not be so vanilla after all. And here she was looking positively ecstatic at this turn of events, for whatever reason she had. Maybe her crystals had told her something?
“You!” Charles hissed, “To the basement now before I call an exorcist. And as for you young lady,” he turned on his daughter, “Discussion. In your room. Now.”
Lydia sighed, “Yes dad,” but the look she shot over her shoulder at him as she climbed the stairs told him she wouldn’t be staying there for long.
Sure enough, she was down in the basement barely more than an hour later. He’d been staying there and listening to muffled lecture yelling for about forty of those minutes. But apparently it hadn’t done any good. Go figure.
“Hey,” he greeted from his spot on his armchair that was honestly more his bed than the actual bed at this point, “So, what did they say?”
Lydia gave an exaggerated pout, “They told me whatever you said to convince me you care about more than getting under my skirt was a lie and they were just looking out for me.”
“And what did you say in response,”
Lydia gave him a little smirk, and clambered onto his lap. She slid her hands along his upper arms and he relished in the sensation, “I told them that not only have you not been doing anything like that, but we’re married and today’s our wedding anniversary so there’s really nothing wrong, and that I’ve been coming onto you for the better part of this past year and you’ve done absolutely nothing so I really didn’t think their concerns were founded on anything more than personal dislike and I wouldn’t be listening to it.”
“Wait… so I wasn’t going crazy all those times you-”
Lydia rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Please, you think Claire would have gone out of her way to get chocolate covered beetles for the sake of a joke? Or that I would have opened up to anyone about Dead Mom like that?” she cupped his face in her hand, “I’d told you when you came back that my tastes were a little more refined,”
“And what exactly are your tastes Babes?”
She gave him a coy smile and leaned in to whisper, “Well now I really love creepy old guys,”
“Cute Babes, real cute,”
“You wanna sit here and argue? Or do you wanna make out some more?”
“As if you really needed to ask what choice I’d make,”
When they broke apart long enough to speak again, Lydia placed a kiss on Beetlejuice’s cheek and told him, “Happy anniversary Beetlejuice,”
“Happy Anniversary Babes, think we can do it again next year?”
“I was maybe thinking a little sooner than that,”
“Like when?”
“Well… now works just fine, don’t you think?”
“Can’t argue with that,”