Chapter Text
So perhaps returning to the Maitland-Deetz household wasn’t one of Beetlejuice’s worst ideas. It had only been one month ago when he appeared in Lydia’s room, tears painting his cheeks and his hair a bright purple. Lydia’s first response, of course, was to throw around some snide comments before immediately hugging the demon as though he would disappear at any moment.
And then the rest of the Maitland-Deetz stepped in, hearing the commotion.
To say he was welcomed with open arms would be many things. A lie, first of all; second of all, it was quite an overstatement. Charles lost his marbles, Adam and Barbara held up The Handbook For The Recently Deceased like it was some weapon (And it totally was, but Beetlejuice would never tell them), and Debra (Delilah, Delia?)… She was there.
But things were getting better, to say the least. Lydia was the only reason he and everyone else actually kept sane in the hellhouse that was the Maitland-Deetz household. Adam and Barbara had taught him about “good touch” and “bad touch'' (Using a very colorful model with green meaning “good”, yellow meaning “maybe”, and red meaning “touch with consent only”; the amount of “maybes” in that model frustrated Beetlejuice deeply). Debra/Delilah/Whatever began to help him understand the whole “mental health” concept and was totally attempting to be his mom. Charles was… Well, he was Charles.
Life seemed to slow down just a bit for the Ghost With the Most and he had absolutely no issue with that.
And of course, right as he was thinking about that, he entered the Maitland-Deetz household and landed face-first onto the floor.
He could hear a bowl clatter and something heavy fall to the floor. Footsteps pattered nearby and got closer until they were right next to him. He felt small, firm hands roll him onto his back, and his eyes met Lydia's anxious face.
Beetlejuice gave a weak smile. “Hey, Babes.”
“Are you okay?” She murmured, slowly sitting him up.
“Oh, I’m doing fucking wonderful,” he said, wiping random blood from his nose and rubbing it on his sweatshirt.
Lydia stood up and grabbed a napkin. She handed it to him and sat back down. "What the hell happened to you?"
Oh yeah.
On paper, being chased around by certain higher-ups kind of sounded badass. It was like those dumb cowboy movies Charles had shown him one night! But actually being chased, however, fucking sucked.
Beetlejuice knew to murder a demon in charge of a large chunk of the Netherworld was a pretty stupid idea, but he really couldn’t help it. Juno was going to kill Lydia and the Maitlands, and God/Satan forbid he let her take them from him (Also, he was still feeling murder-y, so hey, killing two birds with one stone). So, he killed her, and he was one-hundred percent willing to take those consequences.
However, that being said, it wasn't very peachy getting randomly attacked by ghosts during a Guide. No, that wasn't peachy at all.
It also wasn't very peachy knowing exactly who and what was attacking him and knowing that he couldn't exactly do anything about it.
So after having several Latin phrases thrown at him and words like "This is your punishment, the Council had decreed, blah blah blah", he went to his lovely hellhouse on the hill, where he was now vomiting.
Lydia squealed and threw herself back, shouting, "That's new!"
Beetlejuice heaved as his body keeled over. Lydia was running her hands through his hair and trying to get his attention, but good God/Satan, everything was so… Awful. His brain felt like it was shoved in a blender and his body ached in ways it never had before. His stomach was being twisted into literal knots and acid-filled bile filled his throat.
He at least tried to look up, watching Lydia with glassy eyes. His eyes fluttered as they tried to clear and, suddenly, Lydia was wearing that damned, bright red wedding dress, and he was wearing that ugly red tuxedo. He threw himself back, causing Lydia to yelp and his entire hallucination to cease… And then his pain.
Lydia Deetz wasn't wearing a red wedding dress. Lydia Deetz wasn't getting married. Beetlejuice wasn't wearing a red tuxedo. Beetlejuice wasn't getting married.
Lydia grabbed Beetlejuice's shoulders and pulled him up, her eyes just as filled to the brim with tears as his now. She looked back to the staircase and bit her lip.
"Guys! Come down here, Beej and I need you!"
As Beetlejuice's grip on reality grew tighter, he looked up at the ceiling and groaned. God/Satan, now his jaw ached too.
Delia was the first to come down the stairs, practically throwing herself down them to reach Beetlejuice and Lydia. And that's when the rapid-fire questions arose. "Why is he back so early? Is everything alright? Is he hurt? Do we need the Handbook? Oh gosh, whose vomit is that? Wh —"
"Calm down, Debra," Beetlejuice heaved, resting his head on the crevice between Lydia's neck and shoulders.
"Well, at least we know he's still mentally alright…" Delia mumbled.
Lydia began running her fingers through Beetlejuice's hair again. "Hey, Beej? Can you tell us anything? We need to know what happened so we can help you —"
"Ghost shit happened and now everything hurts," Beetlejuice blurt out.
"That's… A starting point," Lydia sighed.
Adam and Barbara were the last to come downstairs, their looks just as concerned as the rest.
"Is everything alright?" Barbara murmured.
"Ghost shit," Lydia answered.
The couple nodded and Adam kneeled next to Beetlejuice. "Do we need the Handbook?"
Beetlejuice waved a limp hand. "No, 's cool. 'S all cool."
"Well," Delia drawled, "do you feel better now?"
"Depends on your definition of 'better', but I'm definitely not in agonizing pain anymore, so that's nice," Beetlejuice looked down at the teen clutching his body so tight he thought he might pop, "you can also let go now, kid."
Lydia nodded and scooted back from Beetlejuice, taking a few deep breaths. Suddenly, she froze. She narrowed her eyes, frowned, and cocked her head. “What does brown mean?”
Beetlejuice frowned. “What?”
“Your hair is brown,” Lydia explained, "what emotion is that?”
Beetlejuice ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t — I don’t know. I mean… I mean, I feel a little discomforted…"
“So it should be green and purple, right?” Delia asked.
“Yeah,” Adam mumbled, “yeah, it should.”
Beetlejuice’s eyes widened as he attempted to pull a strand of hair down. “Am I broken? Can demons break?”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Delia comforted, walking closer to him and kneeling.
Beetlejuice suddenly felt a pressure in his core. It spread to his face as his cheeks grew warm.
Funny, he never blushed before.
His head began to pulse as his thoughts became loopy once more.
Lydia tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Beej? You look a little red…”
Beetlejuice opened his mouth and then he suddenly felt it. Air went through his nose and mouth, and like a cleansing river, relief rushed through his veins. He began breathing deeply, in and out, just like Lydia and all the other breathers. He would’ve — could’ve, should’ve? — stopped, but it was all so refreshing. The warmth and pressure lessened and the pulsing in his head ceased.
His chest thumped as though it were a door someone was banging against, desperate to escape. His eyes wandered to his chest. Lydia cupped his cheek and his eyes snapped up to her face.
“C — Can I do something?” She asked
Beetlejuice forced a smile. “Uh, depends on what that ‘something’ is…”
Lydia lifted her hand from his cheek and gently rested against his chest, right where his heart would be. Her eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to adjust her hand.
And then her eyes widened.
She began to mumble softly to herself and moved her hand to his neck, pressing two fingers against it.
“Scarecrow, what are you doing?” He asked.
Lydia didn’t even seem to acknowledge him. Her mumbling grew louder as he could audibly hear her say “no” over and over. Her two fingers traveled to his wrist. The hand that held his wrist forward squeezed tightly.
Lydia finally dropped his hand. She looked down. Her eyes pierced the floor like stakes. “Beetlejuice,” she whispered. Lydia looked up at him with wide eyes. “Do demons have a heartbeat?"
And now that he thought about it… He could feel his heart pulse in his chest, sending vibrations throughout his body. He inhaled a breath he knew he shouldn't need but so desperately craved. He could feel the sweat forming at his brow and rolling down his back.
He could hear Delia saying something to him, but it appeared to be all for naught as he could only hear the muffled sounds of her saccharine voice. It was as though someone had stuffed globs of wax in his ears, blocking his already weak hearing.
He watched his chest rise and fall quickly, almost animatronic-like. His head felt faint as he looked up at Lydia with a weak, hazy vision.
"Hey, Babes?" He sort of heaved and mumbled at the same time. "I think I'm…"
Delia's voice finally broke through the block in his hearing. "Beetlejuice, you're hyperventilating. I need you to —"
And with that, Beetlejuice collapsed on the living room floor.