Work Text:
Adam and Barbara love what they do.
Their second job, at least. As caregivers for hire, they don’t see a diverse clientele, but the work is always rewarding.
Age regression isn’t extremely common, and if they lived in a smaller city, they probably wouldn’t see any business at all. But this was more of a side gig than an actual job, something to fill their time with something they don’t actually hate.
Considering the time and energy they put in, they’re charging pennies, but it’s never bothered either of them. Besides, Barbara and Adam never want a kiddo to feel like they can’t afford to be cared for.
Barbara’s been doing this for as long as she can remember. First in college, looking after a friend who age regressed to cope, and then as her friend found other regressors, watching out for them as well. It only took a while for her name to get shared around the community, and next thing she knew, she was a caregiver for hire.
Barbara’s about to get started on the casserole when her phone pings.
Hey I’m showing up, the first message reads. A second message pops up moments later. For both of you.
Adam walks in to her see quirking her mouth at her phone. “Something wrong?”
She shakes her head, passing him her phone instead of answering.
Adam snorts. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who wouldn’t want to stay in the same room when her kiddos visited, who now enjoys their appointments just as much as Barbara does, if not more. “I was wondering when Beetlejuice would finally text us.”
He’s never given them a real name, just his online handle that he contacts them with. You’d think a name like “Beetlejuice” would be hard to get used to, but anything can sound normal with enough repetition. It doesn’t hurt that Beetlejuice usually requests them once or twice a week, depending on how work has been, so they see him often enough to get used to it.
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m asking him what time?” Barbara says it like it’s obvious. Then again, if one of them had to say no to him, it’d be her. Beetlejuice likes to think he’s a force of nature, but he utterly crumbles under the Mom Look when Barbara has to bring it out.
But before she can even open the chat again, the doorbell rings twice.
“Guess there’s no need,” Barbara says. She won’t say it, but she knows it’s a coping mechanism, of sending the text right before he arrives so they don’t have a choice but to say yes. “Will you get the door while I get started on dinner?”
Adam does a mock salute, which is enough to get a laugh out of her. They share a brief kiss before parting ways.
“Hey, Beej!” Adam’s voice rings out loud and clear, even from the kitchen. Barbara wonders if he even realizes he’s doing what she calls his “caregiver voice,” where his tone goes bright and kind and somehow soft all at the same time.
“And here I thought I’d have to break in!” Beetlejuice jokes—or at least, Barbara hopes he’s joking. “Guess I can just save this brick for next time.”
Something hits the floor with a bang, confirming that Beetlejuice was indeed not joking.
“So what’s for dinner tonight?”
“Why don’t we go find out and ask Barbara if she needs help?” Adam asks. It’s his way of getting Beetlejuice to her, since she’s better at handling him. She doesn’t blame him; it’s not his fault Beetlejuice is such a whirlwind. But she was hoping he’d last more than five minutes before tagging her in.
“Why weren’t you helping her to begin with?” Beetlejuice asks. “If you ask me, something reeks of institutional sexism, and for once it’s not me.”
“Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t break something,” Adam retorts, though he can’t hide the note of fondness in his voice. After all, they wouldn’t let Beetlejuice keep visiting if they weren’t fond of him. Someone needs to look after the little bugger.
Beetlejuice enters the kitchen, his usual mischievous smile on his face. She only saw him a few days ago, but he’s already re-dyed his hair, this time a brilliant purple. “Heya, Babs! How’s it hanging?”
Barbara scrutinizes him from the corner of her eye. It can be hard to tell if Beetlejuice is regressed, and even harder to get him into headspace if he isn’t already. Sometimes Beetlejuice needs that extra nudge.
“Well, just fine, now that you’re here,” Barbara says, turning around to boop him on the nose.
If there’s one way to fluster Beetlejuice, it’s to be genuine with your emotions. Casual “I love you”s, compliments, and general praise are the fastest ways Barbara can turn the conversation in her favor. And while Beetlejuice would never say it out loud, more often than not, that’s exactly what he wants.
His face turns bright red, and any further banter he had planned completely flies out the window. It’s a sign that he’s going to regress soon, if he hasn’t already. All it’s going to take is a few select compliments for her to know for sure.
Beetlejuice scoffs, trying to hide how visibly pleased he is to hear that. “Whatever. Thought I might lend a hand with those mortgage payments, you know?”
Barbara raises an eyebrow. Beetlejuice likes doing that, pulling back and reminding them—or maybe just himself—that this is a paid arrangement. She doesn’t know what happened to break his trust so completely, but she also knows it’s not her place for prod.
Beetlejuice comes to them for safety, for a hot meal and permission to act however he needs to relax, not to be used as Barbara’s excuse to flex her underutilized psychology degree.
She smiles at him, not letting any of the warmth in her expression waver. “Well aren’t you thoughtful? I don’t think we’ve had such a considerate baby before!”
Beetlejuice turns even redder, if possible, and deliberately turns his head to avoid eye contact. His fingers fidget, picking at the already frayed ends of his hoodie. Try as he might to hide it, he’s as regressed as he’s going to get.
She tweaks his nose. “Go play with Adam, okay? I know for a fact that he has a new puzzle he has been dying to put together with you.”
Beetlejuice perks up a little at that, tilting his head as if he doesn’t quite understand. Part of Barbara wants to coo at how cute he looks when he gets confused like that, but the other part of her crumbles in sympathy that he could be so surprised at someone wanting to spend time with him.
“With me?” he echoes. Sure, he’s quiet now, but it’s only a matter of time before he feels comfortable being a little chatterbox. It takes a lot of coaxing at first, but once he gets going, it’s nearly impossible to stop him.
Barbara nods seriously. Beetlejuice is so cute that it makes her want to giggle, but he never takes that well, so she has to be serious. Like they’re trading important secrets. “That’s what I heard. And you know how Adam is about his puzzles.”
It’s a Halloween one Adam bought with Beetlejuice specifically in mind. That’s how Barbara can confirm that a new client is finally one of the flock. When Adam buys a puzzle the two of them can do together.
Beetlejuice nods. His eyes flit to the counter, where Barbara was just setting out her ingredients. All he needs is one more little push.
“I’ll be fine, honey. Don’t you worry about me.” She stands on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, and that’s all the incentive he needs to go padding back into the living room.
Barbara will join them later, after dinner is done. Beetlejuice is a cuddler, but only with her for whatever reason, so they’ll probably watch a couple episodes of a sitcom curled up on the couch. Beetlejuice hardly, if ever, spends the night, so he’ll probably take off some time between ten and eleven.
Excited chatter floats in from the living room, meaning that Beetlejuice has finally come out of his shell enough to start talking their ears off. Adam is probably the best candidate, considering what a great listener he is.
Barbara half-listens, letting the sound of a little one in the house set her nerves at ease. She’s always loved children, and so has Adam, but they’ve never been able to have children of their own.
But it’s times like these where that doesn’t bother her as much.
How could it, when they already have such amazing little ones?