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It’s the most cliche thing in existence, the way you meet. BJ likes to do a lil’ ouija hopping every now and again when things get dull in the Neitherworld. This is how he meets most of the humans he encounters. Spirit boards are his own personal loophole through the whole ‘name conjuring’ thing. They allow him to have his fun without being forced to play mandatory charades until some thick-skulled mortal guesses his name.
You were playing the board with friends one Halloween night when he decided to pop in for some fun. The cracks in the floorboards glowed green, the wallpaper peeled, and bats began hitting the window as a wicked cacophony of laughter erupted around your little conjuring table. He was easily the most active and troublesome spirit you’d encountered yet, and damn did he put on a good show… a show that didn’t quite end when you all said goodbye.
You draw each other’s mutual attention by some ungodly force of the cosmos. Pretty soon, you catch him showing up in mirrors and reflections all over your home (including the bathroom floor tiles - don’t ask) until you take misplaced pity on him and let him out to have some free time (after all, his name isn’t that hard to guess when he can conjure all the needed visuals for you). You don’t know why he picked you out of all your friends to haunt, but he seems to enjoy driving you insane.
Beetlejuice dislikes breathers on the whole. He’ll spend time around them only because he loves annoying the hell outta ‘em. He has no regrets after picking you to mess with. You put up a good fight, and your comebacks make you worth the time it takes to provoke you. He likes flexin’ on fleshies with his supernatural prowess. You try not to act impressed every time he shapeshifts to deliver a good joke, or phases through a wall while trailing you on your daily escapades.
But, soon (inevitably), his ever-present sarcastic attitude starts to grow on you. You finally realize the comedic value of a good pun.
Beetlejuice is Beetlejuice so obviously some of his humor has a slightly heavy flirtatiousness to it. You tell yourself you’re able to withstand his sick charm. After all, he’s dead and eats bugs, not to mention never bathes. Despite this, you can’t help but think about him almost every second of the day, and eagerly await the next time he pokes his grimy head through the mirror to visit.
It takes time for BJ to notice his attachment to you. He’s kinda the lone bat type, after all, and breathers don’t really draw his attention in that way unless he can use them for something. After the first several months of hanging around turn into a year or so, he starts to realize he’s grown to genuinely like you. Picture that! The Neitherworld’s Most Wanted Pest, the self-proclaimed ‘Ghost with the Most’ getting chummy with a breather . It sets him back a little, but the last thing he wants to do is acknowledge any… feelings . That just ain’t his style. He goes with the flow . He can’t be tripped up by some stupid fleshie, no matter how cute their laugh is, or how great they can banter, or how they always welcome him back no matter how nasty your fights may get… no, none of that means anything at all.
Despite the mutual hesitation, you’re both self aware enough to recognize you’ve grown a weird sort of “dynamic duo” relationship. The sudden revelation you have about maybe (definitely) finding Beetlejuice attractive is enough to make you tense around him, but not enough for you to wanna distance yourself from him. Giving him the cold shoulder felt harsh (not to mention it was a dead giveaway). You were sure he had enough cold shoulders to deal with in the afterlife as is. Besides, seeing his face in the mirror whenever he came around to spend time with you had admittedly made your life more interesting, if not more worth living, and you didn’t want to ruin what you had with the fear of rejection.
Some semblance of the same can be said on BJ’s end, but his refusal to stay away from you is more out of denial than anything else. He doesn’t want to act like anything has changed even if it very much has. It’s been centuries since he’s had someone like you in his list of close acquaintances. Hell, calling you an acquaintance at this point was an insult. The sense of stability and familiarity you provide is dangerously comforting to him.
He doesn’t want to fuck it up like he does everything else.
Ultimately, you’re the first one to do anything about what’s going on between the two of you. If it weren’t for you being fed up with the tension, it would’ve taken an act of divinity for either of you to do anything at all. Any possible divine act was replaced with you simply reaching for Beej’s hand while the two of you watch B-list horror movies on the couch. His hand is expectedly cold and calloused, but it’s very distinctly him , and you feel an immense weight fall off your shoulders when he doesn’t immediately jerk away at your touch.
If he had a heartbeat it would’ve skipped several dozen beats when he felt your hand intertwine with his. His cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth, he’s so caught off guard. If you noticed his stiffness, you either didn’t care or didn’t notice. All you did was scoot closer and lay your head on his shoulder, not once glancing up to see his bewildered expression. He thinks maybe you’re too tired to realize what you’re doing, but that isn’t gonna stop him from enjoying it. In time, you feel his body relax under you as the movie plays on. You’re reassured that he isn’t gonna go anywhere when he rests his head on yours in turn, a sigh escaping his now not-so-hollow chest.
Things finally feel normal again… or as normal as they can possibly get when cuddling with an undead poltergeist.