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Beetlejuice’s sudden return to the Maitland-Deetz household was an event that most of the adults of the house hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway.
Lydia had an inkling the dumpster-smelling demon would come back.
The two of them had reunited in the same place they met– the roof –and after sneaking around the adults like a bunch of vape-addicted teens, causing mayhem that was tame enough to not warrant a police call, cutting it too close and getting caught in their act of “harmless” fun and many, many uncomfortable and emotional conversations that was enough to make an ao3 user claw out their eyeballs (Lydia still had no idea what Beetlejuice meant by that), she had convinced them to let Beetlejuice stay.
Sure, it took a lot of begging and promising on her behalf, mainly trying to sway her dad’s decision, but with some backup from Delia, Barbara and Adam, he reluctantly agreed on the condition that rules were put in place for Beetlejuice– and by extension, everyone –to follow.
She had hoped it would be smooth sailing from here and to her credit it had been for the most part, but Beetlejuice seemed more.. withdrawn from most members of the household as of recent.
He’d back out of family game night claiming it was “almost as boring as Brigadoon” or when the family sat down for dinner, scarf down his food, plate and all before dismissing himself to the basement for the night.
It was honestly starting to worry her. Just the other week they were up in the attic with the Maitlands for their bi-weekly movie night and his hair had been a striking bubblegum pink as Barbara leaned against his shoulder and now he practically avoided the couple within a ten mile radius. It was strange even for him, and that was saying something.
So knowing that she’d have better chances wrestling with a sandworm than getting Beetlejuice to admit what was going on with him, she resorted to plan B.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
“Holy shit, Scarecrow,” Beetlejuice deadpanned, hand stretching towards the collection of polishes. “How long you’ve been hidin’ all this for?”
“About- Nope. Hands off,” Lydia says, slapping his hand, the motion practically a reflex. The demon retracted it, giving her an exaggerated pout. Lydia rolled her eyes. “A couple weeks now, actually. Delia forced Dad and I to some “artsy” yard sale and it looked decent enough.”
Lydia holds a particular shade of purple polish and squints at it, before setting it back down. “It should still be good. Hopefully.”
“Eh, the expiration date thing is a myth.” Beetlejuice interjects with a way too toothy grin. “No such thing. Tastes the same to me.”
Lydia grimaced. “Gross.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Lyds.”
Ignoring the suggestion, she continued with the task at hand. “What colour do you want, idiot?”
Beetlejuice scrunched his nose in thought before vaguely gesturing to the polish on the far left. “That one.”
Lydia grabbed it, raising an eyebrow at him. “Hot pink? Bold choice with the bloated zebra look.”
“Oh please-” He scoffed. “Bold is my signature. I’d like to see you wear something other than black, little miss my chemical romance.” He poked her in the cheek, gleaming.
She rolled her eyes again, an amused smirk sneaking on her face before she grabbed his wrist, firm but gentle enough to not startle him and got to work.
“Sooo..” He prompted. “Got any hot school goss’ for me?”
She snorted. “You’re gonna lose your shit.”
She spent a solid five minutes of talking about her week at school and bitching about the annoying catty girls in her class and how she still hated her uniform. Though the school semester has just started, she could not wait until fall rolled around. Halloween was just around the bend and she already had a ton of ideas for creating the second best haunted house. Second best because nothing could beat the original, obviously.
“I keep tellin’ ya Lyds,” Beetlejuice said, interrupting her train of thought. “You could just say the b-word three times and that Regina George wannabe– what was her name again?”
“Claire.” Just thinking about her name made Lydia’s jaw clench.
“Yeah whatever, not important–” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “And she’d be out of your hair! Oooh, speaking of- bet she’d look real fuckin’ silly with centipedes in her hair.” Beetlejuice snickered, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Lydia sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t do that. Even if I wanted to, I’d get in trouble for that and personally I’m not looking to get lectured by Dad.”
“Chuck is a buzzkill.” Beetlejuice agreed.
“Speaking of Dad and such,” Lydia quickly took this opportunity to segway into the topic at hand. “What’s going on with you Beej?”
Beetlejuice flinched, his hair shot with a quick flash of white. “Whaddya mean Lyds?” He asked, trying to play it off.
Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about.” She insisted. “You’ve been acting kinda off lately.”
“Uhhh..” Beetlejuice trailed off, his hair slowly shifting into a sky blue. “You sure you ain’t imagining things, kid?” He suggested, forcing a grin.
Lydia frowned at the sight of her best friend. “I’m just saying,” She hesitated. “You’ve been acting weird.”
“Ah c’mon kid, I’m fiiiine.. I’m livin’ it up in here! Annoying Chuck, eating Debbie’s crystal stash, ogling Sexy number one and two–” He listed off examples on his fingers, smudging the polish.
“Stop that, I’m being serious.” She cut in. At this point she hardly cared about him messing up his nails for the fifth time. His smile fell quickly and his pointed ears pressed to the side of his head.
Lydia sighed. “I’m just.. worried. Hell, I’m not the only one either. Adam and Barbara have been pretty concerned since you stopped joining us for movie night.”
“Ah w-well,” Beetlejuice stammered, eyes darting all over the room, avoiding everywhere but the girl’s eyes. “Y’know I’m just givin’ you guys some space. Boundaries and whatever the fuck else was in that powerpoint-”
“Bullshit. You practically thrive on-” Lydia cut herself off. Bringing up Beetlejuice’s need for physical contact was probably too sensitive a topic to tread on right now. “It’s not like you to be all.. out of everyone’s space. Look, I know you hate these kinds of talks-” Beetlejuice visibly tensed. “-but you know you can talk to me right?” Lydia tried to keep her voice as soft as possible. She wasn’t very good at this stuff.
“Do they know?” She asked softly. “I’m not gonna judge you. You can tell me anything.”
Beetlejuice glanced at her with an unreadable expression and shook his head. “I.. I don’t know if I can tell them, Lyds.” He muttered.
Lydia frowned. “You can though.” She pressed.
“No, Lyds-” He sighed, gaze darting to the floorboards beneath him. “You don’t get it, kid.”
“What don’t I understand Beej?” Lydia asked, her brows furrowing. “You like them and they probably like you back if the way they’ve been acting is anything to go by. You should tell them–”
“I just can’t Lyds!” Beetlejuice snapped, hair flashing a bright red. Lydia went quiet, staring at the demon in shock. “What do you expect me to say?? “Oh hey guys. I know you guys are one hundo percent happy in your monogamous marriage, but mind if this useless fucking demon squeezes himself in the mix?” Is that what you want me to say?!” The room fell deathly silent.
Lydia was stunned, a confused expression painting her features.
Beetlejuice immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He didn’t mean to yell at Lydia like that.
Fuck. Look at what you’ve done now. Nice job, asshole. His claws dug into the fabric of his pants. Did he really get that worked up over his best friend showing concern for him out of all things?
Normal people didn’t behave like that.
Normal people would probably listen to their BFFFF and not avoid everyone else existing in the same house as them because they felt comfortable and safe knowing they were wanted just as much as anyone else in the house.
God, why couldn’t he be just like everyone else?
His gaze fell to his unsteady hands and trailed to his fingertips.
His nails.
Were they always that sharp?
His eyes shut tight, as he willed the red to go away.
“I just-” He swallowed thickly, running a hand through the violet locks of his hair. The words felt like they were being held down in his throat by an iron weight. He felt a hand gently grasp his own.
“It’s okay,” He heard Lydia mutter. “You don’t have to.”
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He shook his head.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” He stated. It was far from that actually. He wanted to tell the Maitlands. Really fucking badly. “I mean, fuck, they’re just- I mean c’mon. Barb is sweet and caring but she's tough as balls too! She could probably-” Beetlejuice refrained from finishing that sentence. “-And Adam. I mean, sure he’s nerdy as fuck, talks my ear off about woodwork or boring shit like that- but God-slash-Satan Lyds, he’s sexy for a plain ol’ ghost. It’s just– urgh!-” He groaned in frustration.
Why did they have to be so cute as shit to him? Every little bit of them! With their warm smiles and the way the couple would cuddle with each other on the couch and pepper each other with soft, gentle kisses, and their cute butts and- and, agh! He swore he could gush over them for hours. Or a millenia even.
“They're perfect together, Lyds.” He huffed. “I mean, fuck, even if they liked me back, I’m a demon. I’d only fuck it up. They’d only tolerate me for a bit and once they realise I’m a lost cause, they’ll give up and leave, and that’s if I don’t do it first. Trust me. They don’t need me to fuck up the good thing they have, okay? I-I don’t-” He hesitated.
“I don’t want to hurt them, Lyds.”
Lydia’s gaze softened.
No one said a word, both of them choosing to wait for the other to speak first.
“Sorry.” He spoke up, finally. “For yelling at you.”
“It’s fine. No big deal.” She replied. “But I forgive you anyway.” She squeezed his hand gently.
…
“Sorry for prying.”
“You were just trying to help, kid.” He murmured. “I forgive you too though, I guess.” He squeezed her hand back, earning a small smile from her.
…
“Alright, enough mushy shit. I’m about to throw up.”
Lydia snorted. Neither of them were good at this. “You look like someone threw up over you.” She retorted.
“You look like roadkill.”
“Your nails look like shit.”
“Oh? And who’s fault is that?” He teased.
“Yours.” She said automatically.
“Hell yeah it is. You gonna fix ‘em up for me or what, Scarecrow?”
She did fix them up for him. Despite the still lingering want to blend in with the family he found himself residing with, he took comfort in the fact that there was someone he could confide in. Someone who wasn’t quite so normal too, just like him.
Maybe he should ask Lydia what movie she had in mind for this week.