Chapter Text
"You can literally walk through walls." Lydia whisper-huffed. "AND teleport."
"Huh? What's your point?" Beetlejuice answered, his voice low and close to her ear. Lydia couldn’t see shit in the old hall closet they were hiding in but the feeling of Beej behind her, pressed against her, was overwhelming.
"You could -you know -just leave! Then we wouldn't need to..."
"Sssh!" His chilled breath against her ear made Lydia shiver.
"Leave this house! Vade retro Satana!" A voice intoned from downstairs. Lydia supposed it was some kind of priest her father had found to try to 'save her'. He had stormed into the house as she and Beetlejuice had raced upstairs. The priest - a surprisingly limber man in his 70s at least- had dashed through the rooms, sprinkling holy water and salt before him and the two had been forced to dive into the closet to avoid detection.
"He can't hear us if we're quiet. What can he even do to you?" Lydia tried to turn to face him, but the tight old closet barely had room for the two of them. A little light shone in around the edges of the heavy door.
"Let's not find out. Last time I ran into a priest I was banished from the mortal plane for a decade and I missed the whole '20s." Beetlejuice huffed, "I didn't even get to learn to Charleston."
He attempted some sort of dance move - doubtlessly hilarious, but when he kicked out, he kneed the back of her leg and overbalanced her. She fell backwards against his chest, a sudden chill as she pressed against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her in his surprisingly strong grip.
"Okay, babes?" He asked quietly.
"Uh..." She let out a shaky breath. Why had the air in here suddenly turned hot? "Yeah, I'm fine."
“Father, we brought the equipment.” A younger male voice floated up to them.
“And I have a soul box!!” A flamboyant voice added. “You can’t have an exorcism without a soul box!”
“Geez, what a production. How long do you think we’ll be stuck …” Cold fingers pressed against her mouth. She ‘mmmrph’ed angrily, but he moved his palm over her mouth firmly.
She grabbed at his hand but he held tight, surprisingly strong, his palm tight against her lips. He smelt of earth after a heavy rain.
When that didn’t work, she threw a hard elbow into his ribs. Beetlejuice whuffed quietly, letting go out her mouth, but as she drew a breath to protest, she felt a metal plate pressed against her mouth. She whirled to face him in fury.
“Babes, seriously. Quiet.” The ghost leaned in to whisper into the shell of her ear. “Being exorcized hurts.”
She stomped on his foot (stocking feet against his boots hardly making the impact she hoped) and pointed to the metal plate on her mouth.
Beetlejuice pursed his lips in consideration and then shook his head with a wicked smile. Lydia pushed him back against the wall with both hands. She huffed through her nose angrily, tugging at the metal with both hands unsuccessfully. She grabbed the demon’s tie angrily, shaking him. His grin was electric, dangerous.
She was pissed. How dare he?!
Finding no help from the demon, Lydia turned and reached for the door. She could still hear the chanting dimly from downstairs, and smell incense.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He slid forward, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip. In the faint light coming in around the door, she saw his dark nails against her pale wrist. He was pressed against her back. She shivered, trying to snatch her hand back. Beetlejuice did not let go, pressing her against the door with his body, preventing her from moving. Goosebumps broke out over her skin.
The only sound was her breathing quickly through her nose as they stood frozen, Beetlejuice holding her in place against the door, her wrist pinned. She could feel cold radiating off him like a block of granite. Lydia tilted her head forward, resting her forehead against the door for a moment before she flung it back, crunching squarely into Beetlejuice’s nose.
The temperature in the closet dropped ten degrees and thunder crashed outside the house. The light from the hallway light died, leaving them in total darkness and a high-pitched, girlish scream sounded from downstairs, followed by the sound of pounding feet.
Beetlejuice growled. Hands on her hips spun her around and she found herself pressed hard against the door by her shoulders in the pitch black. Her wrists were pinned between her chest and his. She could smell the copper tang of blood.
Lydia turned her head away as Beetlejuice’s stubble brushed against her cheek. His voice was deep as he growled in her ear, “You made me bleed…”
Teeth nipped her earlobe. Sharp teeth. His lips, mouth, tongue, continued down her neck to where it joined shoulder, an action too burning and sharp and violent to be called a kiss. Lydia sucked in breath, trembling. He sucked at her neck, his teeth and tongue against her thin skin. She arched against him: to get away? Push him back? Or to strain towards him?
Lydia squealed as the metal against her mouth moved, wriggled, changed. Instead of sitting cold against her heated lips, the cold metal seemed alive and demanded entrance, parting her lips & teeth to take up space in her mouth. The intrusion of it made her blood boil.
With a scream behind the gag, Lydia brought her knee up HARD between Beetlejuice’s legs.
With a howl, he staggered back, falling down into the awkwardly small space. The metal gag fell off her face immediately, landing on the floor with a thud.
Groping for the knob, Lydia stepped into the hallway, flying down the stairs into the living room in time to see a Toyota Prius peeling out of the driveway, the front door standing open after everyone fled the house.
“Damn. You are a feisty one.” Beetlejuice said in a high soprano voice from the top of the stairs. He descended with an exaggerated limp. “That’s why I like you so much!”
“What the fuck was that?” Lydia asked warily. She could still taste the cold metal.
“I don’t want to be exorcized and you just seemed determined to alert those assholes of our presence.” He shrugged blithely. “Anyways, looks like a little display of the ole Juice scared them off no problem.”
The living room did indeed look “Juiced”, all of the light fixtures in pieces and singed, demonic looking arcane symbols written on the walls in dripping, black blood. Lydia looked around in surprise before her gaze finally returned to Beetlejuice. She realized his nose was leaking a similar black ichor. He grinned back at her for a moment before, with a wave of his hands, the walls and his face was as clean as ever and the lights flickered back to life.
With a flourish, he smiled innocently. “So those losers are dealt with. Who should we scare next?”
She narrowed her eyes at his mercurial change of mood. Was all that in the closet… forgotten? Just to keep her from being too loud? But he’d scared away despite that…
Lydia turned away from him, glancing at her reflection in a mirror on the wall. A line of bruises were blossoming along her neck. She ground her teeth together. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas.”