Two Years

By; Fair Drea

A/N: Well, I told you guys I had one shots planned and I wasn't lying. Although this isn't a one shot. It's more of a short story. Two more chapters will wrap this one up. That being said, it's an idea I couldn't shake so I'm going with it. Blame the fact that I've been watching the cartoon a LOT lately thanks, in large part, to Mikell. And in larger part to my easy to corrupt daughter who LOVES the cartoon. Kids…ya know I love 'em! Lol. So I hope you guys enjoy this short little bit of emotional/dramatic/smutty shortness.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Beetlejuice and make not profit from the writing of this fic. This is rated for language and deliciously smutty situations. Specifically language in this chapter. Smut to come.

Chapter One

Beetlejuice had been staring at his hands for nearly an hour now. Funny, how when you didn't want to face reality, something as stupidly simple as an appendage could become the most interesting thing on the damn planet. But it was either stare at his hands, contemplate the pale skin stretched over bony knuckles, the dirt caked along his cuticles and question the last time he'd ever thought to scrape it off…or watch Lydia pack. And he sure as hell didn't want to do that. Granted, she'd been doing it for the better part of a month. But she was on the last suitcase. And he hated that suitcase. Hated that it held her belongings, hated that it was the one remaining thing to take care of before his Lyds would be gone.

"It's only two years, Beej," she said softly. He winced not only from the sound of her comforting tone but from the soft click of the suitcase locking as well. "It'll go by fast. I promise."

He muttered some noncommittal response, hunching further forward. The suitcase was slid to the side and Lydia took its spot, sinking down beside him. The hands he'd been so engrossed with were now being held between her smaller and much more well-manicured ones. And he hated…hated…that it hurt just to see them there.

The silence between them was thick and disgusting. Had it been a corporeal thing, he would have juiced the shit out of it. Finally, Lydia sighed and leaned into him, her head falling to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the sharp stabbing ache that the simple act provoked.

"Are you sure you can't come with?"

He sighed, giving into the human need to hold her. "Lyds…I can't. I wish I could, babes. Rules…ya know I hate 'em. Couldn't have picked somewhere in the actual continental U.S., could ya?"

"None of them would pay for it." She sat up quickly and turned, grasping one of his hands tightly between hers. "Say the word, and I'll stay. I'm serious. I know it's a once in a life time opportunity. I know that passing up a chance to study on a fully paid scholarship in Spain would be insane. But Beej," her voice quieted and her gaze fell. "No amount of culture or architecture or…or…any of it…is as important to me as you are."

He should have selfishly taken the opportunity to keep her and run with it. He should have told her to say the three B's and they could be off on their next wild, horribly planned and possibly life threatening Neitherworld adventure. But when you loved someone…you couldn't be that selfish person, no matter how damn badly you wanted to be. And Beetlejuice loved Lydia Deetz. Not in that "you're my best friend ever" way, either. Not anymore. Once the curves kicked in and the maturity eased into every movement she made, every word she said – once she had become a woman, that love had quickly shifted from innocent to downright malicious.

One minute she'd been his Babes, laughing at his immature antics, rolling her eyes at his disgusting manners and screeching over Clair Brewster's latest snide comment. The next, she was this gorgeous, sophisticated, cynical Goddess that he wanted to get his nasty hands all over. If it had been just physical, he might have been more comfortable with it. He was completely capable of acting with lecherous intent and feeling at home in his own skin. But it wasn't just physical. There was all of this…this…human shit wrapped up in it. All this crap that left a bad taste in his mouth and made his skin crawl. Respect, admiration, and the mother of all disgusting things in both her world and his…love.

And it was that very thing that made him do the right thing.

He looked up at Lydia and smiled sadly. "Babes…ya gotta go. I mean…you'd hate yourself if you didn't go. Like you said…this is a once in a lifetime deal. And it's just," he paused and took a minute to swallow, forcing himself to keep the pain out of his voice. "Ya gotta do it."

She slid her fingers through his. "I know."

Again, that uncomfortable silence fell between them. And for once, neither of them used an awkward, well placed one liner to fill it. Instead, several minutes later, Delia did it for them.

"Lydia," came the sing-song call from the lower level of the house. "Come along dear! Your father has the car packed and we don't want to miss the plane!"

"Fucking Christ, does that woman have to say everything like she'd singin' a damn song?" Beetlejuice muttered.

The crude statement along with the unexpected curse startled a laugh from Lydia. "I think I've gotten so used to it that I don't even notice it anymore."

"How can you not notice that," he muttered. "Makes me wanna rip my ears off every time." For the hell of it, he juiced his ears off of his head. They floated on either side and Lydia reached out to grab them with a lop-sided smile, tenderly placing them back where they belonged.

"Annoying as it is…that's my cue." She stood and pulled him up with her.

Her eyes were suddenly as interesting as his hands had been only moments before. He couldn't stop staring into their obsidian depths and picturing what it would be like to love her in every aspect of the word. Without even realizing he was doing it, he lifted a hand to brush the thick fall of bangs back and then curled his hand around the nape of her neck.

Those eyes widened slightly. Had he been more in tuned to human emotions instead of repulsed by them, he may have recognized the confusion and longing flashing under the fringe of thick lashes.

"Two years," she whispered.

"Two years," he muttered back.

She sprung forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "I'll stay if you tell me to," she whispered against his neck, her hot breath against his cold skin forcing a shiver of anticipation to travel the length of his spine.

Fuck it! Tell her to stay! Make her stay. Tell her you love her and you want to toss her ass on the bed, make an honest woman outta her, show her what it's like to be with someone who's whole damn dead world revolves around her!

"Ya gotta go, Lyds," he force himself to say. "Go…learn…see all the sights. Bring me back somethin'."

Her laugh sounded forced and watery. "I will."

Just because she's leavin' doesn't mean you shouldn't tell her. Do it…what have you got to lose.

"Lydia…I lo-."

She pulled back, staring up at him expectantly, her eyes searching his in a way that made him want to squirm.

"I'll miss ya, Babes."

And the smile she left him with, the last image she would leave him with was a heartbreaking quirk of full, dark lips that made him want to rip his heart out and hand it to her.

"I'll miss you too, Beetlejuice."

He forced a smile in return, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets because if he didn't he was going to grab her and refuse to let her leave. "Two more times."

One lone tear ghosted over her cheek. "Beetlejuice."

He felt the pull of the Neitherworld dragging him back. A voice inside of him screamed it's denial in some horrible, haunted shriek. Lydia stepped forward, placed one hand against his cheek and pressed her lips to the other, then whispered his name one last time.