Beetlejuice… Will you be mine? May I possess you, heart, body and soul, rights and legalities? No? Well, it seems that I still don't own Beetlejuice… Too bad. Probably don't own Lydia either…
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I give up! You win! I'll write more! (Alu, you know who I'm talking about...) Here's what I have to post so far... Hope it was worth the wait!
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He sat in the darkness, no need for the light anyway, and no choice, with the only lamp he owned currently broken. He must look like some miserable thing, sitting in that same damned chair night after night. Sure, sometimes he went out. Found himself some halfway decent looking thing, forgot about the past for a few hours. But always he came back here. To sit in this chair. To remember how he'd failed.
So close, that was the thing. He'd been so damn close to getting out for good. Now there was no chance in hell that anyone who knew his name would say it… And he was more restricted than ever before. Couldn't even visit the living world in any guise, unless someone called him. All because of her. That bitch.
The bottle hung from limp fingers, his eyes glazed not with drink, but anger. Remembering. All his work, all his effort, and he'd been thrown to the side like some discarded paper. And the plan had been perfect. Hell, he wouldn't have minded being married to the brat! She was pretty enough, and she'd get prettier as she grew… Breathers did that. Sometimes. Hell, who cared, it was that wonderful dark morbidity that had drawn him to her first… Beauty was meant to fade. Something that good should last.
But now he hated her. Hated her like some dark thick liquid that gathered in his chest, rotted blood pooling where it couldn't be seen, but weighted him down more, day after day. He'd never loved her. Hell, he didn't know what love was! But she would have been fun to pass the centuries with. If she hadn't stabbed him in the back.
I did my part… No one can say I didn't! He took a long swig of the vile stuff in the bottle, missing, for an instant, more pleasant living world drinks. Gin. Rum. God, he missed whiskey. Nothing could really get him drunk anyway, he might as well drink something pleasant…
And nothing could make him forget. He was about to go for another drink anyway, when he found his bottle suspiciously empty. Third one that night. Desperately trying, and failing, to get drunk each night, was eating through his finances like nobody's business. He wondered if he even had enough left for another bottle.
Sitting here, wasting my afterlife, while she goes on with living, like it ain't nothing! He threw the empty bottle to the side, and frustratingly, the force of his throw wasn't enough to shatter it. Instead it hit, with a solid, musical sound, and proceeded to roll carelessly across the floor. As if that didn't about sum up all his frustrations.
Suddenly the air in the stagnant apartment shifted, though no window was present to offer a breeze. He looked up, a frown playing across his lips, only to be dealt the shock of his afterlife as someone whispered his name. Beetlejuice… It was like fingers, small as a pixie's, running down the back of his neck. It gave him a solid, almost violent chill, and then he looked around warily. Who the hell would be calling him?
"Maybe… a way out?" He muttered to himself, not ready to trust this yet. He was a con man himself, he was all too ready for someone to con him in return… But, someone had said his name. His eyes flicked across the darkness, as if some answer lay within his own shadows, and waited.
Nothing. Had someone said it on accident? It had to be someone who knew him though… Didn't it? Or at least, knew it was a name, and not some star in Astronomy Class. Not that that hadn't worked for a while, before Juno caught on.
His breath hissed out slowly between his teeth, annoyance and frustration. Was someone fucking teasing him now? Bad idea… He was ready to do a little venting, it'd been way too long since he'd had a good chance to use his juice, and if he found out who was messing with him…!
Beetlejuice… This time it was more forceful, like a spark of energy that started somewhere in his skull, and zapped welcomingly down his spine. His face split in a slow smile, not yet ready to believe his luck. Only a few people out there knew that name, so it stood to reason that one of them was calling him. His stomach lurched a little at the thought of Olivia… But he banished the reaction just as quickly. If she was calling him for help again, the little bitch was in for a surprise this time!
The air in the room was moving more quickly, but still, the name was not repeated a third time. The murmur, the promise of it, was enough to make his hair stand on end, and make him gnash his teeth. Come on, come on…! Hell, what was taking so long?
Beetlejuice? This last was a question, but he didn't care. There it was! There! He could get out! It tugged at him, every part of him, from his fingertips to his guts, and then he was spinning through darkness, laughing like a madman. His grin still didn't disappear when he found himself with both feet on thick shag carpeting, veiled in moonlight, and abruptly somewhere that seemed like it might be familiar.
Still pleased as punch, he turned to see just who it was that had called him… And his smile dropped, just a little. She was watching him, apparently surprised by the suddenness of his entrance, but otherwise completely unafraid. Rather, the eyes of the young girl who watched him were, decidedly curious.
He stared at her in disbelief. A kid, she couldn't be more than eleven, twelve. A flyaway mop of dark hair, gentle liquid eyes, and a tiny mouth pursed up in thought. She was dressed in black, from head to toe, with a stripe of black lipstick across her top lip, and a large spider hairpin that looked as if it had once been part of a Halloween costume.
And above it all, she looked unsettlingly familiar. "Who the hell are you?" He greeted her, annoyed with being put off his step. "How d'you know my name?"
The girl smiled, a slow sort of smile, full of secrets and mystery. "It's inside this ring." She told him easily, as if it were nothing at all for her to summon strange men to her bedroom every night. Strange dead men. His eyes fixed on the tiny treasure she held, and his heart seized with fury. The ring. His ring. "Are you Beetle-?"
"Argh!" He crossed the distance between them in a breath, pressing his heavy cold hand across her mouth. She yelped, and scooted away from him, still unafraid, but looking at him as if he were a bit mad. "Don't say my name!"
A puzzled look crossed her face. "But I just said it." She pointed out, narrowing her eyes slowly. "Why can't I say it again?"
"You just can't, okay?" He snarled, snatching the ring away from her. His temper cooled quickly then, but only to the point where it settled to a slow burn, as he regarded the slender band of metal between his fingers. "Where'd you get this, anyway?" He muttered at last, more irritated now than angry.
"Hmm." His eyes flicked back to her, and the expression on her face was the same. Studying, thoughtful. Finally a little wary. "I found it." She said at last, elaborating no more than this. "What are you doing here? Did you want it back?"
A small smirk finally returned to his features, a shadow of what it usually offered. "You called me, kid." He informed her, matter-of-factly. Belatedly, he held up three fingers. "You say my name three times… Here I am."
A small sound with her tongue, as she continued to watch him like a bug in a jar. "And if I say it three more times?" She prompted softly.
His smirk turned to a scowl. This kid caught on way too fast… "If you're smart, you won't do that." He growled softly. His threat though, seemed to have little effect on her, other than deepening her frown. Admittedly, he started to feel a little desperate. She sent him away, that was it. For good. No amount of threats could change that. Damn, he'd have to do this the hard way…
"You don't want to do that," He tried again, managing a return of his self-assured smirk, "Then you won't find out anything, will you?" He knew immediately from the slight shift of her features that he'd made a point… And found her weakness. Now he was really grinning. He even cackled a little, pulling himself up on her dresser, and making himself comfortable. "So now, babes… Let's make a deal, shall we?"
Again her lips flew into a frown, but she didn't really seem eager for him to leave yet. "My mom says not to make deals with the dead." She mused, surprisingly him briefly, "And there's no way you're not a ghost."
I'm the ghost with the most, babes… He actually started to say it, then cut himself off quickly, literally choking on the words. A more important question was who her mom was, telling her something like that. And since the girl had Olivia's ring, he already had a pretty good guess. "Oh yeah?" He drawled slowly, doing his best to remain calm, for now. "What else your moms tell you, kid?"
This time the pause was slightly longer, before she answered bluntly, "She told me that the devil wears a striped suit."
He couldn't help but grin a little at this, before doing a double-take, and looking down at himself. Am I still wearing…? Oh hell, I am. He snorted, resigned to things getting interesting, and admittedly curious to see where it would lead him. He had been pretty bored, the last decade or so.
Just how long had it been, anyway?
He brushed it away, for now, because the girl, despite what she'd just said, still hadn't tried to say his name again. This, despite knowing full well that he was the one her mother had warned her about, and he knew himself that she sure as hell fucking should. Probably figured she could any time though… Overconfidence. He loved that quality in the living.
"All right, no deals." He agreed easily, not really bothered that this opportunity had been denied so quickly… At least for the moment. "So, your moms ever got anything good to say about me?"
"Mom never said anything else about you. Just that." She no lingered seemed intimated by him… Well, she never had, but no longer really wary either. That could only work in his favor… But he was a little disappointed by her answer. "So, that ring. Is it a wedding ring?"
"Supposed to be…" He muttered, still quite sore over this point. He stared at the little thing like it was what had betrayed him, rather than simply becoming a symbol of his betrayal.
"So why wasn't it?" She pressed, rocking forward on her hands now.
"Eh." He held up one finger, shaking it a little. "Nuh-uh kid, my turn." Patiently the girl tilted her head, letting several long strands of shiny silk fall over one eye, but didn't protest it. Apparently, they'd worked out a system, without ever settling on a verbal deal. "So what's your name, kid? Gotta know who I'm spilling my guts to, here…" He resisted the urge to show her his guts, just to freak her out a little. That was his style, but in this instance, it could only backfire.
The girl drew herself up, balling her hands into fists on the skirt of her dress, and considered him in a way that seemed far beyond her years. She had an, old soul, people called it. The way her eyes seemed to peer right through him made him a little uneasy, too… "Lydia." She answered suddenly, smiling for a reason he couldn't see. "And I guess I know yours, so…" Again, the curious look. "Why wasn't it a wedding ring?"
Ah, this was tricky territory. He wanted to answer honestly, to avoid being bitten in the ass later, but he also had to give her only answers that would work to his benefit. "Broad stood me up at the altar." He grunted, finally allowing some trace of his annoyance to show. "Well, Lydia…" Then he broke off, turning the name over in his head. Lydia? That was no name for a kid… Way too serious. "Lyds." He amended, before considering her through lidded eyes. Well, it was a waste of a question, but hell. "Your old lady's name wouldn't happen to be Olivia, would it?"
An expression he couldn't read crossed her face, almost… He swore she'd expected better of him. Like she was disappointed by such an obvious question. "Yeah…" She looked a little bored, and lifted a stuffed mummy into her hand, picking at the bandages. It looked like she'd made it herself. He waited, patiently. He could afford to be patient. He'd waited this long. "So… She's the one that stood you up, right?"
Couldn't get a thing past this kid, apparently. "Yeah." He grunted, suddenly getting bored with this game of questions and answers himself. He stood, brushing off his coat, which was admittedly pretty nasty. Not that it helped. "Look Lyds, I'm going out for a while. Do me a favor, and don't tell your moms you called me, okay?" When she looked uneasy at this, he just grinned. "Come on… She sends me away, how you going to get any more dirt on her?"
Slowly Lydia nodded, a decidedly impish look of her own creeping across her features. She liked secrets, he could tell. Mischief, certainly. He'd almost swear that she even liked him… But that would probably be pushing it. "I mean, it's not like I couldn't ask Adam or Barb," She went on, surely not noticing how he tensed at the familiar, and unwelcome names, "But they'd never tell me anything bad…"
The Maitland's. Hell. He hadn't figured on them still being part of the happy family. But clearly bad was exactly what this kid wanted to hear… She was a troublemaker, and he had no problem with that. He gave her his wildest grin, and saw an answering glint in her eyes. "See you soon, babes." He cackled, his power once more swirling about him like a shadow wind, "This devil's got some hell to raise!"
--
Olivia was in a hurry at the moment, pinching her dangling black earrings in as she hurried through the living room… And pausing, at the utterly incongruous sight of her daughter Lydia, watching the news. At first she'd just started to press past, but as this slowly sank in, she considered the girl again. Lydia never watched the news. Anything worthy of being called news in Winter River was far too boring for her.
"What are you doing, hon?" Her mother prompted slowly, forgetting for a minute the reservation they had to make in like, ten minutes. "Can't you find anything better to watch?" For some reason, the sight of something so utterly normal from her daughter filled her with little chills of dread.
"I'm looking for trouble." Lydia answered matter-of-factly, a twisted little smile on her lips. Olivia let this too, sink in for a moment. It was just the sort of thing the girl would say, a sort of irony on why anyone watched the news, as there was seldom any good to be had. But why tonight? What was she up to?
Olivia finally shook her head, leaving her daughter on the couch, trying to tell herself that it was just her imagination. Yes, the girl was going through a particularly odd phase at the moment, but she'd been through similar herself. The thing about phases, was that invariably, one grew out of them.
At least that's what she told herself, smoothing her long black dress with the crimson breast, and small spiders flocking around her midsection. Her tiny skull earrings finished the outfit perfectly, and her miniature mourning veil tucked about an inch over her eyes, no more. Anyone who saw her, would assume she was getting ready for Halloween. Anyone who knew her though, would just say, 'Well, that's Olivia.'
Her husband came down the stairs, two at a time, a glint in his eyes very much like his daughter's. Seeing his wife there, his face broke out in a slow, positively devilish grin, and his gaze danced over every inch of her with a sense of intoxication. He straightened his tie, coming down the last few steps more slowly, a vision, like her, of dark colors, though his suit fit far more perfectly. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
And of course, she loved it. She was his addiction, and quite frankly, that was the way she intended to keep it. How far the two of them had come since high school… He stopped before her, offering his arm elegantly. "Shall we?" He murmured, not realizing that the familiar words, even after all this time, still sent a tiny chill down her back.
"You two have fun, and don't worry about a thing!" Barbara had appeared from, well, wherever she appeared from when she was out of sight, and beamed down at them with her usual gentle smile. "Adam and I will take care of Lydia…"
Olivia's eyebrows twitched, just a little, but she smiled. Having live-in babysitters was great, and something she often took advantage of… Probably too often. "You're sure you don't mind?" She prompted slowly, unable to banish just a tiny trace of guilt.
"Not at all, we love spending time with our goddaughter!" Barb waved them away, coming down the stairs, despite her simple outfit, with the grace of any faery from one of the old stories. "Besides, it's been almost a month since you two have spent any time alone… You need this, Liv!"
Liv. She tried not to dwell on just when she'd come upon this particular nickname. The fact was, she liked it, regardless. "Hmm. Well…" She sighed, and cast a glance in her daughter's general direction. "Just keep an eye on her, please. I get this feeling something's, off."
"How can you tell?" Barbara mused, making the woman laugh shortly, in agreement. "Look, whatever's going on, I'm sure it's nothing. You two, go have fun."
Edmond cast Barbara a grateful look, swinging his arm gracefully over his wife's shoulder. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the best, Barb?" He asked matter-of-factly, only to be elbowed gently by the woman he loved. "Ah, second best." He rolled his eyes to Olivia warily. "I'm certain I said that."
"Of course you did, dear." Olivia agreed sweetly, still looking mock daggers at him.
Barbara watched them leave, then descended the stairs once they were gone, peeking in at Lydia. Well, she was watching TV, nothing too odd in that. The news was a strange choice, but… Maybe there was just nothing good on tonight. "Anything interesting happening?" She asked easily, coming to sit on the couch beside the girl.
"Not yet." Lydia murmured enigmatically, still seeming quite content to watch the discussion on the mayor's latest speech, and how it would affect his campaign. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her flyaway hair cascading over her face. She hated doing anything with it, Barbara knew.
But that didn't stop her from asking, anyway. "Would you like me to put your hair up?" Maybe tonight would be the night the little goth girl agreed. She missed helping Olivia with all her odd little styles, when she'd been younger… But Lydia had never really made it an option.
"No." There wasn't even a brief consideration behind it. She hated her hair being messed with. Barbara sighed, and gave it up once more as a lost cause. But the news, as it traditionally was in Winter River, was boring.
Barb tried another tactic. "Want to watch a movie?" She prompted now, deciding anything would be better than another minute of how the major intended to crack down on the, pretty much nonexistent, crime in their town. Lydia made a noncommittal sound, not really interested. "We can watch The Exorcist, your favorite!" Even if the concept personally brought up bad memories for her…
The girl finally turned her eye to her, clearly considering it. She opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a sudden news bulletin, superseding whatever it was the politician had deemed so important. Right in the middle of his speech on cracking down on crime, no less.
"We're here with you at the Winter River Liquor Store, where an unarmed man apparently broke in only minutes ago, and left, single-handedly, with half the store's merchandise!" This was apparently, very exciting, because the newscaster couldn't keep it out of his voice. It was probably the most interesting thing he'd ever had to report… "When asked how one man could accomplish this, unaided, the store clerk had little to say."
At this moment, a rather crazy-eyed man ran into the camera, cutting the other off as he grabbed it with both hands, and stared wildly out into the world. "He wasn't human, I tell you!" He cried, panicked. "I tell you, he wasn't human!"
Soft laughter drifted up from beside her, while Barbara was staring in confusion at the obviously traumatized man. She looked in surprise to see Lydia holding her fist to her mouth, fighting back what looked like a case of the giggles. Her eyes danced a little, in the flickering of the television…
The TV shut off, and Lydia froze angrily, turning with a frown to Barbara. "Why'd you do that?" She protested, obviously annoyed. "I was watching!"
Barbara just shook her head, her lips pressing into a thing line. "That's enough for one night." She said simply, as if this made any sense at all. "It's getting late, why don't you go get ready for bed?" It was of course, only eight o'clock, and they both knew it was a ridiculous request.
The girl stared at her for a moment, anger building in her dark eyes, only to slowly subside, and be replaced with a tolerant affection. "You worry about me too much, Barb." She said at last, reaching over, and giving the ghost woman a small hug. "You gotta admit, it was kinda funny…"
For a moment, she still adamantly denied it… But after a moment, her godmother's lips too, began to twitch. "Maybe." She allowed at last. "But it wasn't funny to him. The poor man's obviously been through something terrible…"
Lydia made a small, indelicate sound. "You know anything scares the living out of their skin." She informed the other matter-of-factly, as if simply not counting herself among those she referred to. "He probably just saw a ghost, and freaked out. And it's not like he got hurt." Her eyes scanned Barbara's for a moment more. "Come on… Let me watch?"
She almost gave in. Almost. "You can go read." She said instead, making the girl give her a small, frustrated glance, before getting off the couch and skulking away.
Barbara sighed in frustration. That girl was so much harder to deal with, than Olivia had ever been…
--
It was going on eleven-thirty, and despite having been sent to bed hours before, Lydia Deetz was not yet sleeping. Of course, it wasn't entirely her fault. Barbara had told her to read, and so she was reading. Rereading, actually. Dracula. It was a classic. And though she'd read it many times before, she had to see how it would end. Again. Even if it did always disappoint her.
Besides, who knew what might decide to make an appearance? She didn't want to fall asleep, and miss that… She'd had some time, and thought up quite a few new questions. Some were about her mom… But most were about him. Little inane questions. She wondered idly how far she could push him…
At eleven thirty-seven, on the dot, a sort of suctiony feeling filled the air, for about a breath, followed by a small, distinct 'pop.' Pressure relieved. And poltergeist, sitting on her dresser once more, a pleased with himself look plastered across his pale and grimy face. She stared at him, fascinated, for about a minute, before he seemed to notice. "What are you still doing up?" He grumbled, pretending he wasn't in a pretty darn good mood, from the looks of things.
"Reading." She anticipated his next question, and lifted the book, so he could see the cover. He squinted a little, like he might need glasses, though this could simply be because she only had the one small lamp for reading by. "So, why rob a liquor store?"
He blinked, considering her for upwards of a minute, a bit curiously. Then he laughed. "Got nothing better to do than watch the news in this dull place, huh?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a surprisingly large bottle, his fingers already reaching for the cap. "Because this living world shit's a hell of a lot better than the kind I've been drinking… And I've got no cash left, from drinking that."
"Half a liquor store?" She prompted, her lips twisted in amusement. "You're going to kill yourself. Again."
"Hell of a way to go…" He sighed, going for a long draw, before fixing his gaze on her again. "And for the record, I didn't kill myself the first time. Got into that whole bureaucratic shit for a whole other reason." She tilted her head, curiously, and he cackled, not answering her unspoken question. Going back to his drink instead.
Lydia watched the amber liquid, glinting fluidly in the low light. It teased around her mind a bit, wondering what was so good about it, that he'd steal so much. She'd snuck a taste of her dad's gin once, and quite frankly, it had been awful. "Can I have some?" She asked suddenly, wondering if he was the sort of guy who'd let a kid take a swig of his drink.
The ghost paused, looking a bit puzzled, and squinted his eyes at her. "How old are you, Lyds?" He prompted in return.
There was of course, the option of lying, but… "Twelve." She answered honestly, more curious to see if he'd do it anyway, than to actually have a taste of the stuff. "So?"
Beetlejuice snorted. "So, hell no!" He muttered, twisting the cap back on, and eyeing her warily. Like she might try to take it anyway. "You got enough time when you're older to piss your life away on this shit… Why would you want to start now?" He slid the bottle back into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette instead.
Then he paused, raising his eyebrows, the slender thing clamped between his lips. "I suppose you want to try this too?" He mocked her, grinning.
"Hell no." She denied vehemently. "That stuff's gross." She wrinkled her nose, to show further what she thought of it. Beetlejuice just laughed, saying something about her mother not raising her half bad after all… "Anyway, you smoke that in here, I'll get in trouble!"
He paused, match an inch from lighting up, and considered her warily. Maybe seeing how far he could press her? A moment later, he chortled, and lit up anyway. "Not my problem, babes." He informed her smugly. "You're a creative kid, you figure it out."
Annoyed, Lydia put her book down, scooted off the end of the bed, and went to open a window. He watched her, amused both by her temper, and the funeral shroud of a nightgown she was wearing, swishing around her ankles. Definitely Olivia's kid.
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath of the chill outside air, and gave a little shiver, before dashing back to her bed, and jumping under the covers. Her breath hissed between her teeth as, still a bit irritated, she gave the ghost on her dresser a little glare. "You know, you shouldn't try to get me in trouble," She told him, in no uncertain terms, "If my mom finds out I summoned you, I'm going to get in trouble enough as it is."
True. And that made him grin, cackling. "But you ain't told her, have you, kid?" She tried to look defiant, certainly she didn't look afraid, but the little girl was playing right into his hands… She had no answer to this, so he leaned against the wall, took a slow drag, and released the smoke in the form of a long, winding snake, complete with rattle.
"Deadly-vu…" She hissed, abruptly forgetting her anger, as he'd known she would. "Do that again!"
"You like that?" He smirked, turning the cigarette over between his fingers. "I thought this stuff was disgusting… Okay, hold on." He took another deep drag, thought a minute, and blew a round pale skull, all in wafts of blue grey, with bugs crawling through its hollow eyes.
The girl's own eyes, meanwhile, were wide as saucers. She was no longer grasping the blanket around her like a mighty protective shield… She'd crawled to the end of her bed, her fingers curled excitedly, as he dazzled her with one cheap trick after another. She seemed to have forgotten any worry about her room smelling like smoke.
"Okay, something really creepy, this time!" She demanded, having crawled all the way off the bed now, and standing roughly two feet in front of him. Utterly unintimidated by his own creepy presence. He eyed her a little warily… She looked like she was ready to crawl into his frickin lap for a better view!
"Real creepy, huh?" He muttered, turning this over in his mind. "Okay, but that's it, 'cause this is boring the shit out of me." Actually it wasn't, but he wasn't about to tell her that… Truth was, he loved an audience. He thought about it a minute, then blew a smoke cloud that looked, actually, remarkably like the goth girl standing in front of him, looking back at her through wide, hollow eyes.
This finally got a reaction. For about a minute she just stared, too surprised for words, then jumped back with an excited little yelp… Excitement, he saw, not fear. Her eyes were dancing, and her lips twisted into an absolutely delighted little grin. After a moment, she came forward again, wafting her hand through the smoke. It held its image anyway, for about another three seconds, before dissipating into nothing.
Lydia laughed, a light little sound, utterly without any creepy factor whatsoever, and scrambled back up onto her bed, eyes fixed on him with fascination. He was feeling pretty good about himself too, actually, even if they were just a few amateur tricks that couldn't impress anyone but a kid.
"Got your entertainment? Good. Now go the hell to sleep." He grunted, leaning back against the wall again, debating with himself whether he too was tired enough to sleep.
Now, once again, her mood did a complete one-eighty, and she looked at him with absolutely no trace of fondness on her face. "Go to sleep?" She repeatedly skeptically. "And what are you going to do?"
He shrugged, not really sure himself. "Dunno. Hide out here until morning, I guess. Never expect me in here…" He realized at this point that she looked decidedly unhappy with his plan. "What? What's the deal? I'm not throwing you out of your damn bed… Just roll over and go to sleep!"
Lydia gave him a look impressively resembling a scowl. "And how do I know you're not going to try something?" She demanded of him.
The ghost with the most choked on his cigarette, for about the first time in fifty years. "You gotta be fucking kidding me…" He muttered, pulling it free from his lips, and giving her a little glare. "Do I look like a fucking pedophile to you? You know what," He waved away her next words, "Don't answer that."
He considered her with an angry little glare for about a minute after this, but she amazingly, never looked away, holding her end of it quite well. "It's like this, kid," He said at last, gesturing in her direction with the hand he was using to hold the thing, "I've gone after them young, sure, but not that fucking young. I'm a sick bastard, but a guy's gotta know where to draw the line, you get me?"
Back between his lips, with his eyes looking nothing so much as insulted as he continued glaring at her. And the little bitch glared right back, not knowing when the hell to back off! "Fine, whatever!" He sulked at last, pushing himself off the dresser, "You want me gone too? I'm gone!" He flicked the cigarette off to the side, and floated through the wall, right out into second story air.
Damn brat seriously unsettled him… Had to be because she was Olivia's kid…
--
The chill seemed to be coming from Lydia's room… Barbara cracked the door a little, peering through the shadows that draped every inch of the girl's private little world, trying to see if the window was open. Her lips settled into a patient little grimace as she saw that it was, and crossed the space easily, phasing through, rather than tripping over, the clutter on the floor.
Her hands on the sill, she gave it a solid push, letting the pane slide down soundlessly. Only then did she turn her attention to the cause of the trouble… Sound asleep in her bed, tucked far too tightly into her covers, and shivering slightly. She looked like she could use another blanket. Shrugging, Barbara drew one from her closet, and without a sound, spread it over her sleeping goddaughter. She made a mental note to have a word with her in the morning… It was far too late in the year to fall asleep with the window open.
As she started back to the door, she paused, taking in a deep breath, as something in the air of the room seemed, off to her. Smoke? Was she smelling smoke? Was that why Lydia's window had been open? She gazed disapprovingly at the sleeping girl… She would have thought her too smart to mess with cigarettes, but there was no mistaking that for incense.
"Lydia Deetz…" She murmured under her breath, finally closing the door, and letting her get some sleep. She was lucky that it was a school night though, or she would wake the girl up now and have it out with her!
Everyone goes through these things… Even you tried smoking once… Of course, not when she was Lydia's age! She still tried to wave her worries away, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice Adam until he'd snagged her around the waist, dropping a light kiss on the side of her neck.
"Ai!" She managed to keep it down to a surprised squeak, then laughed, turning accusing brown eye up to him. "Adam Maitland!" She managed, in an approximation of anger. "You scared the life out of me!"
Adam just chuckled, straightening his glasses, and giving her his sexiest look over them. "Lydia's asleep," He murmured, reaching for her again, "Olivia and Edmond will probably be out until morning… Barbara honey, when was the last time we had the house to ourselves?"
Despite herself, his wife's lips twitched, just a little. "I dunno…" She teased, grabbing his hand, and tucking it coyly around her middle. "You know I stopped keeping track of things like that years ago…" His lips met hers, a decided beckoning, as he drew her up the stairs, to where they could be alone. Damn if he couldn't still seduce her like they were a couple of kids.
Barbara's laughter drifted down the empty hall, as for a while, she completely forgot about her living goddaughter, and her bizarre moods…
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