A/N: Sorry I was a little slow to update, but I've had a rough time of it lately with a death in the family. :(
Chapter three shall be along soon, it's already half-written.


Chapter Two

Delia, upon opening up the front door, was only half-surprised to see Mr Beetleman standing on the porch. After all, the man had an almost impeccable sense of timing.
"Oh, Mr Beetleman, how nice to see you," She smiled naively, stepping back away from the door in order to give him room to enter the house.

Thumbs hooked around the straps of his striped overalls, Beetlejuice strode in confidently with a tip of the head. "Yer daughter gave me a call, Mrs D. Just, uh, finished up a job down the road, and, y'know… thought I'd stop by,"

"Well, that's kind of you," Delia clasped her hands together, watching the 'handy-man' push the door to a close behind him. He stepped further into the hallway only to remove his workman's cap and shake his hair out. For a moment Delia felt sure she saw a small beetle or two fly loose as he did so. She still found it hard to believe that this man was the father of her stepdaughter's boyfriend; in her head she tried to work out how old he might be in comparison to how old she knew B. J. to be. It didn't compute. She narrowed her eyes somewhat, scrutinising him. She remembered what she'd called into question countless times before: these past seven years Mr Beetleman hadn't changed at all.

Delia Deetz's concentration broke when Beetlejuice cleared his throat. "You're- after a family vacation then, Mrs D?" He asked, motioning to the sideboard where she had left the holiday brochure.
Delia jumped a little, aware she'd been staring. Chewing on her bottom lip as she cupped her chin, she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "We're not sure when's the best time to go…" She said.

Beetlejuice smiled roguishly, replacing his cap. "Hey, why not tomorrow?" He suggested, rubbing his hands together.
Delia's eyes widened, unsure whether she was horrified by the idea or taken by it. "Tomorrow? Isn't that a bit short notice?"
"Naww, not for me. I got the perfect place lined up for ya,"
Delia's brows furrowed slightly but she said nothing. Again she found herself examining him closely – his pale, pale skin that was almost lilac, the dark rings around his jaundiced green eyes. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had some kind of medical condition. Still, he'd always been good to them, so she didn't quite know why she was inspecting him so intently.

Delia's gaze instead shifted to the family photo mounted on the corridor's wall – one of herself, Charles and Lydia taken around the time they'd first moved in. For Charles it had been soon after his initial nervous breakdown, but in the photo he was still glowing with the smugness of a real estate big-shot. Delia, beside him, dressed as a city-going yuppie who hadn't yet adjusted to life in the sticks, was frowning discontentedly. Meanwhile, an angsty, preteen Lydia was stood apart from both of them, dressed head-to-toe in black, a forties woven mourning hat tied to her head. The solemn yet stoic expression on her face could have placed her as Wednesday Addam's twin sister. They looked at odds with one another, an unbalanced family. The second framed photo on the wall painted an all-together different picture. Whilst Charles, here, seemed all the more anxious, he was also content, and Delia looked much more comfortable in the house she had grown to accept. The main difference was Lydia, almost out of her teenage years, still gothic but not in an overbearing way. In this photograph her face was split with a wide smile, standing with her parents rather than to one side, alone. She was clutching a clothed, plush doll to her chest, a doll in a stripy t-shirt with the ugliest face Delia had ever seen. Even the doll was smiling.
Over the years they'd changed as a family, as Lydia had changed. In fact, she seemed to be maturing so quickly now that Delia felt her slipping through her fingers. She could only imagine that soon Lydia would want to move out, settle down, maybe even leave Peaceful Pines all together. She had no idea that this was far from the truth, and had no idea that she was face to face with the reason why this was the case.

Delia exhaled sadly. "Lydia's… growing up so fast now. It'd be nice to have this one last vacation together, the three of us." She said almost under her breath, gazing up wistfully at the photographs. Then she paused, realising she was rambling to herself. She smiled apologetically, turning back to face a puzzled looking Beetlejuice. "Er, and you, of course, Mr Beetleman. Ahah, can't do without our tour guide,"
At this, the disguised ghost nonchalantly gripped onto the braces of his overalls, closing his eyes to smirk knowingly. "Yeah. I'm practically one of the family," He chuckled. As soon as the words had left his mouth, however, he felt both a strangely cosy feeling and a twinge of guilt at keeping the nature of his and Lydia's relationship a secret. After all, this was the closest truth he could offer his lover's mother.

Delia, of course, read those words an entirely different way. "So what's B. J. doing with himself lately?" She asked in polite conversation.
"Huh?" Beetlejuice blinked. It took him a moment to realise that she wasn't referring to him, and another moment to work out who it was that she was referring to. "Oh, B. J.. My, uh—My 'son', right." He said quickly, before Delia could notice his hesitation. He tried to remember what alibi Lydia had given his alter-ego earlier. "Ahaha, h-he's, uh… doin' some volunteer stuff, y'know how it is…"

Delia nodded, but her face was lined with worry. "I hope he won't mind the four of us taking off out of town without him,"
"Mind?" Beetlejuice waved a hand in dismissal. "Pshaww…"
Apparently satisfied with this response, Delia glanced around cagily for a moment as though expecting Lydia to be spying on them, double-checking that she was out of earshot. Whispering, even going so far as to cup a hand around her mouth, Delia leant towards Beetlejuice. "Between me and you, though, it's a bit of a relief,"

The 'handy-man' stopped, staring down his nose at Lydia's step-mother with a bewildered quirk of an eyebrow. "Bwuh?"
Delia, again, looked about, only to continue talking in the same quiet voice. "I don't mean that the way it sounds, but it would have just been a little… inappropriate to be on vacation with two 'lovebirds'. You know, not knowing what they could be up to when our backs are turned, or - rather - not wanting to know? Charles' nerves would have been terrible,"

Beetlejuice gulped, his cheeks reddening with shame. Trying to compose his reaction, he smiled a very wide and very toothy fake smile. "Oh, right. Erheheheh…" He laughed nervously. "I, uh, know what ya mean,"
He felt like she'd just accused him, or if she hadn't already then she was about to based on his guilty reaction. Delia, however, was too naive to see through him. Nevertheless, Beetlejuice suddenly felt like a terrible, terrible person. Pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck, he glanced heavenwards, continuing to chuckle. Well, what Lydia's parents don't know won't hurt 'em...

Despite Delia having spoken in a voice barely above a whisper, her twitchy husband had overheard his name being dropped into the conversation. Uncomfortably fidgeting, he appeared at the other end of the hallway."D-Delia?" He questioned. As far as he knew, they hadn't been expecting Mr Beetleman, and to find that the handy-man was here was not a good sign. It meant one of two things was about to happen, or better yet two of two things - an experience he would live to regret, and parting with cash.

Delia spun around excitedly, clapping her hands together. "Oh, Charles! Mr Beetleman's here. Get me some money, dear, we're booking our vacation,"
Charles whitened. He should have known.
"V-V-Vacation?" He repeated, stricken.

At the sight of his (arguably) favourite victim, Beetlejuice's spirits lifted. "Yesiree, Chucky," He grinned, moving past Delia and to Charles' side so fast that when the Deetzs blinked they'd missed it. He began furiously shaking the man's hand, too insensitive to feel any sort of sympathy for him. After all, a henpecked Charles meant cash in Beetlejuice's pocket and a man who was too busy worrying about himself trying to relax than worrying why his daughter was either out of the house or locked away quietly in her room.

Charles practically whimpered. He couldn't go to another one of those themed resorts Mr Beetleman always referred them to, he'd be driven insane. Hardly even gripping Beetlejuice's hand back, Charles instead looked to his wife both desperately and imploringly. "W-Where? Delia?"
"Oh hush, Charles." Delia hummed, perky as ever. "Money, please,"
Beetlejuice quit shaking his hand so fast that Charles' arm was practically thrown back to his side. If there was money to be had, then Beetlejuice didn't want to distract the good man from retrieving it.

Seeing no way out of this and with a wobbling bottom lip, Charles obediently fished the wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers and handed it over to his wife.
Delia immediately pulled out a good handful of notes before holding them out in Beetlejuice's direction.
The ghost swiped the money from Delia's extended hand with casual ease, pocketing the cash in the pouch of his overalls, before patting Charles on the shoulder absently. "Gonna take you to a new resort this time, Chuckster. Somewhere ya can relax, know whut I mean?"
Charles, numb and deflated, could only nod. "I- I certainly hope so,"

With one hand tucked into the pocket of his overalls, thumbing through the notes gleefully, Beetlejuice counted out two fingers on the other hand. "So that's a room for yerselves and one for yer daughter–"
Delia nodded midway through Beetlejuice's sentence but Charles let out a tangled gasp, cutting him off. "W-Wait, we can share a room with pumpkin…" He objected, only for his wife to promptly round on him, stern-faced. "Charles," She scolded. "Lydia is a grown woman now. She needs her own space," Turning back to the handy-man, she smiled broadly. "That will be fine,"

Beetlejuice grinned from ear to ear. "Great! I'll just make all the reservations now, Mrs D. Noooo problem-o." He winked, before offering Charles some parting words of comfort. "Trust me, Chuckster, it will be a barrel of laughs,"
Hoping his nightmare was at an end, Charles pinched himself only to find he was wide awake. He fell into a melancholic mood almost instantaneously, and nodded gravely.

With everything arranged, Beetlejuice forgot himself and made to take a determined step forwards towards the stairs, absent-mindedly thinking about heading up to Lydia's room. Just as Charles raised his head and an eyebrow in wonder, Beetlejuice realised what he'd been about to do and retracted quickly. He turned to the front door, opening it up. "Eh heh, right, well, uh, see ya, folks. Better get packin'," He said, stepping out onto the porch.

"See you bright and early-!" Delia sing-songed, closing the door after him.


Instead of heading straight for Lydia's room as he had originally intended, Beetlejuice zapped himself to the Neitherworld.
Standing, hands in his cash-filled pockets, on the strip of highway opposite the Roadhouse, he whistled to Doomie for a pick-up. His first port of call? The resort of choice, the Hotel du Yell.


The Hotel du Yell was a classy resort near the river Schticks, far enough away to be out of ear-shot and not located entirely in the middle of nowhere. The area enjoyed a good climate, was popular with tourists, and was one of the more 'human' hotels of the Neitherworld. Much as Beetlejuice liked scaring the pants off of Lydia's parents, now that he and Lydia were an item he kind of felt like it was his duty to go a little easier on them.

He floated into the hotel reception area, fast-approaching the counter behind which was sitting an older female ghoul with a blank, tired expression. There was something about the place, some kind of tense atmosphere that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but, as per usual, he ignored it.
Resting his elbows on the reception's worktop and drumming the fingers of one hand restlessly on its surface, he pulled out the money the Deetzs had given him and placed it on the counter. Though Neitherworldian dollars were the official currency, Outerworld dollars were worth their weight in gold here.

The woman glanced up at him, her voice as dull as her face. "Can I help you, sir?"
Beetlejuice nodded, brandishing the cash. "I'd like to get three roo- wait, er, m-make that two. Two doubles, for, uh... tomorrow."
The receptionist didn't blink. She nodded in acknowledgment and looked at both the computer on her desk and a clipboard for information, before beginning to write something down. "What name?" She asked flatly.

"Jui— Deetz," Beetlejuice corrected himself.

The woman told him the price and, surprised by the decent rates, Beetlejuice found himself handing over the money without even attempting to haggle.
The receptionist took his money passively before handing over a slip of paper as a booking reference. "All done,"
"Great!" Beetlejuice was only a little surprised that that whole process had taken so short a time. He snatched the paper from her hand and gave a half-wave in gratitude before hovering towards the wide double-doors out to where Doomie was parked waiting.

Not a half-hour later, Beetlejuice reappeared in Lydia's bedroom, both grinning broadly and brandishing the booking reference with gusto. At the sound of his arrival, Lydia sat up on her bed, face lifting. "B. J.?"

Beetlejuice, stooping theatrically low, presented the booking reference to her, adopting his sophisticated persona. "For you, my lady," He enunciated.
Lydia's face broke into a wide smile. "Oh, Beej!" She hopped off of the bed and dashed over to him, going to take the slip of paper from his hand. As soon as she reached up for it, he held it up out of her grip, his hand popping free from his wrist and floating up towards the ceiling. "Now, wait a minute, sweet-cheeks." He stopped her, smirking mischievously. "Where's my tip?"
Lydia knew he wasn't asking for money. She pressed her lips to his in a grateful kiss.

Beetlejuice's hand floated back down, reattaching itself. "Well, now that the whole vacation business is out of the way... what were our plans for the rest of the day, babes?" He asked, drifting away from her to hover over her four-poster, arms folded beneath his head.
Lydia raised her eyebrows, an amused look spreading its way across her face. "Funny you should ask that." She said, with all the weight of impending bad news. "Dinner? With your parents?"

Beetlejuice snorted, and began to laugh. "Good one, babes." Lydia's face, however was firmly earnest. He could tell she'd enjoyed dispensing the news as her lips were still quirked upwards in a slight smile.
"I'm being serious," She assured. It was devious of her, but Lydia had taken to arranging things behind his back and telling him about them last minute because she knew he would otherwise find some excuse or reason not to go.

Beetlejuice gulped, noticeably paling a few shades. "But, babes–"
Lydia curled her index finger and beckoned him over with it, smirking. "Come on, Beej,"
"NOW?" In his incredulity, his voice rose in pitch.
"Yes, now. Beetlejuice–"

"But, Lyds, we gotta–"

"-Beetlejuice-"

"-pack for vacation! Please?"

"Beetlejuice!"

After the usual clap of thunder and a billowing cloud of smoke, Beetlejuice found they were no longer stood in Lydia's room. As it so happened, he was now being tugged down a suburban street by his tie, inadvertently having 'juiced both himself and Lydia to the exact street his parents lived on.
Beetlejuice began to shriek. Trying to dig his booted heels into the ground but unable to find any purchase, he shook his head from side to side. "Baaabes! You can't do this to meee-!"

Pace quickening, Lydia rolled her eyes and smiled. "Stop complaining, Beej,"
"No! I don't wanna! You can't make me!"
"You're such a baby," She said with a laugh, but even as soon as she said it she knew what to expect. Suddenly she was no longer pulling on his tie, because it was no longer there anymore, and neither was he. Instead an infant Beetlejuice dropped into her hands, wailing.

Lydia half-sighed, half-laughed, cradling him in her arms with a second roll of her eyes. "I rest my case," She commented, raising her voice over the sound of his howling. She juggled him awkwardly as she opened the gate beside the mailbox that read 'The Juices', before making her way down towards the doorstep of house number thirteen and a half.

"Come on, 'baby', act your age," She said, voice heavy with sarcasm.
A puff of smoke both transformed and transported the infant from her arms to an adult-sized Beetlejuice standing beside her, glowering, pouty.
Without dignifying his behaviour with a reaction or response, Lydia rang the bell and rapped her knuckles lightly on the coffin-shaped front door, smiling pleasantly in the face of Beetlejuice's tired lack of enthusiasm. After two chimes of the bell, Beetlejuice's mother opened the door wide. Brushing down her apron, she seemed happily flustered. "Junior! Lydia! We're so glad y'could make it." She greeted, ushering them in eagerly. "Off with your shoes, both of- actually, Junior, you keep yours on, dear. Wipe them clean before you come in," With that, Bea turned and made her way back inside.
Beetlejuice didn't know whether to laugh or frown, and begrudgingly began half-heartedly wiping his shoes on the mat. Then, he and Lydia stepped into the spotless living room, observing Nat sitting on the sofa at the opposite end of the room with a newspaper in-hand.

"Nat, dear, Junior and Lydia are here," Bea called to him, wiping her hands in the pocket of her apron before heading to the kitchen. "Now, then, I'm going to get started with dinner,"
"Oh, let me help you," Lydia offered, to which Beetlejuice practically squealed in objection. She couldn't leave him alone with his dad, that would leave him susceptible to all kinds of nagging and boring conversations.
He hoped his mother would politely decline the offer. She didn't.
"Courteous as always, dear. Come on in, you can help with the soup,"

"Soup? Blarghhhhh," Beetlejuice scoffed.
Lydia levied him a firm look before heading into the kitchen after Bea, leaving him alone with his father.
As soon as the women were out of earshot Nat lowered his newspaper, staring at his son with an indiscernible expression on his face.
An uncomfortable moment passed before Beetlejuice found the strength to crack a wry smile. "Hi-i, Dad," He greeted weakly.
"Junior," Nat acknowledged.

Beetlejuice imagined he heard a cricket chirping in the background.
"Um... how's it goin'?" He spoke slowly in a struggling bid to make conversation, shifting awkwardly where he stood.
Nat's brows creased together. "Fine,"
He glanced back down at his paper. "You need to lose some weight, son,"

Ah. There it was. The criticism, the nagging, the same old chestnuts.
Beetlejuice deflated, hands subconsciously moving to rest on his plump abdomen. "Hey, I'm in shape. Round is a shape, Pa," He joked, but his father's lined expression didn't falter. "You'd have thought having a young woman for a partner would have made you want to present yourself a bit better," Nat sniffed.

Beetlejuice gritted his teeth, the sharpness of this statement comparable to that of a wasp sting. He sighed, deflating all the more. Once again, his parents were succeeding in making him feel only about five years old.
So he had a bit of a pot belly going on still, he could lose it any time he wanted. The rest of him was still of an average-to-lean build.
Then again, at his father's words he recalled the first night he and Lydia had made love, recalled the shame he'd felt for his own body - a shame he hadn't known he'd suppressed. Lydia's dismissal of this shame had helped him not only ignore the problem, but forget he'd ever felt that way in the first place.
Maybe he had to cut back on the beetle-burgers after all...

Still smarting from his father's criticism, knowing more awaited him if he stuck around long enough to find out, Beetlejuice tried to think of an excuse that would keep him busy until dinner was served. After thinking about it, the best thing he could come up with was a fabricated, outright lie.
"Uh, anyways, Pa, I just remembered that I, uh, left the dog in the car at home. With the windows rolled up. Heh, gotta, uh, let that critter out-"
Nat looked over the top of his paper, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You don't have a dog, Junior," He said with some degree of accusation.
"I'm dogsittin' for my neighbour," Beetlejuice answered quickly. That could have been true, he'd been asked to dogsit Poopsie before. There was still a hole in his story however, and his father, sharp as anything, picked up on it. "Son, your car's a convertible. It doesn't have a roo-" Nat stopped. Beetlejuice had already disappeared.

The guilt that hit Nat at that moment made him sink back into the sofa and crumple his newspaper in his large hands, lowering it to his lap. Despite all of his nagging, he had a soft spot for his eldest son, and running his mouth off with criticisms was the only way he knew how to show it. He scratched his hairline beneath his cap and exhaled heavily.

"Beej! How many slugs do you want in your soup-?" Lydia called from the kitchen. Waiting for a response, and receiving none, she curiously stepped through the archway that divided the two rooms. Noting Beetlejuice's absence, she shook her head in disbelief. "... Where'd he disappear off to this time?"
Nat sighed and stood up, folding his newspaper away to tuck it under his arm. "Who knows?"
He stepped over to Lydia and patted her on the shoulder. He wanted to say it was his fault Beetlejuice had gone, wanted to say he'd opened his mouth without thinking first, but instead what came out was: "You've got your work cut out with Junior,"

Lydia didn't take it to heart. She could only smile. "I know," She said. She'd always known.
Nat smiled back, and Lydia could have sworn his expression was one of gratitude. "You're good for him," He said, before retreating upstairs.

Stood alone in the living room, the young woman contemplated these last parting words for a long, lingering moment. The compliment, for it definitely was a compliment, made her feel so completely at ease yet at the same time let her mind wander off into daydreams. Yes, yes, they were good together, weren't they?

Heading back towards the kitchen, she stopped mid-step. A thought occurred to Lydia, a silly thought, but a valid one nonetheless.
Nat hadn't said that Beetlejuice was good for her.