He pushed her back onto the bed, her wet hair cold against his hands, her lips locked in a sensuous kiss with his. The way her slender hands caressed his chest and shoulders, slipping under his jacket and pulling free his tie, squeezing and gripping his torso; it nearly drove him wild. This is wrong. The thought bounced around his head, struggling to the front of his mind through the growing tide of lust. This is so, so wrong! It's Lydia! Little Lyds! But "little Lyds" had grown up. That much was evident, even before she pushed him back to his knees and helped him out of his jacket, still locked in such a passionate kiss. Possibly for the first time in living and undead memory, Beetlejuice wasn't making any moves or trying to influence judgement in anyway. She was a tempest, a hurricane, and it was all he could do to hold on and follow her lead. Not that it wasn't enjoyable (he was having the time of his afterlife), but still that voice kept telling him it was wrong. This wasn't a case of him not noticing she'd grown up, or parting ways with her and then reuniting when they were both more mature. This was a case of waking up and suddenly finding himself catapulted forward six years. One night, she was fifteen, the next morning, she was twenty one. That had to be wrong...

Sure doesn't feel wrong...

Much to his surprise, he could feel her tongue darting against his lips, and he opened them gratefully, his own tongue coiling around hers, tickling the roof of her mouth. She made a gasping, grunting sort of noise, and her shoulders slumped for a moment, before her hands were pulling at his shirt buttons. They were both kneeling on the bed now, lips joined together, torsos mere inches apart, her warm fingers brushing against his icy chest, running lightly over his shoulders as she pushed his shirt off and threw it to the floor. She pulled away from the kiss, moving across his neck and shoulders and down to his chest. He bit his lip, rolling his eyes as her light, tickling breath danced across his skin.

"Lyds... wait, Lyds..." She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, almost ravenous. Resting his hands on her bare shoulders (so soft and warm, he was finding it rather hard to resist wrapping her arms around him and pulling her closer), he stroked a strand of wet, dark hair out of her eyes, and sat her back. "I... I really don't know if I can do this. I want you bad, babes, but... I don't know if this is..."

"You're so sweet." She whispered, a smile on her lips as tears sprang to her eyes. "Always worrying about me. You're my hero, Beej. My idol. Please... I won't pressure you for anything exclusive, honest I won't."

"Babes..."

"Just let me have this, please?"

"Babes, I don't know what illusion you've got of me up there, but I'd never sleaze around, especially not on you. I'm..."

"Beej..." Lydia, her eyes still wet with tears, but also shining with a mixture of fear, guilt and excitement, reached up and gently undid her towel, the corners grazing the curves of her pale, white breasts as she held it out, baring herself to him completely. "I'm yours if you want me."

His willpower told him this was wrong. His baser instinct hollered and wolf-whistled. His sense of pride told him he shouldn't be so easily won over, but then his sense of machismo reminded him how long it had been since he'd been with a babe like Lydia. Eventually, baser instinct won out, and before he could stop himself, he was on top of her.

His earlier thoughts about her tempest like nature were not disproven. It was an act of love-making so wild and energetic that he couldn't begin to describe; everything had been its purest, simplest act. If he thought something felt good, she did it again. If she thought something felt good, he did it again. They both rolled and writhed together, moaning and gasping in pleasure, until, after an unknown amount of time, they collapsed, spent and gasping, instantly reaching out to each other, him wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his other hand on her head as she nuzzled into his shoulder, resting her hands on his chest.

"Oh... Wow..."He managed to gasp, kissing her forehead and letting his head fall back onto the pillows. "So... your parents aren't here, right?

Lydia giggled, closing her eyes and placing her hand on his side, wrapping her legs around his and pulling herself closer to him. "You know they are. Would you ever dare do that while they were in the house?"

"Oh, you know better than to dare me, Lyds." He grinned, his arms stretching further down her body, ticking her waist, making her wriggle and squirm.

"Stop!" She laughed, trying to pry his hands away from her.

"Ha! You kidding? I could watch this all day." He stopped tickling her, but kept his smug grin, and left his hands on her waist. She slapped his chest, suddenly looking very self-conscious as she curled up and began to untangle herself from him. His face fell. "Aw, come on, babes. It's a compliment..."

She stayed silent, not meeting his eyes.

Shit. You've made her feel bad. He looked away, scratching the back of his head. Her room hadn't changed much, if at all. It was slightly more chic and elegant, but still the same mix of greys, reds and purples. The cobweb patterns were more subtle, and there were a few less skulls atop everything, but it was still the same vanity table, wardrobe and bookcase, black portfolio case hanging from it. An idea struck, and he smiled, watching her carefully.

"You been ok lately? Doing much work?"

"Yeah..." She sniffed, shuffling a little closer. "I had a commission come in for a theme bar in New York. They want surreal, gothic... nothing too difficult."

"Made a start on it yet?"

"Yeah."

He paused, watching her shuffling closer but still not looking at him. He grinned, smirking at her.

"You want me to juice us up some waffles? I'd love you to show me."

Her eyes lit up and she gasped at him, giving him a very tight hug before leaping out of bed and pulling on a black summer dress and a grey jacket, babbling about how she had some in her portfolio but the best ones were downstairs, and how she'd make coffee since it would be easier for him, but he was happy to just watch her running around, bright and full of energy. Ok, so maybe he'd wished himself into a different time. Maybe he'd jumped into it without looking, but then on the other hand, maybe he'd hit the ground running. They'd both made wishes. They'd both gotten them.

The day passed in something of a dreamlike manner; they floated around the large, empty house, hugging and kissing each other spontaneously, looking through Lydia's many photo albums (which certainly helped Beetlejuice get the facts straight about what had happened over the last six years) and occasionally falling back into fits of lust whenever the mood took them. As they sat curled up on the couch, watching TV, Lydia sipping coffee, he felt that this may have been one of the best things to ever happen to him.

"Do you... want to stay the night?" She glanced at him, hopeful eyes betraying her outwardly calm appearance. He grinned.

"Hmm... go back to my mouldy old roadhouse and sleep with nothing but roaches for company, or stay here with you?" He smiled, posing thoughtfully. "Tricky... I do like the mould..." She pouted for a moment, seemingly unsure whether he was joking or not, but as he leant over and kissed her, she seemed to relax. He had noticed that this older Lydia had something of a sore spot when he made jokes about himself, or them, or other women... not in a bitter way, but simply that she didn't look like she enjoyed hearing him say that sort of thing. Maybe she'd lost her sense of humour a little... but then, she found all his other jokes hilarious. Maybe she was just tired. Grinning wickedly, inspired by the way the dim light played across her delicate features and porcelain skin, he took her hand and began to float up towards the ceiling, bringing her with him. Catching on to his sly expression, she blushed and smiled back, giggling as he gripped her, and then began to float freely around the house. If she was tired, she could rest up tomorrow. Today was for celebrating their new relationship in as many ways as he could think of.