A/N: Heads up! Some sexual content in this one.

Chapter Ten

Lurking at the end of a corridor in the hotel tower building's third floor, eyes fixed on the door of Room 257, Harry found himself waiting for no more than twenty minutes before a rounded, short-haired blond and a willowy red-head stepped out with a beach bag and towels. Instantly recognising them as the two that had left the food hall ahead of Lydia and Beetlejuice that morning, Harry tailed them at a distance, keeping within earshot.
He had to know precisely what situation he was getting himself into. It sounded ridiculous even to himself – that revenge could take over his mind so completely – but there was more to it than the crimes he'd committed in life. 'Beetlejuice' wasn't all that innocent. And, judging by the conversation he was overhearing, it appeared that this was in more ways that one.

"W-W-What are you saying, Delia?" The blond asked his wife nervously, fiddling with the sunglasses perched on the top of his head.
"Oh, I don't know, Charles," She shook her head beside him, sounding troubled. "I might just be imagining things,"

Harry didn't like stalking them, only for the fact that he couldn't see their expressions. As the pair began to glance around the hall he thought it was only a matter of time before they heard footsteps behind them and looked back. Seeing as they were heading to the pool anyway he changed from his casual outfit into his lifeguard uniform without another moment's hesitation.

The husband – Charles – bit his bottom lip. "M-Maybe you should s-start from the beginning, dear?"
"But your nerves, Charles–"
"If it's a-about Lydia then I want to hear it,"
Delia hesitated and took a deep breath.

By now they were approaching the elevators. Knowing he wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on them if they took one – not having strong enough 'juice' to possess anything – Black willed a pair of 'out of order' signs to hang on the elevator doors. When they reached them, the Deetzs glanced at them in passing as they walked by, but didn't say anything aloud, taking the stairs instead. Whether this had been their intention all along, Harry couldn't be sure, but he was relieved all the same.

Delia finally loosened her tongue. "Don't you think it's odd how Lydia and Beetleman are always... together?" She asked suddenly. "Always have been?"

Harry at first thought he'd misheard her before he realised Delia's use of 'Beetleman' was intentional. What was that about, exactly? And why did this strain of conversation sound so uncomfortable, as though it were unnatural for a couple to be together all the time? Unless they didn't know they were a couple.

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "I… I never really noticed, Delia,"

Mrs Deetz was doing something with her hands that Harry couldn't see – fumbling anxiously, no doubt. She must have been deliberating whether or not to say something, because she finally spoke with such a heaviness that it made the atmosphere so tense it became practically tangible. "… I caught him leaving her room last night," She admitted quietly.
Charles turned to look at his wife, pale, and from what Harry could see of his face he looked like he would faint outright. His only otherwise discernable reaction was that of his bottom lip quivering.

Their stalker quickly decided this conversation was no longer something it would be okay to be casually caught eavesdropping in on. He mustered his power into turning himself invisible, a form he could never maintain for very long, but that he hoped would at least hold until they reached the bottom of the stairwell.

"Now, he told me he was giving Lydia his cell phone to talk to B. J.–"

At the use of that name, Harry flinched. This conversation was getting too complicated for an outsider to comprehend off the bat. Weren't B. J. and Beetlejuice the same person? And wasn't this woman referring to Beetlejuice as 'Beetleman' as well?

"–but when I asked Lydia this morning she said she hadn't spoken to him."

Charles was stammering a response that he couldn't get out, and finally gave up, trying to take calming breaths. His wife, in the meantime, sounded guilty that she was relaying this information to him at all. She patted her husband on the shoulder, giving it an affectionate rub. "There's… something else, Charles. I found one of Mr Beetleman's old business cards this morning. I have it in print that his name is B. J. Beetleman but when I asked him over breakfast he said that he was–"
"'R-Rex'…" Charles finished weakly, voice high.

Harry soon came to realise that this wasn't as complicated as it had first seemed after all. The fact was, B. J. Duce had been a chiseller, and it was clear now that Beetlejuice was guilty of the same. What were a few alter egos here and there? Especially with the living. And if they were horrified at the idea of 'Beetleman' leaving Lydia's room, then surely that meant they didn't know they were a couple.

Delia lowered her head, shifting her hold on her towel and bag in order to link arms with her husband. "I thought I was imagining it but even his relatives seem to know something we don't. I don't know what's going on here, but I don't like it,"

They were reaching the bottom of the staircase, and Harry could no longer keep himself incognito. Besides that, he couldn't contain himself any longer. He'd seen a blinding opportunity, and he had to seize it with both hands. He transformed himself, giving himself a generally more acceptable, people-friendly face (nose included) and appeared less corpse-like to boot, coughing emphatically behind them as he popped back into existence. "Uh, pardon me, ma'am. I didn't mean to eavesdrop,"

Delia shrieked, dropping all she'd been carrying and throwing her arms up in the air, almost knocking Charles over the side of the staircase in the process. Charles, too, let out a flustered cry and clung onto the very railings he'd almost sailed over. Naturally, it was Delia who calmed down first. Hand on her heart, she let out a tinkling laughter. "O-Oh, hello. Sorry, we didn't see you there. C-Can I help you?"

Harry feigned an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to startle you, ma'am. I see you're heading for the pool; I'm the hotel lifeguard,"
"Oh! I see," Delia said, clasping her hands together and smiling. Just like that, she justified his sudden appearance, and flashed her husband a look, telling him without words to recover quickly.

Harry fiddled with the whistle strung around his neck, hoping he appeared sheepish and genuine enough. Even so, these two looked pretty naïve. "I hope you don't mind, but I overheard what you were saying. Your daughter, she's the celebrity, right?"
He wasn't to know that the Deetzs had no idea about Lydia's brief singing career in the Neitherworld. Luckily for him, they understood his meaning an entirely different but plausible way. Delia laughed. "Celebrity? Oh—ahah, how sweet. She was only in a magazine. Are you local to Peaceful Pines?"

Peaceful Pines? The name escaped Harry. If they were from the Outerworld then it wasn't any town he'd heard of, unless it was a new town or one that had been renamed. It might even have been a district, for all he knew.
What had become clear to him, however, was that the Deetzs didn't know Lydia had been a Neitherworldian celebrity. Okay. He'd remember that. In fact, it seemed like the two of them didn't know much about their daughter at all.

Harry wouldn't let himself hesitate for long, he had to latch onto their trust while he had it.
"Yes, ma'am." He lied. "The thing is, your daughter… she hangs around with that blond guy, am I right? Thirty-something? Penchant for pinstripes?"

Charles straightened, hands still latched firmly on the stair railing. "H-H-He's our t-tour guide: Mr Beetleman." He stammered, nodding.
Harry nodded along with him, making his face one of gentlemanly concern. He imagined getting a damn Oscar for this. "You've gotta understand, I don't do this often, but—how old's your daughter? Twenty? Twenty-one?"
Delia gulped. "Nineteen. She'll be twenty soon,"

Harry took in a breath that sounded like a disapproving hiss, pursing his lips and shaking his head once. "I see. It's just that… that 'tour guide' of yours. He seems pretty cosy with her,"
Charles and Delia paled. This shouldn't have been anything new. Pre-vacation they would have just agreed and ignored the implications, but now too many things had been called into question in such a brief period of time. Delia cast her eyes away, twiddling her thumbs. "He's a- a friend of the family. We've known him for years, we've–"

Harry stopped her there. He wouldn't let her make excuses; he needed to create a wedge between the Deetzs and 'Beetleman', and he needed that divide so that they could come over to his side. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but do y'really know him as well as you think you do?" He pried.
Charles looked like he might pass out. "D-Delia…" He stammered, looking at her. His wife, however, was slowly turning red in the face. Harry couldn't tell if Delia was about to yell or burst into tears.
To try and further warrant his interruption, Harry shrugged his shoulders lightly. "They were together at the pool yesterday." He explained.
Delia nodded. "T-That's right,"
Harry made a face back at her as if to say "yes, that is right" and Delia's face reddened only further.

He feigned a comforting smile. "I'd just keep my eye on 'em if I were you. She's at that age, discovering herself and becoming a woman and all that. I just think it's wrong if he's taking advantage, especially if it's right under your noses."
The Deetzs reactions suggested that he was right on the money with that one. He wanted to smirk, but wouldn't let this good-guy façade drop.
Passing them on the stairs, Harry gave them a farewell nod. "Well then, see you both by the pool,"

Charles and Delia could only stare forlornly after him.

It was now the end of only the second day of vacation, and Delia couldn't sleep. Eleven o'clock at night, and she was lying in bed staring straight up at the ceiling. Charles wasn't having much luck either.

Mind brimming with anxieties and unanswered questions, thinking too much to be able to drift off, eventually Delia stopped pretending. She sat bolt upright. "This is no good, Charles," She said, beginning to remove her hair curlers.
"D-D-Delia?" Her husband whimpered, pulling the bed sheets up to his chin. He stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

Swinging out of bed, Delia tucked her feet into a pair of slippers, picking up her dressing gown from where she'd folded it onto the back of a chair by the balcony. "I'm going to just… go over there,"
"But, dear…" Charles objected. He much preferred the idea of not-knowing then knowing and having horrible suspicions confirmed.

If you'd have asked the Deetzs, they probably would have said that there was nothing explicitly wrong with the idea of Lydia and 'Mr Beetleman'. No, it was all the factors that went along with it. The idea that he'd seen Lydia grow up, that that might have been his intention all along, that 'B. J. Beetleman' was now involved, that Lydia had been lying to them, that the two of them were going behind their backs… that was what was wrong.

Delia shook her head, heading for the bedroom door. "I'm going to settle our curiosity once and for all, Charles," She said with conviction, leaving her husband trembling and whimpering in the bed behind her.

She didn't know what she expected to see, exactly, but she was confronted with her worst nightmare when she got down the hall. Sure enough, Mr Beetleman was heading towards Lydia's door.
Delia felt faint.

"Mr Beetleman?" She said, quieter than she meant to. It didn't matter, he'd heard her all the same. Whipping around, Beetlejuice's eyes went wide. He retreated from the door faster than a bullet, swinging around in such a way that Delia half-convinced herself that he hadn't been heading for it after all. "Oh, h-h-hey, Mrs D," He greeted with a nod of the head. He was in that zany striped suit they'd increasingly been spotting him in rather than his usual handy-man outfits. "W-Walking the halls again?"
Delia pursed her lips. "Just heading downstairs to reception…" She excused, but didn't detail anymore than that. It wasn't her that had any explaining to do.

She stared at him with eyes that were desperate for answers, but those eyes just made Beetlejuice uncomfortable. And guilty. Incredibly guilty.
He smoothed his hair back, a lopsided smile forming out of his lips. He couldn't think of an excuse for why he was standing there or where he was headed, he could only think of an excuse to get him out of this situation. "Right, well– I, uh, ain't feelin' too hot so, uh…" He made to turn around, but Delia didn't let him get far enough.
"Were you heading to Lydia's room?" She asked, the concern creeping into her voice against her will.
Beetlejuice's eyebrows practically flew into his hair. "Wha–? N-N-No, no, of course not! Ahahaha…" He laughed off, sidestepping away from the door for good measure.
"Of course not," Delia repeated, but wasn't convinced.

Beetlejuice didn't like the almost sarcastic tone to her voice. He needed to be more believable. "I'm… uh… just out for an evenin' walk. Think I've come down with somethin', went to get some meds." Staring at his girlfriend's step-mother for a little longer, trying to judge from her expression whether or not he had to convince her any further, he eventually shrugged. "Well. Uh. Yeah. So, um, catch ya later, Mrs D," He said, hoping she'd let him retreat. She did.

Delia watched him go, and found that her pleading eyes had become glaring ones that were shooting daggers at his retreating back. She kept watching him until she was satisfied that he'd headed for the stairwell. Then, gathering her courage, she rapped on the door of 213.

No response.

Lydia's asleep, Delia. Just let her be. She tried to tell herself, but her hand wasn't listening. Her rapping sped up, before turning to loud, rhythmic knocking on the surface of the door. Before she could hammer on it in her urgency, she heard stirring inside and footsteps padding over to the door.

See? She was asleep. She's going to open up the door and she's going to be upset that you woke her up. She's going to–

Delia barely recognized the purring, seductive voice that came from the other side of the door as the handle was fumbled with, and it slowly began to open. "Well, aren't you being polite, knocking on the door for a change, Mister Beet-" The door was now completely ajar, and Lydia was stood in the doorframe, staring at her step-mother in horror. "Mom!" She practically shrieked. Most of her porcelain-pale skin was visible, and the only garment she appeared to be wearing was a black silk negligee that clung to her body like a second skin, and left nothing to the imagination.

If Lydia was horrified, she had nothing on Delia. "What is going on here?" She demanded, forcefully stepping into the room.
Face suddenly a flaming scarlet in colour, Lydia backed up and covered herself up as best as she could by wrapping her arms around herself. "I-It's not what it looks like! I swear!" She said, and felt so childish for doing so.

Delia practically slammed the door to a shut behind her. Her eyes were shining with wetness, but her anger was coming thick and fast before her concern. "Don't feed me that line, Lydia. What is going on between you and Beetleman?"
A breath was forced from Lydia's throat that came out as a sob. "Nothing!" She lied frantically, stumbling back deeper into her room. She had to think. She had to think fast.

Delia shook her head and laughed, but there was no amusement in that laugh, only disappointment. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Lydia?"
"No!"
"I was your age once." She reminded her, frustration causing her face to crumple. "What about B. J.?"
With her way-out presented to her on a silver platter, Lydia decided that this was the easiest of all the escape routes. She nodded furiously, brushing her dark hair out of her face. "T-T-That's just it! It is B. J.! H-He's here!"
Delia stopped, her panicked anger and concern dissipating as quickly as it had built up. Her blue eyes widened, softening. "… Sorry?" She prompted, blinking dazedly.

Lydia, who was glad to have been rescued from the brink of tears, nodded again. "B. J.'s here," She repeated, and suddenly she found it wasn't very hard to lie - it didn't even feel like a lie at all. "He managed to ditch the volunteer work. He's downstairs, or... he was, anyway. I'm sorry about trying to lie to you about not getting the phone call last night but I- I didn't know how you'd take the news,"
Luckily for Lydia, her lies didn't sound like half-assed excuses. This all made sense to Delia, maybe because it was precisely what she had wanted to hear. Not that this scenario was one she had wanted to see; the sight of Lydia in a sexy negligee was totally unwelcome. But… she was nineteen, a woman, and she was in a relationship. It was only healthy, she supposed.

All the fight draining out of her, Delia relaxed. "When were you going to tell us about this, young lady?" She asked softly.
Lydia felt so guilty that it pained her.
I hate lying to you, Delia. I really do. She thought, bowing her head.

"He only just got here, Mom. We thought it was pretty late to bother you with…"

There was a knocking at the door that interrupted them, and a muffled, familiar male voice called Lydia's name. It was Beetlejuice, and somehow he'd overheard what was going on. Now here he was, playing along as B. J. Beetleman.

Lydia found a dressing gown out of the wardrobe quickly, cheeks flushed.
"He didn't know about the, uh- choice of nightwear, mother." She swore, hoping to make the situation a bit less uncomfortable, even if it meant tarnishing how Delia would see her from now on. "Really. It's all me."
Delia numbly inclined her head. Like she said, she'd been there, done that, got the t-shirt at that age. As soon as Lydia was decent she opened up the hotel-room door to find an apologetic looking 'B. J. Beetleman' standing there, smiling weakly.

Beetlejuice had never admitted this to Lydia, but this form had been pretty much how he'd looked as a teenager and young twenty-something when he'd been alive anyway – molded by his over-bearing mother, who wanted to make sure he looked presentable and courteous at all times.
B. J.'s blond hair was short, long fringe slicked to one side, and he was wearing a white shirt, black suspenders, plus a matching tie and trousers. Delia hadn't seen a young man of B. J.'s 'age' in suspenders for years, but she didn't even bother calling this into question, she was too relieved that he was here.
"B. J.," She greeted, breathing out heavily. "What a nice surprise,"

Beetlejuice, obviously, didn't seem startled by Delia opening up the door. "Evening, Mrs Deetz,"
Delia nodded back into the room, over in her step-daughter's direction. "Lydia was just going to bed,"
'B. J.' nodded, clasping his hands behind his back, and smoothed the anxiety out of his face. "Well, it is getting late. I just came up to say goodnight,"

Lydia then came over to the door, still red in the face, and wrapped her nightgown tighter around herself. She could hardly bear to look at Beetlejuice in case her face betrayed her but when she did she managed to smile gratefully. "Night, B. J.," She breathed.
Delia patted Lydia on the shoulder before stepping out of the room. "Are you staying at the hotel tonight, B. J.?" She asked as she brushed by him, giving the two of them a little space.

"O-Oh, uh…" Beetlejuice wondered what the best answer would be, wanting to keep the peace. "Only tonight. B-Be around for tomorrow. I don't want to ruin your vacation. I've got—I mean, Dad's, uh, got a bad—head. Luckily I managed to get out of volunteerin' so I could come up here and, y'know, see you folks." His face hurt from how much he was smiling.

Delia let out a breath of relief, and sagged a little with it. She looked tired, cupping her forehead in her hand, but she nodded anyway. "Yes… Yes, your father did say he wasn't feeling well,"
"He just caught a bug." B. J. clarified.
Lydia looked away, her lips perking up into a smile. "I'm sure he did…"
Beetlejuice tried not to smile himself. "But I'll be sharin' his room for tonight. Keep an eye on 'im,"

Delia nodded in understanding and offered them both a smile, wrapping her arms around herself. "I see." She said. "Well, it's nice to see you, B. J."
The disguised ghost nodded, deciding it was time to get out, and quick. "You too, ma'am. G'night, Mrs Deetz. Lyds,"
He retreated from the door, but Delia decided to leave with him, offering Lydia an apologetic smile as she went. The two of them soon parted ways at a fork in the corridor.

Dazed, Lydia closed her hotel room door. Not a second after she'd done so, Beetlejuice appeared behind her, slumping to the floor and letting out a weighty sigh of relief. "Talk about a close shave…" He breathed. He regretted the choice of words instantly, as an electric razor suddenly appeared into existence beside his head and narrowly missed clipping his ear clean off. His eyes went wide, and he let out a shriek as he leapt up to his feet and dashed away from the mad razor that proceeded to chase him around the room. "EYAGHHH!"

Used to such manic displays, Lydia collapsed back onto the bed, still shocked from the whole scenario. "… I have no desire to ever go through that again." She muttered a tad melodramatically, arms out either side of her head.
After realising that he could just make the razor disappear, Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and dispelled it, before pouting a little, looking down at her. "Why didn't'cha just let the truth come out, babes?"

Lydia stared at him, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? We would have been dead meat!"
"Would've been a shorter trip for me than for you."
"Beej, this is serious." Lydia whined, draping an arm over her face. "I'll… I'll tell them the truth. It just has to be the right time."
"When is the right time, babes?" Beetlejuice frowned, folding his arms. "How many more skeletons do you want in your—my closet, anyways? They're adding up now, Lyds."
"Don't remind me." Lydia moaned into her forearm, before falling still and letting out a sigh. "… This was a bad idea."

Beetlejuice knew what she meant. She meant the vacation, she meant about sharing rooms. She didn't mean them.
He sat down next to her on the bed, smiling. "Nah, it wasn't." He scolded her.
At this Lydia smiled. No, it wasn't. Or at least, it didn't have to be. They could still make it work.
Pulling him down to lie next to her, she curled up beside him, resting her head on his chest. "Beej?"
"Mrm?"
Drawing circles on his stomach, she looked up at him, expression gently probing. "You said you were going to tell me. About your nightmare."

The ghost blinked, but realised this subject was something he couldn't avoid any longer. He'd bluffed his way out of it too many times before. He shouldn't have been afraid to tell Lydia anything, he'd always struggled to keep things from her.
"Oh. Right,"
Trying to decide how much he was going to tell her before he started, he cupped the back of her head with his hand, and used his other to pull her closer to him, draping one of her slender legs over his. "It was just a flashback, babes." He explained honestly.

Lydia nosed his torso, hands working at the the knot of his tie. "To when?"
"Oh, y'know… my breather days,"
"They were the stuff of nightmares?" She pressed, sceptical.
"Some of 'em." Beetlejuice admitted, helping her slip the tie out from around his collar before unbuttoning his shirt ready for bed. After wrestling out of it, along with his suit jacket, he tucked back up beside her, and scooted them both back further along the bed so that they were resting in the pillows.

He knew that Lydia wasn't just going to leave the subject there, and he didn't expect her to. As he ran his red-tipped fingers through her hair, Lydia rested her cheek on his cold skin. She loved the feel of it, soothing, refreshing, like the cold side of a pillow. It was a strange way to look at it, but in their case it certainly paid to have unique taste.
"… I don't know much about who you were, Beetlejuice." Lydia eventually said softly.

Beetlejuice just shrugged, but he smiled all the same. "I'm not that person anymore, babes. Well, I am, but… I don't wanna remember that person. I didn't have anythin' worth livin' or dyin' for."
"You have me," Lydia told him, pressing her lips to his chest in a brief kiss.
"Now I do." Beetlejuice agreed, and both of them smiled.

After a comfortable period of silence, Lydia let out a yawn. "You'll tell me more later, right?" She said around it, barely intelligibly.
Beetlejuice blinked. "What's more to tell?"
"Well…" Lydia smiled tactfully, ceasing her actions of trying to get cosy beside him after settling into a position she was happy to sleep in. "… if it were all a flashback then you- wouldn't have been calling my name- in your sleep…"

At these astute powers of deduction, Beetlejuice's eyebrows rose slightly. "Lyds–" He began, glancing down at her, but she was already falling sound asleep. Scratching his forehead in silent wonder, he led back and stared at the painted ceiling. Lydia had a curious ability of being able to fall asleep at any given moment, something that Beetlejuice was moderately struggling with lately. It wasn't as though he needed sleep, but it was a ritual that he was more than happy not to be separated from. Glancing down at her once more, he shook his head and smiled. … How in the Neitherworld does she do that?

The reception desk wasn't well-staffed during the night shift. Tonight they'd penciled in for the desk to be covered by a teenaged ghoul who preferred spending his time in the hotel games room. It didn't take Harry all of five seconds to convince the kid to go and waste some time on some arcade games while respectable lifeguard 'Tate' took over and held down the fort. As soon as he was behind the counter, he rummaged madly through files and mashed the buttons of a computer keyboard, a computer he had no idea how to use. They were steadily becoming as commonplace in the Neitherworld as they were in the Outerworld, but Harry, who'd been locked away for most of his afterlife, hadn't had a chance to acclimatise to them.

When he found the pile of confidential paperwork on the guests that were transferred from the Hotel du Yell, it took him a further few minutes to locate the file on the Deetzs, and who had filled out all their details.
There. 'Beetlejuice'. And... that was it, no surname, just 'Beetlejuice'. Oh, and what was this? His address.

Harry couldn't believe how easy it was; all these years he'd pictured getting his hands on B. J. Duce's scrawny little neck and wringing it until his eyes burst from his sockets, and now he could, but he could do it on his own terms, in his own time. He had his address.
He didn't honestly think B. J. was smart enough to use a false one, and luckily for Harry, he hadn't.

The Roadhouse, The Ridge, Lost Souls Highway.
Scrawling the information down on a crumpled piece of paper, Harry stuffed it in his pocket, put all the paperwork back where he'd found it and waited for the teenager to get back from the games room.

He had more work to do.

Beetlejuice and the Deetzs' third day of vacation was spent doing all the things that Lydia and Beetlejuice had thus far planned to avoid: a family breakfast, lunch and dinner at the Gagalot, as well as family-orientated leisure activities such as dance classes, cycling, orienteering and crazy golf (much as B. J. and Lydia would normally enjoy the latter.) The only up-side to this mind-numbingly dull day was that they had managed to avoid Beetlejuice's relatives for the entirety of it, though this was mostly due to the fact that Beetlejuice's guise was B. J. Beetleman and not his 'sick and bedridden' father, who was 'unable to leave his hotel room'.

After dinner, 'B. J.' announced that he had to head back for volunteer work in the morning and the Deetzs later waved him off in the direction of the jetty. Only Lydia knew that as soon as he'd reached the ferry, much as he would have loved to have kept going and never looked back, Beetlejuice 'juiced himself back to their bedroom, and stayed until Lydia retired back to it that evening.

By the time Lydia returned to him, fed up after such a boring day, even Beetlejuice looked miserable.
"This is gettin' ridiculous, babes," He sighed, hovering with his legs folded in mid air.
"I told you," Lydia said, sitting down at the vanity to pry her curling hair out of its ponytail. After she was done and was now instead perched on the end of the bed, Beetlejuice floated down opposite her, his face wrinkled with an expression Lydia couldn't place. Indecision? Regret? She didn't think even he knew.
"I thought this vacation was gonna be a piece o' cake. Yer parents are usually so easy,"

"I know," Lydia looked down at her lap, brow furrowed, her face fallen. "I feel so... guilty, B. J.. I mean, this is our last family vacation together and… here we are, lying to them, sneaking around. This isn't the way I'd want to remember it,"
Beetlejuice frowned. She had a point. "D'ya think we should go home?"
"I don't know…" Head propped up in her hands, Lydia sighed. "We went about this all wrong. I went about this all wrong. You were right, Beetlejuice. We should never have let it get this bad, we should have been honest right from the start,"

"… I said all that?"
"Not in as many words," Lydia closed her eyes. "I just don't see a way out of this. If I tell my parents the truth they'll be shocked. They might not want us to see each other again,"
"Yeah, but… babes, yer a grown woman now."
"I know that, and I know they can't realistically stop me from seeing you, but… I just don't want to ruin what I have with them, Beetlejuice. Before you and I met, we weren't a family, but now we are and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to go back to how things were,"

Beetlejuice dropped down to his feet, looking all the more frustrated. "So what are you suggestin', Lyds? That we never tell 'em?"
"No… No, I'm not saying that. I just need to think about it," Lydia's eyes became faraway as she did just that, retreating into her thoughts. This whole thing was going to require some planning, and some mental preparation.

Beetlejuice scratched the back of his neck, his pointed nose wrinkling. "Let's just hope they aren't mad enough to want me exorcised," He chuckled, but he sounded anxious even to his own ears.
Lydia's head jerked up, her lips parted in horror. "Don't even joke about that!" She reprimanded, but she didn't sound cross, only alarmed. "I couldn't bear to lose you! Not like that, not for good. It would kill me."

"Y'don't have to get all soppy on me, Lyds. I'm not goin' anywhere," Beetlejuice smiled, extending a hand. She took it without hesitation, and Lydia let him tug her up into his arms, his hands snaking around her as he pulled her close to him. Her head slot in perfectly between the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and Lydia rested it there for a moment, suppressing a laugh. "Now who's being soppy?" She teased.
"I don't even care if it's me. I'm not lettin' ya go,"
"Good,"

Lydia paused, the fingers of one hand absently playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. Talking about never letting go, she bit her bottom lip in thought. "Will you still love me when I'm all grey and wrinkly, B. J.?"
"Yep," He replied immediately.
Lydia exhaled through her nose, the sound similar to a single laugh. "Liar,"
"Who's lyin'? I can be yer toy boy, and then you can feel like the pervy older one for a change,"
Now she really did laugh, pulling back enough to look at him with furrowed brows. "Thanks a lot, Beetlejuice,"
He winked back at her, grinning from ear to ear. "Any time, babes,"

They stayed like that for a good few minutes, Lydia still running her hands over the fabric of his suit as her fingers traced columns upon columns of stripes. When she spoke next, her voice was pitched low, and she spoke so quietly that Beetlejuice wondered if she'd actually wanted him to hear her.
"You know I have to die to be with you some time, right?" She whispered.
Beetlejuice's face drained of colour.

He didn't like this line of conversation, it reminded him far too much of his nightmare. For a passing moment all he could see was Black's cruel eyes narrowed above a taunting smile.
'If she loves you, she's going to off herself to be with you anyway...'

Lydia felt him tense up in her arms, and hazarded a glance up at him, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing.
Beetlejuice, however, could only look infinitely sad. His face seemed to line with age suddenly, eyes becoming distant. "Yeah," He said quietly.
Lydia's hand sought out his where one rested on her waist, and squeezed it affectionately. "Will you let it be on my terms?" She asked, tipping her head on one side.

Beetlejuice nodded, snapping out of his reverie, and pushed his nose to hers firmly. "If y'don't do anything stoopid," He said, only half-teasing.
Lydia shook her head. "I'm not a depressed pre-teen anymore, Beetlejuice. I have a life. I want you in it. I just… want an afterlife with you in it too, and not with me following you around in a walking frame, okay?"
Beetlejuice wanted to make a crack about retiree benefits and a disabled sticker for Doomie, but for once in his afterlife he was tired of making a joke out of everything. He held Lydia a little tighter, letting out a breath through his nose. "Okay, babes,"

Wanting to soothe him out of whatever dark thoughts he'd been about to drift into, Lydia nuzzled his upper half. "I love you," She said into his shirt. She swore for a moment that she heard his heart thud in response.
"I love ya too, Lyds," He replied, so honestly that Lydia almost worried for him. Almost. "Me an' you, we're gonna have the whole shebang, babes. Get hitched, move ya into the Roadhouse, adopt a couple o' sprogs…"
"That sounds perfect," She hummed, her face brightening. Then Lydia looked up. "Beetlejuice,"
"Huh?"
"This romantic stuff really doesn't suit you, but it's irresistibly cute,"

Beetlejuice's mouth parted in such surprise that he almost let out a startled laugh. He narrowed his eyes, smirking at her. "Now yer just patronising me,"
"No," Lydia disagreed in a velvety voice, before she began patting him on the top of his head. "Now I'm patronising you,"
Her ghostly lover let out a sound similar to a growl, brows slanting downwards mischievously. Removing his hands from her, Beetlejuice pointed at the four-poster with gusto. "That's it. Get up on that bed, woman,"
Lydia stuck out her tongue, dancing out of his clutches. "Make me,"

"Want it the hard way, huh, Lyds? You can have it the hard way,"
"Talking dirty to me now, Beej?" Lydia teased, before suddenly finding herself scooped up into his arms, bridal-style. Her eyes went wide and she let out a shriek. "Wait—hold on! No, put me down! Beetlejuice!"

"Wha-aaat?" He replied innocently, though Lydia looked up to see he'd 'juiced a pair of small, red horns onto the crown of his head, not to mention that there was now an arrow-head tail whipping back and forth behind him. He leaned in close, grinning lecherously. "Ya told me to make ya,"

"But I'm perfectly capable of walking!" Lydia practically screamed with laughter, her face red and creasing up.
Too late. He'd tossed her onto the bed, and was soon following after her.
"You asked for it, babes. No more mister nice guy," Beetlejuice cooed down at her playfully.
"Who are you kidding? You never were," She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And I wouldn't have you any other way,"

"Y'sure about that?" He teased, suddenly 'shifting into multiple forms above her. First into a version of himself that had shed a good many pounds with straighter teeth, then a too-pretty version that, frankly, hurt to look at, then 'B. J. Beetleman', and then countless other random looks, each one more ridiculous than the last, each trying to be more 'handsome' than his usual self. None were as attractive.

Lydia was laughing too hard, and the laughter was good, because Beetlejuice hadn't wanted it to be called into serious question. "What did I say about not beetlejuicing me in the bedroom?" She cried, playfully hitting him. "Now cut that out! I want my Beetlejuice back. No substitutes,"
Reverting to normal, Beetlejuice grinned happily down at her. Before he could say anything however, Lydia pointed a finger up at him, narrowing her deep brown eyes. "Now, sit back. I have to give you something," She commanded, smiling.

Beetlejuice blinked, brows furrowing, but his grin only widened. He did as he was told, but when he sat back away from her Lydia shook her head and motioned to the pillows. Again, he obeyed, and shimmied to rest with his back to the bed cushions.
Not a moment later Lydia sat up too, but retreated someways back down the bed before parting his legs enough to sit between them.

"What is it, babes?" Beetlejuice asked, trying not to sound too eager. Then a thought struck him: he hadn't missed an important date, had he? Was it an anniversary of some kind? What sort of present could she be-?

Feeling her hands at his suit trousers, Beetlejuice's cheeks burned in realisation.

Oh.

It wasn't a present.

A/N: I thought we needed some fluffy, partially-smutty BJxLyds to get through the drama they've just been through, and to get through what is just about to unfold. That's all I have to say on the matter.