AN: So i altered the time frame a little, dragging this into the 21st C because i need a few pieces of technology that didn't exist in the 90's. I know, because i was there. This is actually part one of a chapter that got to be a little too long. It was making me nervous. Hugs and kisses!

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Chapter 7: Ghosts are People Too.

Lydia pedaled all the way down to 2nd Street in a daze. In her mind her fingers still drifted against the corded muscles of his back, his scars like a road map in Braille. And his casual dismissal… "It's not nice out there. Forget about it." And then, as he bowed his head like a child under her hands, "…no one ever touches me like this…" Was he just reeling her in? She shook her head and the front tire wobbled over a tree grate. She was dating a boy, already. Benji. A real commitment. And Beetlejuice was completely not her type. He was obnoxious and wild… except that he had been so quiet. No longer a ghost, no longer powerful and invulnerable. Just a man. A man though; definitely not a boy.

Bad Lydia, she sighed to herself. But the feeling of his warm, damp skin wouldn't leave her fingertips. As she wandered through the racks at East Villiage Thrift, she found herself fingering soft materials—linens and brushed cotton, silks and well-worn denim. The clothes she picked out for him were nicer than what she normally picked out for herself, but at the register, she paid without complaint. At the drug store, she blushed between boxers and briefs, having not noticed either in the pile of his cast off clothing. Finally unable to stop imagining him in briefs, she grabbed two packages of plaid boxers, along with Caswell- Massey deodorant that smelled like sandlewood, because everything else seemed too modern, socks, and a double pack of toothbrushes. And as she was leaving, she walked by the first aid shelves and put a tube of muscle rub in as well, the kind that helped to heal bruises. Anything else would have to wait until she got paid by the district again. Including the much-needed coffee.

But when she got home, the coffee was already on. Its rich, comforting smell drifted out to greet her as she locked her bike in the apartment front hall rack and shouldered her canvas shopping bag. She unlocked her apartment door to find Beetlejuice wandering around in the kitchen, wearing a pair of her sweatpants so low on his hips that she could see the beginning shadow of the line delineating his abdomen. She swallowed. He was definitely trying to reel her in. Deep breath. In. Out. Think of Benji. Benji made her coffee all the time. Benji looked great in sweatpants.

Lydia set the bag down and Beetlejuice turned and smiled crookedly at her. His hair was just as wild as it had been before, but he looked positively rosy. She attempted a small smile. "Feeling better?" Thank the gods her voice was steady.

"I kinda like this bath thing." His voice was full of mischief, and the warning bells set off in her head.

"Where didja get the sweatpants, Beej?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. He looked down at what he was wearing and then grinned at her. Big warning bells.

"I can take 'em off, if you insist…" He made to tug at them and she almost jumped out of her skin to prevent him, her eyes wide and hands outstretched.

"No! No. Lord, no. Keep them. They're yours." She blew out a breath, and his eyes sparkled with wicked amusement. She scowled at him and gestured at the bag. "Here. All for you, Lord knows why." She flopped down on the couch and he brought her a cup of coffee, the cup swaying dangerously in his hands against his swagger. She took it gratefully and freed of his burden, he pounced on the bag, dumping it all out on the floor at once.

The t-shirts he brushed over fleetingly with his fingertips. All dark colors, but she had gotten him a white linen buttondown, which he lifted to the light to examine carefully. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "We goin' out on the town, Lyds?" She simply smiled at him, refusing to be baited. A couple pairs of comfortable jeans, and a dark pair of linen trousers he grinned at, and set them next to the shirt. "I like Italian." But he didn't even look to see her reaction, because he had found the boxers. "Ah, you bought these for me? You're braver than I thought!" He chuckled darkly, his eyes glittering, and she fought a blush.

"21st century, B. People wear underwear."

"I'm flattered you think I'm a person." His voice was low, and he uncapped the deodorant and sniffed it, and then gave her a mildly impressed look. "Nice."

She frowned at him, not even distracted as he rubbed deodorant under each armpit. She was almost getting used to his shocking freeness of action—he didn't seem to be bound by any sort of modesty at all. It was sort of refreshing. But this… "Why would I not think you were a person?" He was peering suspiciously at the toothbrushes, but lowered them as he looked up to meet her eyes.

"Because I'm not. I'm a poltergeist." He rocked up onto his knees and crawled over to the couch, resting a hand on either side of her hips. She backed slightly away from him, but he gazed at her intently. "I've been dead for six hundred years, Lydia. This is all a bit weird, even for me." And then he just held her gaze for a moment, just as if he were holding her hand. His eyes were a brilliant, almost unnatural green, and the way that he was looking her she could feel like a thready burn in the pit of her stomach. All she could think coherently was that Benji never looked at her like this.

The phone rang, startling them both. Lydia reached over to the phone on the little table next to the couch, her hip resting against his forearm. He watched her in unnerving silence.

"Hello? Hi, John. Okay, where?" She reached even further for a notepad and pen, but he didn't move out of her way. She tried very hard to ignore him. "West or east? Oh, in SoHo? Cross street? Grand. Gotcha. Be there in half an hour." She set the phone down and turned back to her accidental flatmate, who at the moment was close enough to kiss. Or bite. Lydia sunk back into the couch, and he gave her a feral grin. She swallowed hard. "If you behave, you can come see where I work, B."

"And if I don't?" And entire universe of possibilities flashed through his darkened eyes, and his voice was barely audible, even this close, as if he were tempting her to lean even closer.

"Oh, I think you might want to see this." She grinned at him. "And Benji will be there."

He rolled his eyes, his carefully crafted spell fracturing in his own annoyance. "Oh goody." He stood abruptly and she was free. She felt his heat go with him. And felt somehow less without it. She stood slowly, and brushed off her pants.

"I'll be out in a minute. I just need a quick bath." She headed to her bedroom and then he heard the water running. He propped himself against the doorframe.

"Need any help washin' your hair?"

"Definitely not!" But her voice sounded a little strained, and he smiled. Maybe he would need less than a week.