Cinderjuice

A Beetlejuice fanfic by Lady Norbert

Author's Notes: This is the chapter where I really must thank Tumblr's "bcctlejuice." She told me she headcanons human!Beetlejuice as the young James Spader, and I liked the idea so much that I (with her blessing) used it here. Do an image search and you'll see what I'm describing.

Also, I simply could not resist putting in a particular line from the movie. And yes, deadly nightshade flowers are perfectly safe to handle; just don't eat the fruit.

Chapter Four: Arranging the Right Conditions

At first, Beetlejuice wasn't sure she'd noticed him. He was watching from the mirror of her dressing table; Lydia sat on the bed, hunched over her sketchpad. She seemed oblivious to his presence.

"I feel like I've barely seen you lately," she said suddenly.

At that, he laughed. "You're too busy for me," he said in a teasingly sulky voice.

"I'm not!" she protested. "Well... a little. But I don't mean to be. I just have so much going on with the school year starting to end. Scholarship applications, college admission essays, all that stuff."

"Mm." His tone was non-committal; those things didn't mean much to him, but they were important to her, which was enough to make them matter. "Whatcha doin' now?"

She chuckled, still sketching. "I finally won the standoff with Mom about my prom dress. She wanted to take me shopping for some wretched pink thing. It took some doing, but I got her to agree that this is too good an opportunity for me to be creative; she just made me promise that I won't wear black or gray."

"Mmhmm." He leaned halfway out of the mirror, unable to go farther without being summoned. "So? What's it going to be then?"

"You don't get to see it until it's ready," she returned. "But I guess you can know the color." She pointed at a supply of deep plum fabric on the sewing machine table; it seemed to shimmer a little. "What do you think?"

"Exquisite, my dear," he drawled idly. Returning to his normal voice, he asked, "Are you sure you can have it done in time?"

"You once helped me make an entire cast's worth of Shakespeare costumes in nine hours. I think I can handle one dress in three weeks." She chuckled and tore off her sketch. "So what's the plan, anyway? You know my parents want to meet my mystery date."

"I've got it all worked out, Lyds," he assured her. "I get ten hours once the shoes are on. We'll coordinate our watches, and you'll say the magic B-words once I'm changed and sitting in Doomie."

"You're bringing Doomie?" she asked, delighted.

"Gotta ride in style, Lyds! Besides, he gave me the pouty face." Beetlejuice scowled. "It's just easier to give in than deal with that staring at me all day."

She laughed. "You're such a softie, BJ."

"Am not! Eugh!"

"All right, so I juice you and Doomie here at the appointed hour. And you have to be back in the Neitherworld before the ten hours are up." She tapped her pencil to her lips thoughtfully. "That gives us about an hour for you to 'meet' my parents and take photos here, and maybe another half hour or so to stop by the cemetery and take some pictures there before we head for the school gym. So as long as we skip any of the after-parties, we should be fine for me to juice you home in time."

"Aw, do we have to skip all the parties? I could bring some Party People in a Can and leave them at Claire's place," he teased.

"Prom's not on a full moon, it wouldn't be quite as much fun." She chuckled, shaking her head. "After-parties are lame anyway, from what I hear. People getting drunk, doing stupid things, who knows what else. I'd rather hang out with just you any day of the week."

"Aw, shucks, Babes. Well, when you put it that way, I'll have to be satisfied with burning up the dance floor at the prom."

"Are we going to..." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Only if you want to." He smirked.

"You know the answer to that."

"That's my Lydster! Of course we will!"

She giggled. "I'm really glad you worked this out, Beetlejuice. It just wouldn't have been the same without you."

"What, and deprive you of the chance to show up Claire? Perish the thought."

"I gotta admit, Beetlejuice," said Ginger on the day of the prom, "I'm still kinda in shock about what you're doing tonight. A whole evening of being clean and pleasant? How are you gonna stand it?"

"Believe me, Ging, I'm trying not to ask the same question," he grumbled. "Once I get back, we are never going to speak of this again."

"I am sure Lydia appreciates it, Be-attle-juice," Jacques pointed out.

"Which is the only reason I'm even bothering. Yecch." He looked at the time and sighed a bit. "I guess I'd better get this over with."

He dragged his feet outside to where Doomie stood parked at attention. The car honked excitedly. "Soon, Doomster," Beetlejuice promised, popping the trunk open. He pulled out the box containing the shoes. "Had to keep these where I wouldn't lose them," he explained, returning to the Roadhouse's w(rec)ked room and opening the package. "Well... here goes nothing, huh?"

He sat down on the old wooden couch and kicked off his boots. The shiny leather shoes which the Fairy Godfather had provided seemed to almost laugh at him. With a vague sense of dread, he pulled them on and got to his feet. "They feel okay, I guess. Wait... what the..." Smoke was pouring out from beneath the soles of the shoes, rising in a bluish cloud and encircling Beetlejuice until he was completely obscured from view. "What's happening? Hey!"

"Be-attle-juice!" All Jacques and Ginger could do was wait, coughing and trying to wave away the strange billowing cloud. It finally dissipated, leaving them staring in disbelief at what remained.

"Hi... I'm BJ."

BJ, as it turned out, looked to be about 19 years old. He was of medium height and build, with fluffy, dishwater blond hair which fell almost to his shoulders, and his eyes were rather unexpectedly blue. He was studying himself in the mirror with some perplexity; Beetlejuice's usual ensemble was gone, replaced by a well-cut black pinstripe suit and white dress shirt. Around his neck was a black tie patterned with tiny white bats, and a small flower was tucked into the buttonhole of the jacket.

"Sacre bleu," Jacques managed. "Be-attle-juice! Is it really you?"

"More or less, yeah."

"Is this what you looked like... you know, before?" Ginger asked, gaping.

"Before I died? I think so. It was a long time ago, I don't entirely remember." He felt his jaw. "Man, the voice is weird, isn't it? I almost wouldn't know it was me speaking, if I didn't know it was me speaking. Hey, I'd better get out to Doomie before Lyds springs the B-words. Catch you later."

Within the hour, Doomie was parked outside the Deetz residence, and BJ was ringing the doorbell with flowers in his hand. "We've come for your daughter, Chuck," he muttered under his breath, snickering.

Charles Deetz opened the door, wearing the single most apprehensive expression BJ could ever remember seeing on his face. "Oh. You must be... BJ. Please, come in, Lydia will be down in a minute."

"Thank you, Mr. Deetz." BJ bit back a groan of disgust at his own politeness, but he kept a strangled smile glued in place. Do it for her.

"Oh, BJ!" trilled Delia, as they entered the living room. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you! Lydia's told us all about you!"

"Oh - she has?" Babes, what did you tell them?

"Yeah. Beetleman Junior, huh?" Charles didn't look too happy.

Aha. "Oh, right, you've met, uh, my father. I hope you won't hold that against me," he offered with a chuckle.

Lydia's parents exchanged a surprised look. "...maybe he's adopted," Charles muttered hopefully. "So, I want my daughter home by one, all right?"

"Of course, sir!"

"Oh, and here she comes," said Delia, turning as she heard Lydia's step on the stairs. "Well! The dress is... your creativity is utterly explosive, dear."

BJ turned, and the grin that split his features was genuine. The gown she'd refused to show him was sleeveless, strapless, and hugged her at the waist, then flared out from the knees. Matching plum-colored opera gloves sheathed her arms to the elbows. Over the bodice of the dress she had crafted a sort of netting - shiny black beadwork arranged to resemble bats in flight and spiders crawling over intricate webs. Only Lyds could come up with something like that.

"Hi, BJ." If she was surprised by his appearance, she hid it well.

"Hi, Lyds. Oh - here." He somewhat clumsily offered the corsage.

"Calla lilies and deadly nightshade? My favorite!"

They suffered through a short eternity of picture snapping, but finally made their escape to the impatiently waiting Doomie. "Meep meep!"

Lydia laughed. "Thanks, Doomie. You look beautiful too." Settling down next to BJ in the front seat, she eyed him. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I'm gonna get. This body's so weird, Babes. I've seen four bugs since I got here and I didn't have an urge to eat any of them." He smirked at her. "Nice cover story with the Beetleman Junior thing. I was half expecting your dad to kick me out when that came up."

"Yeah, he wasn't really thrilled, but I told him you're nothing like your 'father.' Mom was more okay with it, but she's probably just excited about my finally going on a date." She pitched her voice a bit higher, mocking Delia. "Lydia, how are you ever going to meet a nice boy if you spend all your free time exploring cemeteries or raising worms?"

"Hate to break it to you, Lyds, but I'm not a nice boy." He wriggled his eyebrows teasingly, and she laughed.

"Beej, I figured that out for myself a long time ago. Now come on, let's go have some fun."