Subconscious
by
Owlcroft

Moving at the speed of a heartbeat.

A/N: One month after they are betrothed.

They greeted each other that afternoon with the now-traditional kisses and long hug. After the usual question of "How was your day" had been answered with the usual "It was okay", Lydia stepped back and looked at Beetlejuice, obviously contemplating something.

"Could you take off your jacket, Beej? And your shirt?"

He was puzzled, suspicious of a prank, and stared at her warily as she proceeded to frame him between her hands.

"I have your shoulder measurements from before," she explained, "but I need the ratio of your shoulders to your hips."

"What for?" He already had the jacket off and hung it on the air next to him.

She moved behind him, head tilted and eyes half-closed. "That's a surprise, for the Christmas dance at school next month."

He removed his shirt then and pretended to shiver in freezing temperatures, turning his head to grin at her. She inched back in front of him and examined him in his undershirt, frowning, considering.

"Could you . . . I mean, I wouldn't ask if I . . . didn't need to, you know, but could you, um, drop your trousers so I could see how your hips lie in relationship to your shoulders?"

The grin disappeared and he looked at her in confusion for a moment. "If you really . . ." His hands went slowly to his belt and unfastened it, then the button of his pants. Then he hesitated at the zipper. Finally, seeing only a look of light impatience on her face, he unzipped and his pants fell around his ankles.

Lydia paced all around him, making soft humming sounds and making air measurements with her hands to get perspective and ratios.

Beetlejuice started to blush slightly and pressed his lips together.

"I have seen you in your underwear before, you know," she murmured. "Lots of times."

"Oh, yeah? Like when?" He thought about that, then added, "Recently, I mean."

She thought for a moment, then said, "Well, does Sham Shpade ring a bell? Or how about when you were a movie star and wanted to 'clean up' your image so the studio would fire you? All you had on was a towel then. Or how about when your skeleton escaped during your x-rays? Or that time you – "

"Okay, okay," he said, shaking his head, "but most of that was years ago and it was different."

"How?"

"Um, you were . . . I was . . . we were . . . younger then! I mean, you were. You were just a kid! And I thought of you as a kid!" He shuffled his feet around, trying not to trip over his puddled trousers. "And now, we're more . . . you know, we're engaged and all, so it's different. And you're staring at me."

"So I guess holding a tape measure around your . . ." she eyed his beetle-patterned shorts suggestively, "hips is out of the question?"

He was immediately on the other side of the room, hands held in the traditional protective position, complexion a delicate mauve. "Could you," he cleared his throat and closed his eyes, "could . . . maybe you could turn around?"

"Oh, Beej," she suddenly dropped her head into her hands. "I'm sorry. Just juice your clothes back on, okay? And forgive me?"

He did so at once, peeking at her from under his lids. "Um, okay. But what . . . Lyds, what exactly . . ."

She took her hands from her eyes and gazed at him apologetically. "I was just trying to measure you for something I'm making and I think my subconscious took over and . . . well, maybe I was trying to make something happen, entice you a bit. I guess. But, you know, things are different between us now." She waved the hand wearing her engagement ring at him. "And I am familiar with you in a . . . ah, in a state of undress at times."

"But it is different now. You . . . um, you know how you . . . um, press up against me sometimes when we kiss. And your hands –" he waved his own illustratively, "sort of . . . wander around sometimes. I really think that's about as far as we should go for now."

"Well, your hands do a little wandering of their own," she waved her own hands and smiled. "They could wander more as far as I'm concerned."

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes a little. "I know. But I still think you're too young . . ." He frowned in thought, then gave up the old argument between them. "So, was this just a way to get me undressed so you could . . . try to persuade me to let you . . . um, Lyds?"

She shrugged, her smile turning a little rueful. "Well, maybe it would have been worth a try if I'd planned it. But I do need those measurements and I guess I got a little carried away? I didn't really need for you to drop your trousers, but something just made me say that." The rueful smile turned just a little sly.

He grimaced and sighed. "You know I do have those different . . . feelings about you now. And I know you want more from . . . from us, but it's too soon. You're just barely eighteen. Babes, I can't go any faster than this. I have to be – I don't even know what I want to say. Careful of you? Aware that you're still young? Well, what I think of as young anyway."

"Beej, we'll be married in eight months, as soon as I graduate. And my feelings for you are not going to change. I think we both know that now, right?" Lydia leaned against the side of her desk and folded her arms. "If I am pushing you too hard or too fast, then I'm sorry. But you do respond when we . . . well, when we kiss and hug and move our hands around." She smiled again at that thought. "I can tell you're responding to me physically – no, now don't blush. It's natural and it's . . . actually, it's flattering to me. And I can hear your heartbeat speed up and your touch is different and it makes me feel – I can't even describe it."

The blush slowly faded, but he remained silent.

"I'm just trying to get you to trust your own feelings, your reactions to me. I guess I was hoping a situation like this would . . . inspire you, make you more accepting of the physical attraction between us." She pushed off the edge of the desk and slowly approached him. "Maybe it wasn't fair, maybe I shouldn't have done it. But Beej, all's fair in love, right? And I do love you so much, and I know how much you love me."

He shook his head. "Huh-uh. So much more than you think," he muttered.

"And this wasn't all just a . . . an attempt to maneuver you or convince you. I really do need to figure your shoulder-hip ratio for something I'm designing for you." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at them with a disappointed sigh. "I'm sorry I tried to trick you, Beej. But it was in a good cause," she peeped up at him hopefully.

Beetlejuice frowned, then shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, I understand what you were trying to do. But, babes, I am sort of . . . responsible for you, for what happens, how things go. You know, between us. And I've never been –" He wrinkled up his face in uncertainty, "never felt . . . never . . . you know. So I'm doing the best I can to . . . to make sure you're –"

She crossed over to him and wound her arms around his neck. "If you want to be responsible for me, for making sure I'm happy, then you have to let me do the same for you. That's the deal." She gave him a quick kiss. "Okay? Deal?"

"Yeah," he nodded reluctantly. "But if you could, you know, ease up a little – take things slower? You're so precocious," he complained with a tiny smile. He pulled her close, then abruptly pushed her back again. "Um," he said uncertainly, looking down between them. Then, when she laughed, he pulled her back against him. "There are still limits, you know," he whispered into her ear. "But I'll let you know when you get there."