Swings and Misses
by
Owlcroft

Beetlejuice showed up in uniform for the baseball game, but wasn't playing that day since he and Lydia had retired just before their marriage. He'd been pleased to find that his old uni was relatively intact and had asked the Prankees manager if he could throw a little batting practice before the game itself.

The manager had been agreeable, with one stipulation. "Throw 'em some fuzz, but no actual flame throwing, okay?" he pleaded.

"Aw, you're no fun any more," Beetlejuice grinned as he rubbed up the ball. "Okay, fine. No chin music and no yakkers. Just easy cheese." He sneered at the waiting batter in a friendly fashion then pulled his hair back into a ponytail and threaded it through the opening in the mesh back of his cap as he toed the slab and prepared to pitch.

The crowd was still filing in, most of them interested in watching the players prepare for the game later and trying to get autographs or catch a foul ball, but one attractive ghost came down to the front row and took a seat right next to Lydia. "Yumm," the ghost murmured, watching Beetlejuice wind up and throw his famous knuckleball, which sprouted actual knuckles as it approached the plate. She applauded and cheered when the batter swung and missed by a country mile.

Lydia smiled to herself and settled more comfortably into her seat to watch her husband toss the pill.

After several more throws, Beetlejuice stretched thoroughly and then unbuckled his belt to re-tuck his jersey. When he untied his hair, fluffed it, and re-tied it, a low hum of interest came from the appreciative fan, who then noticed Lydia's glance at her and said, "Isn't he something? I could really go for that guy."

Lydia started to say something, grinning, but changed her mind and instead waved to her husband, who waved back enthusiastically.

"Ooh, girl. Is that yours? Rowrr!" The ghost looked at her with envy. "Some people have all the luck!"

Lydia smiled and nodded and said, admiring her ruby ring smugly, "I am extremely lucky," and they chatted in a friendly fashion until the home team's BP was over.

As Beetlejuice left the mound, laughing and exchanging insults with the players, Lydia looked at him through newly-awakened eyes. She'd been so young when they'd met, and he'd been, first and foremost, her friend. Then, when their relationship changed – became more than friendship – she'd been interested only in him.

Now, ten years later, she knew about the physical side of a relationship; she understood physical attraction and desire. And she found her husband extremely attractive and desirable. But to have him ogled by others – that was a new sensation, and provided a new perspective. She'd always thought he looked his best in his baseball uni, and she was, she realized, more than extremely lucky. She found her husband not only physically attractive, but he was also possibly the most powerful person in the Neitherworld and he laid everything he was at her feet.

Beetlejuice sauntered over to the batting circle and, picking up a bat, began to swing it desultorily while giving his wife a sly wink. "They're going to let me take a few hacks," he called to her. "Show 'em how to park a few dingers."

"I've got no chance at all with the guy, do I?" the ghost in the stands asked Lydia. "But, hey, you ever change your mind –"

"Never happen," Lydia assured her. "But he'll be pleased to hear he was admired." And grinned.

ooooo

After the game, the team's hitting coach gestured at Beetlejuice to come to the end of the dugout. He obliged and exchanged high fives with the coach and a few of the players. After a brief conversation, he threaded his way through the crowd back to Lydia and told her, "I'm their good-luck charm! Since they were raking today, they want me to throw BP again tomorrow!"

Lydia grinned at her husband and, wrapping her arms around him, gave him a fervent kiss. "That's a wonderful idea! But now that the game's over . . . I think we ought to practice a few other skills."

Beetlejuice widened his eyes at her, then asked, running his mouth over her ear, "Am I picking up your signals okay? Please don't tell me I'm striking out with you."

"Are you hoping to make it to first base?" She looked up at him coyly.

"Oh, at least. Any chance of me stealing second? Third?" He pulled her closer and trailed kisses down her neck.

She chuckled and slipped her hands under his belt. "I think you could slide right into home."

And they vanished.

ooooo

"Mmmm," Lydia murmured, her head cradled on her husband's bare shoulder. "I think that was a grand slam." She looked at him through her lashes and smiled puckishly.

"So you liked the hip throw in that at-bat," he said lazily, relaxed and sated.

"Oh, I might have to give you a Gold Glove, too. You do have such good hands."

Beetlejuice snorted. "And you, my dearest, with that nibbling at my . . . strike zone," he almost managed to say it without smirking, but failed at the last instant. "You were a real knee buckler."

"So glad I could come through in the clutch," she purred.

"I might even call that a perfecto." He nuzzled her hair. "But here I kept waiting for you to say something about bats and –"

She silenced him with a kiss.