The First Year in the Life
by
Owlcroft

A/N: This is my annual 12-chapter story presented as a sort of 'advent calendar'. Thank you all for reading!

September

The day Scarabée opened Lydia was ready for anything – throngs of customers, no one showing up, and everything in between. Her husband of five months was ready for anything, too. Beetlejuice was ready for a grand success, a complete flop, and everything in between. Neither of them had been ready for an exhausting, frenetic, noisy day that left them both wrung out and incredulous.

Lydia was so worn out once the doors were closed and locked that Beetlejuice immediately juiced them both to the parlor upstairs, where they curled together in one corner of the small sofa.

"I'm so tired, I can't eat," she moaned.

"That's okay." He put an arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder. "I'll just get you something later, whatever you want. You rest up now and let me talk for a while. Okay?" Once he felt her nod, he said, "See, I told you you'd be a big hit!"

"Yes," she sighed happily, "you did. And you were right! Oh, Beej!" She buried her face in his shirt.

He grinned down at her and held her close. "I always believed in you. Always. Maybe now you can start believing in yourself? Maybe? Huh? You think so?"

A nod and a cuddle were answer enough, but then she murmured against his heart. "The honeymoon was wonderful, but this . . . this is our real life. After all the work and preparation, we're finally actually beginning our life together. I can't tell you how happy I am. And how tired!"

"The honeymoon," he gazed at the memory, smiling. "That was so great. Just us, together, all the time, for the first time." The smile faded just a bit as he added, "Seems like months ago now."

Lydia chuckled at him. "It was months ago, two months ago, in fact."

"S'pose that's why it seems that way."

After a silent few minutes, Beetlejuice pushed a strand of hair from his wife's face. "You getting hungry yet?"

"Mmm." She adjusted her position so she could look up at him. "The batwing neckline was so popular! And the gauntlet sleeves. But the velvet wasn't right for that. Maybe a velveteen instead? Or a heavy silk? Maybe a jacquard."

He gave her a wry grin. "So I'm guessing not hungry yet?"

"I can't think of anything but my designs right now. Sorry." She leaned her head back on his chest. "I think maybe I'm not so much exhausted as relieved. The worry, the anxiety – it's all over now. It's gone . . . and I feel so fizzy, so . . . I can't describe it, so very happy and excited. You must feel it, too?"

"Yeah, but I always feel that way around you." That got him an appreciative kiss.

"What about you? Are you hungry, my darling?"

He snorted a laugh. "Dear one, I am always hungry." He pressed a kiss onto her hair. "But this is your day. The day you've – oof!" as she punched him gently in the ribs, "okay, we've looked forward to for so long. You want champagne? You want caviar? You want a burger and fries? Whatever you want, you got it."

"I've got what I want, all that I want, right here and now." She gave him a deeply serious look then. "All I ever wanted I have right now in my arms."

Another kiss followed that statement, and a few doting murmurs, then Lydia said, "You know, if I lie down for a while before we have dinner, I might not be so tired. Just to rest up for a little; what do you think?" She lowered her eyelids halfway and leered at him.

"I think," he said with a grin, "that's a great idea! I might just lie down for a little while myself. Just to keep you company, you understand." He leered back at her.

Dinner that night was quite late, but much appreciated.