Labor of Love
by
Owlcroft

They spent the day at the Neitherworld zoo, finishing up at the pterosaur enclosure, watching a pair of mated pterodactyls building a nest. They themselves had eye scream cones – Lydia had chocamel and Beetlejuice had nearly finished his slime-razzberry swirl.

"Had fun today, babes?" He licked green and pink stickiness off the corner of his mouth then popped the remainder of his cone in with a loud crunch.

"Oh, yes. Sorry my feet got tired." She reached for her camera to get a photo of the female of the pair arranging the large timbers with exquisite precision but, after juggling it awkwardly, had to present the last of her cone to Beetlejuice. "Hold this for a sec?"

"Sure." He eyed the frozen confection with caution, but took it from her. "So you were saying something about your plans for being a designer after you graduate next year."

Lydia got the photo she wanted, took back her cone, and smiled confidently. "Yep. I've been thinking about it a lot since we . . . you know, the picnic."

He smiled reminiscently and leaned over to kiss her, appreciating not just the kiss but the taste of chocolate and caramel. "So," he asked, still smiling, "what ideas have you come up with? Anything I can help with?" The smiled faded completely. "I mean, if I'm still . . . if you're still . . ." He took a breath, then finished, "I mean, if we're still together when you finish school." He wove his fingers together in anxiety while waiting for her to finish her cone.

"Beej," she finally managed to say, "give me a sec," swallowed, wiped her mouth with her paper napkin, and took him firmly by the lapels with both hands. "You have to be the biggest, goofiest, insecurest ghost in the entire Neitherworld."

"Well," he said in fake modesty, "I do pride myself on being the best at all I do." Then he looked confused, and added, "Wait. That's not insecurity. It's just being . . ." He thought about it and said, "Realistic. You know." He hung his head and hoped for words of reassurance.

What he got was, "You big dope." She pulled him closer and got his head up enough for another kiss. "But you're my big dope. And you always will be." She re-considered that and amended it to, "Always mine, I mean, not always a dope."

That won a small smile and a headshake. "You do know you can always change your mind." He gave her a pleading look from under his eyebrows. "But please don't," he said softly.

"I never will," she assured him. "And you can certainly help after I graduate. I'm hoping to learn more from the school guidance counselor next week. There must be some courses I could take in college, or maybe a specialty school. And maybe I'd have to move – out of state or maybe just to New York – but we're a couple now. Of course, you'll go with me! Unless," she gave him a coy sideways look, "you change your mind."

Beetlejuice looked at her in astonishment. "Me? Change my mind? Babes, that will never happen. I'll change my shorts before I change my mind, and you know how often I do that!" He paused at her outbreak of laughter. "Okay, you don't know that – at least you shouldn't!" He grinned at her slyly.

She was still chuckling when she told him, "I know you won't change your mind. But you better believe I'm not going to change mine, either."

A brief silence fell before he said, "You know I tried to ask you, a few times – I really did try, Lyds – to ask if you thought we could be more than friends. To be, you know, like this." He looked down at the hands still holding onto him. "But I couldn't. I did try, but I was too scared."

"I know," she told him softly. "I gave you all the hints and encouragement I could. Beej, it's okay. We're together now and nothing will separate us."

"Nuh-uh. When you leave school and . . . go to another school or do whatever it is you decide on, everything will change."

"Not everything!" she interjected.

"Yeah, it will. You might not have time for . . . this. For me," he added mournfully. "You've got things to do, things you want to do and," he shrugged, frowning, "you won't need me around or have time for stuff like zoos and eye scream and –" he suddenly looked utterly forlorn, "you might even . . . meet somebody."

Lydia sat up straight and stared at him. "Are we back to that again? Look at me, Beej. I mean, really look at me." When he did, she gave him her fiercest scowl. "We've done this for today. Once a day, okay, I'll explain that this –" she squeezed his arm, "we – are permanent. It's not going to change. Nothing will change this." Another squeeze. "But only once a day; and this was it for today. Got it? Say 'yes, ma'am' and kiss me," she ordered.

He obliged, then smiled ruefully. "I'm still trying, you know."

"Yes, you are very trying," she admonished but ruined it by grinning at him. "Actually, I've been thinking about the future and I don't want to pressure you, but you could be a huge help to me. Oh, but, I didn't mean . . . that you had to work to help me!"

"Yeah, about that . . ." He stared at the male pterodactyl trying ineffectually to help his mate. "I would help you if I could, you know that. But you also know I can't sew. So what could I do, besides just keep you company and say 'hey, great design, Lyds!' once in a while?"

"You could be a lot of help – giving me your thoughts on patterns and color matches. Talking through what I'd learned that day and even just asking questions about it. And I'll need ideas about clothing that would appeal to the normal Neitherworlder."

That made him snortle. "There's no such thing as a normal Neitherworlder!"

"You know what I mean, the people who'd be our customers – what would they like, what's hard to find here. I really want to start here because so many of the designs I already have would work better for them. I'm picturing a little shop with a couple of different lines, one casual and the other dressier. And maybe I can live there and have a workshop in the attic or the basement. Then, once I'm a success, I can branch out to the other world," she waved a hand in an indeterminate direction.

He sat and considered for a few moments. "Maybe . . . if it's okay with you – just a thought now! – I could try to come up with some dyes for your materials. The cloth itself and the thread and whatever all the other stuff is. You know, special colors and textures and . . . and things that would be proprietary. I mean, that you'd own them."

Her eyes lit up. "Beej, could you do that? That would be wonderful! But . . ." she hesitated, then continued, "but again you don't have to do any of the work. You never liked to work and I don't mean for you to have to."

"That wouldn't be work! I just play around with stuff in the lab." He idly picked at his tie, then frowned at the squabbling pterodactyls. "And if you . . . if you, you know, aren't exactly a huge success right off with your design stuff, I could still be an exterminator – here or back in your world. I wouldn't mind." He ignored her look of loving incredulity. "Just to keep you going while you get a foothold, I mean. It's no big deal. Hey, it's free food!"

"You are the most adorable, lovable darling." She put her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder. "I love you so much. Beej," she tilted her head to look up at him, "do you remember that book I was reading? I read you a line from it few days ago – how we're supposed to give to each other, help each other?" She rubbed her face against his sleeve. "You do that for me, every single time."

"Yeah. I mean no. I mean, I remember what you said – guide, comfort, protect. But I don't guide you; it's the other way around."

"No, but you make me think about things – think them through. You act as an example to me of giving, or putting someone else first, of generosity."

He lowered his lids halfway and stared at her in disbelief. "You ate that eye scream too fast, didn't you? Got an eye scream headache from it."

She gave him a wry look, then had to chuckle. "Okay, you have no redeeming qualities whatever, you're just a terrible person, and I love you from here to the moon and back. But I do hope you realize that you have to be a part of my future – that I always counted on you being part of my future." She ran her hand down to his and clasped it warmly. "You will, won't you?"

"You know how I am about –" he gulped and tugged at his collar, "having a . . . job." The word was said with the utmost distaste. "But I'd even . . . I'd even wear a plain black suit and . . . and . . . work in an office for you." His expression was indescribable – a combination of appalled bravery and nausea. Then he shuddered, and in a low voice, "But I'd do it. I'd do it for you. I would."

"I think that answers my question. And that it deserves a better kiss than I can give you right here." Lydia stood and pulled on his hand until he rose to stand next to her. "That you would do that for me – Beej, what can I say? What could I possibly do to equal that offer?"

He hmm'ed and shuffled his feet, then gave her a quick grin. "More eye scream?" and they vanished even as she started to laugh.