Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a nice day. 

All the days had been nice, recently. 

Beetlejuice was bundled up against the October chill in his and his partners’ bed in the attic, lazily watching the clouds roll by in the small window on the opposite side of the space. 

It was late. Well, late for him, recently; he had to get up at around six in the morning to catch the house’s other inhabitants before they went about their own days, or to leave for the store with Adam and Barbara. 

But now, it was eleven in the morning, and he still couldn’t muster up the willpower to get up. 

He hadn’t been able to for over a week. 

Not since Lydia left again for the airport, once her fall break had ended. 

He was usually able to force himself to roll out of bed by noon or so, to find something to nibble on. (Food had also lost it’s appeal, recently.) 

Then it was back to bed, to wait for his spouses or substitute parents to return from their busy days, to join them in whatever array of activities they felt up to. A walk, a movie, a board game. 

His partners turned in early, and so did he. 

Beetlejuice felt horribly cold without them. Like something was sapping away at any warmth leftover in him, leaving the chill to settle deep in his bones. 

They were considering rising to dig around in one of the house’s many closets for an electric blanket when the air in the room shifted, growing warmer and gentler. 

He sat up quickly, causing his head to swim from the sudden movement. 

Barbara greeted him warmly as she closed the attic door behind her, a large backpack in hand. 

“Babs?” He croaked, clearing his throat and squinting his eyes against the black spots in his vision. They faded by the time she made her way over to him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I thought… d-.. didn’t you an’ Adam..?” 

“We just put some signs up!” She chirped, letting out a little amused chuckle at his dazed state. “We’re closing for the day.” 

The demon blinked hard at his wife, briefly stretching out his aching bad leg as he watched her begin to riffle through her own dresser. “.. why?” 

“Adam and I are taking you out!” 

“Damn. I knew this day would come.” Beetlejuice’s joints all cracked and complained as he finally rose to his hooves. “Old Yeller style? Or will you be tellin’ me to talk about the rabbits fir-” 

He couldn’t help but giggle as Barbara whirled around to toss a bundled up pair of socks at him, a playful spark in her eyes. He let it hit his chest before catching it. “Oh, hush! You know I don’t mean like that!” 

“Then how do ya mean, Mrs. Maitland?” Beetlejuice did his best to be the picture of innocence, batting his eyelashes at her as she shook her head and laughed. 

“Well, Mx. Maitland, I mean like a date.” She rolled her eyes with a fond smile when he let out a faux gasp of surprise. “Now go get ready. Wear something warm.” She brought the backpack over to the bed to begin packing a few of the things she’d grabbed with her. Beetlejuice held the pair of socks out to her, which she happily accepted and tucked into the bag. “Thank you, Bugbear!” 

Beetlejuice raised their eyebrows as they pressed a kiss to their wife’s cheek. “‘Bugbear’?” 

“Mhm!” Barbara flashed a beaming smile at them as she continued to carefully sort through the backpack. 

“Haven’t heard that one before.” 

“Thought I’d try it out. You like it?” She then shook her head, swatting their arm playfully. “Don’t change the subject! Go change into some warm clothes. We’re going out.” 

“…. Must we?” 

“Yes. I promise, it’ll be fun.” She gasped, suddenly, disappearing and re-apparating directly in front of her husband with little puffs of yellow smoke. “Oh! Wear this!” 

Beetlejuice jolted, briefly, accepting the bundle of wool into his hands. Barbara went back to hustling around to prepare after planting a quick kiss on his cheek. 

He unfurled it, slowly. 

It was a wool sweater, with a pattern of dull orange, ochre, and maroon red vague shapes. 

He found Adam wearing a matching sweater once he finished getting ready and made his way down to the kitchen. 

Barbara joined them shortly after, wearing her own matching sweater. 

Beetlejuice couldn’t scrounge up the energy to be embarrassed when his spouses both began to fawn over how wonderful they looked together. 

On went the human disguises, as Barbara and Adam continued to dodge his questions about where they were going. 

He let out a frustrated growl as Adam began to herd him towards their dinky little green car. 

“I promise I’ll buy you something tasty when we’re there!” Adam urged, smiling so sweetly. 

It was impossible to resist, but still he feigned indecisiveness, squinting at him. “Promise?” 

“I promise! Whatever you want, I’ll get you.” 

— 

Beetlejuice had never heard of a ‘harvest festival’. Apparently, it was quite a big affair the next town over, drawing in thousands of breathers to… 

.. do… something . 

Beetlejuice wasn’t sure what. 

There were animals in pens, and many fragrant food stalls, and various simple games. Breather children were running around just about completely unattended among hay bales and the nearby massive cornfield. 

Barbara held each of her husbands’ hands in one of her own, leading the way into the noise and commotion. Beetlejuice’s hand that wasn’t taken by hers held his cane, though it was seldom used in the approach to the festival due to how fast they were moving. 

Before he knew it, Adam was suddenly gasping and tugging them along off to the side. 

“Aww, Barbara, look!” The man eagerly tugged his wife by the hand, pulling along their spouse at the other end of the chain as he barreled towards a covered area with a hand-painted “petting zoo” sign. “That one looks just like him!” He pointed with his free hand at something within. 

Underneath the awning was a fenced-in area chock full of hooved animals. Goats, young cows, and many sheep, of varying colors. Beetlejuice eyed the crowded space warily, especially the many breather children that ran wild. He’d had his cane knocked out from under him a few times by a stray human crotch spawn, and he was not chomping at the bit to experience it again. 

Barbara tilted her head hard to one side once the three of them made their way over to the entrance, where there were coin operated dispensers of food pellets and hand washing stations, as well as many adults lining the fence, phone cameras aimed at their little monsters. 

The demon then let out a giggle, bumping Adam’s shoulder with her own. “It really does!” 

“Whuh?” Beetlejuice squinted as he followed where his husband was pointing, his eyes landing on a solitary black sheep huddled up in a back corner of the enclosure with it’s legs tucked under itself. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Who does it look like?” 

“You!” His spouses replied in unison. 

He squinted harder at the animal. 

It was small, and it looked downright stupid. It stared at the children that ran past with a vacant expression, and if it weren’t for the occasional twitch of the ear, one would think it was a statue. Poor thing looked nearly brain dead. 

“… that thing does not look anything like me.” 

“It does!” Barbara insisted, squeezing his hand. “It’s little-” 

“-I am not little-”

“-it’s got black wool, and it’s got the cutest little face!” 

The demon hummed, releasing her hand to put his own on his hip. His ear twitched as he scowled at the sheep. “I don’t see the resemblance.” 

He pointed the scowl in their direction when both of his spouses started giggling. 

Barbara took many a picture of them all with various animals, especially when they made an unamused Beetlejuice pose with the sheep they swore was his doppelgänger. 

When the long ignored hunger in his stomach made itself audibly known, they made their way to the food stalls. 

Adam furrowed his brows and squinted dubiously at the sign of the stall Beetlejuice had chosen through his glasses. “Bee, that cannot be good for you. They’ve already been fried once before… that.” 

“And?” 

He looked to Barbara, as if begging for aid. “Wh- think about your poor heart!” 

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side with a bemused smirk. 

The deer demon’s face flushed red once realization struck. “… still! A.. ‘ deep fried beignet ’ can’t be good for your health.” 

“‘M dead, Sexy. It doesn’t matter.” The demon clacked his cane against the packed dirt once, placing his free hand on his hip. “Besides! You promised you’d get me anything I wanted.” 

“B-” Adam sputtered, motioning to the huge, gurgling fryers behind the booth’s counter. 

“You promised,” he reiterated, furrowing his brows and jutting out his lip in his best pout. 

“I-”

Barbara, who was keeping her distance from the rolling stench of cottonseed oil permeating from the booth by a good ten feet, interjected with a playful grin. “You did promise!” 

After looking between his spouses with disbelief, then resignation, Adam sighed and pulled out his wallet. 

The deep fried beignets were only the beginning. Although they were delightful, crunchy and sweet, many of the other booths caught Beetlejuice’s eye. (And nose.) 

Pickle pizza, churreos, cheese curds, a Krispy Kreme burger. 

The only thing more delightful than the absurd cacophony of flavors were the horrified looks on his partners’ faces. 

And their trepidatious enjoyment when he managed to encourage them to try a nibble or two. Aside from the little bites, they only really partook in their own much safer foods, of course. 

It was so abundantly flavorful and filling that Beetlejuice barely sneaked more than an apple or two into his mouth when they eventually made their way to the orchard to pick apples and fill a (ludicrously small, for the price they paid) bag provided by the festival. 

They only had to drag Beetlejuice out of three trees. 

By the time the three of them made it to the corn maze, his mind was in a pleasant, softly buzzing fog. He drifted along, gently dragged behind Barbara and Adam as they got hopelessly lost. 

“Rats!” Barbara growled, stomping her foot once. “We’ve been at this intersection before.” 

“We have?” Adam’s head swiveled futilely around as he frowned. 

“Yes! Remember this stalk?” She gestured with one hand towards a particularly tall corn stalk, before using that hand to grab Beetlejuice by his sweater collar and pull him closer before he could snatch the grasshopper he was stalking. His teeth clacked loudly as his jaw snapped shut, catching nothing but cold air. Damn. Almost had it. 

“Ohh. Right. The weirdly bushy one.” 

The demon grinned impishly, despite a shudder that wracked through his body. The air was getting much colder as the sun was setting. “Heh. Y’know what-” 

“Maybe we try a left this time?” 

“Y-”

Barbara frowned, shaking her head. “We’ve already gone left.” 

“Y’know wh-” 

“What about… right?” 

“What else is-” 

“That’s the way we came from! The entrance is right over there.” 

“Y’know-” 

She patted the top of her shorter husband’s head with a wary sigh. “Yes, Bugbear, we know what else is ‘weirdly bushy’.” 

Beetlejuice couldn’t help but cackle to himself, despite never getting the joke out. 

Adam’s perplexed “we do?” only made him laugh harder. 

It took nearly an hour of wandering for them to make it out of the corn maze. 

Eventually, sensing the growing frustration and despair in Adam and Barbara, Beetlejuice showed them the way out. (He didn’t tell them he knew the way out the whole time, of course.) 

Their feet aching, and their matching sweaters failing to completely keep out the chill, the three of them decided to close out the outing by joining the many breathers sat around a newly lit bonfire. 

It was quite a sight. The warmth and dancing shapes and colors were hard to resist. 

Adam kept a tight grip on Beetlejuice’s hand as they bought paper cups of steaming hot apple cider and found their own log amongst the crowd to rest their weary bodies. 

Beetlejuice allowed himself to lean heavily into Adam’s side once they sat down, letting out a sigh of contentment as the warmth slowly but surely settled into his core. It chased away the deep, creeping chill that he’d failed to recognize had been chasing him for days. 

“Isn’t this lovely?” 

They hummed in agreement, straining out the chatter and pulsing hum of the many breather bodies around them. Their eyes slipped shut. 

“Did you have fun, Bug?” 

They nodded with a little grunt. Their energy was just about spent, slowly but surely sapped away through all the time spent out and about on their hooves, surrounded by noise and commotion. (Not that there was much stored, anyways. They’d been getting better, but it seemed recently their energy levels were severely diminished.) 

“… feels nice to get up and about, hm?” 

“Yeah.” Their voice came out in a low croak as they cracked an eye open to peek at their partners. 

Barbara and Adam were both looking at them expectantly, hopefully, with gentle, wary smiles on their faces. 

Their husband cleared his throat before speaking again. “I know it’s tough whenever Lydia leaves for school again.” Beetlejuice closed their eye again to avoid witnessing the pity in their gazes. “You say you don’t feel well, but-”

“- I really do .. not feel well,” they interjected, somewhat meekly. 

“I know. I know you do.” Adam reached up with his free hand to run his fingers through their hair, and Barbara’s warm body shifted in closer. “But… she’s a junior now, Bee. She’ll graduate after the next school year, and maybe she’ll have more free time. Or… maybe she’ll.. have even less.” 

Beetlejuice swallowed down the bitter remark building in their throat. He doesn’t mean it to hurt you. He’s showing care. It’s okay. 

“… it’s hard to find motivation, sometimes. Without.. her.” The demon admitted in a quiet grumble, opening their eyes to watch the bonfire’s shifting warm colors again. They took a long, loud slurp of their cider. They savored the way it sent warmth pooling into their gut. The way the spices sat heavily on their tongue. “N-not that… not that I’m unhappy,” they added quickly, sitting up a bit to cast a frantic, apologetic Look to each of his partners. “I-I just-”

Barbara reached to brush her fingers against Beetlejuice’s cheek, flashing a bright, luminous smile when their eyes met. “We know. It’s okay.” She reached to tuck a lock of hair behind their ear, her eyes catching on the earrings dangling there. They imagined the jewels caught the fire’s light beautifully, the way her own earrings and wedding bands did. 

The air boiled, pleasantly. The cold October air couldn’t reach Beetlejuice, nor could the strange, persistent chill. Not for a thousand years, not in that moment. 

Not with them. 

Beetlejuice trilled when Adam pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “… did.. did this… help?” 

The demon hummed as they thought, but they already knew the answer. They took the time to glance down at their paper cup, then up to the bonfire, then around to the lazily idle breathers going about their own experiences. 

Then, finally, up to a pair of cornflower blue eyes, then a pair of hazelnut brown eyes, both so hopeful and bright. 

“… yeah. It did.” Beetlejuice settled back against the lumpy old carved log bench, flashing them both a toothy grin. “I feel… better. Thanks.” 

Their smile only widened at the little cheers and excited tight embraces that followed. 

What a wonderful day to be loved , a part of their mind mused, quietly. 

Chapter Text

With November’s chill came some sort of uneasy tension in Delia Deetz, soon spreading to Charles, then to Adam and Barbara. 

“What’re you up to, Junebug?” She’d asked him the week before all the hubbub started. Her voice was tinged with some sort of anxiety, and her smile was uneasy and strained. 

He was napping on the living room ceiling, sprawled out in a shaft of midday sunlight. He answered earnestly, hoping to get back to the much needed nap. 

“And… what else are you planning to do today?” 

Beetlejuice hummed as he thought, lazily clacking his teeth. “.. new episode of that show A-Dog likes is on around 5, so I’ll be watchin’ that with him.” 

Delia blinked, sputtering in exasperation. The demon furrowed his brows at her, but didn’t question her reaction. “Wh- well, what else are you doing? Before then?” 

“Nappin’.” 

He closed his eyes when she simply continued sputtering instead of offering any other sort of conversation. He needed his sleep, if he was going to be able to handle Adam’s high levels of nerd energy later that day. 

Then, a week later, it began. 

Beetlejuice was pulled from a wonderfully dreamless sleep, perched on top of one of the air vents in the hall near the main floor’s stairwell, (it was the one closest to the heater, and so radiated the most warmth) by the life coach gently shaking his shoulders and ushering him up to his hooves. 

“Come paint with me!” 

He let out a confused grunt, but allowed himself to be tugged along to her (thankfully heated) patio workshop. 

She’d set up two easels, each with their own blank canvas and palettes. The redhead then grinned and set him up in front of one of them, talking broadly about relaxation techniques and “painting from the soul”. (Which Beetlejuice didn’t have, but he was too dazed to make a quip about it in time.) 

The acrylic paints smelled tantalizingly horrid, and they were awkward and thick and stuck to the canvas in an irritating way. 

Beetlejuice only found himself getting frustrated and burnt out as Delia guided him through painting a made up landscape from his mind. 

The temptation to bite his brush in half won over as the “painting” continued to go against what his mind and hands desperately tried to shape it to be. The vivid image of the snowy plains outside the old woman’s hut, so clear in his head, so eager to be recreated, just… wouldn’t. The mess of splattered colors and messy, shoddy shapes on the wretched canvas was certainly not as fun as Delia kept promising it would be. 

The snap was satisfying, and the feeling of splinters of wood in his teeth only further fueled the swishing of his tail and the growls rumbling out of his throat. The feeling of the canvas ripping under his claws was even more satisfying, but the gratification faded away to despair and further anger within moments. 

“Painting isn’t for everyone!” Delia reassured, her energy and hopeful spark unwavering as always. She patted the demon on his back, ignoring the scowls and hisses he let out. “Let’s try something else tomorrow!”

Beetlejuice’s usually lazy morning to evening off-work weekday routine was turned on it’s head as Delia seemed to make it her personal mission to find something he liked to do, other than what he was already doing. (He liked napping and sunbathing just fine, thank you very much.) 

Before he was even finished with his late breakfast, Delia was pulling him back out to her workshop. 

Sculpting. 

Sure, the idea of it sounded fun. Messy, mushy clay, bending to the will of his clawed hands, creating whatever shapes and figures he wanted. 

It was horrid. 

The persistent feeling of wet clay sticking to his hands, and later, after an offhanded scratch, his face, beard, and hair, was agonizing. No matter how much he wiped his hands on his “Tenderly Hold The Cook” apron, the feeling would return the moment he touched the spinning lump of clay again. 

They tried so many things. 

A vase, a bowl, a simple plate on the pottery wheel first. His hands wouldn’t listen. They were always misshapen, covered in little scuffs and gouges from his claws. (God/Satan, he thought he would blow a gasket if the clay kept getting under his claws.) 

The life coach persisted, although Beetlejuice could see her persistent smile wavering slightly. 

A cat, an apple, a little person. A bird, a tree, a fish. Nothing turned out the way he wanted, and despite Delia reassuring him that the sculptures were beautiful and unique in their own ways, they eventually all ended up smashed back down to a formless lump in the end. 

It took long, careful deep breaths to keep himself from snapping at his adopted mother as she used a wet paper towel to clean the clay from his face and urged him not to give up. 

Beetlejuice tried avoiding whatever had come over Delia by going to work with Barbara and Adam the next few days, but eventually the siren song of sleeping in won over by the next Tuesday. 

Whoever the fuck had invented “Zumba” would have Beetlejuice waiting to rip their soul apart when they passed on. 

The music was loud and grating, the pulsating beats rattling his sensitive ears. The “workout clothes” Delia had so graciously gotten for Beetlejuice was tight and uncomfortable, and felt worse than a cheese grater on his skin. 

It only took two songs for Beetlejuice’s wheezing to turn into gagging and retching. Both of his legs hurt, and most of those “dance moves” (if one could call them that) were certainly not thought of with someone who had hooves in mind. 

The break to clean up and “recuperate” only lasted into the next day.  

Similarly to “Zumba”, “yoga” didn’t seem to have his particular leg structure in mind. 

Delia did her best to adjust and cheer him on, but it was not working. 

All his old joints cracked and complained, and he found the call of just giving in and collapsing onto the floor too sweet to ignore. 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but it must’ve been hours, as eventually Adam came along to fret over him. 

It took both of his spouses to pull him back up to his hooves. 

He couldn’t put any weight on his bad leg for days after, and Delia’s constant apologies weren’t helping. 

It seemed Charles had caught whatever wild bug Delia did, just as he thought the life coach might be finally giving up on him. 

The man came up and awkwardly patted the demon’s shoulder the late morning after the Yoga Disaster, as they savored the scent of a scalding cup of coffee with five different flavorings in it. “Son, how would you like to go birdwatching with me today?” 

The human man dressed in ridiculously dorky khaki shorts, knee-high socks, and an army green vest with many pockets, with a pair of binoculars hung around his neck. (Beetlejuice snapped a few pictures to send to their sister. They knew she’d get a kick out of it.) He marched his weird demonic faux-son into the woods surrounding their home after Delia had bundled them up in at least two unnecessary layers, and began to coach them on birdwatching with a fervor they didn’t know the man had in him for anything but his daughter. 

“Look!” Charles whisper-shouted, gripping Beetlejuice’s arm with one hand and holding the binoculars up to his eyes with the other. “An American Goldfinch.” 

The demon squinted through the binoculars when they were held up to their own eyes. 

“… cool?” They weren’t sure what the appeal of the yellow little bird was. 

Then it was a “Mourning Dove”, a “Black-capped Chickadee”, on and on. 

It was quite boring, but Charles seemed to be having fun. 

Until the man gleefully pointed out a “Blue Jay” on a branch within leaping distance of Beetlejuice. 

Despite the horrors of the Blue Jay’s swift death, Charles persisted into the next few days. 

Piano was next, with a janky old keyboard he kept in a box in the garage. 

It was a long, horrid day filled with shrill notes and misplayed keys. 

The demon’s mind and hands simply lacked the knowledge and coordination, and seemingly refused to learn. 

Beetlejuice was growing tired of whatever scheme the humans were up to, but didn’t quite have the energy to put a stop to it. (They liked spending any kind of time with them, anyways.) 

Chess, the next morning, was even worse. 

The rules made no sense. Charles knew everything, parrying all moves Beetlejuice made or even downright telling them they couldn’t move their pieces wherever they tried. 

They began to think perhaps the game might actually be fun when the tables turned on their faux father, once they’d began eating his pieces when he was distracted by Delia “just checking in” several times. 

But still, eventually, the frazzled Charles called “checkmate”, and Beetlejuice didn’t have the willpower to resist flipping the chess board. 

Beetlejuice nearly took a chunk out of the man’s arm when he dragged them out of bed the next morning, before even Barbara and Adam were awake. 

It was cold, and the sun wasn’t even up yet, and they were exhausted beyond measure. Charles pushed unfamiliar rubber boots and a bucket hat with various hooks stuck in the brim in their hands, and they set off in the car before they could even muster up a single question about where they were going or what they were doing. 

But, somehow, they enjoyed fishing way more than they expected they would. 

Sure, they occasionally fell asleep upright with the pole in their hand, but that was part of the experience. 

Beetlejuice and Charles sat in an easy silence in front of a misty lake, the sounds and smells of White River just out of reach beyond the frosty crawl of the sunless morning. 

A few feet apart, comfort and familiarity between them. 

The man had explained in great detail how to bait their hooks and cast their line and all that, and the demon let him. They knew how to do all that already, of course. How else would they have survived when Juno left them to fend for themself in the 14th century? 

But it brought a sparkle to the man’s eye, and his usual reserved nature shied away for a time. So Beetlejuice let him, nodding along and occasionally asking clarifying questions. 

The serenity ended when Beetlejuice got too eager to reel a fish in, hours later. 

How were they supposed to know the lake would be so cold? 

Or that Charles’ hook would get caught on their cheek? 

“We’ll try again in the spring,” Charles had reassured them, heat on full blast on the drive home as Beetlejuice shivered with a scowl in the passenger seat. “I had fun.” 

Although disheartened, they were sure that was the end of… whatever was happening. 

Then Barbara shook them awake from a lunchtime couch nap two days later, with a beaming smile and a black-and-white-striped tracksuit in her hands. 

“Come jog with me!” 

It was even worse torture than the accursed “Zumba”. At least that had music. 

All the background noise they had as they “jogged” (if you could call it that) down White River’s Main Street was Beetlejuice’s wheezing, then dry-heaving. 

Barbara carried them home once it became not-so-dry-heaving, and their bad leg gave out shortly after, peppering their face with kisses and apologizing. 

The two of them spent most of the next day at the store attempting to… “scrapbook”. 

She set out to have them make a specialized little scrapbook centered around Lydia’s graduation and first days at college. 

It was fine. 

Beetlejuice didn’t quite enjoy looking at any of the pictures of themself, nor did they like gluing and cutting and measuring and… the rest. 

But Barbara was having fun, so they played along. 

Apparently, she could sense his lack of enjoyment, as they tried “needle felting” the next day. 

It only took one shapeless clump of black wool (it was supposed to be Pluto) and about seven thousand accidental finger stabs for him to throw in the towel. 

Then it was Adam’s turn. 

Whittling was a bust, despite how excited his husband was to teach him. 

He’d stared too long at those big, beautiful brown eyes. 

He took off the top two layers of his skin in one swipe. 

Adam was hesitant to try again the next day. 

Beetlejuice had fully caught on to the… weird, house-wide plan by then. Whatever it was. 

Probably to get him off his ass. 

It was something simple, something they did sat next to each other on the couch, with gentle conversation and easy warmth. Crocheting wasn’t too bad. 

The demon thought perhaps he enjoyed it. 

Or… maybe it was just Adam’s presence. 

Honestly, just being around his spouses in any capacity was a fine time for him. 

Their presence alone eased the lifelong burden on his mind and body. 

Beetlejuice was barely able to stay awake, let alone pay attention , as Adam tried to teach him how to do crossword puzzles in bed that night. 

The next day, the two of them cooked the entirety of the Thanksgiving feast for that year, with occasional direction from Delia. 

Beetlejuice liked it fine, although keeping track of so many things and being responsible for the quality of the whole family’s central holiday dinner experience was stressful. 

But at least it meant Lydia and Ash were visiting. 

Deb, Bela, and Larry, too. 

The food got many compliments. 

A few… too many pointed compliments. 

Instead of Black Friday shopping with the rest the next morning, he, Ash, and Lydia went on a long, chilly walk around the property and the land surrounding it. 

His sister was snapping photos with whatever fancy new camera gizmo they’d gotten for their birthday two months before, leaving most of the conversation to himself and Ash. It wandered from horror movies to life updates, to cool dead bodies the new mortician had seen since they last chatted. 

But, eventually, Lydia piped up. 

“Wanna try, Beej?” 

He raised an eyebrow, squinting at the lens pointed right at him. “Try what?” 

“Taking pictures. I’ll let you use my camera if you swear on Adam and Barbara’s un-lives to be careful with it.” 

Beetlejuice hummed, hands in his front pants pockets to keep them warm. “… nah. I’ve had enough of tryin’ new things for a good hundred years.” 

“Ooohhh. Shit. Yeah, I brought an origami how-to book for you. Delia put me up to it.” 

Ash let out an offended “what’d I say?” when Lydia elbowed them hard in the side. 

“You aren’t supposed to tell him about the plan, Ketchum .” 

“How was I supposed to know that?” 

He shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly. “I know about the plan already. Kinda. I get the gist.” 

They didn’t quite enjoy the boiling, orange embarrassment pooling in their gut at the worried Look Lydia and Ash exchanged. 

“… we just wanna.. help you.” 

“Delia started it.” 

“ Ash .” 

The demon let out a long sigh. “I don’t need to be helped. I’m ‘helping’ myself just fine.” 

Lydia pursed their lips. “Delia said you’d spend entire days sleeping. Just.. waiting for Barbara and Adam to get home.” 

He shrugged again. “‘M tired.” 

His sister put their hands on their hips, letting the camera hang from it’s neck strap. “You can’t be that tired.” 

Ash averted their eyes and siddled away towards the fence lining the property. 

“I am!” He hated how defensive he was getting so quickly. 

Maybe all the activity had grated down his nerves. 

“Don’t be an ass. We’re just worried about you.” 

“You don’t have to. It’s probably the weather, or a… fuck, what did Wolf call it?” 

“… a slump?” 

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and pointed at the unimpressed Lydia. “Yeah! That.” He then waved his hand. “I feel fine. I’m happy and all that. Just… really tired.” 

Lydia stared at him for a short time, amber eyes scouring for any hint of falsehood. 

“… alright,” they said, eventually, lifting up their camera again. “But, just… keep trying, alright? It’s not healthy to-” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Beetlejuice shot his sister a broad grin when they glared in his direction. “Thank you for caring. Now, hand me that fancy camera. I wanna take a bunch of pictures of you at awkward angles.” 

Beetlejuice found himself drawn to a “Lego set” Ash had brought for the family to put together that night, too cool down from the usual fierce Mario Kart tournament. 

He ended up with dozens of sets in the next few weeks, eagerly putting them together while listening to Emily’s old music on an old CD player Charles had almost given away. 

Crochet wasn’t too bad, either. 

And maybe he could give fishing another try. 

And perhaps scrapbooking. 

Maybe even some formless, mindless sculpting, too. 

He was still tired, but he found the activities helped keep his mind awake. 

Beetlejuice pretended not to hear Delia’s muffled shouts of celebration from the other room when she’d walked in on him listening to Talking Heads and putting together a bonsai tree Lego set at the kitchen counter a week after Thanksgiving. 

Chapter Text

The stagnant, late December air of the Maitland-Deetz household once again suddenly carried a frantic, anxious feeling about it. 

The tension (as well as loud clattering and thumping) were enough to pull Beetlejuice from his sleep. 

His eyes felt heavy, his mind clouded and stuttering as it tried to make sense of the ruckus grating at his hearing throughout the entire house. He couldn’t get one Saturday to sleep in in peace, could he? 

The demon wrinkled his nose at the pungent but familiar odor of wet paint as he stretched and prepared for whatever strange, thrilling calamity his loved ones had conjured up for him that day. 

As he ambled down to the second floor, he found the source of the wet paint smell. 

Barbara, her wavy blonde locks tucked up in a messy up-do, in a now paint-splattered pair of green overalls and an old T-shirt (wait, that was his Talking Heads shirt, wasn’t it?) , her hooves desperate for purchase on an obnoxiously crinkly tarp laid out the expanse of the second floor hallway, was… 

“.. mornin’, Babs.” Beetlejuice crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder up against a yet-to-be-painted section of the wall, raising an eyebrow at his wife. 

“Oh!” The blonde demon jumped, nearly losing her grip on the long-handled paint roller. She regained her composure quickly, shooting her spouse a tight, terse smile. “Good morning, Bug! How’d you sleep?” 

“Fine,” he grunted, his eyes dully following her hands as she continued to somewhat-frantically apply paint to the wall. “You, uh… doin’ some remodelin’?” 

“Mhm!” 

Beetlejuice waited, briefly, tail swishing somewhat anxiously as he paused for the expected explanation.  

“So, uh, wh-” Just as he began to try to pry any further explanation out of her, Adam came clambering up the stairs, hooves scuffing and clacking loudly on the wood. He had a bucket in one hand, filled with warm, sloshing water, and that God/Satan-awful lemon scented floor cleaner their store carries. In the other, he held a mop, not seeming to care how the wet strings of the mop head soaked his khaki shorts. 

He barely gave more than a smile and a little nod to Beetlejuice’s “lookin’ good, Sexy” as he passed by on his way to the guest bedroom. 

Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows, clacking his teeth a few times as he soaked in the tense atmosphere. 

“… alright. I’m gonna see what D n’ Chuck are up to.” 

Delia and Charles were, just like his spouses, running around with a frantic energy that made his tail incessantly twitch. 

Usually a well put-together man, Charles Deetz was somewhat out of breath as he darted around the master bedroom, hot on his wife’s heels as she recounted their packed belongings, making marks on a notepad checklist. 

The two had been preparing for their trip for weeks, and as the departure date drew closer they became all the more excited and anxious. 

A “Bird Year”, Charles had called it. Perhaps one of the dorkiest things in all of culture and history that Beetlejuice could ever think of. 

An entire year of birdwatching, traveling the world to see what feathered pests they could see. They were set to leave on New Year’s Day, early in the morning. 

Beetlejuice, Barbara, and Adam, as well as Pluto, would have the house to themselves for an entire year. 

Both Charles and Delia were quite nervous to leave them “unattended”, but the draw of birdwatching and a “spiritually cleansing journey” was just too much for the new retirees to ignore. 

They hardly took notice of the demon standing in the doorway, watching them with trepidation, yellow and white and purple, swirling in his gut. 

He loathed to admit just how much he’d miss them, so he didn’t, for the time being. 

The snotty, touchy-feely goodbyes would have to wait for the time of their actual departure. 

He clicked his tongue after a few moments, both to draw himself from his thoughts and to draw their attention to the fact that he was standing there. 

“Oh!” Delia flashed him a brilliant smile, her red hair uncharacteristically mussed, fully untied and loose at her shoulders. “Good morning, Junebug!” 

Charles didn’t take his eyes off his notepad, but gave a cursory little nod and grunt of “good morning”. 

“Mornin’.” The demon shifted on his hooves uncomfortably. He expected at least Delia to carry on chattering with him like usual, but she was too occupied. 

They were awfully busy. 

But he wouldn’t get to see them for a whole year, soon. 

He wanted to stay, to linger, to make conversation, to bother them endlessly, to make them shout his name in irritation, something . 

Instead, he loitered for just a handful of moments, watching them with a strange, tense feeling in his gut. 

Then, he mumbled an excuse he didn’t need about checking on his partners, heading down the stairs in search of either of them. (He couldn’t hear Adam on the second floor anymore, had he really finished up so quickly? Maybe he needed a hand refilling his mop bucket?) 

To Beetlejuice’s surprise, their husband had already moved on from mopping the guest room. 

They found him hovering in the kitchen, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in another, and…. 

Beetlejuice furrowed their brows, drifting up to the other demon’s side to get a closer look at what he was doing. “Are you…” they raised their eyebrows at the way he jumped, ears twitching, briefly staring at them with wide eyes before returning to his busy work. “… cleaning the tops of the kitchen cabinets ?” 

“Mhm!” 

They pursed their lips into a deep frown. “… why?” 

“Well. Y’know!” He forced out an attempt at an easy-going laugh, but it sounded more pained than anything. “They never get cleaned!” 

Beetlejuice opened their mouth to speak, to inquire more, but slowly let it shut instead. 

They hummed a little as they thought, tilting their head hard to one side as they watched Adam move on to wiping off the top of the fridge. “.. need a hand?” 

The briefly panicked look that widened Adam’s eyes once more sent a little jolt of hurt through Beetlejuice’s chest. “N-no, no thank you! I, uh… I clean better.. by myself!” 

The demon narrowed their eyes at their husband, but his attention returned to his cleaning too fast to catch it. Bullshit. How many times had Adam roped them and Barbara into cleaning with him, promising it to be fun? “The more the merrier!” Playing music, making it a game to keep their attention? 

The red-hot anger simmered down fairly quickly. 

He’s obviously going through some sort of… something. 

Give him space to figure it out first. 

“… alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?” 

“Mhm!” Adam didn’t seem to process their words as he phased behind the fridge, most definitely to clean the back of it. 

Their suspicions were verified when he let out a muffled “You too!”. 

That “some sort of something” seemed to have ensnared Barbara as well. 

She’d painted the second floor hallway with the speed and fervor of a doomed woman, already moving on to the limited walls of the stairwell down to the first floor. 

She was, however, much more willing to let Beetlejuice try to lend a hand. 

Her idea of them “lending a hand” was simply to boost her up on their shoulders so she could reach the very highest points of the wall. 

It took Beetlejuice’s mind an embarrassing amount of time to catch on to the absurdity of the situation. 

“… Babs?” 

“Hm?” She didn’t look away from her work. 

“Can’t you just… float up there to reach it?” 

Barbara blinked, pausing for possibly the first time that day. 

She shook her head, causing her ears to shake with it in a way that made Beetlejuice’s chest ache, flashing a pale imitation of her usual beaming smile. “I could, but that would be way less stable!” 

They shrugged a little, causing her to giggle. They certainly weren't going to complain. 

Especially not when Barbara leaned down to plant a quick kiss to the top of their head. “Besides, it gives me an excuse to be on top of you!” 

Sudden, earnest laughter erupted out of Beetlejuice once her words processed, causing Barbara to wrap an arm around their head to grip on for dear un-life as their entire body shook with it’s mirth. 

She was making jokes of that nature more frequently, as her comfort and confidence grew, but Beetlejuice still never seemed to be fully prepared for them. 

Her delight at their reaction seemed to fade, however, when they couldn’t contain their incessant hyena cackles. 

Barbara eventually patted their shoulder, gently requesting to be put down. “Got a lot of work to do, Bug,” she said, blue eyes darkened with some sort of woe. “I think I’ll just… float up there myself.” 

Again, their chest ached. (And burned, in a gross, new way.) 

They acquiesced regardless, carefully helping Barbara back down onto her own two hooves. 

The little parting peck she planted on their cheek did little to alleviate the ache and burn. 

Okay. Definitely going through… something. 

Beetlejuice shook out their limbs with a deep sigh once they reached the bottom of the stairs. 

It wasn’t near their death anniversary, or any other meaningful date that usually threw the Maitlands into a funk. 

Give them space. Maybe they just need time to process and work through… whatever. 

They let their gaze drift to the window, to the gently falling snow outside. 

Maybe I should work on myself in the meantime. 

Beetlejuice took in an unneeded but welcome deep, steadying breath, their clawed hand hovering just above the back door’s handle. 

Their movements were stiff, due to the many layers they’d put on. 

Two sweaters, three jackets, and one of Charles’ thick, ankle-length winter coats. Three pairs of sweatpants, two pairs of snow pants, seven pairs of socks, slippers inside Adam’s old snow boots, two scarves, four pairs of gloves, one set of earmuffs, one pair of ski goggles, and two beanies and one Sherpa hat with ear flaps, to be precise. 

Their tail was tucked into one of the snow pants, wrapped in a few scarfs of it’s own. 

They’d been making slow but steady progress on getting over their… “panic response” to snow and cold weather, with the support of their loved ones. 

It was going to be their first time going out into the snow alone. 

Beetlejuice gritted their teeth as they gripped the handle. They were a grown demon, damnit . 

It was just a little bit of frozen water. 

They swore the metal handle felt chilled through all the layers as they turned it, agonizingly slow. Everyone else is being productive. You can too. 

The cold air stung their face as it whooshed in once the door was cracked open, and that rancid, familiar, white-hot panic began to rise against their best attempts to bury it down. 

You’re okay. Wolf had advised them to treat their mind kindly, like it was Adam or Lydia facing down their own fears. 

Despite how they loathed the irrational way it clung to fear. 

The snow on the steps leading down to the yard crunched under their boot in a way that sent cold shocks up and down their spine. It’s just snow. It can’t hurt you. 

The taste of bile rose in their throat, causing their mouth to fill with thick saliva. Their chest burned . You’re not being exorcised. You’re safe. You’re Home. 

The grass, frozen stiff under the blanket of snow, crackled as they firmly planted their feet on the ground. 

It’s just…

Their sensitive eyes began to somewhat adjust under the goggles, nearly squinted shut. 

The snow was untouched for miles around as it stretched beyond the limits of the yard, and into the slumbering woods beyond. 

The world was tranquil, quiet. As if all of creation was asleep, as if the Earth itself was holding it’s breath. 

There were no birds, no leaves rustling in the wind, no animals scavenging the undergrowth. They were all asleep. Hibernating, every heartbeat gentle and slow. Waiting. Resting. 

It was white, and it glittered and shined in a dazzling way in the afternoon sun. 

It was… serene. Peaceful. 

Beautiful. 

And they were… okay. 

The white panic was still there, sure, but the swaddled warmth and ever-reaching calm and newfound beauty was enough to dull it’s gnashing teeth. 

They don’t know how long they stood, marveling. 

“… wow.” They eventually leaned down, as best they could with their restrictive attire, gloved hands digging into the soft, powdery snow. A wide, crooked smile crept onto their face as they scooped up the handful. 

God/Satan, they wished Lydia was there. 

They’d love to throw a snowball at her. 

They reared back to huck it at the red maple tree at the edge of the yard, still grinning wide. 

However, without their tail to help them balance in the unfamiliar terrain, Beetlejuice instead stumbled, legs scrambling for purchase in an extended,  cartoonish way until they finally fell flat on their back. 

The loud, soft ‘ crunch ’ and the flurry of snowflakes sent up into the air and cascading down onto their face was enough for them to decide it was time to go inside. Right away. 

They scrambled to take off the layers once indoors, frequently shaking like a dog to send any bits of snow still clung to their not-person flying every which way. 

Beetlejuice couldn’t help but chuckle as they unraveled their tail, bright green and sky blue chasing away the lingering fear. 

They were… proud of themself. 

That was happening more and more frequently. 

It felt good. 

Great, even. 

They left their shed layers in piles by the back door when their stomach, no longer tied in figurative knots, (or maybe literal, they hadn’t really checked lately) reminded them with a rolling growl that they’d forgotten both breakfast and lunch. 

There were no new dishes in the sink. No lingering smells of prepped meals, aside from the tikka masala they’d ate for dinner the night before. (The old smell made their stomach churn . 

That was new. Maybe they were more hungry than they thought?) 

Everyone else in the house had also forgotten to eat, it seemed. 

The beaming pride grew as they prepared lunch for themself and the others. 

Sure, Beetlejuice was just assembling a few sandwiches, but they felt so… important. So productive, so responsible. 

It was disgusting. 

They wanted to chase that feeling. 

It seemed Delia and Charles similarly couldn’t ignore hunger’s call anymore, as the pair of them came downstairs just as Beetlejuice finished scarfing down their own fourth sandwich. 

Thank God/Satan. They told themself they’d bring everyone their sandwiches when they were done eating, but Delia’s usually unappetizing faux-bacon BLT was suddenly smelling quite irresistible. 

“Beetlejuice?” Charles’ face was still so tired, his eye bags more pronounced than usual. He was somewhat unkempt, which was practically like the man had rolled in straight out of bed compared to his usual neatness. “You..” 

“Made us lunch!” Delia finished for him with a squeal of delight, clapping her hands together. Her hair was still down, and she wore one of her many sleep kimonos. 

“Yeah.” Bashfulness, orange and burning-hot, mingled in a not-unpleasant way with the newly-kindled pride. He shoved the plates to the other side of the counter with as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster, despite the way his face and ears burned. “Figured, since you haven’t eaten yet, I- ah.” Beetlejuice wrapped an arm around Delia once she’d thrown her own arms around him, planting a cherry-scented kiss on his scruffy cheek. 

Charles hesitantly sat at one of the barstools, eyeing his paper plate with suspicion. “That’s.. very thoughtful of you.” 

“Yes! Thank you so much, Junebug!” He couldn’t help but chuckle as the life coach pinched his cheek before releasing him to join her husband at the counter. 

He waved a hand, using the other to paw at the mark she had left on his cheek. “Whatever.” 

Barbara and Adam took quite a bit more “coaxing” to come eat. 

They protested vehemently to being tossed over his shoulders like a couple sacks of potatoes, but didn’t squirm or fight. 

“C’mon, I only got a little bit of blood on those apple slices!” He urged after setting them in front of their plates, savoring the horrified looks that took over their faces as they momentarily snapped out of their strange stupor. 

“I’m only jokin’.” He eyed them as they, relieved, tucked into their own food. He couldn’t help but add, “I ate the bloodied ones myself.” He clicked his teeth as Adam reached to grab and inspect his hands, leaning into view of Delia from her spot at the kitchen counter. “How’s packin’ goin’, Red?” 

“Oh, splendidly, thanks for asking!” The life coach chirped in response, flashing him a bright smile. “We should be all set after today! Right, dear?” 

Charles nodded, somewhat absently. The fatigue of the constant hustle-bustle seemed to have caught up with him. 

(The idea of Charles growing tired more easily sent yellow and white shocks of terror and anxiety shooting through Beetlejuice’s system. He was getting older. His hair was going grey, his beard was mostly salt-and-paprika now. Even Delia’s relentlessly bright red hair was losing some of it’s hue. 

Time was marching forward. 

He pushed the fear down for later. 

He was needed, for now.) 

Beetlejuice’s golden gaze slowly slid back to Barbara and Adam, whose expressions were clouded with worry and a panicky sense of urgency. 

“… what about you two? How’s your… everything going?” 

“Good,” Barbara responded, somewhat flatly between bites of sandwich. 

“So much more to be done.” The tone of Adam’s voice sent a little, uneasy shiver up Beetlejuice’s spine. He was still holding one of his hands, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. 

“… well! Since we’re all bein’ so productive, I’m gonna be sortin’ through my hammerspace.” He did his best to continue to feign disinterest when his partners both perked up with their own interest. “Make keep and toss piles, and all that.” He clacked his teeth before he spoke again. “Then just toss it all back in.” 

Both of his spouses’ eyes went a little wide. “We’ll help!” Adam blurted, squeezing the cold hand he still held. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

“We will too!” Delia volunteered, patting Charles on the shoulder when he looked to her with confusion. “I’d love to see what you’ve hoarded over the centuries!” 

Oh well. The more the merrier, right? 

“Millennia, actually.” Beetlejuice squeezed Adam’s hand before he pulled his own out of his grip. “I’ll set up shop in the basement while you guys eat.” He paused, then, eyeing his wife’s plate. He reached one arm behind his back, covering up the fact that he was extending it down under and then phasing through the table by leaning down to give her a kiss. She seemed delighted and bemused at the distraction, not noticing his grubby little claws snatching a handful of her apple slices off of her plate. He retracted the arm, quickly, standing up straight as he shoved them into his mouth. 

He savored the way she blinked, confused, looking down at her plate and raising her eyebrows. He spoke around the chewed up apple bits with a grin, tail quivering with the rush of a simple little devious act, “aight, now ‘m goin’ down.” 

Beetlejuice laughed as she playfully smacked his arm on his way out of the dining room. 

It took them hours to sort through what Beetlejuice had pulled out of his hammerspace, even though it was just a fraction of what was in there, thanks to Barbara and Adam insisting on a meticulous system. 

Delia and Charles helped Beetlejuice decide what was good enough to keep and what should be tossed, and what was to be kept was carefully sorted by Barbara and Adam. 

He’d already cleared out most of the rotten things a year prior, but the noxious blend of various stages and types of rot still clung to quite a few of the various items. (Normally, the smell of rot brought a strange sort of distant comfort, but now it made him feel sick to his stomach. It was a strange, new feeling. He didn’t like it.) 

Piles and piles of dusty old books, various little colorful and glittering rocks, handfuls of moss, various shiny knick knacks, tchotchkes, and odd little discarded or lost fascinating trinkets, or shiny baubles. Knives and bones and nabbed hides and long-dead insects. Clothes of every clashing era and fabric and fashion stolen from clotheslines and dressers of countless breathers. 

“It’s very… you!” Delia had eventually remarked. 

Eventually, though, the discomfort at the clinging smells won over, and the demon had to tap out. 

Charles and Delia followed suit, but Barbara and Adam continued on. 

Beetlejuice popped back down to the basement every now and then to check on them, and to try to pull them away. 

Offers of starting up a new miniature didn’t even seem to phase Adam. 

Barbara waved off the suggestion of sitting down and talking about the latest book they were reading together. 

No offers of movies, or listening to music, or even pottery or indoor gardening, nothing swayed them. 

(He took frequent, sometimes drawn-out breaks between attempts to pull them from their determined cleaning. That strange, uneasy, gross burning in his chest seemed to fuel the rolling, churning nausea leftover from the hours before. He had to sit and wait for the feeling to somewhat subside before heading down again. When had his sense of smell gotten this sensitive? His constitution this weak?) 

Dinner time came and went, and the sun had long since set when Beetlejuice decided that enough was enough. 

Once again, he hoisted his partners up on his shoulders. They protested and squirmed, but did little to actually attempt to break free as Beetlejuice carried them up to the attic. (They’d clean the mess left behind tomorrow, he decided.) 

He tossed them down onto their sitting couch, ears pinned back as his tail lashed with irritation. 

“Alright. Enough is enough. I’ve let you two be all… ‘Maitlands 1.0’ all day. Now you gotta tell me what’s up.” 

His spouses exchanged Looks that passed too quickly for him to decipher. Adam’s ears began to nervously twitch, and he gripped Barbara’s hand for comfort. 

Barbara pursed her lips, brow furrowed hard as she squeezed the other deer demon’s hand. 

Beetlejuice lightly tapped his hoof and clacked his teeth as he waited for them to finish stewing. 

To their surprise, Adam spoke up first. 

“… you were watching us, before, uh…” 

They nodded, hands on their hips. “Before you both kicked the bucket, yes.” 

“We were…” 

“… stalling,” Barbara supplied, head somewhat bowed and ears back in a rare show of.. shame. It made the uneasiness in Beetlejuice grow more tense. 

(He quite hated seeing his spouses like this. He would much rather go through a thousand fits of panic than ever see them like this again.) 

“Both in the, uh…” she rolled her wrist in an ‘on-and-on’ gesture. 

“In the progress sense, and..” 

“Time sense.” 

“Yeah. I could tell.” Well, they could tell now , looking back. They didn’t quite understand the social nuances until a hundred years or so of ruminating in that first time loop. 

Adam swallowed hard. “Now that we’re.. trying again, it’s…” 

“… easy to slip back into old habits.” 

Beetlejuice narrowed their eyes as their words processed. 

“See? We can’t start a family in a house with creaky floorboards!” 

“You are absolutely right! Let’s add it to the list!” 

Ohhhh. 

Adam looked up to Beetlejuice, those magnetic brown eyes wide and almost pleading. “The house isn’t ready yet!” 

Barbara nodded, nearly frantically. “We haven’t fully redecorated how we all want-” 

“The place is a mess , it’ll need at least another week of cleaning!” 

Beetlejuice held up their hands. “Guys-” 

Adam gripped one of their hands with his own free one. “We need to baby-proof everything, this house is a literal death trap!” 

“What parenting style do we want? I mean, of course, gentle, but-” 

“- what languages do we teach them? Barbara, we still never learned Spanish!” 

“Babs, Sexy, c’mon-” 

“Shoot! Do we even teach them Spanish? We do, right?” 

“Do-… what language do demons even speak?” 

Barbara and Adam looked to Beetlejuice, pleading, questioning, obviously about to carry on spiraling without their input regardless. 

They stared at their partners with wide eyes for a few moments, mind scrambling. God/Satan, they thought they were going to throw up for sure. 

“ Oh -… kay..” Beetlejuice began loudly, abruptly, without a plan, once they saw Adam open his mouth to continue to ramble on. “You’re… both really nervous. I.. I am too. But, uh…” Ripples of yellow and blue and indigo passed through their mind. C’mon, Shoggoth, say something. Say the right thing to make them stop worrying. Be the helper for once. 

But there was nothing. 

Nothing came to mind, no magic words to resolve their spouses’ worries and anxieties. 

Because there were none. 

They exhaled through their nose, leaning down on their haunches to be closer to Barbara and Adam’s eye level, taking one of their wife’s hands in their own free one. 

“And that’s… fair. Totally fair.” Indigo seeped into their whole being, clouding their mind. But they remained steadfast, despite it. “This is… a real scary thing we’re doin’. And I know scary.” They flashed an uneasy little toothy grin. “But, y’know… freakin’ out isn’t gonna do jackshit to help us be ready. ‘Cause… nothin’ is.” Beetlejuice shrugged their shoulders. “From what I’ve heard, no one’s ever ready for this kind of thing, try as they might. Just, uh… best we can do is..” they squeezed their hands. The way they both stared at them, almost enraptured, both reassured and unsettled them. “Be there for each other. And… do our best.. together.” 

Beetlejuice was sure they were going to vomit when Barbara and Adam remained quiet for a handful of agonizing minutes, just staring contemplatively at them. They swallowed down the feeling as best they could, waiting in painful, tense silence. 

Eventually, finally, splendidly, Adam snapped free of whatever daze he’d been stuck in and threw his arms around Beetlejuice’s neck, pulling them close and squeezing them tightly. 

Barbara joined in moments after, letting out a shuttering, shaky little sob of… relief. 

Pink, gentle and sweet and now so familiar, washed through Beetlejuice once more. 

They wrapped their arms around their partners in turn, giving them gentle pats on their backs. 

“We got this,” Barbara whispered, wetly, between sniffles. 

Adam nodded in firm agreement, not caring that his glasses were slipping down his nose. “.. together.” 

Beetlejuice cleared their throat hard, choking down a painful lump. “…. Maitlands.. 3.0, right?” 

“Maitlands 3.0!” Barbara and Adam cheered in unison. 

We got this. 

…. Probably. 

Chapter Text

Three sets of eyes watched as Beetlejuice paced in a wide, angry circle in the living room of the Maitland-Deetz-etc. home, his hair a bright red that spread to his face and ears and casual clothes. 

He’d refused to go with his partners to their store, that day, far too worked up to spend so long playing breather. The cold January breeze whistled against the windows, drowned out by the clacking of hooves and incessant huffing, puffing, and growling. 

“I told them!” He barked, hands balled into fists at his side, his tail lashing, swishing through the air. It knocking into the coffee table only seemed to drive Beetlejuice further up the figurative wall. 

Then literal, as his pacing moved on from the floor to the wall, then the ceiling. 

Larry and Bela were sat on as far opposite ends of the main couch as possible, the former even leaning outwards as best they could. 

In between them was Beetlejuice’s phone, propped up with multiple pillows, with a bored-looking Lydia on FaceTime. 

“… where’d he go?” 

Bela watched her brother pace and fume with her brows slightly furrowed. “The ceiling.” A few flickers of a gentle baby blue danced through her hair. 

“Beej, seriously?” Lydia leaned forward, as if she could lean out of the phone to catch a glimpse of her brother. “Get down here. Tell us what’s up.” 

“Yes, I still await an explanation.” Larry had been branching out with their fashion, it seemed, no longer wearing that old, massive fur coat. 

Instead, now, they wore a loose red button-up with wide sleeves, with a black corset and long, flowy black skirt. On top of that, they had a black coat with fur trimming along the edges, and Beetlejuice swore he could see a heart-shaped patch haphazardly sewn into the inside. There were letters stitched on it, but he couldn’t make out what. 

Also, oddly enough, they were now wearing a few various black earrings and rings. (He knew Larry would be irritable if he asked about any of it.) 

It was strange to see the bear demon wear anything but the same clothes they’d been wearing for centuries, but Bela sat next to them, in the same dress she wore every day, was a nice, calming contrast. 

Beetlejuice scrambled back down the wall to stand in front of the couch again, letting out a displeased hiss. “I need to rant. Barbara and Adam did something stupid.” 

“So you…” Lydia trailed off, side-eyeing the demons sat on either side of the phone. “… pulled together the.. Autism Council?” 

He let out a huff through his nose, stomping one hoof on the ground repeatedly. “I need more backup than just you, Scarecrow.” 

Larry’s ear twitched, and they frowned hard. “And we are your best options?” 

Bela narrowed her eyes at the other demon, briefly, hints of red in her hair. 

“I usually confide in my beloved spouses, but they betrayed me.” Beetlejuice reached into his pocket to dig a fidget out of his hammerspace. He withdrew his hand, quickly, to impulsively scratch at his left arm. “Charles and Delia are somewhere in South America, and Ash is held up at the morgue.” 

Lydia nodded sagely. “There was a semi rollover near their town. At least the overtime is good.” 

Larry’s ears and eyebrows perked up, slightly. “Have they sent you pictures?” 

“You know they’re not allowed to take pics, Po.” 

The bear demon snorted, crossing their arms. 

“… but yeah. They took a few. I’ll tell ‘em to show you next time they see you.” 

They seemed satisfied with this, quite visually fighting down a smile. 

Beetlejuice growled, snapping his fingers. “Hey. Hey. Back to the dire situation at hand, folks.” 

Bela pursed her lips then. “You still haven’t told us what they did.” 

He let out an exasperated sigh, plopping down onto the coffee table. It creaked under him. “They called their breather families.” 

The ‘Autism Council’ was stunned into a brief silence, exchanging uneasy and perplexed glances. 

“… how did it go?” 

“ Fine !” Beetlejuice threw his arms out to his sides, hopping up to his hooves. 

He then immediately sat back down as the world tilted and lurched under him, a strange, numbing buzz sensation creeping into his mind and spreading throughout his whole body in an instant. 

All three of the couch’s inhabitants straightened up. 

“Betel? Are you alright?” 

“Jeez, I haven’t seen you this worked up in… since the seance.” 

Larry’s crimson eyes narrowed as they scanned Beetlejuice over, up and down, continuing to frown. “Careful. I didn’t realize it was possible for you to get more pale.” 

He gripped his head with one hand, letting out a wheezed breath. “… don’t know what that was.” He shook himself off quickly. “They called their families. Went and had dinner with them. Without telling me!” Red hot and painful, sickening and burning, anger continued to fester in his gut and in his chest. “After I explicitly told them it was a bad idea!” 

Again, three pairs of eyes stared at him. Hard. 

He let out a hot, loud huff. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” Lydia said quickly, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Like… like I’m…” the words fumbled out of the grips of his mind. 

“.. overreacting?” Larry supplied, earning a hard glare from Beetlejuice. They held their gloved hands up defensively. “Beetle, they were breathers with.. somewhat loving families. They’re sentimental little beasts. Of course they would have reached out eventually, despite you.” 

“Wouldn’t you?” Lydia questioned. 

Beetlejuice opened his mouth to respond with a bitter “no”, but he felt a warning pang in his throat. He clamped his mouth shut with a loud ‘ clack ’. 

“How did the calls go?” Bela prompted, softly. 

“Good enough, I guess. Remember when they skipped out on game night last week?” All three of the couch’s inhabitants nodded. “Yeah. Turns out the ‘business trip’ was seein’ their families for dinner. To… talk things out.” Purple and indigo washed through his being, suddenly, and his shoulders slumped. “Why the fuck didn’t they tell me ?” 

“Probably because they knew you’d be hysterical.” Bela and Lydia both shot Larry fuming glares. “I’m not wrong. I know he’s always had a poor grip on his emotional regulation, but-” 

They froze when red washed over Beetlejuice again, and he let out a low warning growl. 

After a few moments of staring over their glasses at Beetlejuice with raised eyebrows, they clicked their teeth, rising to their paws. “I will be of no help. Your marriage is of no importance to me, and-” Beetlejuice lunged for the bear demon, baring his teeth, but the wave of dizziness hit him again full force, causing him to stumble. Larry nimbly caught him by his shirt collar, hoisting him onto the spot on the couch they previously occupied. “Call upon me if this… whatever this is lasts longer than a week.” 

They headed for the bathroom that they’d been summoned from, doing a little two-finger wave to Beetlejuice’s phone. “Have a good evening, Ms. Deetz. Say hello to Ash for me.” 

“Later, Larry.” Lydia leaned back in her desk chair. “Beej, pick the phone up.” 

Still heaving in and out deep breaths to try to steady the horrid burning and anger, and to abate the dizzy buzz, Beetlejuice acquiesced. 

“Dude.” Lydia threw her arms up in a dramatic shrug. “What’s the major malfunction?” 

Bela, very obviously struggling with the emotional weight of the conversation, rested a hand on her brother’s shoulder. 

He let out a long sigh. Indigo, sorrowful and agonizing, took over in full force. “…. They didn’t listen to me. They didn’t tell me.” 

“And you blowing a gasket like this isn’t going to help the situation. You’re just showing them exactly why they shouldn’t have told you right away.” 

He looked away from the phone, guiltily. 

“…. Perhaps.. this is your chance to.. make a good impression?” Bela offered, hesitantly. 

“Yeah! Why not ask to be introduced or something?” 

Beetlejuice’s eyebrows raised. 

Then his eyes widened. 

A smile slowly crept onto his lips. 

Lydia grimaced. “I don’t like that face. Why are you making that face? Stop it. Bela, stop him.” 

His demonic sister floundered, opening and closing her mouth without any words coming out. 

“You’re right!” 

“I am. But how are you twisting this in your weird, stupid, special, Beetlejuice-y way?” 

“I didn’t need to get so mad I yarked up my guts!” 

“… what? Gross. Beej, what -”

He hopped up to his hooves, the buzz thankfully having abated for the time being. “I’m gonna make the best fuckin’ first impression on those bitches. They won’t even know what hit ‘em.” 

“Beetleju-” 

“Thanks for the help, Lyds! Love ya! Miss ya!” 

“Dude, what even is the plan here? Wh-”

He blew a dramatic kiss to the phone camera before hanging up. 

Bela shrunk into her seat when her brother turned to her with a manic grin. “Willin’ to lend a hand?” 

“…. If I must.” 

— 

It was a horribly crisp morning. The front entrance to the local big city zoo offered no reprieve. Beetlejuice braced himself under his two coats, internally cursing the entire season of winter as a concept. (Pomegranate seeds couldn’t have tasted that good.) 

Barbara and Adam nearly walked past him when they approached, gripping each other’s hands and anxiously swiveling their heads in search of him. 

They were in their human disguises, distantly unrecognizable as the humans they used to be. (But not to him, of course.) 

The dark curls of Barbara’s disguise were tied back in a ponytail tucked into a baseball cap Lydia had gifted Beetlejuice from New York, one repping the city’s sport team of some sort. She wore one of Adam’s green flannel shirts, cuffed at the elbow, and tan pants. Adam was wearing one of Beetlejuice’s many sweaters. He had a backpack on, of course, a large, clunky one that held a seemingly impossible amount of unneeded “necessities”. Beetlejuice’s cane was gripped near the middle in his free hand, his knuckles white. He strained to hear him over the hustle of the nearby breathers and their spawn, as he leaned and murmured something to Barbara. 

That was when their wife’s eyes caught on his, and they softened with fond recognition in a way that made Beetlejuice’s chest flutter. 

She sputtered after a moment, rushing over and tugging Adam along with her. “Beetlejuice?!” 

“Heya, Babs. Sexy.” He nodded to each of them, internally cringing at the sound of his disguised voice. It was gentler, higher, more.. normal. 

Everything about him was, at the moment, through excruciating effort. He and Bela painstakingly researched what most families looked for in a perfect son-in-law, and with help from runes and enchantments of her Cult (good God/Satan, the amount of favors he now owed them was astronomical ), they’d done their damndest to make Beetlejuice fit the bill. 

He was short and portly. (He had gained even more weight in the last few months, too. Most of his pants and skirts weren’t fitting as well anymore.) His voice was grating and alarming, his smile was crooked and his laugh was upsetting. His dark circles were too dark, his eye bags too heavy. His hair was too pink and green, too wild. The cane and scars were a dead giveaway of his traumas and faults. 

All that was fixed or scrapped entirely to create “ Lawrence, the Perfect In-Law ”. He was taller, (eye level with Adam now), fit, and he stood up straight and kept his hands still at his sides. His smile was normal, his laugh charming. His skin was lightly tanned, his hair was brown and tamed, his skin unblemished. No moss, no scars, no crows feet or eye bags. His demonic features were nonexistent. Dressed in flannel and jeans, with only (unfortunately) two coats for the cold weather. 

He was a totally normal, cool, well-adjusted human-presenting guy, ready to make a great first impression on Janet Butterfield and the O’Hara bunch. 

Both of his partners stared, slack jawed, obviously failing to comprehend the guise. 

“Wh-… how-…” 

“Why-? I-.. do..?” 

The false starts and stutters continued as Beetlejuice grinned and waved a gloved hand. “Too stunned to speak, eh?” He tried not to take the way they both cringed at his faux voice personally. “Whaddya think?” He did a little spin for them, ending it with a flourishing bow. 

“… Beetlejuice, what -”

“-the fuck ?” 

He blinked at them hard, straightening up. “Just a bit of demonic magic. And… lots of charms from Bela’s Cult.” 

“I-… is this why you left before us?” Barbara tilted and leaned this way and that as she stared. 

“You forgot breakfast. And your cane. And…” Adam shook his head, releasing Barbara’s hand to push his glasses back up when they slipped down his nose. “What in the world is this?” 

Beetlejuice tutted, crossing his arms. “I’ll be fine without the stupid thing for one day. How much walkin’ can there be?” 

Barbara put her hands on her hips. “Beetlejuice. It’s all walking.” 

He faltered, briefly, but swallowed and lifted his chin. “Since you two were so dead set on contactin’ your people,” he growled, tapping one finger on his left arm. (He was doing his best to resist the little outbursts of movement Adam and Lydia called “stims”. It was already agonizing.) He averted his eyes at the way both of his spouses visibly tensed out of anger and indignation. “I decided to go ahead and give them the best impression of me.” 

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Beetlejuice, this… this isn’t you .”  

“Yeah!” He grinned, gritting his teeth to keep from clacking them together. “It’s better!” 

“This is ridiculous.” Barbara stepped in closer, stern and serious. Her eyes had a familiar glint to them, one he knew meant a fire had been lit in her belly. One that sent little white shocks of dread through him. “I know you usually put on a human disguise, as we should when we’re out, but-” 

“Exactly!” She clenched her jaw at the interruption. 

“- but , this is too far. This.. this isn’t-” 

“Hold that thought, Babs.” Beetlejuice had spotted something over her shoulder, ducking and weaving around his partners in as agile a movement as he could manage. He swiped the cane from Adam’s hand as he passed him, swiftly tucking it into his hammerspace. 

He left Barbara and Adam sputtering behind him as he briskly approached his marks. 

You got this, Shoggoth. 

Shit. Maitland-Shoggoth. 

… nah. Just ‘Shoggoth’ until you earn it. 

You got this. Perfect in-law. Cool and normal and charming. 

Janet Butterfield was certainly Barbara’s sister. 

They had the same cornflower blue eyes, gently sparkling with determination. The same flowing golden hair, hers tied back in a low ponytail with curtain bangs sitting just above her square-frame glasses. 

She wore a long, patchwork skirt (with pockets , he’d have to ask her where she got it later) of various dull red and green patterns, and a bright red sweater / cardigan type deal. 

She raised an eyebrow when Beetlejuice approached and extended a gloved hand to her first, gaze darting between it and Adam and Barbara chasing after him. 

“You must be Janet. I’ve heard so much about you. All amazing things!” He grinned broader, trying his best to appear friendly rather than the usual air of mischief. Keep it straight, keep it straight, keep it- “You can call me Lawrence.” 

She narrowed her eyes as she firmly gripped his hand and shook it, holding her head high. “I’ve heard… things about you too. Namely that ‘Lawrence’ isn’t your name.” 

“Ah.” His smile faltered, briefly, at the mistrust in her eyes and the accusatory twinge to her voice. “Y-.. yeah. Lawrence is the more… y’know.” He turned, swiftly, to Adam’s little gaggle of family members, keeping his posture straight and his smile taught. He could feel Janet’s eyes still on him. 

Leslie O’Hara, (maiden name Leslie Maitland) had the same anxious energy radiating off her in almost oppressive waves as the kind her son had learned to curb in recent years. She was shorter than him by nearly a foot, her hair had gone all grey and was kept in a nicely trimmed long bob, and her face held all the wrinkled evidence of a life spent with one’s features screwed up with fear and worry. Her features were softer where his were a bit sharper, but she was still unmistakably his mother. She wore leopard print flats, faded “mom jeans”, and a blouse with a loose cardigan over top, both with semi-clashing patterns. 

Glenn O’Hara was tall, broad, and square. He wore plain dark pants and a plain dark sweater, and his jaw was pre-set to a disapproving grimace. His hair was white with hints of grey, and his cold grey eyes warned that he only had one chance to impress him, lest he be literally and metaphorically looked down upon forever. 

Winona and Sophia were semi hidden behind their father, leaning out to ogle Beetlejuice with skeptical curiosity. 

They were Adam’s half sisters, nineteen and seventeen respectively. They had their mother’s soft features, but their father’s height. They dwarfed him by a good few inches. Winona’s hair was short and dark brown, with random tight curls and waves. Her eyes were an achingly familiar honey brown, narrowed with furrowed brows as she fidgeted one hand against the other. 

Sophia’s hair was long, so light brown it was nearly blonde. Her eyes were grey, set behind thick glasses like the ones her half brother and mother wore. 

They both wore jeans and thick coats, scarves and gloves and hats, no doubt relentlessly fussed over by their mother before they left the house. 

Glenn stepped forward to shake Beetlejuice’s extended hand while the rest of his family hesitated. “Glenn O’Hara. Call me Mr. O’Hara.” ‘Mr. O’Hara’s tone was flat. His grip was tight enough to pop a few of Beetlejuice’s knuckles. 

Leslie stepped forward, smiling nervously, gripping the demon’s hand with both of hers as she fervently shook it. “Just ‘Leslie’, dear! It’s… a pleasure to meet you!” 

“Are you really a demon?” Sophia crowded her mother’s left side as Winona did the same on the other. 

“Barbara said were ‘handsome in a scruffy way’, but you just seem… dull.” 

“Girls!” Their mother sputtered, shooing them both back with an exasperated groan. 

Beetlejuice chuckled in a rehearsed way, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. He tried not to stare as Janet leaned in close to whisper to her sister, side-eyeing him as she did so. “Yeah, I really am a demon. Just not the fire-and-brimstone type you see in movies.” 

Winona tilted her head, still fidgeting. “What about cloven hooves and snake tongues?” 

“Well-” 

“Trick you into selling your soul? Fallen angel among boiling pools of sulfur vowing vengeance against heaven?” 

He clicked his teeth, mulling over how much was safe to share, when Leslie let out a distressed cry of “Winona!”. 

The girl turned to her mother with a deep, confused frown. “Adam said I could ask them questions.” 

“I said you could ask them questions later ,” Adam clarified, still eyeing his husband with a discontented sort of look. 

“I have a few questions of my own,” Mr. O’Hara piped in, having watched the ordeal with a silent, stony expression. 

“Ditto.” Janet had her hands on her hips. 

Beetlejuice swallowed down the taste of bile and the waves of turbulent emotions that rose with it. He began to side-step towards the entrance, quickening his pace when the others hesitantly followed. “How about we all head inside? Those animals aren’t gonna appreciate themselves!” 

“Why did you pick the zoo as our meeting spot, Lawrence?” Janet inquired, boot heels clicking on the pavement as she followed close behind. 

“Isn’t it where families go together?” It was, according to research. 

“Yes. It’s where families go together.” 

Perhaps the zoo wasn’t the best idea. 

Beetlejuice had to choose his words carefully to avoid lying at the flood of questions from each human, and with so many other breathers around, they were getting odd looks. 

Questions about demons in general, how he had changed Adam and Barbara, what the afterlife was like, what he was like. 

Dodging and weaving around the heavy-hitters without coming off as dodgy and untrustworthy was a careful, exhausting dance. 

Still, Barbara and Adam were there, and they flip-flopped between being overjoyed at their “family being all together” and the fuzzy critters huddled up against winter’s chill, assuaging their siblings and parents’ concerns and criticisms, shooting Beetlejuice odd looks, and genuinely delighting in their spouse’s company. 

It was a draining experience. 

Beetlejuice tried not to outwardly shiver from the cold, or limp on his bad leg, or express his excitement and anxieties with movement, or be weird and off-putting and freakish in any way, shape, or form. 

It was much harder than he had anticipated. 

They’d scarcely seen three exhibits before he started to feel quite physically ill. (That malaise had been chasing him again only recently, and it was starting to get on his nerves.) 

Perfect son-in-law. I got this. Only a few more hours. 

Beetlejuice could’ve cried with joy when Barbara suggested they stop for lunch around eleven. He was hungry, and so tired, and his leg hurt, and he was cold, and he had so much strange crackling energy under his skin, and- 

He clacked his teeth before leaning to kiss her on the cheek. (It was so strange, not having to lean up to do so.) 

He tried not to visibly shrink back when he earned confused and disgruntled stares from Janet and the O’Haras. 

Janet bought a hotdog from the zoo’s quiet little concession stand, while Barbara and Adam got out their own packed lunches. This was a notion seemingly learned from Leslie, as she unpacked a cooler backpack full of little lunchboxes she’d packed for her and her kin and made Mr. O’Hara carry around. 

Adam had packed him a lunch too, of course. A turkey sandwich, some carrots and humus, some vanilla yogurt, a package snack cake, a can of Dr. Pepper. Beetlejuice wanted to grip the man by the face and kiss him senseless, but settled for a quick peck and a handful of grateful ‘thank you’s. 

Barbara and Adam did their best to fill the tense silence as they ate at a stone picnic bench in a grassy area. (There were usually peacocks roaming around the area, according to the latter, but they must’ve been huddled up somewhere warm.) 

It seemed like Winona had warmed up, excited by the prospect of real demons and the indoor bug exhibit they were planning on hitting after eating. Sophia was coming around, just a bit slower than her sister. Leslie politely chattered with a strained smile, while Mr. O’Hara and Janet both seemed to be taking coordinated turns to glare Beetlejuice down. 

(It was agonizing to not eat the can once he was done with the Dr. Pepper. He stashed it away in Adam’s backpack for later.) 

The indoor bug exhibit was dark and humid for the comfort of the creepy crawlies. 

Leslie let out a startled yelp at the sight of Beetlejuice, Adam, and Barbara’s reflective eyes. 

Beetlejuice did his best not to stare at the insects. The fuzzy tarantulas, the crunchy giant millipedes, the succulent hissing cockroaches- 

He furiously wiped at his lips when he realized his mouth was watering. 

That was when Adam turned to him, softly chuckling. “Glad we don’t have to deal with those anymore, thanks to you.” 

“I don’t think he’s ever eaten one that big. The ones at home are much smaller.” Barbara looked to him for confirmation, head tilted. 

He couldn’t resist their adorable, almost hopeful curiosity. “I’ve definitely eaten these guys before. Taste waaaay better than the normal garden variety of cockroach.” 

Adam and Barbara pretended to be disgusted with cries of ‘ewww’, but broke out into fond laughter immediately afterwards. 

“You eat bugs ?” Leslie looked mortified, her face paled. 

“What do they taste like?” Winona demanded, getting up in his space with wide eyes. “I’ve always wanted to try a cockroach or an ant, but mom says it’s unsanitary.” 

“It is!” 

A genuine crooked smile escaped Beetlejuice’s notice. “Not if you’re careful. I ain’t, but you should be, if you wanna try a few.” 

Winona pawed at his arm, like her brother did when he sought comfort. Instead, she seemed to be trying to communicate her full, undivided attention and interest. “Tell me everything.” 

He was winning them over. 

Slowly but surely, his plan was working. 

Winona was intrigued about his vast experiences in eating unorthodox things, and about demons and death and all sorts of strange things. 

Sophia came around after her sister, perking up at the mention of his vast collection of old objects within his hammerspace. She was, apparently, a collector of strange trinkets and baubles, too. Rocks, little bones, soda caps and bullets and old coins buried in the earth around her home. 

They both reminded him of Lydia in a way that warmed and hurt him at the same time. He missed her dearly. 

She had insisted he called her after the outing to tell her every detail, and he couldn’t wait to share it all with her. Good and bad. 

Janet was hesitantly seemed drawn in at Barbara’s mention of his proclivity for classic literature and mythology, being a high school English / Poetry / Creative Writing teacher. (He knew that, of course, but he hadn’t wanted to show his hand too early.) Although she kept a physical distance and still kept shooting him side-eyes and mistrustful glares, she couldn’t help but light up in a delightfully familiar way as they talked about ‘ The Great Gatsby ’, and ‘ Frankenstein ’, and ‘ The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World ’. 

Leslie’s anxiety slowly waned as the day drew on, and she had a fond little smile as she watched her girls so excitedly chat with the demon. 

Mr. O’Hara was particularly drawn in by the mention of Beetlejuice having seen certain historical events and periods with his own eyes. 

He seemed to be withholding his own excitement, talking of exchanging stories over a cup of coffee sometime. 

So, in summary, Beetlejuice’s plan was basically perfect and he was the best, coolest, smartest in-law ever. 

Right as they were visiting the exhibit of some cow or other hoofed beast, one whose horns curled in a way similar to Deb’s, Beetlejuice felt a strange sort of pressure in his nose. 

He wiggled it, confused, as he watched Barbara and Janet both lean against the fence to coo at a calf watching them trepidatiously from it’s mother’s side. 

It felt.. clogged, closed up in some way. Breathing through it was suddenly quite the chore, whistling and making an embarrassing, gross, wet sniffle sound. (Not that he needed to breathe. But the fact that he couldn’t was still irritating.) 

“Geez, yeah, it’s really cold, huh?” Sophia remarked at his side, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. 

Beetlejuice hummed in agreement. 

She elbowed his side, then, making him look up at her with raised brows and a grunt of “whuh?”. 

She was holding out her scarf to him. “You’re shivering. I’m getting too hot under all these layers.” 

He blinked, surprised. Of course, it was then some sort of gross fluid began to leak from his nose. It wasn’t even that cold, why on God/Satan’s green earth was-  

Sophia suddenly yipped, cringing back. 

He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, lifting a gloved hand to wipe at his nose. 

The tan leather was smeared bright red with blood. 

“Oh, motherfuck-” 

“Bu- Beetlejuice ?” Barbara rushed to his side, shortly joined by Adam. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” His husband’s voice was somewhat frantic. 

“Yeah, I… wow.” Beetlejuice kept a hand at his nose as blood continued to flow from it at a steady rate. “Holy shit. Ohhh-… ‘Kay.” He exchanged a nervous glance with both of his partners. “I’ll.. be right back?” 

He ignored their gentle protests as he made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, his bad leg aching and feeling incredibly weak. 

The blood was leaking out from between the fingers of his glove by the time he stepped inside the bathroom, the clicking of his shoes on the tile echoing in a sickening sort of way. There was dull, ambient jazz playing through an ancient speaker in a ceiling corner, and the whole place smelled of cheap soap and human odors and- 

Beetlejuice gripped the sides of one of the sinks hard as his lunch came back up. 

His throat burned, and his nose was still clogged and flowing with blood, and the acid from his stomach stung his nose and clung to his teeth in a way that made the nausea almost dizzying. 

Something clattered in the sink with his last round of heaving. 

As he rushed to rinse the chunks and still-flowing blood down the drain, he froze. 

A tooth ? 

A molar, to be specific. 

He felt around with his tongue, and sure enough, found the gap where it used to be in his upper jaw. 

It would grow back within the day, but… 

Beetlejuice furrowed his brows as he washed his gloves, and the sink, and his face, and tucked the tooth into a pocket. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? 

The blood had slowly ceased flowing from his nose, but he could still feel it thickly trickling down the back of his throat. 

…. Maybe you’re havin’ another fit of some kind. 

It’s like Wolf said, sometimes you get so worked up your body gets physically sick. 

But that’s usually just breathers, so why -? 

Someone came barreling into the bathroom, boots clicking on tile. 

Beetlejuice straightened up and rushed to dab the remaining blood up from his facial hair with paper towels as Janet stormed in, marching right up to him. 

“I’m onto you.” She growled, crossing her arms and glaring firmly into his eyes. 

“… you-…” he cleared his throat as his voice cracked, threatening to slip back into it’s usual gruff and grit. “You.. huh?” His head was still spinning, still dazed and confused. 

“My sister has been through a lot,” Janet began, pausing to grab a few paper towels herself and glance around with disgust. “… god, the men’s room is repulsive.” 

“Yeah, it really-” 

“She doesn’t need a two-bit, sleazy car salesman type to sweep her off her feet and then leave her in ruins.” Janet wet the paper towels before gripping his face with one hand and using them to dab at his nose and mouth with the other. “You aren’t how she described you. You aren’t her type at all . You didn’t think she told us about you? Showed us pictures? She loves you, asshole.” 

“I-” 

“Cut the bullshit, okay?” Janet pinched his cheek, as if warning him not to speak until she was done. “I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at, but I don’t like it. I don’t like you.” She paused, her hand slowing. “… but she does. She really does. She’s a careful woman, and for some strange reason I can’t fathom, she chose to share her heart with you.” 

He opened his mouth to try speaking again, but thought better of it. 

“I love my sister more than anything in this life or the next. If you hurt her, or my brother, I will kill you. I don’t know if demons can die, or how, but I’ll find a way. ” She released his face once she seemed to deem it clean enough, tossing the paper towels in the nearest trash can. “I deal with two hundred fifteen year olds a day. Nothing scares me anymore. You don’t scare me. And you aren’t impressing me. Show me what my sister really fell in love with, and maybe one day we can be… friendly. Capeesh?” 

Beetlejuice nodded. 

“Good.” Janet then pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, recoiling right away. “Shit, you’re freezing .” 

“It’s…” he cleared his throat, willing away the charm that changed his voice with a relieved little exhale. “It’s a.. me thing. I run cold.” 

“Hmm.” She seemed unconvinced. “And the nosebleed?” 

“No idea. But ‘m feelin’ better now.” 

“You still sound stuffy.” 

“I said ‘better’, not ‘fixed’.” 

Janet glanced over her shoulder as the bathroom door opened again, and Adam called Beetlejuice’s name. 

She leaned in close, pointing a finger inches from his face. “Do better,” she murmured with a hard glare. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Janet turned and left the bathroom as swiftly as she came, patting her sister’s arm as she and Adam passed her on their way in. 

“Beetlejuice, are you okay?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“You-… that’s never happened before, what-” 

He held his hands up as they approached, taking in a deep, stunted breath through his nose. “‘M okay now. It stopped.” He then shrugged, allowing them to swoop in close to check him over. “I, uh… don’t know what caused it. I’m thinkin’.. nerves?” His teeth still had that uncomfortable feeling stuck to them, and the gap where his tooth used to be gently bled. 

Barbara and Adam exchanged a dubious Look. “… we can ask Larry to check later,” the former insisted, frowning hard. 

Beetlejuice nodded, already trying to plot a way to weasel his way out of the visit. Things were a tad too awkward between them after the previous night’s outburst. He waved a hand. “Sure, let’s get back to-” 

“Now that we’ve got you alone,” Barbara interjected, hands on her hips. “We’re going to have a quick chat about… all this.” 

“All what?” He asked as innocently as he could manage. 

“The disguise! The… ugh!” She motioned to him entirely. “Do you know how unsettling it is to have your husband look so… not like your husband? You’re eye-level now!” 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m sorry it’s uncomfortable, Babs. I’ll be back to bite-sized before you know it.” He reached out to pat her arm. “I just really needed to make a good impression on-”

Adam reached out and grasped the outstretched hand with both of his own, suddenly, squeezing it tight with an agonized sort of expression. “Beetlejuice, we don’t care!” He blurted, stepping in closer. “I mean, yeah, sure, we want them to like you, but… we also like you . Not… not an idealized version of you.” His brows were furrowed into a pleading sort of way he knew Beetlejuice couldn’t resist. “We love you for the way you are. Not how you can impress our family, or whatever. If they don’t like those parts of you, screw them. You’re lovely just the way you are.” 

Fat, thick, wet, black tears were rolling down Beetlejuice’s cheeks before Adam’s words could even fully process. 

A painful mixture of love and joy and sorrow, pink and blue and indigo and green, swept through him in a dizzying wave. It swallowed him whole in a heartbeat, and he threw his arms around his partners as he sobbed and proclaimed that he loved them too. 

Barbara and Adam both seemed thrown off, but still held him tightly regardless. 

It was gone as quick as it had arrived, leaving him confused and embarrassed in it’s wake. 

“I, uh…” he sniffled, patting their backs before releasing them and stepping back. He grabbed an absurd amount of paper towels to wipe at his cheeks. “Sorry, I… don’t know where that came from.” 

“It’s okay,” Barbara assured, smiling softly. “I get it. Big feelings.” 

Adam nodded in agreement. “You’re meeting your in-laws. It’s a big deal.” 

A thought came to Beetlejuice then, causing anguish and anger to roll through him unpleasantly. He jabbed a finger in their direction, scowling. “Speakin’ of. I’m gonna have words with you two when we get home.” 

Adam shrinked back, seeming a little ashamed, while Barbara scoffed. “Bug, honey, I know you’re mad about us talking to them.” 

“And without tellin’ me!” 

She threw her hands out exasperatedly at her sides. “Because we knew you’d react like this!” 

“Why wouldn’t I?!” He growled, baring his teeth despite not wanting to. “You put us in danger!” 

Both of his spouses froze, confused and thrown off, as he continued to huff and puff. 

It slowly simmered out as they further looked perplexed. 

“… what do you mean?” Adam prompted. 

“… you don’t know?” Beetlejuice smacked his palm to his forehead after a few moments. “Fuck. Of course you don’t know. You didn’t read the Handbook.” He dragged the hand down his face with a long groan of “fuuuuuuck”. 

“What is it?” 

“What don’t we know?” 

“There’s a huge fuckin’ penalty for exposing the living to the secrets of the afterlife.” 

“… oh.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah, ‘oh shit’!” Beetlejuice clacked his teeth furiously. He took a deep breath, trying to will the ache and burning anger away. “… it’s okay. It’s… we’ll figure it out. Later. Just…” 

He reached into his coat, tugging at the many bundled up charms in little handmade leather bags around his neck. “… listen to me sometimes, alright? I know I can be an idiot-” 

Barbara frowned, stepping forward to grip his shoulder. “Oh, honey, no, we-” 

“- but , I know a thing or two about a thing or two, okay? Sometimes I know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

Barbara and Adam exchanged another meaningful Look then. 

“.. alright.” 

“Sorry we didn’t listen before.” 

Barbara nodded feverently. “Yes, we’re sorry, Lovebug. You know more about this than us. We were just…” 

He sighed, yanking off the charms. The added layers of disguise melted away to just his own powers, just his own usual disguise. No more was “ Lawrence, the Perfect In-Law ”. His spouses visibly relaxed at the sight, softening and smiling. 

He placed the used up charms in his hammerspace, pulling out his cane in exchange. “I get it. They’re your family. I… woulda done the same if it was Lyds.” 

Beetlejuice leaned up to accept a quick kiss from both of them, letting out a weary sigh. “We can chat about all that later. We got some more critters to see.” 

Barbara and Adam both tucked an arm under each of his own as the three of them walked out of the bathroom. (Fuckin’ hell, his leg hurt. That’s what he gets, he supposed.) 

“Oh! We still gotta see those Mexican Wolves!” Adam fidgeted with Beetlejuice’s jacket sleeve with an excited grin. 

“Eugh. You guys go ahead.” 

Barbara chuckled softly. “I wish they had a polar bear. I’d like to take a picture and ask Larry if they’re related.” 

“What? Nah. You’d have to find a grizzly.” 

Both of his spouses furrowed their brows. 

“… aren’t they a polar bear?” 

Beetlejuice barked out a laugh as they approached the rest of their group, who all seemed relieved, confused, and discomforted at the same time. “Ha! Do not let them hear you say that.” 

“Beetlejuice,” Winona called excitedly, swarming him along with her sister. 

Sophia reached to wrap her scarf around his neck. “All good?” 

“Mhm. Thanks.” He flashed her a broad, toothy grin, causing her eyes to widen. 

“Beetlejuice,” Winona said again, gently pushing her sister out of the way. 

“Careful, kiddo. One more and I’m at your beck and call.” 

“There’s a hyena exhibit over there.” She pointed down the way a bit, bouncing with excitement. “And an anteater after that. And-and Adam says you got a few things in common with both of them. Can we see? Please?” 

Beetlejuice let out a faux exasperated sigh, but couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” 

Sure, he wasn’t the perfect in-law, like he wanted. 

But as they slowly eased into each other’s presences, laughing and chatting, making plans to meet up in the near future, Beetlejuice couldn’t help but feel a glowing sense of pride. 

He rode that feeling as they all said goodbye and promised to see each other again in a couple days, and as Barbara and Adam ushered him to their dinky little green car. 

He barely had time to express how delighted he was to meet people who loved his partners as much as him before he just about passed out, sprawled out in the backseat. 

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice had gotten pretty good at the whole “Valentine’s Day” thing, if you asked him. 

He and his spouses took turns arranging anniversary and Valentine’s plans, and it was his turn. 

He’d planned the perfect day for the three of them. (Well, there honestly wasn’t much for him to personally enjoy, but seeing his partners happy was more than enough to satisfy him.) 

After breakfast, they were off to an antique mall about 45 minutes from home. (He’d gotten more comfortable with cars over time, but driving on those country roads made him feel dizzy and ill, for some reason. It was annoying as hell.) 

They stayed for way longer than planned, but neither Adam nor Beetlejuice could bear pulling Barbara away from those endless shelves and racks before she’d had her fill. 

Frilly blouses and patterned skirts and flowery dresses and bell-bottom pants, fun little glass knick-knacks and fancy themed vases, their cart was filled to the brim in no time. 

A gorgeous stained glass lamp and a soft yellow quilt for a future kid’s room. A wooden cabinet with a glass door for Beetlejuice’s rocks and trinkets, some sort of old camera with a slot for a light bulb for Lydia. Old morgue toe tags for Ash, a pair of ceramic songbirds for Charles and Delia. An antique metal mailbox to spruce up Adam’s hobby corner. Someone’s faded and worn Jane Austen collection, a rickety couch for Adam to fix up for the basement. 

(Perhaps they should’ve told her ‘no’ a few of the times she excitedly pointed to something and asked if they should get it, but how could they deny that beaming smile?) 

They had to hustle to make it to their next stop; an anniversary screening for “ The Terminator ”. 

(Well, not exactly an anniversary screening. The movie had come out in October of 1984, and it was mid February. But Beetlejuice had twisted some arms and possessed a few breathers to make it happen, because of the way Adam’s eyes lit up when he told him about the screening. Sucks to suck, monogamous losers who wanted to see “ The Notebook ” or whatever.) 

Beetlejuice reveled in his husband’s excited gasps and whispered ramblings and flapping hands. 

(The snuggling and popcorn were nice bonuses.) 

They ended with a long picnic on the roof, huddled up under blankets, snacking on cheese and crackers and leaning back to stargaze. 

It was fuckin’ fantastic. 

Beetlejuice was ready to catalog it away with the rest of the many near perfect days he’d had over the past few years, exhausted beyond measure as he lazily chewed the last of the grapes. 

Their “charcuterie” picnic all eaten, the air growing colder by the minute, he purred contentedly to himself, watching his partners pack up and prepare to head inside. 

He opened his mouth to ask them if it had been a good Valentine’s Day when he heard tires on gravel, rapidly approaching the house. 

It was one of those “Uber”s, dropping Lydia off. 

The three demons barely had time to scramble downstairs to greet her as she stomped inside, a duffel bag on her shoulder. 

Lydia had changed a lot in the past three years, in her time at college. 

She’d gotten a few new piercings, a tattoo or two (one for her Dead Mom, of course), grown out her hair, grown older and wiser and put some meat on her bones. (She’d always be his little sister, though. No matter how much more mature she was, how much taller than him (especially with those platform boots).) 

But that day, more than ever, he was reminded of that desperate gothy teen on the roof, about to do something drastic. 

Their eyes were red and puffy, bloodshot and nearly manic with fear and anger and despair. Their hair was unkempt, their clothes obviously thrown on and rumpled. They gripped at the strap of their duffel bag with reddened hands, wiping at any stray tears. Smeared makeup stained their face and hands and sleeves. 

When they saw Beetlejuice, first to greet them like always, they choked out a sob and threw their arms around him. 

He held them tightly, confused and distressed, as Barbara and Adam made their way over and joined in on the embrace. 

They just quietly sobbed into their gathered family’s arms for a good long while, trembling and vulnerable in a way Beetlejuice distantly thought they’d probably be embarrassed about later. 

Eventually, painfully, Lydia pulled away, sniffling and wiping their face with their sleeve until Adam offered them a conjured box of tissues. “Hey guys,” they croaked out. 

They couldn’t pry what was wrong out of her, not yet. 

First came tea and hot cocoa and quiet conversation about what they’d all been up to since the last phone call a few days before. Barbara whipped her up a plate of what they all affectionately called “white people nachos”, and they talked in hushed tones well beyond their usual bedtime. Pluto crawled into Lydia’s lap, just staring up at her and purring as loud as she could manage. 

When her mood seemed as lifted as it could be, Beetlejuice walked her up to her room while Barbara and Adam cleaned up. He conjured up clean sheets for her bed and gave her another firm hug. 

“… what happened?” He asked, almost in a whisper. 

She didn’t respond, pulling away and gripping him by the shoulders as she looked him over. They hadn’t seen each other in person since New Years. “You look like shit,” she said instead, raising an eyebrow. 

Of course he looked like shit. He’d spat out three teeth early that morning, and spent the day out and about. It had been a lovely day, but terribly draining. “So do you.” 

Her face was still red and puffy, her eyes still bloodshot, some random strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. “Touché.” 

He didn’t pry further, yet. 

He wished her goodnight as she held Pluto tight and close like a lifeline, making his way to the attic to speculate and worry in murmurs with his spouses until they grew tired enough to retire to bed. 

Lydia wasn’t much better the next morning. Or well into that day. 

She didn’t rise until past 2pm, she ate little and spoke even less. 

Adam and Barbara had reluctantly gone to open the store, Beetlejuice staying behind to keep an eye on her. 

She blasted music shortly after returning upstairs from her breakfast/lunch of stale crackers and peanut butter. 

Barbara and Adam returned home, and Lydia stayed in her room. 

They all three checked on her as often as they could without being too overbearing, bringing her dinner then snacks. 

After the seventh time through Mitski’s greatest hits rattling the house’s walls, Beetlejuice ditched the gentle approach altogether. 

Against Barbara and Adam’s frantic objections, he barged into her room at around 9pm, closing the door behind himself. 

Lydia was lying flat on her back on one of her rugs, Bluetooth speaker blasting “ I Want You ” far too close to her ear. Pluto was curled up at her side, tail twitching anxiously. 

Half-eaten plates of the macaroni dinner and fruit spread they’d brought her sat discarded just out of her reach. 

Beetlejuice let out a weary sigh, snapping his fingers to short circuit the speaker. 

Lydia sat up immediately, whirling around to scowl at him once she realized what had happened. “What the fuck, man?” 

“What happened?” 

She crossed her arms, glaring down at the ground. “… nothing. Fuck off.” 

“C’mon. Dropping by unannounced, middle of the week?” He made his way over to her. “Planes and Ubers and shit are expensive. And I know you’re not on break from school.” 

Lydia didn’t respond. 

“… you didn’t even bring Percy .” Beetlejuice gasped suddenly, reaching down to grip her shoulder. “Holy shit. Is he dead?” 

“No!” Lydia grabbed Beetlejuice’s hand, shaking her head rapidly. “No, God no. That cat’s gonna live forever if I have anything to say about it.” She took in a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “It’s just… I needed… comfort. I needed to be.. Home . And it was.. it was too much of a hassle to drug him and get him in his carrier on short notice.” 

He furrowed his brows. “… why didn’t you go to Ash?” 

Lydia didn’t respond. 

If Beetlejuice had a heart, it would’ve sunk. 

“… shit.” He hesitated, plopping down next to her. “What happened?” 

Lydia remained quiet. 

He swallowed down his next barrage of questions. What happened? Can it be fixed? How are they doing? Did they hurt you? What happened ? 

Instead, he wrapped his arms around his sister and hugged her tightly. She didn’t need someone trying to fix what happened. She needed comfort. 

Beetlejuice gently informed Barbara and Adam what he’d learned after spending hours sitting with Lydia in silence as she cried. 

The three of them did their best to comfort her, to be there for her. To hold her until she was steady enough to stand on her own again. 

They watched bad movies and ate junk and talked for hours altogether about everything and nothing at all. 

She didn’t tell them what happened. 

They didn’t pry. 

When the time came for Lydia to go back to her apartment and her job and her schooling two days later, they drove her to the airport and hugged her and promised they were always there for her. 

Just before she stepped inside the airport, Lydia gripped Beetlejuice firmly by his shoulders and stared hard into his eyes. “… you okay?” 

He wasn’t. He felt awful every day, constantly sick and exhausted and thrown off-kilter. 

But he was happy. 

So he grinned and nodded. 

Lydia obviously didn’t believe him, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to argue. She just hugged him and sighed. “… thank you. For, y’know-”

“Always, Lyds.” 

“… don’t you go prying.” 

Beetlejuice grunted, but she squeezed him harder. “I’m serious. This… I know you’re my brother and BFFF and all that, but… this is our business.” 

“… yeah. Okay.” 

Lydia narrowed her eyes and pinched his shoulder. “ Beetlejuice .” 

“Alright! Alright, whatever.” The demon sighed exaggeratedly, releasing her after one last squeeze. “Now scram. You’re gonna miss your flight.” 

She stared at him suspiciously for a few moments as she stepped back, eventually softening and flashing him a tired little smile. “… love you.” 

“Love you too. Call us when you get back.” 

“I will.” She turned to head inside. 

“And give Percy a noogie for me!” 

Lydia laughed and waved at him over her shoulder. 

She probably should’ve known better. 

She should’ve looked him in the eyes and made him swear, out loud, that he had no plans to meddle. 

But she didn’t. 

So he plotted. 

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice waited a full month to seek Ash out. 

It took an awful lot of restraint on his part, but he wanted to see if perhaps things would resolve on their own. 

But they didn’t. 

Ash stopped calling every week, stopped visiting biweekly. 

Lydia’s spirits remained as low as Michael Wincott’s voice when she called nearly daily. 

It took quite a bit of planning to pull the metaphorical wool over Barbara and Adam’s eyes. 

They wouldn’t allow him to go visit Ash, as Lydia had asked them all to stay out of it for the time being. 

He couldn’t outright lie, saying Ash had invited him. 

So he got his poor sister to lie for him. 

Larry would refuse to get involved, and Deb was too poor of a liar. 

Bela was coached to say she and Beetlejuice were going “camping” together on a Friday in mid March, during their biweekly game night. It was an unseasonably warm week, and they wanted to be outdoors together. Sibling bonding, and all that. 

Barbara and Adam decided they’d visit with their breather family, and Deb was none the wiser as Bela stayed with a member of their Coven for the night. 

They had the game “night” during the middle of the day, all turning in early for their various escapades. 

The other Shoggoth gave him a stony look as they parted ways, after putting on a convincing act of leaving together with backpacks and such. “This is a bad idea.” 

“What? Nah. It’s a great idea!” 

She hummed. “If this goes tits up, I’m not entertaining anymore of your harebrained schemes.” 

Beetlejuice scoffed. “It won’t go ‘tits up’! If anything, it’ll be… tits down!” 

She paid him no further mind as she trudged off into the woods. 

Making it to Ash’s apartment wasn’t too difficult. They’d set an anchor point for portals up in their bathroom in case of emergencies, which this certainly was. 

Beetlejuice squeezed through the portal with a wheeze, fumbling and falling onto the bathroom tile with a tremendous crash as he brought all of the contents of the counter down with him. 

He hadn’t expected them to be home. They worked late most nights, so he’d thought he would have time to scope out the situation and plan his approach. 

But the bathroom light flicked on moments later, Ash standing at the ready with a lead pipe gripped in one hand. 

“… Beetlejuice ?” 

“Heeyyyy!” He kicked his legs, struggling to get them untangled with the shower curtain. “Fancy seein’ you here! In… your apartment!” 

Like Lydia, Ash had changed in the past few years. 

They’d stopped testosterone, but the effects on their voice and now muscular frame remained. Their hair was bleached blonde once more, now in a shaggy “wolf cut”. They had a multitude of piercings; Medusa, labret, septum, snake bites, industrial, tongue, etc. They’d gotten many-a tattoo, including a few on their hands and fingers. 

They were a stylish person, when they wanted to be. Put together for their job, well-kempt and neat at times. 

But they looked horrid then. 

Dark circles and heavy eye bags, sunken cheeks and cloudy, bloodshot eyes. Pale and somewhat gaunt. Put through the wringer a dozen times, and then some. 

They reeked of alcohol and embalming chemicals, strangers and sweat and mildew, in a way that made Beetlejuice’s stomach churn. (And death. But that was normal, of course. They worked with dead bodies. The smell always clung to them, to their belongings, to Lydia even.) 

They wore ripped jeans, a plain tan binder, and a shredded black tank top. Certainly not fitting for the seasonal weather, until it had turned recently. 

“… fuckin’ hell.” 

They scowled, dropping the lead pipe with a loud clang that made his ears ring. “You scared the shit outta me, asshole!” 

Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows. “If I was a burglar, were you gonna cave my skull in?” 

“I still might.” Ash held out their hands, helping the demon up to his hooves with some effort. “You made me spill my beer.” 

He scrunched up his nose. “Good riddance. Might as well drink piss.” 

“I’m not drinking it for the taste.” Ash turned to return to the other room of their studio apartment, not bothering to check if he followed. 

Beetlejuice’s hooves knocked into many things as he trailed behind them. Glass bottles, wrappers, empty takeout containers. The apartment and dark and dank and dirty. (They usually kept it quite neat, for when Lydia came to visit.) 

A beer bottle did indeed lay spilled in front of the couch. “ Saw VI ” was playing on the TV. 

“You, uh… wow, your-” 

“Why are you here?” Their voice was flat as they stooped low to mop up the spilled beer with a dirty shirt that was left on their banged-up coffee table. 

“Geez.” Beetlejuice clacked his teeth a few times. “What happened to ‘hi, how are you, how’s’-” 

“I’m not in the mood.” Ash dug a pack of cigarettes out of their pocket once they’d deemed the mess cleaned up enough, and he felt a steady, burning unease begin to rise in his gut. 

They seemed to notice, quickly going to tap one of their many rings. One made of wood, with symbols carefully carved in an undoubtedly painstakingly small size. “Hey, don’t worry. It doesn’t smell. L-… Lyds… gave me a charm. So the smell’d never stick on me and bug you.” 

Beetlejuice felt a fluttering fondness for his sister’s unspoken acts of care in his chest, but it was just about snuffed out by the way Ash painfully choked out her name. 

His tail flickered behind him. 

An itch, a tug, an incessant little knock instantly plagued his mind. 

… one can’t hurt. 

“… can I bum one off you?” 

Ash raised their eyebrows in surprise as they moved to light a cigarette pressed between their lips. “Sure,” they spoke around it, pausing to toss the pack to him. “Thought you couldn’t stand them.” 

“Yeah, well…” Beetlejuice leaned down to catch the pack when he failed to catch it. “.. I used to just bear it. But, uh… without the smell..” 

The mortician held up the lighter in offering, but Beetlejuice waved a hand as he placed a cigarette between his own lips. He snapped his fingers, sparking a little flame on his thumb and using it to light his smoke. 

“Damn. Wish I could do that.” Ash smacked their lighter with their hand a few times until it worked. Barely. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?” 

The demon let out a long exhale, shifting his hooves. “… I heard what happened.” 

Ash didn’t respond for a while, green eyes dull as they stared at him with exhaustion weighing down their features. 

“I-I, uh-” 

“You want me to talk to her. Try to fix things. Try to fix me.” Ash moved to crack open a window, blowing smoke out it. (Beetlejuice had hoped the fresh air would calm his nausea, but the muddled smells of the city outside only seemed to make it worse.) “You can fuck right off with that.” They whirled around to face him again, crossing their arms as he flinched back. “Just ‘cause you’re all fixed up and happily married doesn’t mean you can-…” they trailed off, eyes going wide with some sort of wave of despair. 

They groaned, then, using their free hand to rub their face. “I’m doing it again. She’s totally right.” 

“.. what do you…?” 

“What did you come here to try to do?” 

“… I don’t know,” he answered, earnestly. “I think I… I wanted to find out what happened. See if things can be fixed. See if… you’re okay.” They looked at him with a bit of surprise then. “We’re worried about you. You’re sorely missed on game nights.” 

Ash wiped at their eyes, not seeming to care how it smudged their eyeliner. “I’m doing bad. As… as you can see.” They held up the hand holding the cigarette when Beetlejuice opened his mouth to speak again. “But I don’t… I don’t need your regurgitated therapy speak, or your botched attempts at being a Barbara or an Adam, okay?” 

Beetlejuice clenched his jaw, then pursed his lips. “… what do you need?” He asked, eventually. 

The mortician was quiet, briefly, a little put-off. 

“… how about..” they looked to their rickety old TV, where a few detectives were looking over a new trap victim’s body, a smile slowly forming. “… we just.. hang out?” 

Ash let Beetlejuice pick the first movie, not at all surprised when he picked “ The Lost Boys ”. 

Then Ash picked “ Re-Animato r”, but they didn’t quite make it all the way through. 

They drank heavily throughout both films, going to scrounge up another bottle of whatever was laying around their apartment (usually tucked under their bed) when they emptied their current bottle. 

They kept offering the demon a drink, not noticing or caring how it seemed to make him squirm. 

One can’t hurt. 

He was on his third cigarette. The thrill of smoking once more, without the threat of a spiral from the smell, was exhilarating. 

One can’t hurt. 

Adam would be so upset with him, he was doing his best to stay on the straight and narrow- 

Ash passed him their cigarette when he finished off his own, their face now flushed and their body swaying. “Y’sure you don’ want’a sip or two?” They drummed their rings against the bottle, raising their eyebrows and lightly shaking it. 

Beetlejuice passed the cigarette back to Ash as he exhaled. “Not my style anymore.” 

They scowled, the bottle clinking against their lip piercing as they held it there. “Wheres’tha Bee’lejuice I used’ta know?” They slurred, before taking a swig. “Used’t be a real party animal. You’ve got all… soft n’ shit.” 

Beetlejuice’s tail thumped against the floor as he curled his lip. They don’t even really know how I used to be. Not even Lydia saw the worst of it. 

Just one. One couldn’t hurt. 

Just one sip. 

“… just hand me the stupid bottle.” 

“Just one sip” turned into finishing off the bottle, then sharing the next two. 

They weren’t even done with the first morgue scene of “ Re-Animator ” when Ash stumbled around their apartment in a frenzy, checking all the spots they’d pulled from previously. 

Beetlejuice took that as a sign that perhaps they should stop, maybe they should order some food and- 

Ash was holding his face, suddenly, their hands and breath warm. Their nose was only a few inches away from his own. “Hey. Hey.” They rubbed his face, jostling his chubby cheeks and ruffling up his scruffy facial hair. The room spun, his limbs felt numb and weightless. (Had he really become so much of a lightweight? How was that even possible?) “Let’s go on an adventure.” 

Beetlejuice’s ears perked, and he grinned wide. 

That sounded like a splendid idea. 

Ash and Beetlejuice giggled, uncoordinated as they cobbled together a hasty little disguise for him. (He didn’t quite trust his powers to hold up during this “adventure”.) A wide-brimmed hat (obviously Lydia’s. It smelled of her so strongly.), a pair of mortuary nitrile gloves, his tail tucked into his pants. (It made his balance even worse, but what could they do?) 

They set out on the darkening evening with ill intentions. 

First just a light bit of graffiti with spray cans Ash had hoarded away (for reasons they wouldn’t share), just some plain brick walls of alleyways with crude drawings of human anatomy and Beetlejuice himself in stick form. Then people’s cars. 

When the cans of paint ran empty, they turned to using the demon’s claws and the mortician’s pocket knife. Paint scraped off and tires punctured, the expensive-smelling leather seats of one unlucky convertible with it’s top down ripped to ribbons. 

Then they stole a shopping cart, and took turns pushing each other around or careening down slopes together. 

He lost the hat somewhere in the middle of the cart-riding. 

Then they stole more bottles of vodka from the local liquor store, with Ash as a distraction and Beetlejuice using some of his demonic powers to phase out through the wall. 

The rush was thrilling. It was so intense, so electrifying, so… 

Beetlejuice felt alive . 

Well, not “alive-alive”, but… alive . 

He hadn’t gotten up to such mischief in so long. Hadn’t participated in some good-ol’ property damage and theft, hadn’t terrorized a town. 

Maybe Ash was right. 

He’d gotten too soft. 

Maybe- 

The rush was gone in an instant when they heard shattering glass. 

Beetlejuice was left shaking, trying to steady his shuddering breaths, eventually emptying the minimal contents of his stomach on the sidewalk. 

Ash had just thrown an empty bottle to the ground with a whoop. 

They patted his back, eyes glassy and dull but still clouded with worry. 

“… le’s, uh… le’s change the pace, maybe?” They offered, gripping onto his arm for stability as they leaned and looked around. Their eyes suddenly lit up, and they began tugging him in a particular direction. “Oh! Oh! I know jus’ th’ place!” 

The local karaoke bar was crowded and loud. 

Beetlejuice cringed at the drunken gaggle of middle aged white women warbling their way through “ I Wanna Dance with Somebody ” on the stage. 

Ash pushed him into a booth, petting his arm and shoulder. “Bartender lets me order pizza here all the time. Y’want p’zza?” 

Pizza honestly sounded wonderful, despite the way his stomach still churned, so he nodded. 

“Awesome!” They patted his cheek, stumbling into the wall. “You stay riiiiight there. I’ll order us one. Get us a spot in the queue.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “… what queue?” 

“To sing!” 

He groaned. “Ash, no, let’s just-” 

But they weren’t listening, already wobbling over to the bar. 

The constant noise was horrid. His head hurt. 

Covering his ears with his hands didn’t help. 

The gloves rubbed horribly on his skin. The table was sticky. The booth cushion was hard and uncomfortable. There was laughter, and shouting, and singing, and loud music, and clinking drinks, and incessant heartbeats, and- 

Beetlejuice had gnawed a hole through one of the gloves by the time Ash returned. 

He couldn’t hear what they rambled on about over the noise, and the ringing in his ears, and the clashing smells and lights and- and-… 

The pizza was alright. Good in a cheap way. It did it’s job. 

Beetlejuice ate half of it, hoping it and the glasses of water he made himself chug would help sober him up. 

The strange floaty feeling wasn’t helping with his… anything. He was nauseous, and overstimulated, and his head hurt, and his thoughts weren’t forming properly, and his hands hurt, and now his teeth hurt, and even his stomach hurt now. It was horrendous . 

He was only just starting to feel a little better when Ash’s phone pinged, and they grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the stage. “C’mon! It’s our turn!” 

Beetlejuice tried to plead, but they were up on stage with a mic in their hand and blinding lights shining in their eyes before they could get anything out. 

At least Ash chose something from “ Mamma Mia ”. 

They took the male part, gripping their mic with both hands and shutting their eyes as they concentrated hard. They obviously knew the song very well, while Beetlejuice had to squint at the screen with the lyrics. 

“ Where are those happy days?, 

They seem so hard to find, 

I try to reach for you, 

But you have closed your mind, 

Whatever happened to our love?, 

I wish I understood, 

It used to be so nice, 

It used to be so good, ” 

Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows as he watched them. 

They were perhaps… too into it. 

Then the chorus hit. 

Ash just about shouted the lyrics from the depths of their soul, “ So when you’re near me, darling, 

Can’t you hear me? S.O.S., 

The love you gave me, 

Nothing else can save me, S.O.S., ” 

Good lord, how were they sober enough for this? How many times had they listened to that song? 

“ When you’re gone, 

How can I even try to go on?, 

When you’re gone, 

Though I try, how can I carry on?, ” 

Beetlejuice missed the cue for his part, too busy staring at Ash with shock and concern. 

They’d put so much into those last lines, they were left panting and teary-eyed as they motioned for him to sing. 

He did so, reluctantly, poorly. The female part wasn’t in his register at all. He pitched and cracked his way through it, tensing in preparation for it to go back to Ash. 

They had fun with it, in the end, tossing an arm around Ash to steady them and himself when the crowd reluctantly clapped once they finished. 

Beetlejuice made Ash eat what remained of the pizza, forcing a glass of water in their hand between slices. 

They were suddenly somber, listening to what he said without too much resistance as they swayed in their seat. 

The demon was ready to call it a night and drag the mortician back to their apartment for a serious chat when they suddenly smiled at him, sad and wistful. “… I got one more adventure. Way more kosher. You’re gonna love it, I promise.” 

They did, in fact, love it, unfortunately. 

Mostly. 

It turned out that the town Ash lived in had a bridge just outside it’s limits just like the one from “ The Lost Boys ”, train tracks and all. 

His tail wiggled it’s way free from where it had been tucked into his pants, incessantly wagging behind him as he darted about the bridge and leaned over to inspect various little details. 

“Drop’s not too bad,” Ash mused, kicking a pebble between the wood slats and into the water below. “It’s the rocks down there that would getcha.” 

“Yeah.” Beetlejuice peered between the sleepers, clacking his teeth repeatedly. 

“Good thing I got awesome grip strength.” 

He stopped, blinking a few times. His mind was still in a bit of a haze, it took him a short while to process their words. “.. what do you-” 

“Bombs away!” Ash disappeared between the gaps of the tracks and bridge with a laugh. 

Beetlejuice yiped, scrambling to where they had just been. 

He let out a relieved sigh when he saw them gripping onto the metal bars below the tracks, just like in the movie. 

“You fuckin’ idiot!” He barked, ripping the gloves off and reaching a hand down to them. 

“Aww, c’mon Big Dog, don’t be a chicken!” Ash threw their head back with a laugh, kicking their legs in the air. “C’mon down!” 

Beetlejuice paused, clenching his outstretched hand. 

… he had always wanted to try this… 

“… alright. Just for a minute.” He clambered down, carefully, exhaling shakily when he let his legs drop and dangle in the air. 

Ash whooped and cheered, kicking their legs towards him playfully. “Fuck yeah, Big Dog! How’s it feel?!” 

He glanced down, past his dangling hooves to the metal framing and sharp rocks and rushing water below. 

He looked back up to Ash, who was grinning and laughing like a madman. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle himself, using what little core strength he had to lift up his legs and kick them towards the human. 

It was quite the rush, but the threat of falling into what lies below knocked incessantly at the back of his mind. 

“Dude! Your tail! Try your tail!” 

Beetlejuice pursed his lips, looking up at his sweaty hands shakily holding on. 

It would be quite a bitch to haul himself up to do that. 

And hanging upside down would be even more dangerous, and he didn’t even know how he would get back u- 

He was hauling himself up with grunts of effort before he could even complete his thoughts. 

The demon was hanging by his tail in no time, holding out his arms to keep himself steady. 

“Fuck yeah, Beetlejuice!” Ash cheered, grinning wide. “You’re the fuckin’ man !”  

“You’re insane,” the demon laughed, still breathless, grinning. 

“So are you, dude! You joined me!” 

“How the fuck are we gonna get back up?” 

Ash paused, briefly, shrugging as best they could. They readjusted their grip with a pained expression. “Figured you could use your powers somehow!” 

“And if I can’t?” 

They thought for a moment, then shrugged again. 

Beetlejuice growled, gathering up all the strength he could muster to summon a clone up on top of the tracks. “This was a stupid idea.” 

“You went along with it!” 

“You suggested it!” He summoned a second, then third clone with the first two couldn’t reach him. They hauled him up with quite a bit of effort. 

“Hurry up, please. My hands are killing me.” 

“Oh, yeah, Mx. “I have awesome grip strength”?” Beetlejuice’s head was pounding. He dug around in his hammerspace for any stray cigarettes he hadn’t gotten rid of. 

“Shut up.” Ash thanked the clones that pulled them up, giving them both thumbs up before all three disappeared in puffs of smoke. “You had fun, didn’t you?” 

“… yeah.” 

“Thought so.” Ash sat at the edge of the tracks, letting their legs dangle above where they had just been hanging. They did their best imitation of Beetlejuice’s gravelly voice. “‘ Thank you, Ash ’.” 

He grunted as he sat down next to them. “Thank you, Ash. That was fun, but stupid. Let’s only do it again when we’re both 100% sober.” 

They passed the cigarette back and forth in a brief silence, Beetlejuice’s head aching and spinning horribly. 

He spoke up, gritting his teeth against the pain. “.. you’re not taking this well.” 

Ash looked to him, raising their brows. 

“You’re drinking, smoking-” 

“- I already do both of those things.” 

“- in excess . Acting irrationally.” 

“Pffft, in what way?” 

“Ash. We just dangled off of a bridge . For fun.” 

“… fair.” 

“And you look like shit.” 

The mortician snorted. “ I look like shit?” They motioned to Beetlejuice with both hands. “Look at yourself!” 

Beetlejuice let out a throaty growl. 

“Seriously, what are they feeding you in that house? You look malnourished and over-fed at the same time.” 

“I’ve put on… a healthy amount of weight.” It was more weight than he’d put on in the years prior, but his spouses had assured him it was still alright. 

“Sure. Yeah. Don’t think I didn’t notice the missing claw earlier. You are so obviously deficient in something .” 

He self-consciously rubbed the thumb the fingernail had fallen off of. 

“You better fix yourself before you come after me, you fuckin’ ratty-ass-” 

The demon punched their shoulder hard, causing them to lurch hard to the side. They caught themself with their hands, scowling hard at him. 

Their gaze slowly softened into regret, no doubt at the stupid black tears that were prickling at Beetlejuice’s eyes. 

He couldn’t tell if he was angry, or insulted, or whatever. It all melted together into a blindingly colorful mess of hurt . 

“Oh my fucking god.” Ash buried their face in their hands, then gripped at their hair. “I’m doing it again ! She is so right!” 

He took in a few deep breaths, then a drag of the cigarette. “… I’m guessin’ ‘she’ is Lydia.” 

Ash brought their knees up to their chest, resting their arms and head on top of them. “I-… I really fucked it up, Beetlejuice.” 

“… what happened?” 

They sighed hard, squeezing their eyes shut. “I-… we went out for Valentine’s. Like always. Had to do brunch, since we both had shit going on for the rest of the day.” They dug their nails into their arms, the cheap black nail polish leaving streaks on their skin. “It was awesome. She’s awesome. We were having a great time until my mom called my phone.” 

Beetlejuice scrunched up his nose. 

“Lyds saw I had, like, 40 missed calls from her. And she was like, ‘hey, why don’t you answer, seems important, I don’t mind’. And I was like ‘nah, fuck that bitch, she’s been trying to reach me all month’.” Ash sniffled, opening their eyes to stare out into the woods around them. “She said I shouldn’t ignore her, I should try to make amends. Says my mom clearly wants a relationship.” They bit their lip before they continued. “Said… said she’d give anything to talk to her mom again.” 

Something horrible and cold sank into Beetlejuice’s gut. 

He could clearly see where this was going. 

“I-I… I tried to brush it off, but they wouldn’t drop it. They’d been trying to bring it up for a while, and now they weren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.” Ash looked to the demon with watery eyes. “They don’t… they don’t know her like I do, Beetlejuice. Know what she’s like. How she was before.” 

He reached out to pat their back with a gentle nod. 

“She just wants to reach out ‘cause she’s getting shit from her PTA friends for not having a spectacular relationship with both her kids.” They sniffled again, hard. “I bet she didn’t even remember she had two kids ‘til they asked about me again.” 

“… Lyds kept pushing?” 

Ash nodded hard. “God, they were just trying to be sweet! A-and… fuck, I’m such a piece of shit.” They lifted their head to bury it in their hands again, a sob wracking through their body. “I don’t know what came over me! I-I didn’t use to be like this before, I don’t know why I lashed out at them like that!” Their shoulders were trembling. “I… I said at least their mom was dead, so they didn’t have to deal with her.” 

Beetlejuice cringed, sucking in air through his teeth. 

“I know!” Ash wailed, turning to throw their arms around the demon and bury their face in his shoulder. “I’m such a fuckup! They’re the most wonderful, beautiful, loving person in the world, and I said ‘at least your mom’s dead’?!” 

He held them as they cried, patting their back and holding the cigarette far from their mussed hair. 

“… yeah, that… that was pretty shitty of you,” he said eventually, squeezing them tightly. 

“A-and… fuck, I haven’t apologized. I wanted to give them space, b-but one day turned into a week turned into a month, and-” Ash shuddered, letting out a little whimper. “Fuck, she’s the light of my life, Beetlejuice. I don’t know what I am without her.” 

He grimaced, taking one last drag of the cigarette before tossing it away. He then wrapped his newly freed arm around Ash tightly, butting his head against theirs. “… yeah. You really fucked the dog on this one, Ash.” 

“… it’s ‘screwed the pooch’.” 

“Whatever.” Beetlejuice patted their back again. “You fucked up big time, and you gotta own that.” He released them, gripping their shoulders to hold them at a distance and stare into their eyes. “You’re gonna call Lyds up, and you’re gonna apologize to her. Profusely . You’re gonna buy her flowers, and chocolates, and taxidermied things, and everything her black little heart desires from now on for forever.” 

Ash nodded feverently. 

“I get… why you said what you said, but that doesn’t mean it was okay. Not in the slightest.” 

They continued to nod. 

“… she.. might not take you back, but… you can try. And you can at least let her know you regret what you said.” 

They whimpered at the mention of Lydia not taking them back, quickly wiping at the many tears and streaked eyeliner on their cheeks. 

“You’re gonna pull yourself outta this… bleugh , and you’re gonna be okay no matter what the result is. Okay?” 

“But-” 

“ Okay ?” 

Ash took in a deep breath, then nodded. “… okay.” 

“Good!” Beetlejuice leaned in close suddenly, voice stern and serious. “And don’t think I slept on the part where you broke my sister’s heart, Swallows. Pull something like this again, and I’ll drag you to the deepest pit of the Netherworld by your hair.” He then patted their shoulders, going to hop up to his hooves with a chipper tone. “C’mon. It’ll be daylight in a few hours. You gotta work I bet, and I gotta get back home. We don’t have long to plan out a proper apology.” He held out his hands, helping Ash up to their feet as they blinked in surprise, slowly recovering from the sudden threat. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell, but you’re gonna face it regardless.” 

“… thanks, Beetlejuice.” 

Beetlejuice gently punched their shoulder. “Thank me when Lyds takes you back.” 

“… if she takes me back.” 

“She better!” Beetlejuice turned to begin the trek back towards town. “You guys are my ‘OTP’.” 

“… who taught you that?” 

“What? A demon can’t have a favorite ‘ship’? What’re you, an ‘anti’?” 

Ash snorted out a laugh, shaking their head. “You’re such an idiot.” They jumped forward to punch Beetlejuice’s shoulder in return. 

Their fist never connected, their foot missing the steel rail and causing them to lose their footing entirely. 

Beetlejuice barely had time to turn and reach for them at the sound of their shoe squeaking on metal, of them gasping. 

They disappeared through the gaps in the tracks in a heartbeat. 

There was a clang , 

a wet crunch , 

a crack , 

then a splash . 

Chapter Text

Lydia was having a fine Saturday morning. 

Despite her night owl habits, she tried her best to create new early bird ones. 

She didn’t have classes, and no deadlines for any clients to be met that day. 

It was meant to be a restful sort of day, one where she indulged in her hobbies and reached out to loved ones. 

(And try to ignore the painful, aching, metaphorical wound in her chest.) 

She was trying to keep her eyes open, sipping a piping hot cup of coffee and doing her best to stop Percy from touching his curious little paw onto the boiler plate. 

It was nice and peaceful and pleasantly boring. 

Until she heard a tremendous crash from her bathroom. 

Percy yowled and scrambled to hide under the sofa, fur stood on end. 

Lydia cursed as she spilled half her coffee on the kitchen floor, just barely missing her socked feet. 

“Sorry!” 

She froze, all thoughts of burglars and bear mace grinding to a halt. 

She knew that voice. (How could she ever forget it?) 

“… Beetlejuice ?” She swiftly set the mug down on the kitchen counter, deciding the mess was best left to be cleaned later. 

“Heyyyy Scarecrow,” he called, voice somehow more rough and hoarse than usual. 

“What the fuck, dude? Ever heard of a front door? That sigil is only for emergencies!” The panic gave way to annoyance as she slowly made her way towards the bathroom, still groggy. She was always happy to see him, but did he have to come crashing in like a tornado? 

“This is an emergenc-” her demonic brother cut himself off with a strange “hrrk” sound. 

Lydia swiftly made her way to the bathroom when she heard him retching and gagging. “ Dude , are you-…” 

She flipped on the bathroom light, her words trailing off when she saw the sorry state her brother was in. 

His hair was an ever-shifting mix of purple, indigo, blue, and white. He was soaking wet and shivering as he emptied the contents of his stomach into her toilet. ( Gross .) 

When he was finished, and had lifted his head to blearily shoot her an apologetic look, she saw his nose was just about gushing blood. He had blackened tear streaks all over his cheeks, and- 

Lydia let out a startled little yell when she saw that his right leg was twisted and bleeding, the bone jutting out between his skin. 

“Fuck!” She quickly scrambled to grab a wad of toilet paper and shove it up against his nose, causing him to yipe and cringe away. “What the fuck happened to you?!” 

He stared at her in silence for a few moments before new tears began to flow down his cheeks like a waterfall. Indigo took over his form; every hair on his body, even down to his clothes. “Lydia!” He bawled, jumping forward to throw his arms around her and hug her way too tightly. “I love you so mu-huh-huuuuuch!” 

She slowly patted his back, startled and confused. “I… love you too?” 

He continued to babble about how much he loved her as she set out to cleaning him up. 

— — — 

Beetlejuice felt wind on his face before he could even fully process what had happened. 

They fell. 

Just like them, he didn’t quite clear all the obstacles in his free fall down into the river. 

There was a loud crunch as his leg hit a rock, right as he hit the cold water. 

His mind was abuzz, a switchboard of panic and pain and fear. He didn’t even try to hold on to a single thought as he he frantically flailed in the over water, searching for - 

“Y-you’re okay,” Beetlejuice sputtered, at the sight of blonde hair under the surface. They grasped, desperately, hands failing to find purchase again and again until finally - 

Their skin was rapidly losing warmth. 

They were so much lighter than he expected, but it was still a struggle to hook his arms under theirs and haul them up towards the shore. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” His hooves scrambled on the wet rocks when finally met with the shore, and he dragged them up as carefully as he could manage. “You’re going to be-…” 

His voice caught in his throat. 

He only had their torso. 

One arm was missing, splintered and broken off just above the elbow. Torn skin hung mangled from where it had clearly ripped free. 

Their legs were gone, certainly still somewhere in the water. Their steaming entrails dragged out behind them where Beetlejuice had pulled them onto the shore, bits of them left behind among the rocks or drifting down the gentle flow of the river. 

Beetlejuice choked on a shaky gasp, ducking down to futilely try to tuck as much of their organs back in as they could. “N-no no no, it’s okay, y-you’re gonna be okay.” They snaked between his trembling, frigid hands, wet and slimy and rapidly losing any and all warmth. 

He held one hand there, using the other to cradle their head. Their once bright green eyes lulled, dim and glassy, rolled back and staring up at nothing. Half their face was covered with fresh blood, still slowly oozing out of a craterous hole in their temple. 

“Fuck, you’re f-freezing. We’ll… we’ll warm you up in no time, okay? Yo-you’re gonna be okay.” They were so cold. Breathers aren’t supposed to be cold. That’s bad for their health. 

He sprouted a third arm to try to tuck the wet hair clinging to their face out of the way, gently shushing the silent husk that housed his friend only minutes ago. “Stay with me, Ash, you’re gonna be-”

There was a loud splash as Ash hauled themself up onto shore, sputtering and coughing. “Holy fucking shit!” They gasped, desperately clawing at the rocks to pull themself free of the frigid water. “Jesus fuckin’ H. Christ! What the shit?!” 

The body he was cradling wasn’t his friend. 

He swallowed down the nausea and the panic and the dread, best he could. 

They were okay. 

They were - 

Beetlejuice set the corpse down carefully before scrambling to help them up, gripping onto- …. To… 

His ears were still ringing, but he could hear it, underneath it all. 

The dissonant tone of a human soul, of a ghost . 

Ash’s hands were ice cold. 

As he helped them up, he saw that their right arm was disconnected, floating in place with a gap between where it had been ripped off and where it should’ve connected. 

Blood still dribbled down half their face, as they reached to brush their soaked hair out of their eyes. 

There was a gap between their torso and their waist, their organs dangling free in the empty air. 

Beetlejuice felt the cold again all at once, the panic and the dread becoming downright mind-numbing as it swallowed him whole, dulling his senses. 

Only Ash reacted to the splash of something in the water, jolting and cursing. 

The Handbook for the Recently Deceased , dropped from somewhere far above. 

— — — 

Once dried and cleaned (thank goodness she had a few spare hoodies and sweatpants of his that she’d stolen) and bandaged up, with a paper towel pressed up against his no-longer bleeding nose, Lydia sat Beetlejuice down on her couch and draped a blanket over his shoulders. 

Percy, having shortly realized there was no immediate danger, and his favorite demon was visiting, had followed them around, meowing loudly in demand of their attention. Now he was curled up in Beetlejuice’s lap, kneading his paws into his leg. 

The demon was quiet, with a thousand yard stare at her wall as she finished cleaning up the mess of blood and dirty water and coffee his arrival had caused. His hair was white and purple. 

“It’s, uh… it’s weird to see you get a nosebleed,” Lydia prompted as she threw away the last of the paper towels she’d used to clean the coffee spill. 

He hummed in response, blinking as he obviously tried to pull himself out of whatever foggy state his mind was in. “Been getting those a lot lately,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.  

“Really? What caused it?” 

Beetlejuice just shrugged. 

She frowned hard. “What happened? Why were you all wet? Why was your leg busted again ?” 

He did not answer. 

Lydia sighed, deciding to shift focus. 

“… Barbara and Adam did mention you weren’t feeling well a bit ago.” He glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Is it… still whatever that was?” 

“Hmm.” Beetlejuice reached up to scratch at a spot behind his ear. “I guess? Hasn’t gone away for a while. Just… changes.” 

Lydia raised an eye brow. “How long is ‘a while’?” 

Beetlejuice went quiet as he thought, his tail briefly quivering. “… September?” 

She sputtered out a ‘whuh?’, blinking repeatedly as she leaned down closer to his level. “ Since September ?”  

“… yeah?” 

“Beetlejuice, that’s-… you haven’t been feeling well for six months ?”  

He shrugged again, his mind obviously still dull from some sort of shock. 

“Wh-… what have you been..?” 

His ear twitched. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“ Beetlejuice .” 

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “… first it was.. the tiredness.” Oh. Right, Lydia remembered when Delia, Adam, and Barbara alike fussed over the way he slept for entire days at a time in the winter. And again, recently. “Then… I felt nauseous like, all the time. Any strong smells made me sick. It sucked. It’s better now.” He furrowed his brows as he thought. “That’s when I was angry like, all the time. Still am, sometimes. Then I was like, super hungry. Always am still.” He grimaced. “Not right now, though. Then I started getting this gross, like… hot.. burning in my chest? Then my nose started bleeding. My nose gets stuffy randomly, even when I’m warm. Then, uh…” he looked sheepish, averting his gaze to the wall. “… my teeth started falling out, a few every couple days. Fingernails, too.” Lydia did her best to reign in her anger and concern and let him continue. “Also I keep getting songs stuck in my head. And like, crying out of nowhere.” 

Lydia waited for a moment, to see if he would continue. 

When he didn’t, she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Some… some of those are symptoms, and some of those are just… being Beetlejuice.” 

He pinned his ears back and shot her a little glare that had no bite behind it. He then stuck his tongue out, which she readily returned. 

“How about this,” she began, darting off to grab her laptop from her room and bring it back to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table as she plopped down on the sofa next to her brother. “I’ll put your symptoms in… some kind of website. Maybe we can figure out what’s up.” 

Beetlejuice snorted, obviously not believing the merit behind the idea, but he waved his hand. “Sure. Whatever.” 

Lydia leaned down to search and type, squinting at the screen. 

Percy placed a paw on her knee and mrrrowed from his place in Beetlejuice’s lap. 

She clicked her tongue as she scanned the results. “… diabetes?” 

“Rude. And not possible. Don’t have anything close to a pancreas.” 

“How about… ‘hereditary hemorrhagic-’” 

“Nothin’ that can be hereditary, babes.” 

“Ah. Right.” Lydia scrolled, pursing her lips. “Leu-…” 

Her stomach dropped. 

She looked to her brother with wide eyes, trying and failing to keep tears from her eyes at just the thought of losing another family member to- 

Sensing her panic, Beetlejuice quickly leaned forward and bumped his head against her shoulder, flashing her a little forced grin. “Demons can’t get cancer, Lyds.” He threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Breathe.” 

Lydia took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. 

Demons can’t get cancer. 

It’s okay. 

They thanked their brother, the panic melting away. 

… then what..? 

They looked back to their screen. “… then, uh… how about… a gastrointestinal issue?” 

“Ah. Hm.” Beetlejuice tilted his head a little, then shook it. “I lost my large intestine somewhere in New Jersey in the 1970s.” 

Lydia slowly turned to him, raising their eyebrows. 

He grinned, crooked and goofy. “I’m kiddin’. I found it a few weeks later.” 

They shook their head with a laugh, turning back to the screen. “You doofus. Take this seriously!” 

He withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. “It’s nonsense. Probably just, like… I don’t know. Anxiety.” 

“Anxiety doesn’t make your teeth fall out.” 

“You don’t know that for sure.” 

They tossed him a side-glare before looking back to the computer. She scrolled a bit, then paused. “… pregnancy?” 

Beetlejuice snorted. 

Lydia looked to him, raising their eyebrows again. 

“.. what? That’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s… not out of the realm of possibility, right?” 

“Sure it is.” Beetlejuice waved a hand. “I was told I was infertile like, a thousand years ago.” 

“Yeah. When you were like, abused and malnourished and stuff! Your fur wasn’t even growing properly.” 

The demon frowned, various shades of purple, red, yellow, and white flickering through his hair. “That-… aren’t the symptoms just, like, vomiting?” 

Lydia shook their head as they looked back to the page. “Nope. Nausea, headaches, extreme fatigue, heartburn, mood swings, nosebleeds, stuffy nose… your teeth and nails and stuff can fall out if you aren’t getting the proper vitamins.” 

Beetlejuice was quiet. It seemed to be taking forever for his gears to turn, but he wasn’t refuting anything Lydia said. 

“… fuck! Holy fuck!” They lunged to grip him by his shoulders when the implications sunk in for them. “Beetlejuice! Dude! We have to take you to see Larry, you-” 

His hair went white all at once as he snapped back to the present, feverently shaking his head. “No! No, no no no, not Larry. I-… we can’t… they’re busy.”  

They scoffed, lightly shaking him. “This is kinda really fucking important!” 

“S-so is what they’re doing!” He tried to squirm out of their grasp. “We don’t even know if-… if that’s… what’s going on!”  

Lydia clenched their jaw. 

They released Beetlejuice and stood, letting out an exasperated groan. 

They went to fetch their wallet, grumbling to themself about how stupid and stubborn their brother was. 

They pointed a firm, angry finger in Beetlejuice’s direction as they slipped their shoes on. “Stay right the fuck there. I’ll be right back.” 

— — — 

“Beetlejuice, what the fuck is going on?!” 

He didn’t respond. 

He didn’t hear them over the loud, piercing ringing in his ears. 

Like second nature, (well, first nature, really) he drew the door on the face of the bridge where it touched the ground. 

“Beetlejuice!” 

He turned to them, hands trembling as he reached out for them. 

Really, his whole body was trembling. 

He was shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. 

He was cold, and he was sc- 

He wasn’t scared. 

Because things were going to be okay. 

Because he could fix this. 

Because that body he’d left swaddled in his jacket, those legs and that arm he’d fished out to keep alongside it, they weren’t… 

Ash wasn’t dead. 

They were okay. 

He could fix this. 

“Please,” Ash begged, tears flowing freely and causing the blood soaking half their face to streak down their neck, “what is going on?” 

“You’re going to be okay,” he said again, like a mantra. 

If he said it enough times, maybe it would be true. 

Ash didn’t resist as Beetlejuice scooped them up into a bridal carry, wrapping their arms around his neck to help him keep them up. 

His leg ached horribly. He spared a glance down at it, but quickly tore his gaze away when he saw blood and bone poking through. 

“Don’t worry.” His voice was hoarse and breathless. “I’m going to fix this.” 

— — — 

Once she returned, Lydia marched over to their brother and dropped the plastic pharmacy bag in his lap, napping Percy be damned. (The poor scraggly little idiot only jumped, then relaxed, returning to his slumber.) 

“What, uh…?” 

They pointed to their bathroom. “Go take those. Now .” 

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow as he peeked into the bag. His face flushed a little, and he scoffed. “Lydia-!” 

“Don’t ‘Lydia’ me! You’re the one being an idiot here!” They carefully scooped Percy up, kissing him on the head before placing him back down on a nearby throw pillow. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to buy those?” 

“I’m not-” 

Lydia snapped their fingers, pointing to the bathroom again. “Go. Now .” 

Beetlejuice let out an irritated growl, standing up and letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. “Fine. Whatever! If it makes you drop this… ridiculous idea, I’ll… whatever.” He held the bag away from himself with visible disgust. “But not here.” 

They narrowed their eyes. “I’m going to call Barbara and Adam if you don’t do it as soon as you get back home. You hear me? We are not doing this right now.” 

The demon growled again, baring his teeth. Lydia readily returned the gesture and the noise.  

He paused, then, the irritation seeming to fizzle out. 

Indigo and pink took over his hair, and his shoulders drooped. 

He stepped forward to wrap Lydia up in another crushing hug. “… I love you very much, Lydia.” 

They patted his back with a concerned frown, hugging him back. They’d certainly ask Barbara and Adam what had happened later. “I love you too, Beej. Even though you’re an idiot.” 

Beetlejuice let out a wet laugh, wiping at his eyes quickly as he pulled away. “I’ll… call you later.” 

“You fuckin’ better. Let me know if I’m going to be an aunt sooner than I thought.” 

Though he was putting on a smile, white and yellow and indigo was rippling through his hair in waves. 

Lydia watched him head back to the sigil in their bathroom with a horrible, terrible, bad feeling weighing down their whole being. 

— — — 

It had been a long, long time since Beetlejuice had been to the Netherworld. 

Sure, he’d been in the Depths a few years ago, but he only really stepped foot on that endless, winding path Cyrus had conjured up for him and his partners. 

To him, it had been about eight thousand years since he’d stepped hoof in the realm he was born in. 

If he was completely honest with himself (which he was trying to do recently), a part of him missed it sometimes. 

The endless entertaining dead humans, confused or indignant, were always a gas. 

The dank, cramped halls, never-ending, filled with busy souls and demons, toiling for eternity. 

The rank smell, the heavy atmosphere, the wave of cold air, somehow humid and heavy. 

It hit him like a wall, and wrapped around him. Choked out his senses, grounded him somewhat from his frenzied panic. 

Ash tightened their grip, shivering against his chest. 

“You’re okay,” he said again, automatically. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Heads turned, dead eyes stared in confusion and irritation as he shambled and shoved past them. 

Hooves clacked on the black and white tile as he limped on, shaking, tail tucked and quivering between his legs. 

Another door. 

Another door. 

Another door. 

Another door. 

None of them the door he was searching for, none of them to - 

Something distant rumbled, something angry stirred as it realized he was there. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - 

“You’re okay, you’re gonna be - ” 

He was stopped in his tracks by rapid paw-steps behind him, by two massive gloved hands firmly gripping his shoulders and turning him around. 

“ Betelgeuse !” Larry snarled, bared teeth inches from his face. “What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing here?!” Their breath was hot on his face. There was rage in their voice, but their crimson eyes were wild with concern. “If they knew you were here, you’d be-”

Their eyes fell on Ash, and their whole demeanor softened. 

Then deflated. 

“… oh . Oh, no…” Their voice was thick, as if they were failing to choke down their blatant sorrow. “Ash…” 

Ash stared up at them with an empty expression. 

It seemed like the shock had settled in, replacing their confusion. 

Larry’s ears and shoulders drooped. They reached up, manifesting a handkerchief to gently wipe away the blood that covered half the mortician’s face. It was swiftly going to replaced with more, still flowing freely from the hole in their skull, but they relaxed and leaned into the demon’s hand. The gesture was certainly appreciated, at least. 

They then looked back up to Beetlejuice, blinking away what couldn’t possibly be tears. “… I’ll take care of them. Take them where they need to go, get them checked in through the express line-” 

“No!” Beetlejuice lurched forward, unsteady on his hooves. Larry swiftly placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “No, y-you-… you… fix them, please.” 

The bear demon gaped at him, glasses slipping down their snout. “Fix-?!” They sighed, using their free hand to push their glasses back up and then pinch the space between their eyes. “Beetle, you know better. You know there isn’t-” 

“Please,” he choked down all the frantic emotions and pain and sick threatening to boil to the surface. “ Please . Fix them.” 

Larry clenched their jaw. “It isn’t… it’s…” 

Beetlejuice continued to plead, holding Ash tighter and closer to their chest. “ Polaris , please .” Their voice croaked and broke. “I’ll do anything. Anything .” 

“Don’t say that,” they snapped quickly, tightening their grip on his shoulder. “Fuck, don’t say that. You don’t know just how much you could l-” 

“I don’t care!” He could no longer stop the blackened tears from flowing down his face. (Or had they been flowing for a while now?) “I can’t lose them. Lydia can’t lose them. Y-you… you don’t understand. It would break her. Break us . I can’t let that girl lose anyone else-” 

“Fine!” Larry barked, exasperated. “Fine, fine. I…” they took in a deep breath, eyeing Ash before grimacing and looking back up to Beetlejuice. “I will try . I can’t promise it will work, and…” they swallowed hard. “.. it will cost you. Dearly.” 

“I don’t care.” Beetlejuice sprouted a third arm yet again, this time to hold out to Larry in offering. “Whatever it takes.” 

The bear demon took his hand and shook it with a grim expression, sealing their Deal. 

It was agonizing to hand Ash off to Larry. 

Beetlejuice never wanted to let them go again. 

(How did he miss it? How did the smell of death slip past him so easily? 

How could he have let them fall? Why couldn’t he have been quicker?) 

Larry took them gently, carefully, not caring how their ever-flowing blood soaked their fancy, frilly button-up. 

“… it will take.. time. But I will try .” They stood up straight. “I will contact you. Now go . They will find you and hurt you .” 

Beetlejuice turned to leave, back the way he came, nodding frantically. 

The empty space in his arms felt colder than he thought possible. 

He didn’t make it far before they found him. 

A cold body lunged from the shadows of an open door in the endless hall, growling and gnashing their teeth. 

Cyrus . 

Beetlejuice dove, leaping out of the way not a moment before Cyrus’ teeth would’ve found his throat. 

“ Betelgeuse !” He just about howled, furious, bowed low. 

Damn, was he… missing a few teeth ? 

Serves him right. 

Beetlejuice scrambled back up to his hooves and ran as fast as his aching legs would carry him. 

Of course he had to have hurt his bad leg in the dive into the river. Just his luck. 

“Lawrence!” 

His luck just kept getting more rotten. 

He heard his mother’s furious heels clicking towards him, her voice screechy and downright venomous. 

All of his hair and fur stood on end, despite still being soaking wet. 

There was no way he could outrun both of them. He would never make it back to the reception, let alone back out the door he’d made. 

He could always make another, he realized, soon frantically digging around in his hammerspace for the emergency pack of chalk he always kept in there. 

Beetlejuice skirted to a stop, ducking down to avoid another attempted pounce from Cyrus. (It seemed he had gotten sloppy, those past few years.) 

He frantically drew a shaky door and handle, knocking three times as Cyrus’s paws scrambled on the tile to whirl back around and make for him again. 

Juno’s heels were closing in, wherever she was. 

Beetlejuice swallowed down the icy dread as he ripped the new door open with trembling hands and stumbled through it, slamming it shut behind him- 

Just in time to see an orange-tan blur slam into Cyrus with a deep, animalistic snarl. 

Beetlejuice didn’t have the mental capacity to make sense of any of that. 

He sat on the rocky shore, next to the bloody spot where Ash’s body used to be. 

There were birds singing. 

A Mourning Dove, a Wren, a Sparrow or two. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky a beautiful array of pastel hues. Orange and gold and pink and red. 

Ash isn’t dead. 

They were asleep at this hour. They weren’t a morning person, after all. 

They were safe in their bed, and in a few hours they’d rise and shoot him a text about whatever B-level film they’d watched the night before. 

Something like, “ Hey Big Dog, ‘Puppet Master’ was straight garbage. Horny and directionless. You’d love it. ” 

Ash wasn’t dead. 

Beetlejuice hiccuped out a sob, hands desperately clawing at his chest and throat as they tightened and choked him. 

I want my husband and wife. I want my mom and dad. I want my sister. I want - 

They were all away, miles away, safe and going about the start of their days, unaware. 

They were safe. 

They…. 

Beetlejuice had to check.  

He would get his daily summary of adventures via text from Charles and Delia in a few hours, and if he went Home, he would see Barbara and Adam were… un-alive and well. 

He had to check on his sister. 

He missed her so much. He needed her. 

Needed to check she was okay. 

Then he would go Home, and everything would be okay. 

After a long cry. 

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice was greeted with a smothering hug and a barrage of kisses from his partners once he stepped inside. 

“Fuck, I can’t be dead. I-I can’t be. There’s still so much I have to do.” 

He’d trekked back from the woods with the backpack he’d stashed to make it look like he’d returned from the “camping trip”. 

“Hey, Bee, how was it?” 

“Aww, sweetheart, you’re freezing! I told you to pack that electric blanket!” 

“It’s… not out of the realm of possibility, right?”

Beetlejuice blinked hard as he did his best to refocus. “Hm?” He leaned his weight into Adam’s arms. “Oh. Yeah. It… real cold.” 

“I just got to the halfway point in my savings for top surgery.” 

“Oh, honey! What happened to your leg?!” 

He lifted his hoof, squinted down at his leg with glassy eyes. “… feels better than it did. But I gotta rest it.” 

“What happened?” 

“Don’t ‘Lydia’ me! You’re the one being an idiot here!” 

“… fell in a river.” 

“You poor thing.” 

Adam patted his side, going to guide him towards the couch. “C’mon. Let’s get you warmed up and resting.” 

“I never got a big enough place for a dog.” 

The plastic pharmacy bag rustled in his backpack as he moved to shrug it off. 

“I’m going to call Barbara and Adam if you don’t do it as soon as you get back home. You hear me? We are not doing this right now.” 

“I- uh…” he squirmed free of Adam’s grip, swallowing hard. “I g-got-… gotta unpack a few things.” 

“I-I bought a ring in January.” 

Barbara and Adam exchanged a concerned Look. Beetlejuice gnawed on his lip. 

“… alright.” 

“Come join us when you’re done?” 

His wife flashed him a warm smile. “I’ll make you something to eat while you unpack. You must be hungry.” 

“Let me know if I’m going to be an aunt sooner than I thought.” 

He dug his claws into the tough fabric of his backpack, nodding numbly. 

(He was, indeed, very hungry, despite how turbulent his gut still felt from… everything.) 

“Please, I can’t die yet!” 

Beetlejuice made his way towards the garage, where he’d gotten all the camping supplies he’d shoved in the bag from, but instead phased up through the walls to the guest room’s bathroom when he was sure he was out of sight. 

“Beetlejuice, I’m scared .” 

He dared not chance a look at himself in the mirror. 

He knew he was paler than usual, though, and that his hair was stark white, from what he glanced out of the corners of his eyes. 

He shoved the pharmacy bag in the cabinet under the sink. 

He gripped the counter to steady himself with shaking hands. 

You're okay. You’re okay.  

Larry will take care of Ash. Things will be okay. They will be okay. 

They will get to do all the things they wanted to do. They won’t be in pain. 

Lydia won’t lose another person so soon. 

Beetlejuice swallowed hard. His throat and mouth were dry. 

He closed the cabinet with his leg, taking in a shaky breath. 

That’s… a later problem. 

No, I shouldn’t wait. That’s so fuckin’ important. That’s… 

There’s no way, right? 

Fuck, but it all lines up. 

I have to tell Barbara and Adam. 

It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. It’s totally nothing! 

I should still tell them, though, right? 

He phased back down to the garage to truly empty out the backpack once he’d grounded himself enough to stop his hands from shaking. 

Barbara had made extra-crispy bacon and extra-runny eggs, just for him. 

The food tasted like ash in his mouth. 

It was a wonder it stayed down. 

His spouses gently prodded him for details of the “camping trip”, but soon dropped it when he was fairly unresponsive. 

“… did falling in the river really spook you that much?” Adam asked, ever so soft and kind and concerned, placing a warm hand on his back. 

Beetlejuice looked up at them. At their patient smiles, at their empathetic eyes. The way they waited for him to share, not wanting to push, giving him the room to process and speak on what they perceived as no big deal, but still cared because it was a big deal to him. 

You have to tell them. You have to. 

He opened his mouth, willing the words to spill out. 

The words. 

Any words, really. 

Anything. 

You have to tell them! 

But nothing came out. His mind went blank and fuzzy, and his whole nervous system buzzed and burned and misfired over and over. 

C’mon. Fuck, Shoggoth, you can’t do this now! 

It’s easy. 

‘Something bad happened with Ash’. ‘I went to the Netherworld last night’. ‘Hey, so Lydia had a pretty crazy theory’. ‘We’re going to be parents soon maybe?’. 

Anything. Anything. Anything ! 

Beetlejuice slowly closed his mouth, shrugging. 

“I- y-… yeah.” He swallowed hard. “W-.. it was.. p-pretty sca-scary.” 

Adam pressed a kiss to his temple, while Barbara frowned and nodded. “I’m sorry that happened, Lovebug. Sounds awful.” 

“We can just have a relaxing Saturday in. How’s that sound?” 

He hummed in agreement and did his best to smile. He was sure it fell short. 

They did a puzzle, cuddled up together, sat on the ground around the coffee table, but Beetlejuice didn’t find the usual amount of joy he used to when he sneakily ate a vital piece of the image. He felt hollowed out as he watched Adam and Barbara lean down to look under the couches and lift Pluto up from her spot next to them as they searched for a piece of the “ The Great Gatsby ” anniversary art puzzle. 

The usual warm, radiating waves of joy as the three of them laid in a shaft of midday sunlight on the attic floor, Emily’s CD player blasting Talking Heads ’ greatest hits on the ground near their heads never quite reached him. 

Lunch and dinner didn’t feel fulfilling. He found little to no enjoyment as he half-heartedly assembled a Lego set of a famous painting at the kitchen counter, while Barbara folded laundry on one side, and Adam did the dishes a few feet away. 

The comfort of the mundane and domestic usually delighted him to no end, nowadays. 

But his nerves were like a live wire, jolting and sparking and scrambling his mind. 

He thought of everything and nothing at all. 

He fretted, but his mind was completely empty. 

It was agonizing. It was exhausting. 

This calm, familial breather-esc lifestyle had really ruined his tolerance for pain and anguish. It had torn down the walls he realized, once again, he gravely needed. 

Why hadn’t he made an appointment with Wolf in months, again? 

He couldn’t remember. He was too tired. 

It was dusk too soon, too slow. 

Beetlejuice was more than ready to retire to bed once dinner had been cleaned up. 

“How about a scary movie?” Adam suggested, hesitantly, gently tapping his husband’s arm so that he would hold his hand. 

He blinked up at him, furrowing his brows. Had he heard that right? “Whuh?” 

Barbara similarly seemed surprised as she put away the last of the dishes. “A scary movie?” She echoed, tilting her head. 

Their husband’s ears twitched anxiously, and he shrugged. “I know you’re missing your scary movie buddies,” he began, and Beetlejuice’s unbeating heart sank. ( I’ll never see one of them again. No, no, you will, they’re okay, Larry will- ) “And, uh… I’m willing to give one a try!” He squeezed his hand. “B-but… nothing too scary, okay? Maybe… a beginner movie?” 

Beetlejuice looked to Barbara, raising his eyebrows, his tail slightly quivering with excitement. “Babs? You down?” 

She bit her lip, scrunching up her face. “… ohh, alright. As long as you promise it’s not too.. gorey or anything!” 

He smiled earnestly for the first time since he’d gotten back Home. “Heh, I’ll do my best.” 

The three of them took nearly an hour to select a movie, going over their unlimited options across multiple streaming platforms, playfully debating what was off limits and what was fair game. 

“Oh, uh… preferably nothing with ghosts.” Barbara grimaced. “Too soon.” 

Adam nodded in agreement. He shuddered as they scrolled down to a few more options. “No clowns, please.” 

“Aww, you afraid of clowns, Sexy?” 

“How could he be? He’s married to one.” 

Barbara seemed very pleased with herself as Beetlejuice barked out boisterous laughter, vibrant green swiftly creeping back into his hair. ( Finally. ) 

It took him a good while to stop cackling, then giggling. 

His spouses went on looking at their options as he was incapacitated for a good ten minutes. 

Eventually, they decided on “ Scream ”. 

“How bloody is it?” 

“Don’t remember. But Lyds convinced Chuck to watch it once, so it can’t be too bad.” 

“Are there… jumpscares?” 

“Dunno.” 

“Is there-” 

He silenced both of them by holding up his hands. “Babes. You keep askin’ the guy with memory issues if he remembers details about a movie he ain’t seen in a few years.” 

“.. ohhh. Right, sorry!” 

“Our bad, Bee. Totally forgot.” 

He waved his hands as he settled back against the couch and into their arms. “Don’t worry about it. I forget sometimes too.” 

Adam made popcorn, then two extra bowls when Beetlejuice nearly finished off the first one before they even pressed play. 

It was fun enough watching his partners squirm and fret, chuckling at the way they whined out “nooo”s at Casey’s less wise decisions. 

The movie was well made, his partners were tense but not too scared, and the popcorn was bringing back some taste to his mouth. 

“Can you handle that… Blondie?” 

Blonde hair under the surface, floating in the current of the river, stained with blood. 

Beetlejuice bit the inside of his cheek hard as he fought the memory down. 

They're okay. They’ll be okay. 

You’re okay. 

Everything’s okay. 

His nerves settled again, slowly. He forced himself to the present, to enjoy himself and the company and- 

A sorrowful music cue kicked in. 

He frowned hard. It was a fun horror sequence, if hauntingly grounded, what was with the music? 

Casey, vocal chords tarnished in a familiar way, tried and failed to croak out a cry for her mother. 

There was a painful tug in his chest. 

Ooohh, that’s weird. Don’t like that. 

He tried to ignore it. 

“Casey. Casey? Casey!” 

He was biting his nails. Why was he biting his nails? That wasn’t one of his usual anxious habits. 

“Casey, baby?” 

Wait, anxious? Why was he anxious? 

Why was there a painful lump in his throat? 

“No. No, not my daughter. Not my daughter.” 

Shit, had this movie always fucked him up that bad? He could faintly recall watching it with Lydia and A-…  

Well, he supposed if he actually thought about it, the situation was pretty sad, but- 

Casey’s mother let out a bone-chilling, agonized wail at the sight of her daughter’s hanging corpse. Her father rushed forward, futilely, in an attempt to go help her. 

It transitioned to the next scene, to an introduction of the main character and her stupid, greasy boyfr- 

The movie paused. 

Beetlejuice blinked, confused, looking to his partners. 

They were both staring at him with wide eyes, with the start of tears glistening in the glow of the TV screen. 

Adam held the remote, his mouth agape and his glasses askew. “Beetlejuice, are you..?” 

“Huh? What? Why-” his voice was hoarse, and his throat burned. He jolted when Barbara’s hand brushed his cheek. 

“Sweetheart, you’re.. crying?” 

Beetlejuice had one hand pressed up against his mouth to gnaw on his nails, and the other was clutching at his stomach. 

He swiftly went to wipe at his cheeks. 

Sure enough, they were covered with black tears. 

He swore as he did his best to wipe his face dry with his sleeves, sniffling hard. 

Adam manifested a handful of tissues, which Beetlejuice accepted with a shaky “thank you”. 

“Honey, what, uh…?” He trailed off, unsure. 

“Why are you..?” Barbara tried, her ears going back. She pried the hand still clutching his stomach free so she could intertwine their fingers. “I mean, yeah, it was… really sad, but, uh… you don’t.. usually..?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, shrugging. “I dunno, I just..” he cleared his throat in an attempt to clear up the hoarseness. Adam grabbed his other hand. “Real sad that her pa-parents f-… found her like th-” his breath hitched, caught in his throat. He choked out a sob, much to his partners’ confusion. And his own. 

Why was it affecting him so-

Fuuuuck. 

Beetlejuice stood, abruptly, yanking his hands free from his spouses and he loudly cleared his throat. “I-I’m… g-gonna turn in.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“What’s going on? Are you-” 

He took a deep breath in, then sniffled. “It-… I had a… hard time last ni-night. I’m tired.” 

They exchanged a Look he was too tired to process. 

“.. want us to go up with you?” Adam asked softly. 

He shook his head. “I’m g-gonna… sl-sleep in the basem-ment tonight.” 

They both raised their eyebrows. 

“Okay. Do you… not want us to go down with you?” Barbara went to stand, to reach out for his hands, but he took a step back. 

“I… wanna be alone tonight.” 

They both looked hurt. 

But understanding. 

I don’t deserve them. 

What am I doing? I should tell them. I have to tell them. I have to- 

“Goodnight-love-you-bye,” he said swiftly, planting a quick kiss on each of his spouses’ lips before scurrying off as quick as his wounded leg would carry him to the basement door and down the steps. 

He laid on his side, on top of the blankets, his mind loud and painful and grating like a blender full of forks. 

You’re okay. You’re okay. Do the grounding shit, like Wolf taught you. Don’t gnaw off a limb or anything else stupid like that. You’re okay. 

He heard Barbara and Adam head up to the attic after lingering in the living room in silence for a brief time. 

You should’ve told them. You have to tell them. They’ll be so mad that you didn’t, Lydia will be mad, she’ll tell them and everyone will be rightfully upset with you. 

You’ve got someone else to worry about now. It’s not just you. 

It’s not just- 

Beetlejuice’s exhaustion caught up to him within an hour, forcefully shutting down the frenzied spiral of his mind. 

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice’s sleep was short and dreamless. (He was thankful for the lack of nightmares, but it still left him feeling unrested.) 

He laid in the same position he’d fallen asleep in for a good while, unsure of the time. 

His mind had a numb buzz to it, anxious but empty. Festering with countless worries without any specific words of thoughts tied to them. 

He sat up (too fast, it made him quite dizzy) when he heard his partners rise and prepare for their days, way up in the attic. 

You have to tell them. 

That old white-hot panic began to rise in his gut and in his chest. 

You have to! 

Beetlejuice unconsciously dug his claws into his left forearm. 

I… I need to calm down. 

He took in a few deep breaths, slowly releasing them as he counted like Adam had taught him. 

The panic lessened, but still had a firm grip on his entire system. 

Wolf’s voice echoed distantly in his mind. “What can you do in times like this, other than be kind to yourself?” 

He snorted at the thought, like he’d brazenly done to Wolf back then. 

Yeah, right. Like I deserve that. 

He forced himself to release his iron grip on his left forearm. 

… but it might work. 

Doing things that helped him relax might help him gather up the courage to.. 

He forced himself to get ready to face the day with steadying breaths. 

Yeah, it could work. It could help. 

Regardless, he had to tell them by the end of the day. 

Might as well try to be ready to face it. 

Barbara and Adam were wary of his (admittedly forced) chipper attitude as he greeted them in the kitchen with quick little pecks and a couple cheery “good morning!”s. 

They exchanged a quick glance, Adam at the coffee maker and Barbara at the stove. 

“Good morning,” they both said in return, offering him hesitant smiles. 

“How’re you feeling?” Barbara gently prompted, tilting her head to one side. 

“Ehhh.” Beetlejuice went to lean up against her, throwing their arms around her waist. “Better?” 

“That’s good.” She planted a kiss on the top of their head. “… do you.. want to talk about..?” 

They shook their head after a few moments, holding her a bit tighter. “Later.” 

“.. okay.” She ruffled their hair, which was a mishmash of pink, green, and purple. 

“Coffee?” Adam was reaching up to grab a few mugs from their cabinet. 

(He’d shed his antlers around the start of March, startling himself, his partners, and Pluto when they clattered to the ground after gently knocking into a doorframe. There were already small, velvety nubs growing back in their place.) 

“Y-…” Beetlejuice’s tail swished briefly in irritation. Right, coffee was one of the things they were supposed to avoid now, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what they’d heard in movies. 

God/Satan, coffee sounded absolutely wonderful, and the smell of the freshly-brewed pot was awfully tempting, but… 

“.. nah.” 

Adam raised his eyebrows in surprise, hesitantly putting Beetlejuice’s “ kiss me I’m confused ” mug back in the cabinet. “You sure?” 

“It, uh… it’ll make my nerves worse again.” They mentally patted themself on the back. It was technically true, so they could say it. 

“Ah. That’s fair.” He moved to pour the fresh pot into two mugs. 

Barbara patted Beetlejuice’s arms, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. “Release. I gotta plate these.” 

The demon acquiesced with a grumble. They ambled over to sit at one of the stools on the other side of the counter. 

“Any plans today?” She accepted her mug of coffee from Adam with a “thank you” and a quick little kiss. 

They hummed as they thought, clacking their teeth. “Probably just.. a ‘me’ day, y’know? To… reset.” 

Their wife nodded in understanding. “Sounds delightful. If you want us to join you between chores, let us know!” 

Adam let out a little sound of agreement as he dug through the fridge. 

Beetlejuice nodded with a little smile, watching her plate the hashbrowns and sausage and toast. “.. will do.” 

Time passed quicker than they wanted it to, bringing them swiftly closer and closer to the dreaded conversation they would force themself to have after dinner, mentally prepared or not. 

Beetlejuice had a nice, long, delightful “FaceTime” call to catch up with Charles and Delia, which Barbara and Adam occasionally popped in on to join in. (God/Satan, they’d have to tell them too. The thought made them want to rip something apart with their teeth.) 

They were doing splendidly, still somewhere in South America. Charles spoke with uncharacteristic excitement about the colorful birds they’d seen down there, and what they might see at their next location. 

Delia demanded to be shown Pluto, and spent well over five minutes straight just speaking to the indifferent cat in a baby-voice, blowing her kisses and telling her how much she loved and missed her. 

They were able to convince her to guide them through a trimming of their hair, since it had grown a bit too long for their liking in her absence. (She was always the one to cut it, usually.) It turned out alright, despite the frantic way she leaned towards and around her phone as if she could see around it, shouting at them once or twice “WAIT!”. (They’d ask one of their spouses to touch it up later.) 

After the call, Beetlejuice went down to their room and re-sorted their rock collection, blasting Brian Eno and occasionally stopping to give Pluto a pat on the head as she watched them from her spot loafed on their rug. 

Then came lunch (they had to excuse themself to the bathroom to dry heave when Barbara worriedly mentioned they’d found human remains just outside the town Ash had lived in), then Beetlejuice joined Barbara on the roof in helping rid their garden of weeds and bugs in a comfortable silence. Then they “helped” Adam as he cleared out the gutters. (Really, they just floated nearby and watched, occasionally yapping about nothing in particular.) 

Adam hurriedly finished up when it began to drizzle, holding the door open for them when he went to step inside. 

Beetlejuice hesitated, looking up at where the sun was in the sky (too low for their liking), and taking in the scent of the rain and the pleasant warm humidity in the air. 

“… nah. I think I’ll stay out for a bit.” 

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it after a bit of thought. “.. alright. Don’t stay out too long.” 

Beetlejuice wandered around the perimeter of the house with no particular destination or goal in mind, enjoying the cool raindrops that scantly dotted their skin. 

It was getting warmer, April finally seeming to have sufficiently chased away winter’s chill. 

The plant life was a vivid green, and birds piped up in the moist air with a cacophony of calls and songs. There was a gentle breeze, carrying the tantalizing scent of rain with every gust. 

It seemed to be a nice day, as most of the days tended to be nowadays. 

They meandered over to the big red maple tree in the backyard, looking up at it and squinting their eyes. 

The bark didn’t seem too slippery, and the branches were thick and sturdy. It’d held their weight well when they’d climbed it in the past. 

Giving in to the urge, Beetlejuice sunk their claws into the bark and hauled themself up to one of the mid-level branches, high enough to be thrilling but not so much so that it could be too dangerous. ( It’s not just you now , a voice in the back of their mind reminded them with a hiss, but they shoved it down. Later .) 

They grunted as they stood, tapping one of their hooves a few times to make sure their footing was stable. 

The house blocked the view of town, but they were high up enough that they could see into the second story windows. They could, however, just barely peek over the tops of the trees of the surrounding woods, where it stretched out into the horizon. The birds still sang, the rain pattered against the leaves and the roof and the ground, and if they strained their ears, they could hear the bustle of the breathers in the town. 

Beetlejuice closed their eyes, taking in a deep breath. 

Things will be okay, won’t they? 

… yeah. 

Yeah, they will. 

Everything will be okay. I’m- 

“ Lawrence Betelgeuse Maitland-Shoggoth! ” 

Beetlejuice flinched and opened their eyes, gripping at the base of the red maple tree to steady themself. Their ears pinned back when they saw their wife and husband approaching from the back door of the house, the former having a furious fire to her step and voice. 

“... y-.. yeah?” They lowered themself down to sit on the branch, their tail swishing anxiously. 

Barbara snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground, her ears pinned back and her eyes gleaming. Beetlejuice felt their stomach churn. 

Adam hung at her side, ears anxiously twitching as a heavy anxiety radiated off him in waves. 

… no, he was angry too, Beetlejuice realized with a painful jolt. Sure, he was nervous, but the way his brows furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard frown gave his anger away plainly. 

Hesitantly, Beetlejuice hopped down, grunting as they landed on the slick grass. 

Their husband surged forward, gripping one arm as he wordlessly checked them over. 

“What, uh… what’s-?” 

Suddenly, Barbara gripped them by the front of their hoodie, pulling them close. They could feel heat and seething energy radiating off her in waves. 

She growled, low and throaty, her knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into the fabric of their hoodie. “Is there anything you want to tell us?” If her voice didn’t give away the depths of her boiling, burning anger, the smoldering glare sure did. 

Fuck. The demon swallowed hard. They know.  

Their gaze lingered on her sharp teeth, gritted together. Despite the horrible, icy fear that was rattling their skull and making their chest clench, they couldn’t help but think about how beautiful she looked then, how strikingly intimidating her growl and voice was, what her teeth would feel like on their- 

They shook their head, sputtering. Damnit, not now, idiot! 

“I-… I didn’t mean for it to happen!” They blurted, going to scratch at their left arm. 

Adam gently murmured their name, squeezing their shoulder. 

Barbara frowned harder, furrowing her brows. “Well, that doesn’t mean-” 

“I promise, I-.. I helped fix it, okay? Ash is… pr-probably going to be alive and well again soon.” 

Their spouses tensed up, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Beetlejuice looked between them anxiously, still scratching at their arm. 

They halted when Adam reached to grip both of their hands. “ What ?”  

“I-… uh… is that.. not what you were… referring to?” 

“No!” Barbara sputtered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But it is now! What happened to Ash?” 

“They’re… ‘alive again soon? What do you mean?” 

They let out a little ‘ah’, another one of those wretched dizzy spells hitting them full force, causing them to sway on their hooves. Their husband wrapped an arm around their waist, ushering them to sit down on the wet grass. 

It was rather unpleasant, as the rainwater immediately soaked their rear, but they were grateful regardless. 

Barbara and Adam knelt down as best they could in front of them, both looking very conflicted. 

“We, uh…” Beetlejuice fidgeted with their hands, resisting the growing urge to scratch and bite at their skin. “… well, you remember how… Lydia told me to.. not get involved?” They spared a sheepish glance to their spouses in time to see them deflate with disappointment. “I… gave it a month. And th-.. things weren’t getting better, so…” 

Barbara made an exasperated “go on” motion when they silently struggled to find their words again. 

“… I went to check on Ash.” Their ears both twitched, and their tail smacked the ground repeatedly. They could feel the disapproving looks on their faces, but they kept their eyes up and away. “They.. they weren’t doin’ good. They were a mess. I thought… I-… y’know. I tried to cheer them up, so we could.. talk it out. They’d been drinking and smoking a lot, and I kinda.. caved and joined them-” 

“- you WHAT?” Adam blurted, gripping their right arm with both hands. 

Beetlejuice continued to avert their eyes, but they could faintly see his wide-eyed, nearly panicked expression out of the corner of their vision. They murmured an apology, shoulders drooping. 

“.. and then?” Barbara prompted, a bit impatiently. 

“We w-went out. Had.. too much dumb fun. They took me to this, uh… bridge outside town. To..” they knew how stupid it was now, of course. Their entire being burned with shame, orange and unbearably hot. “… recreate that scene from “ The Lost Boys ”. The-… y’know.” 

Barbara and Adam both made disapproving noises, but otherwise remained quiet. 

“… we had a nice talk. Ash-… they were gonna work things out with Lyds, if they could. It was..” their breath hitched, and they placed a hand over their mouth as they stifled down a sob. “… they fell.” 

Their ears flattened against their head at the horrified gasps their spouses let out. “I dove in after them. Hur-hurt my leg. I did the be-bes-st I could, but..” they squeezed their eyes shut, trying to chase away the vivid images popping up in their mind of Ash’s body as they pulled it out of the water. 

After a bit of hesitation, Barbara reached out to squeeze their arm, letting out a heavy sigh. “.. you took them to the Netherworld to find someone to.. help, didn’t you?” 

Beetlejuice nodded, opening their eyes to stare down at their hooves. “I couldn’t-… they’re so young. A-and Lydia, she… she can’t lose someone else so soon.” 

Their wife crept in closer, settling at their side and bumping her head against theirs. “.. I would’ve done the same.” 

Adam hummed in agreement, still gripping onto their arm. 

“Larry found me. I-… I begged them to help, and… they said they’d do the best they could.” Beetlejuice sunk their claws into the grass and dirt, as a substitute for their skin. “… I have to believe they can do it. Things will be okay. Ash will be okay.” 

Barbara wrapped her arms around their midsection, the anger slowly simmering down. “I understand why you did it.” She gently flicked their side. “Doesn’t make it and the decisions that lead to it any less... thoughtless .. on your part.” 

Beetlejuice cracked a sad, small smile. “.. you can say ‘stupid’, Babs. I know it was st-” 

“I will not, and neither should you, mister.” She held them a little tighter. “You may not use your head sometimes, but that doesn’t make you stupid.” She reached one hand up, placing it on top of one of Adam’s. “… Deb texted me. Said she saw Cyrus chasing someone, and she… she stopped him when she realized it was you.” She rested her chin on their shoulder. “Poor thing. No wonder you were so shaken up.” 

Beetlejuice wanted to shrug it off, to say it was no big deal, but… 

“… yeah. That-… Juno was there too.” Barbara and Adam both cringed. “… that whole night was.. a lot. I’ll have to give Deb a real nice thank you gift. Is she alright?” 

“Mhm. She said he knew he was no match for her and ran away quick.” The blonde had an amused little twinkle in her eye. “… why didn’t you tell us? When Deb told me she’d seen you in the Netherworld, I…” she sighed. “I was so worried, but… Bug, how could you put yourself in that kind of danger and not tell us?” 

They averted their eyes again, back down to the grass. “… I dunno. I just…. I think I needed.. to process it.” 

Barbara sighed, nodding in understanding, but not approval. “… you came straight home?” 

“Ah-… no.” Beetlejuice’s tail twitched anxiously. “I.. I don’t know. I had to see Lyds.” 

(Adam was being awfully quiet. He usually wasn’t the one to lead this type of conversation anyways, but still, he wasn’t usually so stiff. Was he still-? ) 

“How did Lydia react?” 

“Huh?” 

“How did Lydia react, when you told her?” 

“Oh. I…” they bit their lip, briefly. “.. didn’t. I-… I want to.. to wait and see how things turn out.” 

Barbara pursed her lips, but nodded. “That’s… that’s fair. That’s.. a conversation that needs to be handled delicately. You-…” she trailed off, furrowing her brows. She looked to Adam. “Wait. Adam, you said Lydia called you?” 

Adam, who had been blankly staring down at his hands on Beetlejuice’s arm, lifted his head, a bit startled. His ears were incessantly twitching. “What? Oh. I, uh-… yeah.” 

Barbara lifted her head up off Beetlejuice’s shoulder with a perplexed frown. “Well, if you-… hold on, when I said Deb reached out about something important, you said…” she let go of them both to sit up straight. “If Lydia didn’t know about Ash and Beetlejuice going to the Netherworld, what was she calling about?” 

Beetlejuice’s stomach sank all over again. That cold feeling crept up through their gut and spine. 

“I’m going to call Barbara and Adam if you don’t do it as soon as you get back home. You hear me? We are not doing this right now.” 

Briefly, they were angry. It rose, sudden and sharp, then faltered and died within the same moment it began. 

No, that’s fair. Totally fair. 

Plus, she did warn me. 

Adam was quiet for a moment as he hesitated, then he released their arm and straightened his posture. “… I think Beetlejuice should tell us himself.” 

Barbara and Adam’s eyes were both on them, one set confused and inquisitive and the other brimming with a patient sort of anger and a slurry of other muddled emotions. 

Beetlejuice began to fidget with their hands again, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Oooookay. Here goes.” They glanced between their two partners. “You, uh… you guys remember back in fall when I, uh… started sleepin’ a lot?” 

“.. yeah?” 

Adam remained quiet and eerily stoic. 

Fuckin’ spit it out already! 

“And, uh… and then, I…” they inhaled deeply, their words coming out in one jumbled breath. “Then I had those dizzy spells ‘m still havin’, then the headaches and I get like, really angry way easier than normal? A-and I’ve been gettin’ nauseous and throwin’ up a lot again, and-and I get nosebleeds now, and my stupid nose got ‘stuffy’ for the first time, and I’ve had a few teeth fall out but I haven’t told you, which I should’ve done and I’m really sorry!” Their partners both tensed. “And I’ve gained like, a lot of weight, but everyone’s been too nice about it, and I-.. I cried at a stupid horror movie last night because I’m just so-” they reached up, growling with annoyance and despair when they realized their cheeks were wet with black tears. “And I’m cryin’ now because I’m so fuckin’…!” He let out another growl, burying his face in his hands. 

Barbara went to pry his hands free when she realized he was digging his nails into his hair. “Beetlejuice, honey, what is-” 

“Lydia thinks he might be pregnant,” Adam said suddenly, pressing one thumb hard into his other hand’s palm. 

Beetlejuice froze, slightly trembling. 

Barbara blinked hard, sitting up ramrod straight. “ What ?” 

“She said she sent him home with tests because his symptoms all line up.” Adam leaned to try to catch Beetlejuice’s eye, but he kept his gaze down. “Did you take them yet?” 

“… no.” His voice was small and pitiful. 

“…do you think..?” 

He nodded wordlessly. “… ‘s the only thing that makes sense.” 

The three of them were quiet for an agonizing pause, as they all processed. 

The gentle patter of rainfall was far from Beetlejuice’s senses. 

He nearly (literally) jumped out of his skin when Barbara let out a delighted shriek, giggling as she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. 

Adam similarly moved to hold him tightly, pressing kisses to his scruffy cheek. 

Dumbfounded, he let himself be smothered and kissed as he glanced between his two partners. 

They both had the starts of tears gathering in their eyes. 

“I, uh-… whuh?” 

“I’m still.. very cross with you,” Adam said firmly, his voice quivering just a little. “You should’ve told us. You shouldn’t have put yourself in harm's way. But-” 

“We’re gonna be parents!” Barbara released them to stand, stomping her hooves and twirling around them as she let out little squeals and laughs of delight. 

Adam and Beetlejuice both watched her fondly, the former’s tail even wagging with shared excitement. 

“ Maybe ,” he said, bumping his head against his husband’s. “I still haven’t-” 

“What else could it be?” The blonde demon plopped down next to them again, not caring how the wet grass was staining her tan, cuffed corduroy pants. “Oh, Lovebug, I’m so sorry you’re going through that, but I’m just-” she giggled again, gripping his face with both hands and squishing his cheeks. “Aahh! I can’t believe it!” She kissed him quickly, patting his face. “Ha! And you’re saving me the trouble! I’ll carry the next one.” She cast a beaming smile to Adam. “At least we won’t have to worry about my issues this time around!” 

Beetlejuice swallowed hard. 

(He decided not to mention the 75% infant mortality rate of demons just then. He didn’t want to ruin her delight.) 

Her joy was spreading to him and Adam both, it seemed. The other man couldn’t stop grinning, the anger dissolved and the anxiety lingering but lessened.