Work Text:
1.
"Dad," Lydia says whilst she's waiting at the table for breakfast, in the voice she uses when she's about to ask him something he's not prepared for. "Were you good at dating in high school?"
"Um." See, what kind of question is that? How did he raise such a weird kid? "Depends who you ask. I would say your mom would've said yes, and I really only dated her."
"You weren't a player?" she says, winking. He thinks she's joking. "So like, what did you do when you were tryna win her over?"
"Firstly, I'm offended that you think I had to win her over," he says, placing her pancakes down in front of her. She's drinking coffee like it's her lifeline, which maybe isn't normal for a fifteen year old. Is he supposed to be concerned here? "And- I don't know, really. There was lots of buying flowers, food, things like that. Your mom was always a lady of poetry, but I never really had a way with words." She laughs at this, and he can hardly blame her. Charles Deetz. Awful with words. "Why do you ask?"
"I dunno," she says, poking a blueberry with her fork in a way that suggests she does exactly know. "I was- I wanna, uh, take Liss on a date. But- I don't know where. We've already eaten at all the not-bad places in town."
"And... you've come to me for advice?"
"I mean, yeah. You pulled mom, didn't you? You must know something, right?"
Honestly, sometimes it still overwhelms him. When Emily was still here, he had a good relationship with Lydia (obviously) but he was never the advice parent. When Emily passed, it was almost as if they had to re-learn how to speak to each other. It was almost harder than losing her - he'd known that was coming, at least, but in a way he kind of lost Lydia as well. Looking back, it was his fault completely, but they sorted it in the end. Now they're closer than ever before and Charles loves it. He's just not quite used to it.
"I take offence to your tone, young lady. However, I believe there's some kind of a spring carnival fiasco in town this weekend. Does that sound something she'd be interested in?"
"Really?" she says around a mouthful of pancake. "No way! Liss loves that kind of sh- uh, stuff." She pauses, typing furiously into her phone at a speed he doesn't think he could ever accomplish, grinning widely when it buzzes. "Awesome! She says that would be super cool."
"Pancakes again?" she's saying, but the grin on her face says she's just teasing. "What is this, some kind of shitty diner?"
"It's my specialty: we don't have any money for cereal and there were bottles of pancake mix in the fridge already," Charles says, lumping a reasonable mound of sugar on his own and watching as Emily spreads peanut butter on hers. "You're- you're really weird. Peanut butter?"
"At least I'm not boring. Lemon and sugar?" she quips back, bumping his shoulder with hers. They're eating on the kitchen floor, Charles leaning against the fridge and Emily next to him against the kitchen counter. "We should maybe buy a table first," she's saying, but he's just staring at her. Moving kind of took all day, so the sun is setting through the wonky blinds and she looks radiant in the light. He can't look away.
"Is that your mother's hat?" Lydia nods, reaching to touch the brim. "It suits you."
"Thanks," she says, and there's peanut butter on the corner of her mouth but he decides not to tell her. Charles misses Emily every day, but to have Lydia is maybe the most incredible thing he could ever have.
2.
Barbara is changing the sheets on Lydia's bed and willfully ignoring the way Beetlejuice is trying to distract her in the corner when Lydia bursts in, throwing her bag into the corner of the room and either not noticing how it smacks Beetlejuice in the face or completely noticing and not caring. "Barbara," she says, voice completely serious.
"What's wrong, honey?" she frowns, letting the pillowcase drop onto the bed. "Did something happen at school?"
"Yes," she says, flopping down on to the bed as if Barbara isn't in the middle of making it. "Liss said she wanted to dress up to go to the carnival."
Barbara just blinks at her, both of them now ignoring Beetlejuice whining in the corner about the bag. "And this is... a bad thing?"
"Yes. I don't have any dress-up clothes!"
"I would say you dress up every day, sweetie- at least, more than the average person. Any of your clothes would be lovely."
"But if I don't dress up any more than usual it'll look like I haven't made an effort, and then Liss will think I don't care and then she won't want to go on another date or even speak to me-"
"Lydia, honey," she interrupts. Being married to Adam means she's an expert on nervous spiralling. "Why don't we look through your wardrobe and see what we can find?" Reluctantly, she sits back up, staring at the wardrobe doubtfully.
"This some fashion show bullshit, Babs?" Beetlejuice pipes up, scoffing when Lydia throws a pillow at him. "Fine. A demon can sense when he's not wanted," he sighs, disappearing just before Lydia says no you can't, you're awful at that. When he's gone, Lydia sighs melodramatically and gets up, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling open the doors. It's one of the only original pieces of furniture left from when she and Adam were alive - she suspects Delia and Charles only kept it because the ginormous oak wardrobe was far too difficult to get out of the house (considering Adam and his friend crafted it inside the room.) It looks more expensive than it's worth, made from mismatched victorian cupboard parts they found over time, and Barbara has always loved it.
"See? Nothing," she says, indicating at the wardrobe crammed with clothes. Barbara just smiles, pulling out something garnet red and lace. "Oh. That's uh, that's mom's."
"It's beautiful," Barbara says, making sure to pull it out overly carefully. "Are her clothes just keepsakes, or do you wear them?"
"I wear them- mom had such a sick style. That's too big, though."
"Well- there's a sewing machine in the attic, honey. I could- if you didn't mind me altering your mom's clothes, I could try fix it for you?"
Lydia doesn't say anything for a second, toeing the carpet with her scuffed boots that Barbara knows she's not supposed to wear inside. "I- would you be like, I dunno. Careful?"
It sounds rude, but Barbara doesn't take offence. It's just a shirt, but she can hear the wobbly apprehension in her voice, can tell how much it means to her. "I would be careful," she promises, offering her a warm smile. Thankfully, she never had the misfortune of losing someone while she was alive, but dying meant she couldn't ever see her mom again, and that was horrible enough. She can't imagine not having a mom from as young as fourteen. "The most careful."
"Okay," Lydia says, looking up at her with steady eyes. It feels almost like she's staring into her mind, letting her know I'm trusting you here. This is a big deal. Barbara hears it, and plans to carry it close to her chest. "Thanks, Barbara." She just smiles, turning back towards the bed to finish making it. The floorboards creak, and for a moment she assumes Lydia's run off to find Beetlejuice somewhere before arms wrap around her stomach.
Being hugged by Adam or Beetlejuice feels the same as it always did when she was alive, but with a living person it's different. Contrary to what she always imagined, she can feel it - Lydia's arms don't pass through her, just rest warmly around her - but no matter how hard she squeezes it's a light touch at best. That doesn't matter though. The hug itself carries just as much weight.
Barbara finds herself smiling as she squeezes her hand - and well, if she's a tiny bit teary as Lydia runs out to find Beetlejuice, she doesn't need to know.
3.
Adam's painting the glue down on the hills of his town model when he hears Lydia come home from school, slamming the front door so hard the table shakes slightly. He can't really help but smile - for someone who pretends to be so grumpy, she's really just a ball of energy. The banging doesn't stop there, as from the sound of it she's running up the stairs and then running up the attic stairs and then she's standing in the doorway panting. "So, good day at school?" he hums, putting down the paintbrush in case she bumps the table. It's nothing compared to having Beetlejuice in here, who thinks it's funny to hover directly over the model, but he doesn't want to risk it.
"You're like, a woodwork genuis, right?"
"Hardly, but I do try my best. Is your desk wobbly again?"
"I wanna make Liss a present." She's looking down at the floor when she says it, slightly flushed pink and Adam thinks that is just so sweet. "Like a box. Or something. I dunno, it's dumb."
"No!" he insists, turning away from the table to give her his full attention. "I think that's really sweet, kiddo. What kind of box you thinking?"
"It needs to lock- maybe like, a hidden bit in it? Can you do that?" From the way she speaks about Liss, Adam gets the sense that the girl doesn't really get any privacy. A couple of weeks ago, she asked Barbara for her old phone to give to Liss because she's not allowed to text people on her phone. Obviously, he doesn't want to pry. He just hopes everything is okay.
"A secret compartment? I think we can certainly do that. When did you want to start?"
"Is- is now okay? I've done all my homework- don't look at me like that, okay, I've done most of my homework."
"Let's get cracking!"
It's not like Adam doesn't spend time with Lydia - they eat meals together every day, after all, and she's home more than Charles anyway - but spending time with her alone is really quite rare. Normally Beetlejuice is never too far away, following her like a lost puppy, but today he's doing something or other downstairs with Barbara (according to Lydia.) It's fun, because she's funny and a tiny bit evil in ways he doesn't really expect, but part of him is always a little nervous. Just-
It's no secret that they're never going to get to have a baby. Barbara spoke to Beetlejuice about it and he confirmed that the dead can't get pregnant (it makes sense, really, but hearing it was really something else.) The Deetz' accepting them as part of the family was incredible enough, but in some ways it feels like slowly, Lydia's accepting them in a different way. Not just as weird ghost family, but as- parents, kind of, in the way that a second dad and third mom who are ghosts can even be parents to a living girl. The semantics aren't important. The point is that because of all that, moments like this feel important. Moments where he's standing over Lydia's shoulder, helping her hold the hacksaw in place. Maybe he won't get a chance to have a child that's completely his. It's awful, and he hasn't completely come to terms with it yet, but this is the next best thing.
"Like this, right?" she's saying, white knuckled grip on the handle. "It's kind of hard. I bet it's gonna look shit."
"Language," he says, but he's smiling too much for her to take it seriously. "You don't need to push down as hard- use the momentum to saw through it. And no, it's gonna look awesome."
"Only 'cause you're helping me," she says, rolling her eyes. "I hope she likes it."
"Liss is going to love it because you made it," he insists, tapping her on the nose with the end of the paintbrush. She giggles, swatting him away and picking up the finished cut piece.
"You're such a dad," she's saying, rolling. Adam's sure he says something in response, but his face is busy feeling all warm when he says it. "What'm I supposed to do next?"
They work pretty much up until dinner, chatting about how much Lydia hates her chemistry teacher and how her and Liss are going to some carnival in town on Saturday and it's going to be so cool but she feels bad because Adam and Barbara can't come so she'll get them a souvenir and Adam just listens. Listens and nods along and interjects funny comments like he always imagined he would do if he got to be dad. In a way, he kind of is.
"All finished!" he declares, holding the wooden box up. "Just needs a gloss, but I'll do that after dinner so it can dry overnight. She's a beauty, that's for sure. Excellent crafstmasnship."
"It's so cool!" she says, pushing out the secret compartment. "And you can't even tell this bit's here- this is awesome, Adam. Thank you so much. I'm gonna go show Beej before dinner!"
Just like that, she's gone, thundering down the attic stairs and making the model table wobble again. She's really an incredible kid, when he thinks about it.
4.
"Feel the energy flow in to your body through your lungs and hold it there, letting it grow. On the exhale, we're going to let out any negative-"
"Delia," Lydia says, half-smirking when she shrieks. The bedroom door was shut, how the hell did she get in so quietly? (Their relationship has come a long, long way and Delia loves Lydia endlessly, but occasionally she still scares the shit out of her.) "Sorry. Am I interrupting?"
She's about to say yes and offer for her to join in the nightly meditation session, but something seems a bit off. Lydia's energy is always- well, it's a whole mix of things, mysterious and confusing and dark, but it's not what it normally is. "No, not at all," she says instead, patting the ground next to her. "Something wrong?"
Lydia's eyes narrow, and she's suddenly terrified that she's said the wrong thing. Should she have acted like nothing was wrong? Is Lydia going to feel like she's prying? "You're weird good at being able to tell that stuff," she says after a second, Delia breathing out in relief when she sits down on her knees next to her. "I dunno. I kind of wanted some advice and Beej said you would know. Shockingly he was not helpful."
Beetlejuice and Lydia see her as a source of reliable advice? High-five, inner Delia. "I'll give it my best go."
"Liss' dad is kind of... uh. He's a dickhead, alright? He's horrible and I wanna- I dunno, I wanna help her, but I don't know how." Delia nods encouragingly, sensing she's not done ranting. "Like, he doesn't hit her- well. She swears he doesn't hit her, and I think she's telling the truth, but I wouldn't put it past him. But like, he's so controlling, he checks her phone twice a day and she's not allowed to leave the house unless she's done like, anything he wants her to do. It's just so- ugh," she sighs, sinking her head into her hands.
"So she speaks to you about it a lot?"
"No, I have to like, pry it out of her. She says she feels bad complaining about it."
"Okay, sweetie," she says, taking a deep breath. "There's a couple things I could suggest." Lydia pulls out her phone before she's even finished speaking, and for a moment her heart sinks in her chest. But then she opens the notes app and looks back up at her, waiting patiently for her to start talking. It's so adorable, how much she clearly cares about Liss. Only fifteen and full of so much emotion.
Lydia furiously types while she speaks, bullet-pointing different ways to bring it up in conversation or suggestions she could give to help Liss feel more comfortable speaking about it. They sit for nearly half an hour, Delia treading lightly but managing to feel as if she's really making progress in learning how to talk to Lydia.
When she'd first met Charles, she'd fallen in love immediately. It was kind of hard not to. But she was supposed to be working for him, for Lydia - and besides, Emily was still lingering in his mind. Lydia had just been work. Hard work, at that. There's only one type of person who truly can't be helped and that's someone who doesn't want to be helped, and that was her. So, she'd followed her around for months, not making any progress but slowly starting to care about her more and more (something that was not reciprocated.) It stopped being about making a difference so Charles would keep her around and wanting desperately to be able to help Lydia, because she was too young to be that sad. Then Charles proposed and she no longer had to help Lydia, but she still wanted to.
It's a difficult line to tread, wanting to be there for her like she so clearly needed but not imposing on the space her mother left. But, as they're sat here now, Lydia pouring her heart out and coming to her for help, Delia feels like she's kind of done it. It's tricky always, and she doubts it's going to get any easier.
"Thanks, Delia. Beej was right. You're the best with advice."
Delia wouldn't change it for the world.
5.
What a day, Beetlejuice thinks, leaning back against the sloping tiles and lazily swatting the spider who's crawling around in his ear. "You totally deserve this," he tells himself, twisting the end of his joint and lighting it with his fingertip. He'd spent all evening helping Barbara cook the lasagna (who knew one meal could have so much shit to do to make it) and then helped Delia paint her bedroom, which had involved changing the colour of the wall fractionally for twenty minutes until she'd found a shade she was happy with. Don't get him wrong, he liked her - the woman just never stopped. Letting out a deep breath, he took a long toke from the joint and leaned back, closing his eyes. "That's the shit."
"Are you smoking weed and talking to yourself?" Lydia says, laughing when he jumps and climbing out of her window without waiting for a response. "I knew you were unstable, but this is something else."
"There's nothing unstable about this- it's self-care, Lyds. Get on the trend."
She rolls her eyes, wrinkling her nose as he blows smoke at her. "Stop picking up words from Delia's trashy reality shows. Are you busy, then?"
Obviously. "I'm relaxin', kiddo. Getting blazed to go and get comfy with the two most attractive ghosts I've ever-"
"Beetlejuice," she interrupts, looking reasonably disgusted. Exactly how he likes to leave people. "So, uh. You're like. Too busy to talk? About- uh, I dunno. Some stuff."
Ideally, this was his relaxing time, but she seems kind of uncomfortable saying it, kicking one of the lose tiles and not looking him in the eyes, so he relents. "Spit it out. I'm not busy."
"Alright," she says, not saying anything else for what he's pretty sure is like, five whole minutes. "Uh," she eventually says, turning back towards him and staring at the beetles crawling over his shoes. Dust bunnies bounce over from where he's floating, dancing around her head unnoticed while she shifts awkwardly on the roof. "Fuck. Give me that."
"Hm?" he frowns, only half listening because she hadn't started speaking yet. She seems to step forward and he cracks open an eye, too late to stop her from leaning forward and swiping the joint from his hand. "Hey- Lyds, the fuck? Give me that!" Lydia's already scurrying over to the other side of the roof, chuffing the joint like it's oxygen and obviously exploding into a coughing fit by the time he snatches it back off her. "What gives? Your dad is gonna fucking kill me, kid!"
"I won't tell if you don't," she says, now staring him down. "Wow. That didn't have the desired effect."
"It's not alcohol, Lydia, it doesn't make you talk about stuff you don't wanna talk about."
"How do you even know that there's something I don't wanna talk about?" she fires back, but she sits down cross legged so he does the same next to her.
"Uh, because you have a shit poker face and I can read you like a book, bitch," he scoffs, pretending not to hear her say you can't even read. "So? You've robbed my weed and probably signed my eviction notice by doing so. You gotta tell me now."
"You're so annoying," she groans, hiding her head in her knees and wrapping her arms over it. Beetlejuice does that when he's feeling overwhelmed so he stops teasing at her and just waits for her to speak. "Uh. Fuck. I wanna talk about, um. About sex."
"Woah- fucking hell, you came up here for the sex talk? Wait- we live with the softest ghosts ever and you came to me?"
"No! No, oh my god," she sighs, the tips of her ears flushing red where he can see them poking out. Thank fucking Satan. Beetlejuice thinks possibly having to have that conversation would kill him. "I just wanna know- there's just this one thing I have to ask, uh. Trust me- trust me, I wouldn't ask you if there was anyone else." There's four other elses in the house, he thinks and doesn't say, secretly glad she picked him even if it's weird. "What if, uh. Is it normal to, to maybe not. Like. Really want to?"
Lydia's face is still buried in her knees and she's speaking unnaturally fast, so it takes his ears a minute to catch up with what it is she's said. "I don't follow," he frowns, sitting up a little. When she doesn't make a move to clarify, he clears his throat, sitting up even more. "Like, uh. I'm assuming Liss is the subject matter here, huh? You saying she just doesn't do it for ya?"
"It's- it's not like that. It's like. I always thought sex seemed like- fuck, I dunno. Super gross, and weird, and like not something I'd wanna do. But like, I thought it would be different when it actually came round to it." Her voice is strained, like she's having to force the words out. Is he supposed to like, rub her shoulder here? Maybe hug her, or something dumb like that?
"Right," he says, kind of because he's starting to get it but mostly to fill the silence. "Maybe Liss is just, uh. Inexperienced?" God, she's literally a kid, should he even be talking to her about this?
In moments like these, a general what would Barbara Maitland do? can normally be applied. Would Barbara support having the conversation? Well. She'd probably be worried, because Lydia is still a baby- but, to be fair, she's clearly already- uh, exploring that stuff with no input from him. So, if she's gonna be doing that, surely it's best for her to ask questions about shit she's worried about.
Ultimately, his verdict is that he's doing the right thing, but he should check with Barbara later just in case. "No, it's not like that either. It's not about- like, enjoying it, it's like. No matter how I think about it or whatever, I'm just. Not interested. It's kind of like I'm not- I don't work properly."
"Let's cut that shit there, alright? You work fine, kiddo. Doesn't matter how you feel about sex stuff. I don't- I'm hardly educated in not having sex 'cause I'm so unbelievably attractive," he quips, feeling a little relieved when she snorts into her jeans. "But even I know there's nothing wrong with that shit. Sex isn't everyone's thing. Maybe you'll like it once you grow up a bit? But maybe not, and that's cool too."
"But what if Liss- she said she didn't care, but-"
"Lydia, if you're with anyone who makes you feel shit for not digging the sex vibe, you kick their fucking ass. Or call me and I'll kick their fucking teeth in." Beetlejuice is keeping his tone as not-serious as possible 'cause Lydia seems kind of worked up, but he completely means it. "Liss has another thing comin' if she's-"
"No- honestly, Beej," she says, but she sounds like she might be smiling. "Liss said she didn't care at all. I just felt, like. Weird about it."
"It's not weird," he promises, "And I love weird. I'd tell ya if it was. Normal as they come, kid."
"I feel kinda high," she says, though he doubts it's that much as she really only smoked a little. Oh yeah- the joint is lying in the empty gutter, forgotten. Beetlejuice reaches for it, giving Lydia a chance to take her head out from her hands. There's a pause where they both stare up at the sky, just happening to avoid eye contact at all costs, and Lydia coughs again. "You really think it's normal?"
Beetlejuice holds out his pinky to her - she taught him this, she knows how serious it is. "Pinky promise, Lyds. Don't stress it. Really." When she squeezes his pinky back he's glad she can't see his face, because he's probably grinning like someone who loves his best friend, and that's pretty embarrassing.