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Quite a bit of time had passed since the whole incident with trying to become a living person, and the quest to locate his father figure was going poorly.
Admittedly, he wasn’t trying very hard. It would be pretty great if he could acquire a single decent parental figure, but given that he was looking for someone who had once been willing to fuck his mother, he didn’t feel great about his chances.
Not being banished from the Netherworld anymore was nice, but he had just as many friends down below as he did up above. Zero. Particularly after killing his mom. Juno wasn’t around anymore to enforce his banishment, but she also wasn’t around to enforce anything else, and things had gotten more than a bit chaotic. People were happy to blame him for anything and everything that went wrong as a result, so the atmosphere hadn’t exactly been friendly as of late. Not that it had ever been.
So, he found himself returning to his pre-un-banishment habits. Currently, that meant hovering upside down and watching some random human couple have sex on their couch while a documentary on the history of crayons continued to play behind them.
They didn’t seem to mind his presence, probably due to being entirely unaware of it. Though he’d never technically been un-summoned by the Deetzes, apparently coming to life and dying almost immediately after was a pretty effective reset switch for demonic rituals.
Being invisible to breathers did come with some perks, like the one he was enjoying now, but he’d already exhausted his possibilities pretty thoroughly during his whole banishment stint. Still, the overworld was currently more tolerable than the under-one, so here he was.
He hovers over so he is popping his torso through the TV, waving his arms in front of the flashing images of colorful wax being poured into molds. What a way to set the mood. “Ooh, look at me, I’m blocking the movie! Not that you guys are watching. That’s probably, uh, probably why you’re ignoring my beautiful visage.” Naturally, they pay him just as much mind as the documentary.
…maybe he should go back to the Netherworld for a while. At least glares were an acknowledgment of his presence.
Beetlejuice.
He jumps at the call of his name, falling off the console and flattening his face on the floor. On the couch up above him the young couple continues to smash together faces and other bodily parts, utterly oblivious to the horrible injuries he could be sustaining. The television flickers, switching from a cutaway interview with a lead crayon innovator to the movie Poltergeist.
“Ugh, nice to know I’m in people’s words and prayers but I could do without the wake-up call.” He flips himself back onto his feet, landing gracefully on the ceiling.
Beetlejuice.
“Whoa!" he somersaults backward, pulling himself back up-- or down, depending on perspective-- to a stand. "Shit, this might actually be a real one!” He brushes some dirt off his lapel, sending specks of dust raining down to the floor below and doing absolutely nothing for the state of his clothes. “Come on baby, one more time, one more time!”
He is practically— no, literally— vibrating with excitement. He shifts from toe to toe in anticipation. Who was it? Could it be someone Lydia talked to? Maybe even one of the Deetzes themselves? The lights in the apartment flicker, but the couple on the couch aren't bothered. Oh, he needs this. He needs this so badly.
Any second now.
He was so ready.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand…
…
Diddly squat. Zilch. Nada. What was taking so long?
Annoyed, he pinpointed the location of the call and forced the teleport himself. He’d see what sort of tease was stringing him along like this.
As he disappears, a variety of items that had been hovering a centimeter or so in the air fall back down. The couple looks up for a moment, shrugs, and resumes.
He pops back into existence to find himself in a very familiar living room, in front of a very familiar, makeup-adorned face.
“Lydiaaaaaaa!" He flies in for a hug, which she deftly sidesteps. He rolls and stops upside-down four feet in the air, pointing enthusiastically. "What’s with the suspense, buddy? Whaddaya want, what are we doing, need me to teach you how to count because I’m pretty sure that was two. I can only go up to three myself but rest assured, that’s all we need!”
Lydia giggles a bit at his antics, but much to his frustration the next words out of her mouth are not another repetition of his name.
“Hi again BJ! Hope the dad quest went well! Um…” Lydia shifts nervously and then looks behind her, where Beetlejuice realizes her father is standing.
As he droops in disappointment, he takes in the rest of the room's occupants. Chuckles stands tall and proud behind his daughter, with a blocky stance like that of a gorilla doing a territorial display. Crystal lady hangs off his arm, a too-wide smile on her face and absolutely decked out in sparkly rocks on every body part. The Maitlands (as hot as ever) hover off to the side, grasping each other's hands as though trying to keep the other from floating away. Lydia seems oddly scrunched in on herself, lacking the clever confidence he’d come to expect from their brief time together, and clutching a rolled-up piece of paper so tightly he was surprised it wasn't already torn in half.
This didn’t seem to be the joyous, cacophonous, and explosive reunion he’d been obsessively fantasizing about, but he’d take what he could get.
He tilts his head and stares at everyone for a moment before he shakes himself back onto topic. “What’s the hold-up, Lyds? And what’s with the get-together? All the adults just couldn’t wait to get a piece of—“ and he is rudely cut off by Charles, who seems to be completely ignoring him.
Charles straightens his back and folds his arms, looking down at his daughter. “Well, I assume he’s here then. Go on then, explain the terms.”
Excuse him, he was talking. “Hey!" He marches up to the man, pointing his finger into his face. "The words coming out of my mouth are to be treasured, I’ll have you know. Interrupting is highly impolite.”
Lydia pulls at his arm-- currently intangible, but he steps back anyway-- and looks into his face. “He can’t hear you, Beetlejuice. Only I and the Maitlands can see you right now.” Oh. Right. With Lydia talking to him again, he kind of forgot about the whole not-currently-summoned thing. He does shoot the Maitlands a wink, though, getting a couple of hesitant smiles and a wave from Adam in return. He pumps his arm in victory.
He places an arm on Lydia's back and walks away from her dad, which she considerately complies with despite the intangibility issue. “What’s the deal then? You do still know how to count to three, right? Did you hurt your head?" He sticks his head inside hers to check. Nope, normal mushy brain stuff. He yanks his head back out with a pop and Lydia gags. "Do you need me to count with you? Math isn't my best subject but I can get as high as five.”
“No! No, my head is fine, BJ. This is about something else.” She pushes him away from her and sighs. “Look, I asked about the possibility of letting you come back but the idea got kinda… shut down. On four sides.” She looks over to her father, stepmother, and the Maitlands.
He gasps in offense, looking over at the ghostly couple. “Barbara? Adam? After everything we’ve been through together? I’m hurt.” He clutches his hand to his chest and tries to squeeze out a couple of tears. Nope, all dry. Damn.
Lydia chimes back in, “But! I did get them to agree to something. Even if that something SUCKS, GUYS!” she shouts, looking back at her dad again and stomping her foot.
Delia comes up and rests a gentle hand on Lydia’s arm, crouching ever so slightly. “Now dear, remember what we said about the importance of compromise in healthy relationships! Besides, it’s his choice if he wants to agree to it or not.”
“It’s barely a choice at all! This is so unfair. He’d have to be insane to agree to something like this! If the answer was just going to be no you guys should have left it at that!” Beetlejuice raises an eyebrow at the intensity of Lydia’s pout. He can’t tell if she’d been taking lessons on his own behavior or if this is a talent she’d always possessed.
Carrot Top hesitates a moment before replying. “Well… I don’t think he is sane.”
“That’s not the point!” Ouch, his ears. “How can we ask this—“
“Lydia,” Charles interjects. “We already had this conversation. I understand that this isn’t how you’d like things to go, sweetheart, but this is the only way to make sure we’ll be safe. If he says no, you can try things your own way when you’re older, but this is how we’re going to do it in this house. Do you understand?” Ooh, so serious. Beetlejuice would be having a lot of fun with this conversation if the topic at hand wasn't him.
Lydia rolls her eyes so hard Beetlejuice is pretty sure he hears them tumbling around in their sockets. “Ugh! Fine. Whatever.” She turns away from her parental figures and marches back over to him. “Beetlejuice! We… we have a deal for you.” She holds up the paper she’d been clutching, significantly wrinkled from her handling of it. “But it’s a bad one. You should totally say no.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Did some research did we, short stop? Maitlands lent you their book then? Alright, hand it over, I’ll even proofread it for ya.”
She holds back a moment, then reaches forward and passes the paper into his hand. Settling into a midair seat, he summons a pair of old-timey spectacles—aesthetic was important—and prepares for a long read as he unrolls the paper.
A paper that is less than a page long. These poor ignorant bastards.
“You know, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy! Experts recommend that a decent demonic contract be at least ten pages long. You guys should really have hired a Netherworld lawyer for this, us demons tend to be great at finding loopholes in this… sort of…”
He stares at the last part of the page. With a flick of his hand, the spectacles vanish.
By this binding agreement, the household consisting of the deceased parties Adam Maitland and Barbara Maitland, and living parties Charles Deetz, Delia Deetz, and Lydia Deetz, henceforth referred to as The Family, agree to grant the demon known as Beetlejuice the ability to exist in a summoned state within 100 feet of members of The Family or within the living quarters of The Family, so long as Beetlejuice agrees to the terms listed below. Beetlejuice will be un-summoned outside of these bounds for the duration of the contract.
1. Do not harm or intentionally cause indirect harm to members of The Family or their guests.
2. Do not intentionally damage the home of The Family.
3. Obey all orders given by members of The Family, indefinitely, unless a specified time limit concludes or the order is canceled by a member of The Family.
Signed,
Adam Maitland
Barbara Maitland
Charles Deetz
Delia Deetz
Lydia Deetz (followed by a little angry face)
And there at the bottom, a single blank line, like a mockery.
He’d heard of some stupid demons getting caught in nasty contracts before, but it was a pretty rare occurrence. Demons knew contracts, were usually the ones writing them, and almost always the ones catching humans in unfair agreements. Any demons foolish enough to get tripped up by a contract were sure to become the laughingstock of the Netherworld for at least the next few hundred years, and he’d done plenty of that laughing himself.
But all those contracts he’d heard about paled in comparison to this one. Sure, he could be a bit gullible (and they’d proved that they knew that) but did they really think he’d take them up on this? Just for— for the chance to be seen by someone who doesn’t hate him? For a little company? It’s not like he couldn’t find some other mortal friend to hang out with. All it took last time was a few hundred years of invisible isolation on the mortal plane before he managed to find the one set of newly-deads getting their house bought by a family with a death-obsessed teenager.
…He could totally pull something like that off again.
He looks up from the paper, grinning with a whole lot of sharp teeth and just a hint of fury.
“Come on Lyds, seriously? Maaaaaybe I could have accepted rules one and two, even if they seriously cramp my style, but rule three is a no-go. Hey, I’ll give it to you! You called it! I’m not taking this deal. So let’s renegotiate, huh? I can have a new contract conjured up for you in less than a second.” To prove his point, he snaps his fingers and conjures up a nice blank scroll of genuine Netherworld parchment. (He should probably wait to tell them what kind of hide the parchment was made of until after daddy dearest agrees to sign it, though).
Lydia gestures dramatically at him as she looks over at her father. “I told you, Dad, he’s not taking your dumb deal! He said he can make a new one, why don’t we all—“
But once again Chucky saw fit to interrupt. “Absolutely not. I told you, Lydia, it’s this or he's out. We need to be sure he can’t just find some loophole and kidnap you or something! And you, demon!” He announces, looking up and slightly to the right of where Beetlejuice is hovering, “You can take this deal or we’re warding the house. This isn’t a negotiation! I, for one, would be happy to never have to suffer your presence again. Consider yourself lucky an offer is being made at all.”
Beetlejuice clenches his fists. The prospect of oh-so-desired time with the Maitlands and Lydia was dangling right in front of him, but they expected him to throw himself at their mercy to get it. He wants to confront Charles himself, but he can hardly get his point across in all its glory with Lydia acting as his telephone.
He turns to the Maitlands. “Come on guys, back me up here! This is ridiculous! Dead guy solidarity, am I right?”
The couple glances at each other uncomfortably. “I’m very sorry Beetlejuice,” Barbara says, “but while I do think the expectations are a bit unreasonable you did almost get Lydia to exorcise me!”
Adam nods. “And— and while we appreciate you saving us, I think it’s still reasonable for us not to trust you yet.”
Beetlejuice wilts. He falls forward onto his hands and knees and scrambles over to the Maitland's feet, clutching his hands together in his best 'I'm just a harmless little guy' pose he can manage. “Come on! I’m sorry about all that, really! Won’t happen again, cross my heart and hope to be eradicated from existence." He shuffles closer as he continues to beg. "Please? Pleeeeeeeee—“
Adam looks sternly down at what Beetlejuice is sure are his adorable, begging-puppy-like features. He makes sure to look even sadder, enlarging his glistening eyeballs to anime proportions. “No, Beetlejuice. The household already discussed this matter extensively. I’m afraid it’s no longer our decision to make." Adam crosses his arms in an attempt to look stern, which only makes him look cuter. In a rare moment of self-control, Beetlejuice stops himself from commenting on how sexy Adam looks like this. Adam sighs. "Although…" he looks up, "Lydia, I suppose you can tell your father he apologized.”
"He says he's very sorry, Dad. Begging on his hands and knees and everything. It's really pitiful."
Based on the new shape Charles’ face twists into, Beetlejuice has an inkling that wasn’t going to cut it. At least rock lady seemed pleased about the news.
She looks gleefully up at her husband's face. “You know Charles, my books say that an apology is a great first step to mending—“
“Delia dear, I'm sorry, but no!" Again with the interrupting! Chuckles really needed to work on that. "An apology is not nearly enough reassurance considering he tried to kill us! Under the circumstances, I think I’m being very accommodating here.” Charles once again attempts to look in the same direction that Lydia is, managing to stare a good 5 to the left of Beetlejuice’s current position on the floor. “Make your decision, demon, or we will begin warding this house immediately. God knows I bought enough salt to render the grounds barren for decades, and I helped the Maitlands read that book of theirs front to back. You’re very easy to summon, Beetlejuice, and from what I’ve read that makes you easy to get rid of too.”
Ouch. He wasn’t wrong about that one, but still, low blow. But more importantly, it seems like Beetlejuice is out of options. His negotiating power is severely limited here, and it didn’t seem like Chuckles was in a bargaining mood.
It stings, but it seems like he’ll have to leave. Getting caught in the middle of a ward hurts like a bitch, and over in the kitchen he can spot what looks like multiple industrial-sized bags of rock salt. They had to know the salt wouldn't let the Maitlands cross either, but it wasn't like the couple could leave the house to begin with. Of course, salt on its own would barely tickle him but combined with the information from the guidebook… well, he hated to admit it, but that would probably do the trick.
It looks like hanging out with Lydia again will be a lot more tricky than he'd hoped, and this would certainly be his last time seeing the Maitlands. Yeesh, with the whole house warded he'd have to wait until they finally decided to move on before he could behold their titillating bodies and adorable personalities once again. He could probably track Lydia down when she left the house, but losing the Maitlands hurt. He was pretty sure they didn't hate him, which basically made them friends. More than just friends, once he got them to fall for his overwhelming sexual appeal.
It was a real shame, but he’d practically be enslaving himself if he signed that contract. Only a complete and utter idiot would trade freedom for a mere bit of genuine social connection.
He gets up off the floor and immediately wraps the Maitlands in a crushing hug, planting a wet kiss on both their cheeks. He looks at their expressions of shock and irritation (obviously upset about his departure) and gives them a teary smile. "You sexy sons of guns, I'm gonna miss you so much!" He wipes a tear from his cheek and walks over to Lydia, holding out his hand. “Well, Lyds, I guess this is goodbye.”
It hurt that she was going along with this at all, but more than that the mournful expression on her face is tying his insides up into an elaborate gift bow. Hell, she looks ready to cry. Stepping forward, he switches tactics and brings up both arms to wrap her in a hug.
She sniffles into his shoulder. “You smell like rotten animal carcasses.”
“Thanks buddy.” She always knows what to say.
“And… and I’m sorry I killed you.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. Somebody was gonna end up dead and it may as well have been me, you know?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He ignores her sniffling into his collar. The snot would add to the suit's character, anyway.
He steps back, releasing her from the hug, staring down into her teary, smiling face. He looks up and over at the Maitlands, the beautiful, beautiful Maitlands, who seem to be in a similar teary state, Adam messily blowing his nose into his shirt.
He hates to leave, but Lydia's dad was going back and forth between eyeing the salt in the kitchen and glaring almost but never quite directly at him, and he'd rather not get caught in the middle of a ward casting.
"Well, goodbye assholes! See you on the other side!" He raises his hands to do a nice dramatic clap before he teleports away, but he can't make himself bring them together.
...
He doesn’t want to leave.
Fuck.
He really doesn’t want to leave.
He doesn't want to go back to shuffling random upset newlydeads off to the afterlife, idly watching the lives of humans living a world he'd never get to experience, getting spat on every time he set foot back in the Netherworld again.
He doesn't want to lose the closest things he's ever had to friends in his entire existence.
Here was a chance to not only stay but belong, if only in the way that a tool belongs in a shed. He could be something more than an intruder, a nuisance, some unwanted parasite that only ever...
He lowers his hands.
"Beetlejuice?"
He walks over to where he’d dropped the contract on the ground.
Only a complete and utter idiot would sign that thing.
He picks it up.
“Beetlejuice? We can figure something out, you don’t have to—“
He holds the paper in front of himself, setting it to float in place while he summons an ink pad. He hovers his hand over the ink, stories of demons trapped for centuries in constricting, inescapable contracts drifting through his mind.
People said he was impulsive.
People said he was an idiot.
Hard to argue.
"Beetlejuice, don't!"
“Adam, maybe we should stop him, I’m not sure—“
“Charles, dearie, Lydia sounds upset. I don’t know—“
He presses his palm into the ink and slams it onto the paper.
The page bursts into flames but does not burn, the fire licking down the paper and leaving embellished parchment in its place. As the flames dissipate, the page furls up with a snap, a scroll tightly bound by a red ribbon falling to the floor.
Beetlejuice hears Lydia’s parents gasp as he is fully summoned into the mortal realm, but with his eyes squeezed tight he can't watch their reactions. He’s signed a few contracts before, and judging by the proportional intensity of the agreements, this is one he needs to brace for.
He feels conditions one and two settle on his wrists like heavy jewelry, difficult to ignore but far from truly restricting. Condition three falls upon him like the chain of a wrecking ball. He collapses under the weight, first to his knees as it lands upon his back and legs. Then the pressure hits his arms and wrists, causing him to topple forward and brace himself against the floor. It settles around his neck and throat and his head hits the floor, the grooves of the floorboards the only thing he feels other than pressure.
He gasps for breath he does not need, and feels small hands gently settle upon his back. He hears his name. He tries to get up. Someone must be summoning him.
A final pressure settles upon his mind, and all goes dark.
“—Wake up! BJ? Beetlejuice? Come on, you’re not like, extra dead, right? Beetlejuice?”
Beetlejuice pulls his limbs back under him from where they were sprawled across the floor. For a moment he wonders why he feels so heavy. The pressure is no longer quite so oppressive, but it's more than a mild inconvenience. He feels it like a dull ache under his skin, a fog at the edge of his thoughts. He expected something like this, but it’s another thing to experience it.
He looks up at Lydia and makes himself smile. “Nah. If I was… if I was extra dead there’d be nothing to yell at. Poof! Gone. No soul, no nothing.”
As soon as he’s halfway vertical Lydia wraps her arms tightly around him. He rests a hand on her back as he looks up, taking in the state of the bystanders.
Rock lady seems a bit distressed. The Maitlands? Very distressed. Chuckles looks rather shocked, but there’s satisfaction there too. At least he isn't being all weird about this. He's not sure why this is how everyone is acting when they are the ones who wrote the contract in the first place.
Lydia takes a step back and stares into his eyes, but Beetlejuice glances away to meet the piercing gaze of her father.
Beetlejuice grins and spreads his arms wide. “Well, here you go Chucky! One bona-fide demon, at your service.” He finishes his declaration off with a curtsy.
Chuckles schools the shocked expression off his face and does his best to look serious and businesslike. He's a lot better at it than Adam is, but he could still use some practice.
“I’d appreciate being referred to by my name. Call me Mr. Deetz, demon.”
Ah, getting started right away then.
… Well, he had to know.
“Sure thing, Chu-auck—“
As a being that had never needed to breathe, choking was an unfamiliar sensation. As he found himself involuntarily trying to cough up the painful sensation of something in his throat, he was sure that was what he was experiencing now, based on all the breathers he'd watched perish this way. It wasn’t nearly as erotic as he’d hoped.
His throat cleared a moment later, but the sting remained. He was probably imagining the way the pressure at his throat felt tighter, like a warning.
“… Sure thing. Mr. Deetz.”