Disclaimer: I do not own Sarah, Jareth, goblins, or anything else recognizable as having come from the movie Labyrinth. I don't even eat turkey.

This was originally titled, "The Complete Devastation and Consequential Redemption of a Thanksgiving Dinner". Apparently, that's a little wordy for FF.

Sarah looked around her small kitchen in horror, not quite able to comprehend the level of mayhem. It all happened so fast. One minute, she was calling her friends, excited at the prospect of sharing her first Thanksgiving without her family with them, the next, she was standing frozen in shock in her kitchen, covered head to foot with scraps of turkey, bits of stuffing and rolls, globs of mashed potatoes. Gravy dripped slowly from her hair. Not one inch of her kitchen wasn't covered in a thick stew made up of her entire Thanksgiving feast. It almost seemed to defy the laws of physics. Had she even made that much food? The small band of goblins who had caused all the wreckage lay sleeping peacefully in the center of her kitchen floor, bellies distended from their gluttony, completely at ease. They had wolfed down the food without tasting it, stuffing their greedy little mouths with a speed and determinism she didn't know goblins possessed. It had all been over in seconds. Seconds! She had spent the entire day in the kitchen, painstakingly creating every dish. Measuring, chopping, she'd put her hand into places of a turkey that she would rather not remember. She had laid everything out so carefully, arranged it just so, used her best dishes to create a perfect vision of a feast. Her dishes! Every single one was smashed into pieces, ground to not much more than shards and dust. The goblins didn't miss one plate. Even her forks and knives were bent beyond recognition.

She stared at the wreckage for a few more moments, and then, like a flash, Sarah went from shocked and disbelieving to mad. Outright, white-hot, castle destroying, owl spearing, pissed. Not at the goblins, but at him. That smug, arrogant, emo-pants-wearing, self-centered, attention-seeking, prima donna bastard. He might not have destroyed her kitchen, not directly, but he must have been behind it. He put them up to it, he had to. They were his goblins. This was revenge. This was his payback for her beating him at his own game nearly eight freaking years ago. Who held a grudge for eight years?! Couldn't he let anything go? She beat him fair and square! Was he really that petty? A gravy-soaked slab of turkey chose that moment to peel itself from the ceiling and land with a wet plop directly on her foot. That was the final straw. With a small strangled cry of indignation and rage, Sarah stormed into her bedroom, and screamed at her mirror. "I wish the Goblin King would get his stupid arrogant ass over here, right now!"

The flash of lightning and the clap of thunder didn't phase her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Always with the theatrics. The lights went out, more thunder, etc, etc… Sarah yawned. Really, she wasn't fifteen anymore. And then he was actually there. For a fraction of a second, she froze in something of surprise. Sarah wasn't sure if it was because she hadn't thought he would come, or if it was just the simple fact that it was him. He wasn't how she had remembered. Oh, he hadn't changed, not a stitch, but over eight years, she must have downplayed him in her memory. She had blurred the edges in her mind, distorted her picture of him, made him something easier to remember, to think of. Something not quite so perfect and frightening all at once. Something he was not. Something human. Now he was there, in perfect focus, sharp and undeniably him. Imposing, frightening, intensely captivating all at once. All in black, dark cloak spread out behind him like a set of dark wings. Like an angel, rebelled and cast from heaven. He was watching her, eyes raking over her body and taking in her food-splattered state, that familiar superior smirk on his contemptible face. All at once, Sarah's anger, temporarily forgotten, came rushing back with more force than before. Her green eyes flashed, and she took a step forward, closing most of the gap between them. "You!" She poked her index finger hard against the center of his chest. If she hadn't been so utterly pissed with him, she might have noted the feel of his perfectly sculpted chest. As it was, she simply continued her rant, jabbing her finger angrily against him with each insult. "You arrogant, self-centered, vain, sorry excuse for a king!"

Rather than allowing her to continue, he captured her hand with his own, pulling it away from his chest and holding it firmly in his gloved grasp. His smirk was gone, and Sarah noticed with some satisfaction, there was now a dollop of gravy on the front of his shirt. "You realize, don't you, that most of those insults were quite redundant?" his tone was measured, carefully indifferent.

"You jackass!" she shrieked, and accompanied it with a stamp of her foot, as she tried to pull away. "Let go of me!"

"Not," and a there was a hint of irritation in his tone now, "Until you explain to me why exactly you so rudely pulled me from a very pleasant dinner, to stand here covered in food and shriek at me like a banshee."

"You know very well why."

He sighed in an over-exaggerated fashion. Dramatic ass. "I am afraid I do not have the faintest idea what you are talking about, Sarah." He still said her name in that same infuriating way that only he did, lengthening that first syllable until it was almost a drawl.

"I'm talking about your disgusting goblins, who were supposed to come over here and enjoy a nice Thanksgiving with me, and instead you had them DESTROY MY KITCHEN!" She tried once again to pull her hand from his, but his grip was much too strong, it didn't even budge. Damn.

The Goblin King blinked, and a note of incredulity actually colored his statement. "You, willingly, invited the goblins, for a feast?"

Rather than answer, Sarah simply used her free hand to point in the direction of her kitchen. The Jareth immediately dropped her hand and strode toward it, leaving Sarah to follow behind him, glaring daggers at the back of his stupid, ostentatious cloak. He stopped when he reached the doorway, surveying the complete devastation that was her kitchen. Sarah peered at it from behind him, flinching at the fresh vision of chaos. They both simply stood staring at the carnage for a moment, neither saying anything, Sarah still trying her best to somehow cause his cloak to catch on fire with the power of her mind. She had nearly decided to give it up and grab some matches, when before her the Goblin King started to shake. Sarah was at first bewildered, and for a moment was unsure of what to do. Was he having some sort of episode? And epileptic fit? Should she call for help, or maybe put on some Japanese cartoons and encourage it? Until finally she realized by the half-strangled noises coming from him, the bastard was, in fact, laughing.

At first, her jaw actually dropped open several inches. The audacity of him! The nerve! To stand there in her kitchen, and laugh at his own handiwork. For a moment, she was so stunned and white-hot with fury that she was silent, as his laughter intensified, from an almost suppressed shudder to loud, full-out laugh that echoed around her kitchen. That was when she exploded. "I can't BELIEVE you! You find this funny!? Your goblins caused this, Your Majesty," she spat with contempt. "You would actually stand there and laugh? My kitchen is destroyed! This will take hours to clean up! This is your fault!"

He turned then, and Sarah fought the urge to take a step back. All right, perhaps she should have stopped when she was ahead. There was something in his eyes now that made her distinctly uncomfortable. She may have forgotten for a moment exactly what he could do. His laughter had so quickly hardened into a cold mask, and her resolve wavered ever so slightly. "My fault? Sarah love, this is no one's fault but yours. Did you, or did you not, invite the goblins for a feast?" His tone was cold as steel.

Sarah wouldn't back down that easily, "I… you set them up to this. You wanted this to happen. You planned this. You wanted revenge."

"Revenge? Sarah, you truly think I have nothing better to do than to spend eight years plotting revenge against someone for winning a game? And that in eight years the best thing I come up with is to create a mess in your kitchen? Really, Sarah, I thought you were more intelligent than that." That stupid smirk was back, and she had a very strong urge to do something about it. Slap him, or kiss him. Wait, what?

"Th-They're your goblins. They're your responsibility," she replied, and internally cursed herself for sounding so weak.

"Ah, but Sarah, surely you haven't forgotten your lines again. Your will is as strong as mine. Your kingdom as great. I have no power over you. You invited the goblins over, and then they were out of my jurisdiction. They were no longer my responsibility, but yours. And now you are reaping the rewards." He looked so smug, as if he knew he had won.

"But that's…" she stopped herself.

"Not fair?" he mocked, raising one eyebrow. "Really Sarah, are you still using that same old line?"

That was enough. It was his turn to have taken a step too far, and her eyes flashed. He would not beat her that way. He would not stand there, in her house, and throw her words back at her like that. Her voice was cool, commanding, and laced with enough fury that lesser men would have quailed before her. "NO. You listen, Goblin King, despite whatever you say, those are YOUR subjects in there sleeping it off, and they are YOUR responsibility, and you WILL restore my kitchen, because damn it Jareth-"

"Fine," he stated mildly, interrupting her tirade.


"Fine, it's done." He waved a hand impatiently toward the kitchen.

She peered around him, and gave a small, almost inaudible gasp. He had really done it. She wandered past him, to the center of the kitchen, and looked around. Everything was back to the way it had been. No, better than that. Her kitchen had been transformed. It was immaculate. The appliances, the fixtures, they all sparkled as if they were new again. The goblins were gone. The walls looked as if they had been freshly painted. Her dishes were restored, and they were set with the most picturesque feast… this wasn't the meal she had created, a clumsy beginner, trying too hard to get everything exactly right. This was the work of an artist. The food was set out on a new tablecloth, something she had forgotten before, and candle flickered from two ornate but tasteful candelabras, the only light in the room. It was all… perfect, down to the very last detail. Though instead of the many places she had set with the group of goblins in mind, now there were only two. She slowly turned back toward him then, a question in her eyes.

"As I said, you pulled me from my dinner. It would only be polite if you allowed me to share yours." Still, she didn't reply. For a brief moment, his smirk faded, and he almost looked… nervous? Was that possible?

"I hope you understand I had to replace the food. Restoring it… would not have been pleasant."

Sarah shook her head slightly. Did he actually think she would be upset about him replacing the food? "This, this is… It's wonderful. It's perfect."

He shook his head, "Not quite. There's just one more thing," and stepped closer to her, until they were almost touching. He reached out one gloved hand and very gently stroked her, starting at her cheek and continuing down the length of her arm. She shivered, as a sensation like that of some cool liquid, not unpleasant but very different, ran slowly over her from the top of her head to her toes. When it stopped, she looked down to find that she, too, had been restored. Gone were the bits of turkey and stuffing and mashed potato, her hair was clean and fell around her face in soft waves. Her clothes, too, those had been transformed. Rather than the gravy-stained jeans and cotton top she had been wearing, she found herself in a dress. Not the white sparkly dress of her fifteen year old self. This dress was a deep red, and, she noted wryly, a little too low-cut, fitting her tightly across her torso and then gaining width at her hips, falling in soft folds to her ankles. The sleeves were off the shoulder, exposing more skin. The whole dress was made of some material that just couldn't possibly exist in this world. It had that same feel of liquid silver around her. It was, without a doubt, better than anything she had ever owned. Her mouth formed a small, "Oh." As she looked at it, she realized with some surprise her anger had fled. How could she be angry, after all this. All he had done.

Sarah finally looked up, and Jareth hadn't moved from where he stood, so near they were nearly touching. "I… I don't know… Why?"

He was smiling now, as he leaned even closer to her, and for once the smile seemed genuine. Softly, more emotion in his voice than she previously thought he possessed, he whispered, "Sarah, precious thing, have you truly forgotten every line from that little book of yours?"

She blinked, and it dawned on her. As he laid his hand very gently against her cheek, and tilted her face toward his own, she barely murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "For the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl." In answer, he simply pressed his lips over hers, and she felt herself sigh and part her lips gently beneath his, and then there was nothing else in the world but the feel of his lips, and the press of his body against hers, and his hands stroking her skin softly, and everything was right.


It wasn't until much, much later that the Goblin King returned to his kingdom, an even more than usual swagger to his step, a fresh enthusiasm in his usual goblin kicking. First things first, he summoned the group of goblins that had been behind the destruction of the dinner.

They all appeared before him, most still covered in bits and pieces of the feast, one sucking gravy from his fingers, another chewing loudly on a turkey bone. He surveyed them, and one, a hairy fellow who was almost entirely covered in mashed potatoes, spoke up for the group. "We di' jus' as you tol' us to, You Majesty. Messed the place good, we di'."

"So you did, and excellent work it was. I couldn't have done better myself. Well done." He nodded at them with satisfaction.

The goblins' little chests puffed out with pride.

Hope you enjoyed, and that you all have a very happy Thanksgiving. Even though you will all be stuffing your faces with a poor, defenseless turkey who just didn't know what was coming to him. Monsters.

However, I will forgive you if you all review.

Oh, and because I promised, I'd like to give a shout-out to my international peeps who don't celebrate Thanksgiving, and my continental cousins who did so weeks earlier. I love you all.