Title: Food for Thought
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just using the characters for my amusement.
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Part 1
Sarah juggled the grocery bags with one hand and used her butt to shove her door open while using her mouth to hold her keys. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't been wearing heels, but she was, and it made getting into her home twice as difficult. Thank God there were no witnesses to the spectacle. As she always did when getting home, she collapsed against the back of her door in an effort to block out the world and all it's awkward customers, and took a moment to admire her apartment.
The lovely soft peach walls were accentuated with cream floating shelves holding various nick knacks, a contrasting rose carpet covered the floor, and a gorgeous furniture suite circled around an old coffee table bought from a flea market. Filling the air was the scent of lilies and orchids, and boy was it ever welcome. Sure, her place was small, but it was homey, comfortable, and had a kitchen the size of Texas. All in all, her place was damned near perfect.
Of course it helped when one had a stepmother currently trying her hand at interior decorating and a mother who sent her fantastic gifts, something which Sarah would be forever grateful for. If it was up to her, the paint would be more streaky than badly applied fake tan, and nothing would match. She could say God bless Karen and Linda Williams.
A quick glance at her wall clock, a prop from one of her mother's movies, told her that Toby would be arriving in less than an hour and that meant she had to get a move on if she wanted dinner prepared in time. That kid would be the death of her. All he seemed to want to eat was pizza, McDonalds, or fried chicken. Her dad was the one to blame since his idea of cooking came from a saying passed from Jeremy, her mother's fiancé.
"Better to slave over a hot phone than a hot stove," Sarah mimicked with a sarcastic smirk. Of course, daddy dearest didn't complain about a good home cooked meal when she did all the work, not that she minded, far from it in fact. She loved food. Loved to cook it, and more importantly, she loved to eat it, and it was her love of all things yummy that drove her to be a chef.
Years of college and hard work led to her job as head chef at a quaint little restaurant down town called The Main Street Cafe. It was within ten minute's drive, or twenty minutes walk, from her apartment, and overlooked the ridiculously expensive yet gorgeous Donna Karen boutique that provided a lovely lunch time of window shopping.
She sighed longingly as she thought about those kitten heeled sling-backs that would go perfectly with the blue dress she bought last week. Oh well, she couldn't stand around when there were things to be done. With another sigh, Sarah pushed away from the door and headed for the kitchen, her mind wondering what she could make that would both please her brother while giving him a decent meal. Karen did her best when it came to cooking, but well, some people just weren't cut out for the job.
The grocery bags were dumped on the counter and unpacked in turn, the cogs in her head working over time. Lightly seasoned chicken filets combined with a variety of little nibbles, throw in a movie, and voila. Indoor picnic ala Sarah Williams in which the Tobster would get what he wanted the way she wanted him to have it.
She opened the fridge to put the milk away and take out the eggs, then put the sausages on the meat shelf and took out the chicken. Next, Sarah turned her back to grab the soda and melon, only to look back and see the entire stock of food replaced with a single, perfectly round peach. So perfect that she could flipping taste it without a bite.
A growl of frustration escaped her throat as she slammed the fridge shut, ignoring the shiny thing now rolling around her kitchen floor. "I don't have time for this," Sarah stalked out the kitchen, through the living room, and into her bedroom with a pretty little crystal hot on her heels.
Her room was totally different to the rest of the apartment by way of, well, everything. Sheets of silk and velvet in deep, rich shades covered the luxurious Queen sized bed, an Oriental rug on the floor, and an old, white vanity sitting in the far corner. Each time she tried to change the decor, it'd end up right back to square one, and to say it was irritating was an understatement.
"I'm not in the mood to play games, Jareth." Despite the determined words, she still slapped her backside down into the white chair, and glared at her own reflection. She waited for him to show up, and then waited some more, and then some more. Finally her patience grew thin and Sarah got up, fully intending on going back to what she was doing before being so rudely interrupted.
Unfortunately, she ended up walking into a man's chest, the impact of cartilege on toned muscle and sinew effectively made her nose go splat. "Ow, damnit!" Sarah hissed, blinking back hot tears brought on by the sharp stinging in her nasal passage. The only thing pacifying her increasing irritation was a nice red stain ruining his crisp white shirt.
"Oops," Jareth's voice ran over her skin like fine grains of sand. "How careless of me."
She went to use her sleeve to wipe her nose when he produced a handkerchief out of thin air. "Thanks. You're too kind." There many things she loved about sarcasm and it being handy was just one of them. "For a king, you have way too much time on your hands." A few dabs of her injured nose were all that was needed to stop the blood. Obviously he'd done something to the handkerchief, rightly so since he was the one who caused it.
He gave a grand gesturing bow, the motion making his pale blonde hair flop into his eyes. On straightening himself, he studied her attire, his smirk widening as his attention went from the chef pants to the black and white checked blouse, finally to the flour marring her left cheek. "I must say, Sarah, you're as charming as I ever saw."
She rubbed her suddenly aching forehead, resisting the urge to beat him to death with her shoe. "Thanks. What do you want?"
"Right to the point as always; I've a proposition for you."
Like hell, she thought bitterly. "Last time, I ended up in another oubliette with my hair tangled in a spider's web while you stood there and laughed."
"Yet you were able to dance, correct?"
Sarah glared. "If you can call hobbling around with two broken toes dancing, then yes. Dancing is what I did."
"I found your performance simply delightful." His voice was smooth, sultry and God, it was warm. Cognac, she thought, he had a voice like cognac and it nothing but give her ideas of what he'd taste like.
She went to fire the retort burning her tongue, yet found the curiosity too much to ignore. She fiddled with her pants, looking at the floor momentarily before peeking up through dark lashes nervously. "Really?"
"Oh yes," Jareth kept his grin to himself. "It kept my subjects entertained for days."
Words stuck in a big, bad lump as whatever feeling she had drifted into righteous indignation. Instead of starting a conversation that would turn into another round of childish bickering, Sarah held her breath, and after counting to twenty, spoke in a very cool, very calm manner. "I'm pleased you enjoyed it. Now if you don't mind, I have to start dinner..."
She was surprised when the king clapped his hands. "Excellent!" He exclaimed far too merrily for her liking. "What is on the menu for the young lad? That strange pizza perhaps, or the wings of a bird?"
Disbelief clouded her face. "Are you telling me you've come here for something to eat?"
"Your culinary skills are soundly recommended. I wish to see if they are fit for a king," he said, 'and his kingdom', he silently added.
Not normally one to boost her own ego, but lately she had been receiving a lot of compliments from customers, especially when it came to her ice cream sundaes. Completely unhealthy and ridiculously sickening, however they were delicious on a hot summer's day. "Well, I did get a good write-up in Gazette," Sarah stated proudly, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"
Jareth's grin was everything innocent. "No reason."
In other words there was a reason; he just wanted to keep her on tenterhooks. "Guessing games are the only games I don't play. You know that."
"Since I now have your attention, I will tell you."
Again, she rubbed her temple. "Look. You talk; I'll listen while I work... Damnit! Now I'm going to have that stupid song in my head."
He cocked his head in confusion. "Which song?"
"You know. Whistle while you work. Tra la la la? Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?" He remained confused. "Never mind. Follow me, but I warn you. One mention of running through your stupid, crazy maze and I'll hit you."
His laughter was like music and his face lost some of the grandeur, and she was hard pressed not to take pleasure in his humor, despite it being at her expense. If there was one thing Sarah Williams didn't do, it was lie to herself, and she'd be the first to admit she didn't mind him laughing her. Saying that, she'd prefer it if he laughed with her, but what hell.
"It was beneficial to all parties," he reminded her with a hint of laughter still in his voice. "You learned to dance somewhat and I won gold."
"It's the somewhat that worries me." Sarah ducked under his arm and out of her bedroom, snorting at the lack of footsteps behind her. "A king would never walk," she mimicked in a high pitched voice belonging to an eight year old girl, and then resumed her normal tone. "I was thinking of a bit of everything."
"Such as?" Jareth asked from a throne that hadn't been in her kitchen since his last visit. The sight of him lounging all over it, in a clean shirt no less, making her eyes roll. God, he was such a snob sometimes.
"Lightly seasoned chicken filets with some cheesy potato wedges, a salsa dip, and a fruit salad." She paused. "Maybe a bottle of California white to wash it down. Are you staying or not?"
"Of course. A gentleman would never eat and run. You know," he begun. "I could do all this, and more, with a wave of my hand."
Sarah faced him with a condescending look. "You don't do that in your place, you're not going to do it here. Besides, it's cheating, and you never cheat." She was right in what she said. He didn't need to have cooks preparing his meals in the Underground, but he did. She'd come to understand, truly understand, what it meant to him to provide for his people and that included work, homes, and countless other things. He was a good king to the goblins and she had nothing but the highest respect for him.
That wasn't always the case. Once over she'd thought him the very worst of people, taking and doing what he pleased careless of others, but no. Not him. He never took things for granted, not even his own self, and it was this part of him she learned from. They certainly hadn't gotten off on the greatest start, yet they'd formed a friendship she treasured. Naturally their friendship had a give-and-take basis that begun two weeks after winning Toby back.
She needed help with her brother and Jareth needed a date with a fake suitor for a ball in the Elven kingdom. They'd made a truce of sorts which led to years of deals and propositions. Like the last one. She needed to learn how to dance for a wedding and he needed her to lose the Labyrinth so he could win an unreal amount of gold in a bet.
"And this, my dear Sarah, is the very thing that would make an excellent Queen." He offered many times the use of his power to make her life so easier, yet she never took it. He winced as he remembered the first offer he made to do all her work for her. There was barely time to move before the plate hit his head. Apparently, her cooking was good enough without magic and for him to offer was clearly an insult.
Not this again. "Jareth..."
"Yes, yes," he replied with a flourishing hand gesture. "I know you work so hard to aid with the lad's college education, but if you would give more thought to my suggestion, you would not need to drive yourself into the ground by working as a commoner." Tutored by masters in all subjects would ensure Toby had a fine education.
Sarah ignored the commoner comment. "I appreciate the offer, Jareth, and I know he does too, but this is how it's done here. We work, we get paid, and we use that pay to live." He maybe Jareth, king of Goblins, but he was still a king. "Besides, you have children who need that help. Toby doesn't."
"Are you sure I can't tempt you to being Queen?" He paused to give her a calculating smirk. "That sounds awfully like a bet."
Giving up, she turned her back to him in order to set about making dinner all the while feeling his eyes on her and hearing the sound of his gloved finger tap-tap-tapping against his thigh. Constant tapping was severely annoying, pushing her tolerance not just to the edge, but so far over the edge it hit the rocks below.
"Would you just stop?" Sarah snarled. "God!"
"Stop what?" Jareth innocently asked. "I would assume you'd rather I did this to pass the time in lieu of distracting you with meaningless conversation, but alas. I ought to have learned not to assume your preferences. Now about my proposition..." His tone was inviting, the mischief in his gaze merely served to ignite her curiosity, and she was helpless against it despite her better judgment.
"Okay," unlike his, her voice was full of resignation as she yet again gave herself over to whatever plan his tiny mind whipped up. "What is it?"
He sensed play time was over. "I have need of your services," he explained at length. "I want to be the envy of all the Underground and you're going to help me."
Oh? "I am, am I?" Where was she when she said yes? That's right. This was Jareth, Mr. I am King So Hear Me Roar. He didn't ask, he ordered.
He was out of his throne and pacing grandly in front of her, his hands flourished here and there, making her dodge out of the way, lest she lose an eye. Unfortunately, she may have saved her sight, but not her beautiful kitchen. Crystals flew everywhere and left glitter on everything they contacted. Cooker, refrigerator, counter tops, the wall clock, and with each pop, Sarah's jaw got closer to the floor as he unwittingly trashed her place.
"I am a King, Sarah." Jareth unnecessarily informed the brunette, completely ignorant of her growing fury. "Of mere goblins, yes, but still a king."
"Get on with it," she grouched and pretended not to feel a crystal burst on top of her head, leaving her tied up hair sparkling like Candy Land.
"Very well; the Winter Festival is an annual event attended by Fae aristocracy. Royals, Lords and Ladies."
"You told me about it once. You said it was like watching dolls playing dress-up. Go on."
"The Winter Festival is to be held in my Court this year, and I want it to be remembered. My castle and Goblin city is already undergoing preparations, the decorations and banners are being made. It is, of course, a perfect opportunity to increase diplomatic relations with other kingdoms. The city and the very Labyrinth would prosper and thrive, but it needs to be..."
"Successful?" Sarah finished. "I of all people wouldn't want to see the Goblin city flounder due to lack of trade and Elven wine. I understand your need for glory, but where do I come into this?" As soon as her question left her mouth, a bubble of dread began to grow in her stomach.
The king's smile turned that bubble of dread into the Goodyear blimp. "Success comes with the most beautiful of decorations, the grandest marching band playing the best music." He paused long enough to smile, "And the serving of the best food."
She blinked at him once, twice, thrice, and then shook her head. Surely he couldn't be asking her to cater? "Oh no," she said, backing up and waving her hands. "No, no, no. The restaurant has just booked three weddings and an Old Soldiers reunion. Taking this on is impossible."
Dealing with one Fae was bad enough, but a whole roomful? She had two words for him. No and way.
Jareth was never one to give up quite so early in the game. "Imagine the impression it would make, Sarah that you willingly work for the Goblins and their king. It would show my power to go between realms and if my power is seen so, then the city will be a much sought-after ally and gain allies in turn."
Sarah ceased to breathe. "Allies? You mean conflicts? You don't fear one, right? I mean the city isn't under attack?"
"Heavens no," he remarked with a chuckle. "Where does your imagination take you, I wonder."
No conflicts. Good. "It doesn't change the fact I can't do what you're asking. I don't have experience with your food..."
"Oh, but you do, dearest." He laughed openly and heartily as her face went crimson with either rage or embarrassment. Probably both knowing her, "Not cooking it, I grant you. That can be remedied. Be my Queen, be ruled by me, and you can have all the experience you want."
It didn't take a genius to figure out he wasn't just on about cooking. "Jareth," Sarah sighed in exasperation.
"If you had taken my offer at that blasted ball, you could have been quite..." He searched for an appropriate term, "Accomplished by now."
"I was sixteen!"
"Yes, you were," he purred. "So young, so innocent, I would have had you with child in a month. Nay!" Jareth spun on her, his finger pointing half an inch from her face, and a crystal bursting off her nose. "A week!"
Sarah pretended not to hear that. "Let's say I do this for you. What would I get out of it?" If he said the royal heir, she'd render him impotent.
"Catering to such an event is not reward enough?" The only thing stopping her sarcastic reply was the fact it was a genuine question. "I can pay you handsomely. Gold and jewels and whatever else your heart desires."
"You know very well I won't take your money." She took a long, hard look at his face, and felt her resolve waver ever so slightly. "No. Money and jewels won't cut it."
Jareth's eyes took on a gleam that only came when a game was about to be played. "A dream, Sarah? Is that payment enough?"
Hell no. "Last time you gave me a dream, I had a crown that wouldn't come off."
"You did not say it had to be your dream." He continued to guess. "A holiday to that Barbados place you keep harping on about?" She laughed, but shook her head,"A year's supply of freshly ground Colombian coffee?"
"Tempting," Sarah admitted with a smile; "Very tempting, but no."
He fell silent and thought on it for a moment before the light bulb pinged to life. "A-ha!" He cried triumphantly, not noticing yet another crystal going pop. Jareth flicked his wrist and produced a thin, white envelope, dangling it just out of her reach, "A weekend at an Elven spa. You shall be waited on hand and foot by the most beautiful Fae."
Sarah eyed the gift with a hint of longing in her pretty green gaze. "Is that the spa with the natural hot springs overlooking the singing sea? The spa that has beds like clouds and hot tubs the size of the Labyrinth?"
Oh, yeah. She could see it now. Lounging around in a natural hot spring, eating fruit and sipping champagne while one Fae male massaged her shoulders and another cooled her down with palm tree branches. Heavenly, absolutely heavenly, but he wasn't quite there.
His shock at her declining that was apparent. "Then what would you accept as payment, Sarah? I am out of ideas."
After all these years he hadn't learned a damned thing. "I can see how much this means to you, Jareth, and ensuring the well-being of the city and the Labyrinth means a lot to me, too. How about asking me as a friend?" She grinned sheepishly, "And giving me the spa package as an early birthday gift."
He scratched his head. "Ask a favor, you mean?" She nodded. "You would work for naught?" Jareth was simply appalled by the suggestion and didn't bother to hide it. "Certainly not! I will not see you enslaved, for that is what it would be. The very thought disgusts me."
Pick your fights, she thought when she recognized his tone. It was one of finality. "Fine," Sarah growled. "If you have to give me something, then I saw a gorgeous pair of kitten heeled sling-backs at Donna Karen, and colour me shallow, but God, I want them!"
"You would cater to a thousand, or more, for a pair of shoes?"
Whoa. "Rewind. Who said anything about a thousand?" What the hell did he think she was? A miracle worker?
Jareth ignored the question, choosing instead to finally notice the damage done by his magic. He swiped a finger along the table top and brought it up for inspection. "Good God, Sarah. Don't you ever clean up?"
He barely had time to vanish before she beat him to death with the chicken filets. Still she threw them in effort it would catch the rat, but she had no such luck. The chicken basically ended up on the table and the impact sending the glitter poofing into the air.
"It is settled," and she jumped a mile when his voice filled the room. "You shall have your shoes in exchange for a grand banquet. You have thirteen hours till I fetch you. No need to pack. Garments will be provided."
Then Sarah was left to deal with a shiny kitchen, less than half hour to make a meal for her brother, the headache brought on by the Goblin King, and a Winter Festival to think about. "Stress, prepare to say hello to Sarah Williams."
"Great," she muttered in defeat. "Just great."
