Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to A Nightmare Before Christmas, and I'm not making any money from these writings.
Note on Continuity with the Movie: This is a mostly free floating oneshot, made to have an excuse to write Oogie Boogie/adult Shock fluff. See, the Boogeyman's a weird character to me. On one hand, he's a bad guy, but since he's in a movie aimed at younger audiences, he isn't outright evil or frightening. On the other hand, there are much darker implications about his character. For one, he was going to boil Santa Claus alive and eat him… Anyway, whenever I decide to write about this pairing, it's hard for me to decide which way to go with Oogie's character. On another site, I have a story that took the darker route, and it's not possible for it to end happily. That disappointed me a little, so I made this lighter oneshot to vent.
Once I had "Dance with Me" finished, I figure I may as well share, since I haven't posted anything on this site in years. Plus, aside from not having a comfortable place to explain how Oogie is alive, I like how it came out. Except for indirectly mentioning Jack's Christmas caper and hinting that Jack and Sally are married, it's not supposed to connect to the movie anyway. If you really need a connection, though, just pretend that Lock, Shock, and Barrel brought Oogie back. Jack hasn't done anything about it. Rules regarding the balance of fear force him to tolerate Oogie's existence, and vice versa. I guess it would be 15-20 years after the movie… That's all…
It was Halloween, and the casino slept under a thin sheet of dust and a blanket of silence. Dust was an unavoidable part of subterranean living. Years ago, the Boogeyman had taken great pleasure in sticking his trio of henchmen with the impossible task of cleaning the whole cave top to bottom, but he'd given it up when the game lost its novelty. These days, he chose to ignore the dust.
Oogie glared at the small cauldron suspended over the kitchen fire, willing it to boil by sheer force of impatience. He hated the way time slowed down when he went through these slump phases. They happened every quarter century or so, as inevitable as the dust that surrounded him, but they always passed. If he could wait long enough, something would happen to shake him out of it.
Giving up on the pot for the time being, he went to the pantry and stretched up to feel around on the highest shelf. He smirked as he pulled down the hidden issue of Playfiend, rifling through it as he made his way back to the kitchen table. "Alone again, girls. Which one of you lovelies is going to keep me company tonight?"
Something thudded out in the main cavern. At first he dismissed it as either one of the numerous, lurking rodents that shared his space, or his imagination. Though it was early in the depression for the hallucinations to start… Then he heard a closer and louder clang that echoed too long and too distinctly to be anything imaginary. Who on earth would be prowling around down here at this time of night, and on Halloween no less? Lock, Shock, and Barrel had all left for the town celebration over an hour ago, and he didn't expect them to return until well after midnight.
Maybe it was some dumb, teenage thrill seekers from town, out to get their Halloween jollies. He'd gotten some of those before. They'd never gone so far as to enter the cavern, though. He usually caught them while they were still standing around outside the back entrance arguing about whether or not the Boogeyman really existed, and daring each other to go check. He'd sent them scattering long before any of them found the guts to take on the dare. Then again, Oogie had been off his game lately.
Leaving the magazine open on the table, he stood and tiptoed out to investigate. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and he saw the young woman before she saw him. She crouched at the foot of the iron maiden, fumbling in the dark to untangle her lacy purple and black gown from one of the exterior spikes. The Queen of Spades' scepter lay on the floor beside her—the most likely source of the clanging sound. "Shock?"
The woman jumped and jerked around, losing her balance and landing on her butt. "You're here," she said, blinking.
"It is my house."
"But… shouldn't you be, I don't know, out eating small children or something?"
"You're supposed to be at the party," he pointed out.
Her surprise melted in to a scowl. "Oh, yeah." She gave her skirt a hard jerk and it ripped free. "That." Shock stood and wavered a little as she bent over to pick up a bottle she'd dropped. Then she continued toward him. "I left early."
"I see that." When he realized she was heading toward the kitchen, he tried to get between her and the table so she wouldn't see the magazine. She barely glanced that way. Instead she opened the cabinet under the water basin and dropped to all fours, crawling halfway inside. He used the opportunity to brush the magazine onto the floor and pushed it into a dark corner with his foot.
"Where's the absinthe?" She asked. The cabinet muffled her voice.
"I don't have absinthe." The bottle she'd abandoned on the counter turned out to be a half empty bottle of expensive cider. He looked back at her tiny waist, cinched into a leather corset. She hadn't drunken all of that herself, had she?
"I know that. It's mine. I hid it so Lock and Barrel wouldn't… Aha!"
When she emerged, cradling a green bottle in one arm, there was a dulling layer of dust on her wavy blue hair. Oogie had never noticed how much it had grown. These days they spent most of their time together doing maintenance on his toys, and long hair could only get in the way. She usually stuffed it under a hat or a bandana. "You hide things in my kitchen?"
"Well, they don't take your things without asking, so..." Shock hauled herself up onto the counter to get down two glasses, one of which she filled with water. As tall as he was, places the Boogeyman considered easy to reach caused problems for the petite witch.
The fire place hissed and he turned to realize the pot had not only finally decided to boil, but had boiled clear over. Grumbling to himself, he snatched it off the hook and rushed it to the sink. He stirred it while the bubbles settled hoping the bottom of the stew hadn't burned.
Aside from staying out of his way, Shock barely responded. She sat calmly at the table, balancing a sugar cube on a spoon over the glass of green liquid. The majority of her focus seemed be on keeping her hands steady as she poured the water over the sugar, without spilling too much or dropping the cube. It didn't seem like she intended to leave any time soon. "What are you doing here?" He finally asked.
She put the empty water glass on the table and blinked at him. "You want me to go?" There was a hint of surprised disappointment in her voice.
He realized he may have sounded more irritated than he meant to, but her behavior was off, in a way that he couldn't quite pin down, and that bewildered him a little. He didn't like that. It made him feel out of control. As uncomfortable as that was, though, no, he didn't want to her to leave. "I didn't say that. I just want to know what you're doing here."
"The party blows, and that cider is hoity toity shit, so I came back for this." She took a long sip of her absinthe as though to make the point. Finally smiling a little, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and sighed contentedly. Her hair tumbled over the back of the chair, exposing the bare expanse of her chest. The sleeves hanging off her shoulders were little more than thin, purple lace.
Oogie turned back to the soup, trying to remember the last time he'd seen her in a dress. She'd stopped wearing those years ago, hadn't she? "You want some?" He asked.
"Why not," she answered.
Even after he set the bowl in front of her, however, and took a seat on the other side of the table, she only sat there, staring into her drink between sips. He didn't mind the silence, so he ignored it. In a way, it was how his evening probably would have panned out, anyway. Only instead of Miss October sitting silently across from him, it was Shock. Okay, so it was better than the way his evening would have panned out otherwise.
"Am I attractive?" Shock suddenly asked.
If he had an esophagus, the Boogeyman might have choked. "What?"
"Am I attractive?" She repeated.
The way she asked, she may as well have been asking for the time of day, but Oogie still felt put on the spot. Maybe he could avoid answering. "I never thought about it before."
"Then think about it now." She sat back in her chair, crossed her hands in her lap, and tilted her head at him, waiting.
The answer was yes, but he stalled to consider her motives for asking. "Sure," he said. "Not bad."
After her own much shorter pause for thought, she asked, "Is it because I'm dressed up pretty? Is that why you never thought about it before?"
Damn, that had seemed like a safe response at the time. Knowing Shock, perhaps he should have known better. "Well, I…" He wasn't sure he liked where this was going, but he wasn't sure how to back out now. "I never thought to think of you that way."
"But why?"
"I don't know, Shock. Maybe it's because I've known you since you were five. Whatever point you're trying to make, would you get to it already?"
His frustrated outburst didn't seem to faze her. She downed the last few drops of absinthe and reached for the bottle. When she spoke, she still used the same calm, matter-of-fact tone with which she'd started the conversation. "I went to the party with a date. Well, sort of… But he was the one who asked me, so that's the part that matters." The witch stood up to finish mixing her drink at the counter. "Things were going okay, and then Molly Skellington showed up. She asked if she could cut in for one quick dance, and that was the last I saw of him." Shock turned and leaned against the counter. "Story of my life. So, since you don't care about other people's feelings, I figured if something was wrong with me you of all people could be honest about it."
"Oh, no. Even I know better than to play that game with a woman."
"Come on, I won't be mad."
"You being mad or not isn't the point." If he said the wrong thing—and he was worried he already had—this could turn into a long and neurotic conversation. That was the point.
It was like she didn't even hear him. Pacing now, she continued. "I mean, at first I thought maybe he liked me better with a wrench in my hand and a pair of jeans, you know? Like maybe it made me more accessible than when I was all dolled up with my tits on display. Then I realized he walked off for Molly, who is even more a doll… well, she literally is a doll, isn't she? But the point is she's feminine…" Shock sat next to Oogie. "What did she do that I didn't? I wore the nice dress. I have the long, pretty hair. I even wore the uncomfortable heels."
She stretched her leg out to show him her shoe, turning sideways in the chair and leaning back to lift her foot past the edge of the table. Her skirt slipped a few inches up her calf. For a second, the Boogeyman didn't know how to react. "A trust fund."
"What?" Shock didn't move, but her brow wrinkled in confusion.
He tried very hard not to stare as he pushed her leg down to a less distracting level. Touching it, however, proved to be its own problem. He had to force himself not to linger too long without retreating so quickly that she noticed his reaction. "Something she has that you don't."
"Huh…" The woman put both feet on the floor and rested her chin in her hand as she pondered his words. Then she grinned, giggled, and patted him on the arm. "That's true. That's absolutely true. I can't believe I didn't..." Her weight shifted onto him as she stood, supporting herself. "See? You always know what to say."
The delicate, green hand lingered, giving him a light squeeze. She'd never been this familiar or forward with him before. That was the thing that had him feeling uneasy earlier. Once more he wondered how much she'd had to drink at the party. She continued smiling as she returned to her dinner and started eating. Oogie wasn't sure how what he'd said had made her so happy all of a sudden, either, but as long as it worked he'd go with it.
"So why are you staying in on Halloween?" She asked.
"Didn't feel like going out."
"Didn't feel like it?"
He shrugged. "I get bored. It happens once in a while."
"You? Bored of murder and mayhem?" She laughed. "Since when?"
The last time had been shortly before the trio showed up. In fact, their appearance had shaken him out of that particular funk. The novelty of having real voices answer him when he spoke out loud. "The older you get, the more likely you are to run out of interesting things to do. It's just numbers. Everything becomes routine."
"How old are you?"
Time didn't mean much when he had it all to himself, with no set-in-stone responsibilities, nowhere he had to be, and no one he had to see. In a way, as his existence stretched on, keeping track of it was more depressing than anything else. He realized he couldn't remember his age. "I stopped bothering to keep track when I got into the hundreds. That was a long time ago."
Her spoon froze halfway to her mouth and she blinked at him. "Hundreds… Hundreds of years?"
"I'm The Boogeyman. I've been around since there were humans to be afraid of me."
"Have you been living here that whole time?" She sounded a bit awed.
"Only since Halloween really started evolving." In response to her dazed, slack-jawed stare, he defensively added, "Hey, I redecorate." The current set up was an accumulation of the torture dungeon theme he'd found so fascinating in the beginning, the gambling theme that had started in the 1920s, and the black lights he picked up around the 1970s. He hadn't done any major redesigns since then, but nothing had inspired him more than this. He liked it.
"Alone, though?"
"Yeah… but you get used to it after a few decades."
"How?" She sounded baffled.
"I have a lot of hobbies. I don't have time to think about anything else."
"Except for once in a while when you get bored of them."
"It only takes a couple days to find something new to do." Granted, it took longer sometimes, and the period of time was madness inducing regardless of duration. He didn't let it concern him until the pictures he used for company started talking back, though. That probably wouldn't happen this time, what with the trio living upstairs.
"Wow." She sat back in her chair, slowly shaking her head. "I can barely fathom that life span, much less… I mean, that's older than Jack…" Then she snickered. "I guess if worse comes to worse you can try your own hand at taking over a holiday." Cupping her soup bowl in her hands, she gulped the rest of it and stood up. "I hear no one gives a shit about Thanksgiving anymore. There'd be less resistance."
On her way to the sink, she stopped to pick up his empty bowl. As she leaned over, she caught her balance heavily on his shoulder. Her breath carried the sharp, sweet aroma of anise and alcohol, and despite her apparent efforts to scrub herself spotless he still caught a whiff of metal and oil under the honey soap. She put the dishes in the sink and rested her elbows on the rim of it as she scrubbed the bowls out, bent at the hips with her shoulders back. Her weight kept shifting from foot to foot, making her rear sway slightly, and he wondered if she was doing it on purpose, or if it was the green fairy, or some combination of the two. If she was trying to make him look, she was doing a good job. "It's been a while since we talked last."
The woman grinned at him over her shoulder. "Aha! So you do get lonely."
"I've got to be lonely to wonder what you're up to?"
"Mm. Not much. Picked up some extra jobs around town to pay for this dress, but nothing very exciting. There was the clock in the town square. It kept falling behind three hours every day, not matter how many times anyone reset it. Apparently it's not easy to find people who are able and willing to climb up inside of it and look around." She tapped her chin. "I guess I always figured if I am going to get impaled, squished, or otherwise maimed while working on a job, odds are it'll be one of your death machines, so what have I got to lose. Anyway, turned out some of the gears were too worn away to catch right, so… anticlimactic ending…"
"For that dress."
"Yes." She straightened up and looked down at herself, but didn't turn around. "Why, what's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. Just seems like asking Barrel would have been less trouble."
"The materials would have cost as much. Besides, I-" She stopped.
"You what?" Oogie raised an eyebrow.
"It was a ball, with dancing." Her hands fidgeted sheepishly in her hair and she hunched her shoulders. "I was taking lessons."
"Hm. Talk about a waste of time."
Orange firelight shimmered across her hair as she twisted abruptly to face him. The indignation didn't quite reach her eyes this time, though, and her pout quivered like a repressed smirk. "I'll have you know I was doing well. If I'd had more time to practice…"
"I don't mean that. I mean teachers. They get you focused on counting and details, and make you think it's harder than it is."
"When did you…" Shock paused and glanced off to the side. "Never mind, don't answer that. How would you suggest going about it, then?"
"Watch the steps, listen to the music, and do it. That's how I taught myself."
"Maybe on your own, but what about coordinating with another-"
He made a 'tsk tsk' gesture with his hand. "You're over thinking it."
"You've never actually danced with anybody before, how would you know?"
The Boogeyman scowled at her playfully. "It hurts that you'd automatically assume that."
"But it's true, isn't it?" Shock grinned.
"True doesn't make it any less cold." A cocky grin spread across his face. "Doesn't change the fact that I could still make it work, either."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," she smirked, with the air of someone throwing in the final word.
He couldn't let it slide. That smug, vaguely flirty little smile struck a competitive chord in him. "All right." He stood up. "I'll show you."
"Me? And you? Now?" Her face went pale, but her cheeks turned pink, like all the blood had rushed into them at once.
"Kind of defeats the purpose if it's someone who already knows how. Besides, like you said, who else would dance with evil old me?" This last part, at least, he threw in with a sense of good-natured teasing.
"What if I said you don't have to prove anything?"
Oogie tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'what do you think?'
The woman sighed, paused by the table to ponder the half-consumed glass of green liquid, and finally polished it off in one shot. "All right, then."
There was more space in the main room, so he led her out there. "Any requests?"
"I don't…" She bit her lip, eyes rolling to the side. When they returned to his face, her lips twitched with repressed amusement. "Something slow, I guess."
"Wait here." He found his way to the master controls and flipped the main breaker. The center light washed across the area in a blinding yellow wave. He flicked a few more switches to bring it down to the ultraviolets and wall projections. Soft piano music trickled through the air as he activated the last switch.
From across the room, the lighting gave Shock a ghostly quality. The lighter tones of her hair glowed in soft, indigo streaks, and even her pale green skin shown faintly purple in contrast with her dark dress. All in all, she looked delightfully creepy. The Boogeyman bowed a little as he reached for her hand, and her repressed laughter escaped as she reciprocated with a curtsy. He chuckled in return, pulled her close, and put his other hand on her waist. "Just follow my lead."
"Okay," she grinned nervously, placing her free hand on his upper arm.
"Leading with left."
"Okay," she repeated.
He stepped forward, moving slowly while he waited for her to get the feel of it. She still felt rigid in his arms, though, resistant and lagging. Her eyes were distant with concentration. After several minutes of it, he dipped her abruptly. The woman blinked and stumbled, but he kept her from falling. "You're not concentrating."
"I am," she insisted.
"On what?"
"On the steps…"
"I told you to concentrate on me."
She looked thoroughly confused. "Yeah, but…"
"Think of it like the mirror game." He swung her back upright, making her squeal giddily. As the tittering faded off into a slow, deep breath, she made eye contact. When her face said she was ready, he stepped forward with his left again. She stepped back with her right in the same fluid motion. He glided to the side, and she followed neatly. As they went, he felt her relaxing into him, sinking closer to better feel and anticipate his movements. "See?" He swept her in a circle, making her hair and dress fly out, pulling another pretty squeal from her throat in the process. She stumbled at the end of it—likely for the same reason that her balance had been off all night—but his grip kept her steady and she managed to recover.
"Fine, but it doesn't prove anything. I'm not starting cold."
He frowned at her. "You're stubborn, aren't you."
"Willful," she corrected, smiling.
"I will prove it." If not with the waltz then with something else. Dancing was one of his older hobbies. He took pleasure in the enhancing effect music had on his moods.
Another chortle vibrated in her throat. "Now who's stubborn?" Her eyes flicked over him. "Hm. I'd thought about asking you to begin with… but I…"
He waited for her to continue, but she didn't, and he didn't feel like prying it out of her. As the opening bars for Music of the Night began, Shock didn't show any inclination to stop. She watched him through a contented sort of trance, putty in his hands aside from keeping herself upright. The music was the only sound in the cavern, and he rather liked that they could be quiet together. Once they'd played an entire game of pool without speaking a word, and he'd never once felt that awkward tension that usually comes with silence. If either of them ran out of anything to do or say, then they could fall back on doing and saying nothing. That meant he could imagine her being around for a long time, and that was important.
Her eyes drifted closed and her head tilted down, so that her forehead hovered inches from his chest. Under her hair, his hand shifted along the corset ties, feeling the texture of the cord and the leather. Before she'd asked, he'd already noticed that he liked looking at her. Growing up around two scrappy boys left her with a raw fire burning in her eyes. It gave her face a dark and intriguing intensity. He'd never touched her before, though. Especially not like this. He'd never had the opportunity, for one, but he also hadn't thought to try. The woman's chest rose and the Boogeyman felt a soft puff air escape between her lips. His hand crept up her spine, subtly searching for the place where the thick corset ended and the much thinner lace began. Past the lace, he knew he'd find bare skin. Could he get away with-
"Oogie?" Shock mumbled without moving.
His hand quickly returned to her waist. "What?"
"Did you mean what you said earlier?"
"I don't know, what did I say earlier?"
She laughed softly. "About thinking I'm pretty."
Why had he insisted on calling them Boogie's Boys? "For the- If being a tomboy bothers you that much, you can change, you know. It's not-"
Stopping to pull away, she cocked her head at him, and then shook it, making purple waves of light ripple through her hair. "No," she smiled. "I mean…" Her hands ran up his body to his shoulders as she pressed close. "This time I'm asking you, specifically…"
Her half-lidded eyes, the soft purr of her voice, and the way she lifted her right knee to draw her leg up his side snapped the point home. It caught him by surprise. He was hardly a stranger to flirting, but he'd gotten used to women rejecting his advances with either an expression of horror or disgust. No one had ever initiated such a thing with him before. "You're drunk, Shock."
"I'm not… Well… the green fairy does make me warm, and tingly, and a little bubbly…" She giggled suddenly. "Plus, you look a little like a giant…" The serious, seductive smirk replaced the spark of amusement as quickly as it had appeared. "But, I assure you I still know exactly what I'm doing."As she laced her fingers behind his neck, she leaned into him harder. "I think I've had a crush on you for a while, Mr. Boogeyman. Just… needed help expressing myself…"
His right arm slipped around her waist and his left hand cupped her cheek, getting the feel of her. "You're a doll to me, babe."
"Good," she smiled, tugging at his neck.
He let her pull his face to her level. Her hands caressed his features, fingertips tracing around his eyes and mouth. They stopped on either side of his head and she planted a hard, lingering kiss on his lower lip. It felt good. It really did.
"The boys shouldn't be back for a couple more hours." She murmured, her lips brushing his as she spoke.
"And?" He smirked.
"Hm." The woman lowered her eyes. "I know about the magazines…" Before he could respond, she added, "Let's say there's something about you that's always made me very... curious." She raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, a silent 'if you know what I mean.'
The Boogeyman chuckled. "I see…" He gripped her hips. "You do know that curiosity killed the cat." There was a lascivious inflection in his voice.
"I'm not scared of you," Shock giggled. "Kill this little kitty dead."
Any lingering doubts evaporated. How could he resist that? Sometimes she had a real knack for getting into his head. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the jagged double doors that lead to his room. They didn't open again for the rest of the night.