Hi! Welcome to my new FF.
So... I really wanted to have a try and the A-Z challenge. If anyone here has read my other FFs they're not dead - I'm just really struggling with what to write. So, I'm hoping this might loosen me up a bit since it's something I can have a little freedom and fun with.

As the summary suggests, these FFs are dedicated to Sarah and Jareth's relationship. They may be out of order, but I'm hoping I'll be able to establish some continuity, and I'll try to make them funny.

Please let me know if the rating isn't appropriate, I'm not sure what really constitutes as mature.
Feedback is greatly appreciated also (:

Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth ~ Such a pity.

Apricots

"Jareth, regardless of how much you stare at those apricots they're not going to explode. Unless, you're trying some weird magic where you make them explode. In that case, not on the cupboard doors... I just washed those down."
He shot her a glare across the kitchen, and then drew his attention back to the thirty-odd apricots she had in bowls on the window ledge. Of all the fruit Sarah had to stock up on... Why did it have to be this particular fruit? The women obviously didn't understand the significance of apricots.

Sarah noticed him glaring, and for the life of her couldn't figure out why. Did he realised when he looked at her like that he looked more like a petulant child than a the mighty Goblin King? But then, she had come to learn that he was like a child at times, it probably came with ruling over Goblins - They were sort of like the Underground's equivalent of children, if children carried weapons and had a weird attachment to black chickens.

She took a thoughtful sip from her coffee.
She had bought the cup on a trip to London for her 21st birthday. Written on the front was 'Keep calm and have a cup of coffee' , a play on the famous English war slogan like the other humorous designs in the tourist shop.
She'd bought it on the very same trip where she had found him...
She signed.
Some days she wished she'd left him there.

"Apricots." Was all he said. He was still staring at them.
"Yes Jareth, we both know they're apricots. Although I don't get why you're giving them the death glare, they're not bombs Jareth - Just fruit."
"Because, precious Sarah - They're not just any fruit. They're my father's fruit."
She looked confused.
"Your father owns my apricots?"
"No!" He gave an exacerbated sigh, dragged his hand through his mane of wheat-blonde hair."They're his symbol of royalty."

Sarah was still looking at him dubiously, so, with a flourish of his hand he produced a crystal, and in it popped a peach. It looked no less ripe or inviting than the last time she had been offered one, and from the look in her eyes he could tell she now understood.
He flicked it onto the tips of his fingers. "This is my symbol."
"Okay...Now can you please explain to me why it matters so much that I have apricots in my house?"

He said nothing. She noticed it though, and even then it was so subtle that anyone who didn't spend time with Jareth would never have noticed. His body weight had shifted to the other foot, his eyes, normally a glacial blue were ever so slightly lighter and she could just make out the tiniest blush along high cheekbones.
Oh, that's why, she thought wryly.
What an absolute, idiotic -
"Jareth do you honestly believe that because this one particular week I craved some apricots that I suddenly want your father? I'm sure he's lovely man and if you're anything to go by a bit of a DILF too but It doesn't mean I want to do him kitchen counter. So quit acting like a-"

She stopped dead when she realised that somewhere in her rant he had closed the distance between them. In fact, if he took any more steps forward she might as well have been sat on the counter.
She looked up. His mouth, no longer a pouty frown had turned into something far more feral. And with his arms placed either side of her she was effectively trapped. It was then she realised exactly what she had been just talking about.
You say anything remotely suggestive and he's like a cat in heat.
"Speaking of being 'done' on the kitchen counter..." He drawled.
Correction, several cats.
He drew the peach he had been flicking around his hand up to his lips, and with pointed canines took a sharp bite into it. The juice oozed out from under the fuzzy skin, and coated his lips generously. She licked her own lips, dry and longing to be counted in the very same...

"Precious?"
He'd moved again, leaving her bereft of his body and more than a little confused.
"Hm-yes?"
"What is a 'DILF'?"

What Sarah learned:
- Having to explain what a DILF was to Jareth was worth it just for the look on his face, and the shades he turned afterwards.