Chapter 2: Harvest Home - Part One

Samhain seemed eternal.

That's what he had called it at least, and everything he'd said and done was looping through Sarah's head in an unending circle. But it was all distorted now: memories of harsh words and silken promises; tainted fruit and expectant glances. Things that shouldn't and couldn't be.

She'd never expected to see him again. When she'd first returned from the Labyrinth, a little corner of her mind both dreamed and feared he'd return, cloak billowing on yet another stormy night, but this time, determined to overpower her will. The anguish of his parting glance replaced by the familiar wry twist of lips. But, the windows had remained locked. No owls had graced the night sky. Her Underground friends came and went. He was never mentioned. She assumed she'd been forgotten.

Another mistake.

He remembered. She didn't know what to make of him now, after all these years, seeking to right unknown wrongs. His reactions had teetered between pleased and slighted. It was…peculiar.

Toby hadn't seemed to notice the tension, too enthralled by the king's impressive "costume" and the memory of something just out of reach. She had been in no hurry to respond to his questions and comments on the run home; nonsense that ranged from 'he was cool; who was he?' to 'do you like him? He seemed to like you' and 'when are you seeing him again?' Only after she'd tersely responded that he was not and no one and she did not and he does not and absolutely never did he give up. But she knew some of those things weren't quite true.

She turned over in bed and groaned, exhausted by the clock which kept dipping further into morning. Sleep wouldn't come, but he was coming. Soon. He'd promised.

And this time, she swore she'd be ready.

She didn't stay home long.

While she normally enjoyed listening to Toby rehash his Halloween evening to Karen and her father over breakfast, Karen – nosy as she was – was certain to read too much into the appearance and actions of the Goblin King. Because there was no way Toby wouldn't bring him up. Hopefully, if she wasn't there to answer those prying questions, Karen would forget the story. Her father certainly would.

The drive back was uneventful. Middlebury was a quiet college town and a welcome escape from the madness of the prior evening. And so, when she unlocked the door to her apartment and poked her head in to see no sign of the Goblin King or his magic, she took a deep calming breath. 'Soon' hadn't meant the following morning. Or the rest of the day.

Or the next.

Or the next, when she'd returned the golden circlet to her former advisor.

Or the week after, when she'd finally finished the rough draft of her manuscript.

Or the week after that, when she'd made so many changes to it that she barely recognized its former plot.

And only then – almost three weeks after the king had issued his promise that he'd see her soon – did Sarah come to believe it had all been bluster. A parting gift of anxiety as payment for the damage she'd wrought. He'd also mentioned he'd been able to cross into her world because of the pagan holiday of Samhain; without her making any wishes, he might be limited to similar conditions. Which, if she'd been thorough in her research on pagan holidays, meant he could cross again at 'Yule' at the earliest. Nowhere near 'soon' by her standards. And really, it had never made sense that he'd have any desire to see her again.

Hardships unnumbered, and mistakes untold. And before she knew it, it was Thanksgiving.

It was late in November that year, and the added week seemed to swallow whatever sparse warmth the distancing sun provided. She remembered her heavy hooded coat – and umbrella – when she packed this time. Though she didn't expect much traffic on the short ride, Sarah had leaned on the side of caution and left Vermont early Wednesday morning. Karen typically spent Wednesday prepping pies and making stuffing and was always grateful for her extra hands. Her father had been banned from the kitchen some years back after an unfortunate incident involving an extra crispy bird.

At least they knew the fire alarms worked. The extinguisher, too.

As per usual, Karen had inquired as to whether she was bringing a friend with her for Thanksgiving. And as also per usual, Sarah had politely replied that she was not. If you could call the restrained growl at the back of her throat that accompanied it 'polite', that is. It was no secret that Karen found it incomprehensible that a college-educated, attractive twenty-five-year-old had yet to hold onto a man long enough to bring him to Thanksgiving dinner. But here she was, again making excuses that she'd just broken up with someone (a lie) and had been too busy finishing her manuscript (a partial truth, at least) to become well-enough acquainted with anyone new in time for Thanksgiving. So, she'd expected the usual judging glances between bites of dinner.

She did get them, of course, but for hardly the reason she'd expected.

It started immediately after she'd unlocked the door of the Victorian: The Questions.

"Sarah! Why didn't you tell us?"

Sarah set her duffle-bag down with a frown, watching Karen wipe both hands with a towel in the kitchen before she hurried to meet her in the foyer. Her joy was unmistakable. Which was exceedingly concerning. "...Tell you what?" Sarah asked nervously. Had Karen realized her bank account was running low? That the manuscript she'd told her she'd submitted was in fact, a work-in-progress tucked alongside her folded sweaters and slacks? That she might need to move - temporarily - back home? That might explain the unnatural sheen in her stepmother's eyes. But...Dear God. Was Karen baking in pearls?

Karen was beaming now. "You know we'd have said yes if you'd asked, right? I always make plenty of food, just in case."

Confusion morphed quickly into unease. Then to panic. Plenty of food. Pearls. An exuberant stepmother.

Oh, God. He didn't...

"How long have you two been dating?"

"What?" she about shouted it as she stumbled, and Karen caught her shoulder with a knowing chuckle.

"There's no reason to be ashamed of it, dear. We know you've been working hard on your manuscript, but your social life is important too. You don't want to end up like your cousin Grace."

Sarah was too busy figuring out how to keep the knots in her throat from strangling her to defend her cousin Grace; brilliant, wealthy, single neurosurgeons were still single to Karen. And she had bigger problems. King-sized problems if her instincts were right. Would it be too much to hope they were wrong again?

It was, of course.

"Uhh...what did he tell you?" she asked, looking around quickly, but seeing no unwanted male visitors. "He isn't here, is he?"

She shook her head. "I didn't speak with him, actually. Toby let us know. He seemed thrilled you'd reconciled. He told us all about Halloween."

Reconciled. She was going to murder Jareth. He'd been speaking with Toby? Scratch that; Toby was on her list too. She'd spoken to him two days ago and he hadn't even mentioned the king. Sarah forced herself to give her stepmother a slim smile before stepping out from her arm. "Right. Is he upstairs in his room?"

"Playing some new game, I think," she responded, nodding. "Your boyfriend certainly knows how to win him over."

Sarah clenched her teeth. Lies and bribery. She knew she'd been right to rebuff his advances, however tempting they were; he was a regular conman. "Wonderful. Excuse me."

She suspected Karen was perplexed by how ungracefully she clomped up the stairs, but she didn't care. Sarah pushed open Toby's door with a scowl. As Karen had thought, he was propped up on his bed, glued to whatever bribe on his Game Boy his fingers were mashing.

"What did he tell you?"

"Hunh?" He didn't even glance up, now rapidly pressing one of the tiny buttons as if his life depended on it.

"Jareth."

"Who?" No semblance of recognition. More button mashing.

Sarah marched into the room and plucked the game system from Toby's hands. "Halloween. The Goblin King."

"Hey! I was win—" but Toby trailed off when he caught Sarah's eye. He huffed, though. "You could have told me. I said he was cool."

"I'm serious Toby; what did he tell you?"

"I dunno. Not much," he said just a little too innocently. "That you'd realized your mistakes. You were dating." He shrugged. "That he was staying for Thanksgiving."

"Did he." Her fists clenched unconsciously. Staying for Thanksgiving?

"Un-hunh." He reached back for the game system in Sarah's hands. "And he brought me a gift."

...I've brought you a gift...but this is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby...

Sarah groaned and brought a hand to her eyes. She had a nagging feeling she knew why Toby hadn't mentioned his encounter with the king. "And in exchange, you promised not to tell me that he was coming?"

Toby grinned sheepishly. "He said it was a surprise?"

Of course, he had. How fitting of him to promise he'd see her soon and then surprise her a full month later during the holidays. How foolish she'd been to think it'd all been bluster. She wanted nothing more than to tell Toby the Goblin King was lying through his sharp, pearly-white teeth but until she knew exactly what his angle was - because with him, she thought it likely there was always a hidden agenda - she just bit her tongue. From Karen's unusual baking accessories, she assumed he'd told Toby he'd arrive sometime tonight. She'd confront him about it then.

The ring of a doorbell scrambled that thought. Not tonight; now.

Jesus. It was almost as if he'd been watching. She hadn't even had time to shrug off her jacket. Check her hair. Gird her loins and whatever else heroines were supposed to do before they faced down the villain. She handed back Toby's Game Boy before she took a deep breath and headed out into the hallway, grabbing hold of the upstairs banister as she watched her stepmother below rush towards the door. She'd at least have the higher ground.

Karen opened the door inward and from Sarah's angle, it was hard to tell much of anything. But then, there was a baritone rumble followed by an audible gasp and Karen's eager "please, come in," and Sarah knew then Karen had been charmed by the king. Which was unsurprising. Even Sarah could admit his presence was magnetic. His voice velvet, but threaded with just enough barb to warn you that he was more than just a pretty face. But Karen - having been pestering Sarah for Thanksgiving company for years - heard none of that warning. And in an instant, the door was shut, and she saw him again.

Sort of.

He was him, but not quite, dressed casually in a black cable-knit sweater and khakis - khakis - and carrying what appeared to be a bottle of wine. Likely expensive. Undoubtedly tainted. His hair was shorter but still blond and tousled in the way that made you want to run your hands through it to see if it felt just as soft as it looked. She couldn't be sure, but she expected too that he'd somehow hidden his peculiar markings above his eyes.

And then, he looked up. And winked.

Sarah's eyes narrowed in return as she clasped the banister tighter. She'd been right: he'd costumed himself as a human, free of any strange markings or slightly pointed ears. The disguise did nothing to distract Sarah from his otherworldly-ness, but he was just normal enough that she doubted he would raise suspicion with any member of her family. Karen was practically swooning already, taking the proffered bottle of wine with another gasp and ushering him towards the kitchen. Karen caught her eye just before they passed out of view.

"Sarah, come down and introduce us!"

The nerve. The absolute nerve of him to intrude on her Thanksgiving holiday. She could no longer see him, so she growled and released her grip on the banister, clomping this time down the stairs instead of up. By the time she made it to the kitchen, her father had already emerged out from under whatever pile of legal jargon he'd been reviewing and - Dear God - was offering the Goblin King a beer. At noon.

She intercepted it just before it reached Jareth's outstretched hand. "It's a little early for that, dad. I need to have a word with Jareth first." She expected Jareth to protest, but he only grinned when Sarah clutched his arm and dragged him through the kitchen and out the porch doors. Only when she'd shut them behind her and faced away from the windows did she allow herself to glare.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I believe it is customary to celebrate Harvest Home with friends and family, is it not?"

"Harvest what?" But she shook her head. The name didn't matter. "You're neither of those things, Goblin King."

"I recall you stating otherwise on Samhain." When her eyes widened just slightly, he tilted his head and sealed her fate. "And as you know by now, what's said is said. Once again, I find myself living up to your expectations."

His wry look made it clear he was far from exhausted this time around. He was pleased. This was insane. She crossed her arms. "My expectations include you returning to your castle and staying there. Wrangling goblins and chickens and whatever else you've got running rampant. Not this."

"Is that so?" he questioned, crossing his own arms in amusement. "Your actions – or shall I say reactions – suggest otherwise."

She shifted just slightly, remembering full well how she'd failed to pull away from his touch. The surprise of his reappearance on Halloween – and his even more unexpected closeness – had haunted her long past that night. It was one of the reasons she'd been so determined to be prepared for his promised return. And here she was, caught spectacularly off guard. Again.

She changed tactics. "Why?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Why what?"

"You know what. Why take that comment seriously? Why tell Toby we'd 'reconciled'? Why are you here, dressed like that, pretending to be my boyfriend? I hardly know you."

"Precisely."

Her brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Instead of clarifying, he stalked towards her, steps slow and measured, until Sarah again was smothered by exotic spice and sandalwood. Closer still, until she could see the flecks of ice in his eyes and that the mismatch was not an entirely different shade of blue, but a blown pupil. And with a final step, he was close enough to remind her that the last time he was this near, his lips had been at her neck, his hand on her waist, and she'd been unable to steady her pulse or pull away. His disguise did nothing to lessen those reactions now. As if he noticed, he quirked a corner of lips.

"I think you wish to know me," he said lowly.

Her throat was suddenly dry. "I don't," she replied, after swallowing. She'd prepared herself for this. She knew him, she insisted to herself: Child-snatcher. Manipulator. Conman. Goblin King.

He only grinned wider, leaning in an inch closer. "Then prove it. Three days. Tell me the same after three days and I'll never bother you again." As if he knew she needed the space to consider his proposal, he stepped back. But the grin had faded. His expression was unreadable.

With him feet away instead of inches, she could process his words. She ran back the conversation once. Twice. And frowned. He was toying with her, she realized, but the benefit was clear. So, she bit. "One. And you leave Toby alone, too."

"Three. Those are two bargains."

It was a fair point, she conceded. Still..."Two," she countered. "Today and tomorrow. Final offer." A day and a half, really. Which she was confident she could survive.

"Deal," he crooned immediately, and Sarah stilled when he took a step closer, his lips again inches from her own as if that was how he meant to seal the bargain. He hovered there for several seconds, unmoving save for his steady wisps of breath that defied the chill. Unblinking. After another second, one hand returned to her waist, his thumb tracing a slow, even circle. The other tilted her chin up just slightly. And just when Sarah thought he'd do it, he let go and pulled back, grinning yet again.

"Come, Sarah. I believe you owe me an introduction." He didn't wait for her response before moving past her to open the door, gesturing for her to enter.

She stumbled. Blinked. And then scowled at the proffered door and the arrogant twitch of lips that told her he was not at all concerned about her denying him in two days.

Oh, yes. She owed him an introduction.

And she knew precisely how to put him in his place.

Introductions were held over a lunch of grilled cheese and Karen's famous tomato soup. Sarah jumped in quickly after they'd all sat down.

She was in no way letting him introduce himself as her 'boyfriend'.

"This is Jareth. An old friend from school. His parents decided on a Caribbean cruise this Thanksgiving and he had nowhere else to go. He's promised not to overstay his welcome." There. A friend from school. Her, the magnanimous host. No way he could spin that into something more.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jareth frown just slightly, but it was gone in an instant. Karen's frown, however, remained even after she looked at an oblivious Toby for an explanation. Fortunately, her traitorous brother was too busy shoveling soup-soaked grilled cheese into his mouth to offer any corrections. He was young; Karen would surely believe he'd misinterpreted Jareth's role.

She likely would have, had Jareth not obliterated Sarah's plan.

"Yes," Jareth cut in before Karen could get around to her questions, "although my Sarah is being coy. I attempted to convince her we'd be welcome on the cruise as well, but she insisted on us coming home for Thanksgiving."

Sarah sputtered into her soup, glancing up at Jareth in horror. Karen was beaming again. Her father was also obviously intrigued, leaning in and locking eyes with the king. But it didn't take long for irritation to overtake Sarah's horror. Damn him. It was partially her fault, she realized; these were things she should have specified in the bargain. She'd known he was manipulative.

He wasn't alone.

"Oh Sarah dear, you needn't have canceled your romantic plans for us! I would have loved to see pictures." Karen turned to Jareth. "Has the ship left already?"

Fortunately, the heel of Sarah's shoe was quicker than the king's tongue, and she dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clang to mask his hiss. "Yes. Long gone," she insisted through a forced smile. She side-eyed the king in warning, and this time, likely because of the sharp heel to his foot, he refrained from offering his own story. But he had to realize there was no way in hell she was traveling anywhere alone with him. Especially to a place where her stepmother would expect romantic pictures. No, she'd survive the next day and a half at home by deflecting questions and ignoring him as much as possible, and then she and her family would never have to deal with his manipulation ever again. Karen would be busy with cooking and her father glued to whatever football game was on. The house was big enough. There was a guest room. No problem.

Wishful thinking on her part.

"Oh, how unfortunate. There's always Christmas. Or New Years! Your uncle Mark proposed on a New Years' cruise."

Karen's lack of subtlety was astounding. Sarah gritted her teeth but offered her stepmother a noncommital shrug. Jareth would be long gone by then, but it would hard to explain without seeming like an ass why Sarah had already planned to be single for Christmas. She saw Karen frown again at her shrug, but her stepmother stood without inquiring further, stacking her father's clean plates atop her own.

Karen ticked her head towards the kitchen. "Sarah?"

The gesture was another less than subtle move and Sarah breathed out through her nose. So much for not inquiring further. Karen's pointed look suggested an inevitable flurry of questions. Perhaps a judgmental comment or two on why she hadn't mentioned her 'boyfriend' or the romantic cruise. But before she could gather her own plate ware, they were snatched from her placemat and she heard the scrape of chair legs to her left.

"That was delicious, Mrs. Williams. Please, allow me to assist you in the kitchen."

Sarah looked up sharply at the king. What the hell? He was offering to help wash dishes? He was quick to join her stepmother at the doorway and one look at Karen's now glowing face was all it took for Sarah to realize the flaw in her plan to ignore him: the inability to counter whatever lies Jareth decided to tell her family. Because that was the only logical reason he'd offer to do manual labor. Given what'd he'd said so far, it was too risky to leave him alone with them.

Damn it.

"I'll help."

Jareth grinned. Sarah frowned. And so the dance began.

Sarah would later remember Wednesday afternoon as the week that wouldn't end. Washing dishes? A warm press of hips and the distracting scent of sandalwood at her side. Preparing pie dough? Wandering - gloveless - hands that grazed her own. Chopping apples and vegetables? She'd sliced the tip of her finger when he'd unexpectedly brushed a lock of her hair back from her face. He chuckled. She growled. He shifted closer. She stepped away.

She would have told him off, had Karen not been preening with joy at the sight of Jareth's attentions. Her stepmother barely blinked as the three of them prepared stuffing and both pumpkin and apple pies. Cursing him out would have to wait. She would not lose her cool or admit he affected her. So what if he did? That didn't mean she wanted to know him in the way he'd suggested. She refused to let him win. Like before, Toby's safety was at stake.

"Not too small, Sarah," Karen's voice interrupted her musings. "It won't set properly."

Sarah looked down and realized she'd become a tad aggressive in her bread-tearing. "Sorry," she offered, putting down the end of her loaf. Jareth's knowing grin was impossible to miss when she looked back up, but she ignored him. "What else can I help with?"

Karen passed her the bowl of freshly sliced apples, pointing to the stovetop. "You can get the filling started. Water in the pot first. Then add the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, salt, and nutmeg."

Sarah should have known better than to turn her back on the pair. Another mistake in a long series of mistakes, all of them leading her towards the inevitable. But, as she'd once been warned, she took far too much for granted.

Secrets were meant to be kept.

Karen's focus on the king intensified as soon as Sarah turned on the stove. "So what do you do, Jareth?"

"I run a small company. Imports and exports, mostly."

Sarah snorted ungracefully as she measured out spices. That was a cavalier way to describe snatching and returning wished away children. But with her turned away, Karen didn't appear to notice her disdain.

"Oh! How impressive. Is there a lot of money in that?"

And there it was. The can-you-provide-for-my-stepdaughter shakedown. She'd expected it from her father. Sarah looked back over her shoulder with a grimace. Karen was clearly more impatient for grandchildren than she'd thought. "That's really not appr-"

"I've found it to be very profitable," Jareth cut in, chuckling. "You might say I live like a king." Karen beamed again. Sarah gripped her measuring spoon tighter.

"And, forgive me if this seems rude"-an eye-roll from Sarah-"but from your accent...you're British, I assume? Do you live here full time? Sarah's not great with fly-"

"Karen!" Sarah shrieked, slamming the jar of cinnamon down on the marble countertop. Good grief, that was all she needed; Jareth discovering any of her weaknesses. Karen had the decency to look abashed, at least.

Jareth laughed again. "While I do fly home occasionally, it's not necessary. It's a quick trip."

It was more true than Karen would ever imagine. Taking and returning. Kings. Owls. He was dancing around his nature with impressive precision. Almost as if this wasn't his first ruse in her world; that he'd practiced his spiel on countless humans. The thought bothered Sarah for unsettling reasons. But she barely had time to consider them before Jareth decided to drop one of her own secrets.

"But you should know, Sarah didn't have any trouble with the trip when I last brought her home."

Sarah's eyes bulged. Dear God. More truth, but that was not something Karen needed to know; she'd assume the relationship was far more serious than she wanted to be implied. "Jareth-"

"Yes, Sarah-mine?" he asked, reaching - again - to pull her hips to meet his own.

Oh, she was going to destroy him. Unequivocally. But Karen was watching the scene with too much interest. Her smile too wide. So Sarah swallowed her insult and forced her own smile, clenching teeth. If he wanted to play dirty; so be it. He had secrets too. "I'd rather not talk about my one visit to your home. You know the food poisoning from whatever you served me lasted days."

There. The bastard couldn't cook. Close enough to the truth of a tainted peach. As she'd expected, Karen's smile drooped considerably. Jareth was exactly the opposite of prime marriage material and she was confident a few off-hand comments would ward off her stepmother's exuberance. Loose chickens, a massive swamp on the property, and a dust-ridden residence were things even Karen - charmed as she was - would insist she run from.

"Oh. Well...I'm glad you're alright, dear. If you'll excuse me a minute." Karen wiped her hands quickly on the dishtowel, making her way out of the kitchen and towards her father's study, likely to fill him in on Jareth's flaw. Karen was nothing if not predictable.

When she'd gone, Sarah pulled from his grip and faced him. Despite her slight, Jareth was still grinning. "You're a bastard." She emphasized it with a glare. He responded with a twitch of lips. She tried to walk around him. He stepped in her path.

More dancing.

"Move," she hissed. She needed air; just a few minutes away from the distraction of the king to collect her thoughts and plot his takedown.

His lips twitched again, but the king stepped aside and allowed Sarah to pass. "It won't work, you know."

Sarah froze at the doorway, not turning to face him. He was undoubtedly referencing her attempt at sabotage. Perhaps her tension at his presence and her refusal to acknowledge what it did to her. Save for her sliced finger, however, she thought she'd done a spectacular job at keeping that tension bottled and brushing him aside.

Apparently not.

"Even the boy recognized it," he continued when she said nothing.

Toby. That was a whole other conversation. "There's nothing to recognize," she insisted.

He chuckled softly then, a sound that lingered in Sarah's mind as she felt him again sidle up behind her. Not touching, but she felt the phantom of his hands at her waist. Lips near her ear, whispering. "Empty words hold no power, Sarah. Not in a bargain with my kind."

She heard her breath hitch. Whether it was from his closeness or the shock of his words, she couldn't be sure. But she recognized in his confidence the hidden catch; the reason he'd crooned at her final offer. Words have power, but only when you mean them. Which, despite all her mistakes, she understood completely. So, she'd ensure she meant them.

She swallowed once to steady herself, preparing another denial; this one pulled from years of drama training. There was no reason this scene would be any different. A line was a line. A lie was a lie. She kept her focus on the foyer. "There's nothing-"

He must have heard her pulse again because the phantom hands were no longer a phantom. In an instant, he spun her, keeping her tight against him and silencing her denial. One hand returned to lift her chin. "Try again, precious thing," he whispered.

She tried. Or, she believed she tried. But he was too close, the heat of his whisper against her lips too distracting, and she couldn't recall whether she'd said anything in response to his ask. She knew her mouth had parted as if to say something instead of just allowing the hand holding her chin to slide to one cheek. She knew her breath hitched again. She didn't know what she would do if he leaned in further, but the thrum in her veins and the pang in her chest made her doubt she'd stop him.

Still, as before, he refrained from closing the gap as the whisper returned. "Tell me what you want, Sarah."

It was getting hard to breathe; harder even to think. The heat in his eyes and the hand on her cheek and the crack in the air when he smirked. "I..."

"Sarah, make sure you're stir-" Karen's orders snapped Sarah back to the kitchen, and she pulled back, eyes wide at what she'd been poised to say. "Oh!" The beaming smile returned, spurred on by the sight of a flushed Sarah and the closeness of the king. Sarah's earlier quip seemed already forgotten. "There's no need to stop on my account, dear."

At that, Sarah pulled completely from his grasp, shaking her head and thanking whatever god has sent her stepmother in at that precise moment. Sanity returned quickly. "N-no, it's fine. The apples are done. I need to talk to Toby." And without even considering that she was leaving Jareth alone with an again exuberant stepmother, Sarah fled.

She knew she had much bigger problems than whatever he might say.

She was screwed. Royally - almost literally - screwed. Because she had wanted him to kiss her. She'd been on the cusp of telling him to do so and had Karen not reminded her of reality, she was confident that would have been it. There was no doubt that was his intention. She also doubted that he intended on stopping there.

And she wasn't certain she would have stopped him.

Sarah rubbed at her temples, groaning the entire march upstairs. She needed to know what he'd told Toby. Now, she found it likely this was some twisted revenge plot to get her to admit her attraction and regret her decision. She'd turned him down. She'd battered his ego. She'd beaten his game. And he was set on returning the favor.

She'd assumed Toby had sequestered himself in his room, intent on playing his game and staying as far away from a frantic Karen as possible. She was right. "I need you to tell me exactly what he said to you, Toby."

Toby lowered his game system with a roll of eyes. "I told you I dunno. He's your boyfriend. Ask him."

That was it. Consequences be damned; Toby had to know his lie. "He's not my boyfriend. I haven't seen him since Halloween. When did he speak with you and what did he say?"

At that, Toby set his game down completely. But instead of answering her questions, he raised an eyebrow to show he was less than convinced. "Who is he, then? Your fiancé?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

Toby shrugged. "He seems to really like you."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Un-hunh."

Sarah stilled, but Toby returned to his game, completely oblivious to her shock. That didn't meld with her impression of his revenge plot. Toby had either misheard or Jareth's deception ran deeper than she'd thought. She didn't know what to do with the third possibility. "Did he tell you how we met?"

Another eye-roll. "You said you met at school."

Sarah exhaled. At least Jareth hadn't been telling Toby stories about the Labyrinth. When Sarah just kept staring, however, Toby spoke up again. "I think he also said something about not letting you go this time. Sounded pretty mushy to me."

The exhale had been too soon. In the context Toby understood, it may have seemed romantic, but to her, it rang of the trap she'd assumed he was setting. If he beat her at this new game, he maintained his ability to interrupt her and Toby's lives whenever he pleased. Perhaps whisk them away. If she couldn't lie tomorrow...

How foolish she'd been to agree to it.

Sarah spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, plotting, and caring less and less about the lies the king told her family. In the end, they would take her side. Perhaps if she dropped enough barbs about him, her family would kick him out and she wouldn't have to spend the next day struggling over her attraction. She'd keep her end of the bargain and tell him tomorrow what she thought, but there was never any requirement that he stay with her. If he didn't - and her family turned on him - perhaps her lie would be convincing enough to banish him from their lives. Even a few hours apart from him seemed likely to help.

At half-past seven, she heard Karen call Toby to set the table. The timing was perfect. Her planning was complete. The Suppertime Art of Conquering the King - Plan SACK the boyfriend, as it were - was a go. She'd casually pepper in comments about Jareth's faults and wayward intentions and get him booted. She certainly wouldn't be putting up any resistance to the order.

The problem was, of course, that Sarah had left Jareth alone with Karen - in the kitchen - all afternoon. She'd expected lies. A great deal of manipulation and flattery, too. But there were fewer ways of persuading her family that Jareth was a problem once she realized what he'd spent most of the afternoon doing.

Karen's voice echoed from the kitchen just as Sarah had descended stairs. "Sarah dear, come help me with the platters."

It was her first warning that something that afternoon had gone terribly, horribly wrong. Platters. Plural. Given the mass of cooking the following day, for as long as Sarah could remember, Karen had served a simple meal of spaghetti on Thanksgiving eve. One large plate of pasta and marinara occasionally topped with meatballs, but the meal never consisting of platters.

"...Platters?" Sarah asked cautiously, nearing the kitchen. The enticing smell of slow-cooked meat - rich with an unfamiliar, savory warmth - was her second warning. Those weren't Karen's meatballs.

"Yes," Karen affirmed, beaming again and carrying a large salad bowl towards the dining room. "Can you grab the roasted potatoes? Your father has the chicken."

Chicken. Potatoes. Salad. A trifecta of food groups that should not be anywhere near the dining room today. Sarah hurried into the kitchen, trying to rein in panic. Her third warning was not so much a warning than an irritatingly smug expression. But the expression was attached to the warning that was the Goblin King. And he was pouring his wine.

There was one obvious reason for his glee, but she asked the question anyway. "What did you do?"

Sharp, pointy teeth betrayed everything. "There was a reason I brought Burgundy, Sarah. It's an excellent cooking wine."

Dear God. No wonder Karen was beaming again: the bastard had somehow convinced her he could cook dinner. And he had. "You must be insane to think I'd eat anything you made."

He snorted gracefully. "I suspected as much. No wine for you then, I assume?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes but dutifully grabbed the platter of potatoes, turning on her heels towards the dining room where the rest of her family was already serving themselves to what looked like a chicken stew. She set the plate down beside the pot with a noticeable scowl; she was hungry and the damn thing smelled amazing. "Did Jareth make everything?"

Karen shook her head. "Just the coq au vin."

Sarah clenched her teeth. No wonder he'd been so smug. He was masquerading as Julia Child as well as her boyfriend. Jareth sat down with his glass of wine soon after and despite the snag that was his cooking, Sarah had no intention of abandoning her plan. While it was a bit of an adjustment, the chicken actually tied in nicely. Still, she waited until Jareth had lifted his glass to his lips to put the plan into action. "I'm surprised you made chicken. With all your pet chickens running about, I thought you were a vegetarian." She smiled when she heard him choke violently on his wine. Her grin grew when both Karen and her father slowly set down their chicken-laden forks.

"Pet...chickens?" her father asked, brow furrowed. "Do you own a farm?"

With Jareth temporarily sidelined by a lungful of wine, Sarah implemented phase two with a thoughtful glance. "Well, not in the traditional sense. But there are enough animals on the property, I suppose. Although"-and she briefly turned to Jareth-"I keep forgetting what the ones that live near your bog are called. Fire-somethings?"

"You have a bog? How cool!" Toby exclaimed. But his delight paled in comparison to the joy Sarah gained from watching Karen's slowly blanching face. As expected, loose chickens and bogs appeared to be dealbreakers. Jareth had reached for water now - decidedly less out of breath - meaning she was about out of time. So, Sarah went for the kill, keeping her focus on Karen.

"It's too bad about the smell, though," she falsely bemoaned, shrugging. "Stays with you even when you enter the home. But at least the grit inside doesn't smell."

Neither Karen nor her father said anything in response, mouths slightly agape, so Sarah helped herself to a forkful of potatoes. Based on that alone, she knew she'd gone three-for-three. It wouldn't be long now. Jareth had caught his breath, but he also seemed too caught off-guard to say anything.

Until he stood. And wait; was he holding a pager? She was confident nothing had buzzed or beeped.

"If you'll excuse me. Mr. Williams. Mrs. Williams," he nodded at both in turn, holding up the pager. "But I'm afraid something urgent has come up. Company business."

Sarah was too focused on the bizarreness that was the pager to realize Jareth's smirk had returned; his eyes alight with a mix of pride and amusement. And because she followed the pager as it was stuffed into a khaki pocket, she didn't even notice that he had leaned down until she felt the hand at her chin, tilting up. And in all her arrogance at her three-for-three, she hadn't even considered that in retribution for her quips, that Jareth would offer something other than a retort in response.

It was her biggest mistake yet. Because from that moment on, she knew she'd lose.

His kiss was brief, just the barest press of warm lips, but the soft caress sent a thrill deep into her belly at the promise of more. It pricked at something so unseen that it couldn't be defined by a word. But she knew what it was and she knew he knew it too because she felt him smile just slightly, slowly tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. And then, with just as much shock as his kiss, his lips were gone. The room was suddenly cold. The space by his chair empty in the span of a moment. And the creak of the front door little match for the pounding in her ears and chest.

Sarah had no choice but to turn back to Karen and her father and try to act like nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred; that the man who was supposedly her boyfriend hadn't just stunned her with a second-long kiss. But in the end, it wasn't her own look that was concerning. And she should have realized if she hadn't heard the pager go off, neither had Karen. Jareth had used the most obvious getaway in the book.

"Sarah Elaine Williams. What was the purpose of that? No wonder you haven't brought anyone home before. You've mortified him."

And there they were: the expected judging looks.

And she still had one day to go in the bargain.

A/N: So...this was meant to be a relatively short fic, but then all this happened and I hadn't even gotten to Thanksgiving Day. So, there's a Harvest Home part deux coming around Thanksgiving. I did some brief research, and I've seen the term used as a pagan alternative to Thanksgiving, so hopefully, it fits here.

An immense THANK YOU to everyone who commented, added, and/or favorited this one so far! Y'all make my day.