"The only dependable law of life – everything is always worse than you thought it was going to be."

Dorothy Parker

Sarah shut the door.

It wasn't even deliberate, it was just a kneejerk reaction.

After a moment a throat cleared loudly from the other side.

She opened it.

Definitely still the Goblin King.

She closed it again by rote.

On the third attempt a gloved hand shot out and kept the door open. "I believe you already invited me in."

Sarah stared after him owlishly as he strode past her into her home.

What do you even say to a creature of childhood fantasy after a thirteen absence? One she'd been pretty sure she'd made up. One who was apparently not satisfied with being make believe, and was instead in her apartment. In the flesh.

What she wanted to say was something pithy. Even just a "now is not a good time. Thank you for coming though. Perhaps we can do lunch another time."

What she actually said was, "uh… mphlerr," as her tongue tied itself in knots.

She ducked into her kitchen, a hand reaching out to steady herself on the counter. She peeked around the corner.

He winked at her provokingly, evidently enjoyed her refreshing loss of the right words.

Sarah immediately poured herself a generous glass of wine.

After taking a few yoga style breaths to relax herself, she marched purposefully into the living room.

"I assure you, there's no need to get me drunk, Sarah." He was lounged on her sofa, one arm thrown across the back. Long legs stretched before him. Pants tight as ever.

Sarah faltered and took a very large sip of wine. "It's for me." She glanced at him and then took another, almost draining the glass. You're on your own after all, liver.

"I'm fine, thank you, none for me."

She coughed, spluttering just enough to be embarrassing and sank into a chair.

Onto her dozing cat…

Who'd understandably not had a very good day and had reached his final straw. He promptly sheathed his claws knuckle deep into Sarah's jean-clad arse.

"Mother Fu-" Sarah howled in pain, "Peaches!"

The Goblin smiled beatifically. "Your feline's name is Peaches?"

"Right now it's little shit," she said rubbing her stinging rear, "but…" she trailed off at his expression. "He's ginger coloured. That's it."

"As you say… Peach champion."

"Why exactly are you here? I don't recall wishing away any brothers." It was half desperation to change the subject, half curiosity at his sudden reappearance after 13 years of nothing.

"Male Companion Wanted I believe was the ad."

Sarah blinked. "But how… you have a computer?"

The Goblin King nodded. "Something called an iBook? By apple or Mac something such. I assure you either way it is not edible in the least." Thankfully. Goblins were a voracious lot.

She blinked again. "You have a nicer computer than me."

"You placed an ad. I answered it. I had no idea this was how mortals found themselves romantic partners. So prosaic. So lacking in romance. So… desperate," he finished with relish.

"Romance has nothing to do with it," Sarah replied sharply. "Fake boy… companion. It's how successful women pushing thirty keep meddlesome stepmothers and well-meaning fathers at bay."

"So you are desperate."

She eyed him coolly. "Not this desperate."

Jareth nodded thoughtfully, completely unfazed. "Naturally. You did say you'd had other options when you invited me here."

"I invited Garrett what's his name here. You lied."

The Goblin King feigned insult. "I most certainly did not lie. Garrett is a name I've used above ground before. Our kind have many names or did you think I only answer to Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be…"

"It was a lie of omission then!"

Jareth shot her a withering look. "I am new to the area. I do not have anywhere particular to be for yuletide. I do not need the money. I am always looking for new experiences, and I was, most thoroughly intrigued by your request. Not one lie."

Sarah ran a hand through her hair fretfully. "And I suppose you truthfully also don't like chickens?"

"Absolutely loathe them."

There was something in his tone, a nagging sense that beneath it all he was laughing that finally made it all click. "Oh my god… Bob, and the rest. The chicken licker…"

Jareth pretended to find her wall art interesting, but he couldn't stop the small smile from dancing about his mouth.

"You complete bastard. Goblins?"

The smile widened.

"One tried to eat my cat!"

"Judging by the fact you still can't sit down comfortably, I'd say he was unsuccessful."

She considered again the lack of spam. The reasonable sounding emails. The unmitigated disaster that followed. "Is my ad even up anymore? Was it ever up?"

The Goblin King had the grace to look guilty, though not in the least remorseful.

Sarah was seething. "Is this some kind of revenge… fuckery? A way to ruin my Christmas? Eat my cat?"

"I assure you this is not about revenge. I have no intention of ruining your Christmas, and your cat is not the kind of puss-"

Before he could finish Sarah had whipped a throw cushion at his head. He caught it deftly and settled it behind him like she'd done him a favour.

"Do. Not. Say. It."

"Consider this a truce, Sarah. You need someone to bring home for the familial festivities. You wished – in so many words," he added hastily when she looked ready to throw something more substantial. "And I most generously answered."

Sarah stared at him incredulously. "You want to come home with me for Christmas."

The Goblin King inclined his head.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons. Perhaps I'll tell you some day. For now know that I am merely fulfilling your wish for old time's sake. No catch."

She couldn't help but look him over again, noting every exquisite feature that was completely out of place in her world. "You… I can't bring you home." There were so many reasons that was true. The tight pants featured more than once on the list.

Jareth flashed her a winning smile. "How about now?"

Gone were the elvish features, the kohled eyes, and the wild hair. Instead sat a man in a well-tailored suit. His sandy blond hair was short and neatly styled. His eyes were still just a little strange, but not inhuman. He even had a light dusting of facial hair, just the touch of well-manicured scruff Sarah had always found immensely appealing. He wasn't Garrett – the affably non-descript man from the keyhole - he was somehow still the Goblin King and yet different. Muted. He adjusted a cufflink with a smirk at her expression.

"I… you're still too… too… not average," she finished lamely. She expressly had not wanted swoon worthy.

"I'm afraid I can only dim myself so much, Sarah. It's magic not a miracle."

Sarah rolled her eyes but then stilled when he rose, approaching her with an even gait.

"Let's speak plainly shall we? I fit the bill in every way. You only need admit it."

"Well…"

"I even like children. You did write that was a bonus?"

"Stealing them doesn't count as liking. And I was thinking of getting along with my brother. He's not really a child anymore…" Sarah trailed off. "Toby! Is this all just about taking Toby back?"

"I can assure you, Sarah, I have no interest in taking your brother," he replied smoothly. "Another truth." She was strangely relieved on more levels than she was willing to admit.

She chewed her lip. "And you promise not to try and ruin Christmas?"

The not-Goblin King tsk'd. "Yuletide is sacred, Sarah. It's a time of pure magic. I would never try and tarnish the spirit."

"Not tarnish it like sending a pack of chicken licking, cat eating goblins?"

"Attempted cat-eating. I will own the chicken licking does happen and it is every bit as disgusting as it sounds. You would really be doing me a favour by removing me from that feather-filled environment for a holiday away."

She gaped at him. "I can't believe I am even considering saying yes."

"Do you have an alternative?"

"No thanks to you."

Jareth looked absolutely gleeful.

"You're not behaving at all as I expected."

He looked surprised. "What exactly did you expect?"

"I don't know… threats? Anger?" Heated looks and other things she did NOT want to mention.

He leaned in, enough that she noticed he smelled good. Very good in fact. "Should I be angry that you destroyed my kingdom, rejected my… gifts, and then disappeared without ever sending a card?"

"Erm… no?"

He retreated, holding out one gloved hand between them. "Then shall we call this a truce."

Dangerous. Insanity. Self-Destructive. Crazy. Those were all words Sarah wanted to call it. What she did was reluctantly take his offer. His long fingers wrapped around hers and she told herself that she shivered because her apartment was cold.

"I'm still mad about the goblins."

"Well, they're still mad about their destroyed homes so perhaps we'll call it even? Now then, Sarah mine, when do we leave?"

She couldn't quite believe what she'd agreed to. His cat in the cream pot expression wasn't helping. "Oh god."

"Do call me, Jareth, dearest. We are dating after all."

Packing her bag the next day, Sarah began to have a change of heart. She'd managed to shuffle the not-Goblin King out of her apartment shortly after agreeing to the terrible-no-good-very-bad idea. It hadn't helped that he kept flashing her victorious looking smiles, like he'd just won something more substantive than a dry turkey dinner and Boney M in stereo for a week.

And now she found herself wondering what to pack. What outfits to bring. Fancy or not fancy. Which shoes to wear. Things she always worried about at the start of a potential relationship. Which this wasn't. Things she'd not have cared about if she'd found a complete stranger to bring along.

Instead she vacillated between being still rather pissed off at his machinations and desperately curious about why he'd forced his way back into her life. She didn't trust him. At all. But she couldn't help being just a little charmed by it all – not that would ever admit it. She might not be wide-eyed and fifteen anymore, but he hadn't lost of the art of leaving her just a little off kilter. Just a little tempted. By what, she wasn't even sure. She wasn't sure she liked feeling so out of control.

Panicking, she'd called home to say she wasn't bringing anyone home after all. The conversation had gone about as well as her interview.

Her father had asked in a voice that dropped to a whisper, "lesbian? Not that there is anything wrong with that, sweetie."

Karen had choked back a dramatic sob, but then rallied and began rhyming off all the odds and sods who would also be home for Christmas. Chad, Chet, Brent, Brett, Brian… Jordan. Sarah at one point, put the phone down and started painting her nails.

And then Toby had gotten the phone. That had been the clincher.

"Hey." It was the apathetic existential drone of a teenager.

"Hey kiddo. Are you excited for Christmas?"

"Whatever." And then a long pause, his voice changing just a little. "Did you know I am the lead in the Christmas pageant this year?"

She hadn't. She wasn't surprised however. Toby had shown surprising aptitude for music, both dancing and singing, but in particular his vocals." The voice of an angel they all said. Like it was in his blood, despite the fact that the Williams were notoriously tone-deaf. And despite his desire to play the disaffected Goth kid who lived on Coke and video games, he couldn't resist the pull. She knew he'd eventually parcel it into something that garnered a gaggle of girls melting at his feet, but he hadn't yet unlocked that power. She didn't think he was yet aware it even existed.

"Mom is making me do it. I don't want to." Sarah could tell that was only a partial truth. "She's invited literally everyone. So it's… ah cool that you're coming home with someone. It's all they've been talking about. Means everyone will leave me alone for a little while."

She could hear the relief in his voice and realised that Toby was relying on her in the same way she'd been hoping to rely on a fake boyfriend. The sliver of optimism in his voice was like a weight that settled on Sarah instead.

She swallowed thickly. "Of course I'm bringing someone home! I'm so excited for you all to meet him!"

The sounds of a scuffle followed, the receiver hitting the floor once, and then Karen's booming voice made Sarah thrust the phone away from her ear. "I KNEW IT!"

Her dad chirped in from a distance. "You old kidder. December fools on us! Lol." He spelled it. L-O-L.

Sarah hung up and finished all the wine in her fridge while she packed.

The next morning she stood by her car, breath puffing in the cold air. Her cat eyed her morosely from inside the carrier.

He was fashionably late. And by fashionably late, she meant he starting to piss her off.

A gloved hand touched her elbow, making her jump.

The not-Goblin King, dressed in a long black pea coat grinned back at her. He carried a small leather satchel and looked like something out of a sleek European fashion mag. He didn't apologize even after Sarah made a show of checking her wrist watch.

Jareth appraised the small car. "You know I could just." He motioned a circle with this his fingers.

"Thanks. No magic. It's a four hour drive, maybe longer depending on the roads. I literally just called to say when I was leaving," she pointedly looked at her watch again, "so there would be questions I really don't want to answer if we suddenly poofed to the front door."

"There would be no poofing," Jareth looked incredibly offended at the word. "But as you wish." He reached around her, brushing far too close for comfort – he still smelled far too good, and opened the door for her. "Four hours to get to know one another."

"Stop that." She meant everything. Stop being nice. Stop smelling good. Stop pretending to be harmless. She had a preconceived notion of how he was supposed to act and she very much wanted him to stay in that box. Sarah plopped the cat carrier into the back seat, and motioned for him to add his bag.

When they were both inside, with the heater comfortably turned up, Sarah mentally asked herself again why she'd agreed to the caper.

"Too late now," drawled the Goblin King, as though he'd gleaned her thoughts perfectly.

AN: Thanks for all the love!

And just to be clear, I take all comments teasing about Tanglewood in the lovely and rightfully ribbing spirit they are written. I was not complaining! I think its hilarious (and deserved) and a compliment really. You really are the best readers ever.