Disclaimer: I created Wren, do not steal her. The world around Wren is based partly on reality, but not unfairly portrayed. Jareth is not mine, nor is anything else from Labyrinth, regardless of how much fun it would be if I did own them. I also do not own any movies, or series, mentioned in this fic.

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Anij: Yes, Raining Men. Hee. I couldn't resist.

Notwritten: Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you like is so much – I can't thank you enough for following this and reviewing faithfully!

Yami Moon: What's wrong with beanbag chairs? I mean… compared to his throne or whatnot, don't you think they'd be an odd fascination for him? Hee… Danika has an awesome drawing of his first experience with a beanbag chair, I'll try and get the link for it. I love it.

DanikaLareyna: Well, you were the one who said it was suggestive… you forget, I have this horrible problem of taking things literally! Especially lately… dunno why… I think it was going to be something sappy & sweet, like Measure of a Man, by Clay Aiken, or something. I don't know. Something serious, not funny, I'm sure.

Contraltissimo: Shred! Lydia says 'hi'. Or was that 'die'? Hard to tell, sometimes… Yes, I'm lucky to have made it through the beginning in one piece! That was one big, mean, plot bunny. It was a lot like that flaming squirrel in Tiny Plaid Ninjas...

Sanoru: Oh, that's okay! Yes, I think everyone does have one – I know I do. And, as stereotypical as it sounds, he's just… yeah, I talk girl-talk with him. Nuff said.

Mrs. Camui: It's refreshing, isn't it?

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I am in an absolutely crazy mood right now, so… yeah, these songs are bound to be a little weird. Sorry.

Soup on a Stick by Brak – Ahahahahah! Google this, it ROCKS!

Don't Touch Me also by Brak – I'm in a huge Brak mood, can you tell?

MMMBop by Hanson – Um… don't ask.

Don't Let Me Get Me by Pink – Oh, this is my song. I AM my own worst enemy!

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Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I've got some plot bunnies to spite here… let's mix it up a bit, shall we?

And, again, FFnet won't let me insert lines... so zeros it is, again. I do apologize.

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"No, I won't, GK."

"Why not?"

"Because it's gross."

He scoffed at me, "I completely disagree. It is seemingly delightful. So I am told."

"Who the heck told you that?" I demanded, facing him. "I mean really! If you've never had it, and this is the first time you've considered it, then aside from me, who would have told you it's 'delightful'?"

Jareth stuck his nose in the air, "I am insulted, Wren, that you think you are the only person from the Aboveground I converse with."

I eyed him, my arms folded across my chest. "It was Allie, wasn't it?"

He said nothing for a long moment, but instead looked at me from the side, "No."

"Liar," I turned back to the mixer, "Besides, delightful or not, raw cookie dough is bad for you – the raw eggs, you see. Sure, we'll taste it to see if the batch has too much salt in it, but we are not going to forgo the entire baking process and eat the dough raw."

He pouted a little, but still looked interested in helping me. I'm not sure, exactly, how we'd gotten around to deciding to make cookies. Dad had some weekend conference thing, and decided to make it a road-trip for he and Mom, so – as was happening more and more frequently, I noted – I had the house to myself. That meant Jareth would come and hang out with me.

Funny, that still sounds odd to say.

I'm sure it was even odder to see. We decided to watch the DVD I'd just purchased, (oh, the irony of it all) Jim Henson's the Storyteller. I don't know why he picked that over V for Vendetta, but oh well. So, Jareth and I took up the couch while watching it, here and there discussing this and that.

What a sight. There, lounging on the couch, in a red frilled shirt and grey breeches with black boots and gloves (curse him! I swear! One day, I am just going to rip those stinkin' gloves off!), his long, wild hair splayed about his shoulders, lounged Jareth, looking like something off the cover of one of those smutty romance novels I avoid in bookstores. Then, sitting next to and lounging against him, was me, wearing a superman shirt, cargo Capri's, flip-flops and hair in pigtails…

Pigtails that Jareth found incredibly fascinating to play and pester me with.

Is that how it all started? Meh. That was probably his plan to get to the cookies.

He'd wrapped one arm around me and I could feel one gloved hand stroking my right pigtail, twisting it between his long, gloved fingers. I didn't mind that – I actually like it when people play with my hair. But… quickly, it became obvious that he was no longer out to play with my hair, but to annoy me with it.

I jumped when he twitched the end of the pigtail under my nose. I swatted his hand, and the pigtail, away with my hand and went back to watching the show. I squeaked when I felt it flit about my neck, and felt his chest rumble with a chuckle as I smacked his hand away, again. I gave a near-shriek when the tip of my pigtail wiggled in my ear, for which he laughed in earnest.

I sat up and glowered at him, "Stop that!"

He smirked at me, then grinned, "Then, what would you say to making cookies?"

I blinked, "What?"

"Make cookies. Did your hair affect your hearing?"

"No, I… how the heck do we go from you pestering me, to making cookies?"

He shrugged, "I comprehend it. You promised to make me cookies… what kind was it, you said?"

I blinked again, "Um, chocolate chip?"

He smiled, a slightly dreamy look on his face, "Ah, yes, those sound delightful. Come on, then," he shoved me off him, rather indelicately, and got to his feet. "Where do we start?"

I looked at him from were I was sitting on the couch. Suddenly, I had the oddest vision on him, just as he was, but with a lacey apron around his waist. I snorted, "I start in the kitchen…"

His face fell in a child-like pout, "I want to help," he said, his eyes large.

Would my amazement never end? "You do?"

He nodded, "Yes. I have never made cookies before. I hoped we could make them together."

I got to my feet and made my way to the kitchen. "Um, that's fine… you can help if you want… c'mon, then," I motioned for him to follow me – which he did, a very noticeable bounce to his step.

So… Yeah, I had been there, but I still didn't quite understand how we'd gone from playing with my hair, to making cookies.

I made him wash his…hands. Well, gloves. Stressing cleanliness, I told him he had to wash his hands – in a vain attempt to get him to take off his gloves, mind you, but he washed his gloved hands instead, and then used a crystal to dry them and make sure there wasn't anything 'unsanitary' on them. Dang. I almost had him, there.

And we made a batch of chocolate chip cookies – I was amazed that for once, I had all the ingredients I needed to make them, on hand. He seemed fascinated entirely by the process of our mixer, and of how I insisted on adding one ingredient at a time, rather than dumping everything in at once. I wasn't sure why it changed it, but the cookies were always better that way. He was amazed.

But, then we were faced with the cookie dough, and Jareth had (thanks to Allie, I guessed – though I wasn't too sure) the bright idea to eat the dough and not bake the cookies. I refused. I didn't mind tasting the dough, but… that much cookie dough would make anyone, even a Goblin King, sick, I was certain.

He kept pressing it, even as we put the round balls of dough on a cookie sheet, the oven preheating. "Why not? Where is the harm, Wren?"

I spooned a ball onto the sheet, "I watched Gideon do that, once. He made a batch, and ate it – and it made him sick. I like the dough, but it's much better baked as cookies, I swear. But," I pointed out, "I can let you lick the bowl once we get these in the oven."

Jareth struggled with getting the dough off the spoon I'd given him, "A King does not lick the bowl, Wren. It is not dignified."

I snickered, "I just say that… I meant you can spoon what's left out and try it, Jareth. I didn't actually mean for you to stick your head in my mixing bowl and lick it."

We finished and I began to put the sheet of cookies in the oven. Jareth looked at me, wiggling his fingers.

"Wren," he said, looking very child like again, "I am all sticky."

I motioned towards the bathroom (the kitchen sink was a little full, and half was covered by a cutting board to make more 'counter space' for us, while we baked), laughing, "Well, you're a grown up Goblin King, go and wash off the ick in the bathroom."

He nodded and headed down the hall. I started cleaning up the mixer stuff, setting the bowl aside with our spoons in it for later.

And I heard the strangest thing I'd ever heard in my life. Really, I don't have words that do the situation justice. I mean it. But, I'll try to explain…

Jareth was… well, shouting? I'd say screaming, but I wouldn't call it a scream, exactly. But, I suppose for my purposes you could call it a scream. Whatever it was, it was rather… girly. And he went running out of the bathroom, shrieking, into the hallway and into the living room.

Thinking, I don't know, that he'd just had his ears ripped off or something, I ran after him.

"Jareth! What in the-"

"WREN!" he grabbed me and pulled me behind the chair he was crouching behind. I noticed he had a crystal in his had, at the ready… what? "Wren, oh, good, you are safe… it did not attack you!"

"What didn't attack me?"

"The demonic creature which has invaded your bathroom," he said in a hushed voice, looking over the edge of the chair. Despite his answering my question, I knew he wasn't listening to me. "Could it have followed me, somehow…"

Okay, what the heck?

I grabbed his face and turned it towards me, "What is in my bathroom, Jareth? Tell me, now."

His breathing increased and he blinked a few times, "Now, Wren, it is small, and I suppose you may consider it relatively harmless, but I assure you it is evil and exceedingly demonic…"

"What is it!" I demanded.

He inhaled a staggering breath, "A cockroach."

Inspite of his seriousness, a bark of laughter shot from my throat, "That's what scared you?"

He gave me an incredulous look, "They are evil! I have good reasons to fear them, as does anyone else who knows anything of them!"

I pried his hands off me and made my way down the hallway, to look in the bathroom. I did hate roaches – is there a sane person who would love them? – but… I kill them. They don't frighten me, really.

Still, if this frightened the Goblin King… I peeked around the door into the bathroom. Oh, yes, there it was. An inch, perhaps an inch and a half at the very most… a small brown roach. Disgusting, but nothing out of the ordinary. The way Jareth had acted, I half expected a dragon to be sitting in my bathtub.

I groaned and headed to my room to get a good, hard shoe. Then, shoe in hand, I came back into the bathroom, smacked it good (I hate how you have to hit them more than once to kill them… or, at least, I do) and cleaned it up the Clorox my mother keeps under the sink. Then, a few gag-noises later, roach gone and bathroom (and shoe) sterile, I nearly fried the skin off my arms with antibacterial soap and the hottest water my bathroom sink could muster. I had cookies in the oven – I wasn't taking any chances with germs, even though I hadn't touched it.

I emerged from the bathroom, and jumped. Jareth was flat up against the hall wall, as if he was ready to storm the bathroom with sabotage, or something. His mouth was pressed into a thin line and he was stretched up to almost past his full height. His back was flat against the wall, as was his left palm – his right palm was the only thing that stuck out from the wall. It was holding a crystal, like a lucky charm, I realized. Or protection.

He was looking at me, stunned, his eyes huge. "You disposed of it?" he whispered.

I snorted, "Um, yeah. I wasn't going to just let that thing go. I killed it, it's gone."

"Oh, Wren… You really killed it?"

"No, I'm only saying that, I actually caught it and stuck it in my pocket."

He yelped and pressed himself farther into the wall, shoving the crystal forward, towards my pant's pockets. I rolled my eyes, completely stunned. He was… afraid of roaches? Now, that was unreal…

"I'm kidding! Ew, I wouldn't catch one!" I snickered and laughed for a moment, taking in his rather comical appearance. "And I washed my hands, extremely good," I held up my red palms to him, as proof. Walking past him, I kissed my fingers and touched them to his currently thin-lipped mouth (he was standing up too tall for me to actually kiss him, else I would have), and laughed, "Don't worry, Goblin King. You're girlfriend killed the bug for you."

He followed me into the kitchen, "Now, see here, Wren!" He said, angrily, "I you dealt with cockroaches in the Underground-"

I looked at him sharply, "They have them in the Underground?"

He waved a hand, disgustedly, "Oh, they are everywhere," he pulled a face and shuddered before recovering to his regal indignity, "But if you were to deal with them, you would understand how logical my reaction to them is!"

The buzzer for the cookies sounded, and I moved to take them from the oven, with mitts on my hands, "Well, what makes them any different than the relatively harmless one I just killed?"

He folded his arms across his chest, a vaguely triumphant smile on his face, "I do not know how they got to the Underground – probably on some grubby person with horrid hygiene habbits-"

"Nice alliterations."

"Erm, thank you – anyway, the magic of the Underground has eventually changed them. You may choose to believe me or not, but there they are vile, flesh-eating fire-breathers which cause chaos you cannot imagine!"

I shuddered with the sheet of cookies, "Okay, that's bad. How big are they?"

He rolled his eyes at me, "Magic rarely affects size of creatures, Wren, unless the magic is wielded by one with intent, such as myself. Natural magic would not make them larger."

"So… they're still small?"

His face blanked, "Yes."

"Are they armored or something?"

"No."

"So how many goblins, or whatever, have died from them?"

"None yet, thankfully."

"Then how do you know they eat flesh?"

Jareth heaved a sigh, "They eat anything, why not flesh? And, before you ask it, I have seen them fleeing the scene of flames which they obviously caused, and so I know they breathe fire."

I raised an eyebrow, "Sounds like you're just afraid of them. You assume they eat flesh, and roaches don't like fire, so perhaps something else started the flames and they were just fleeing? No offense, Jareth, but it sounds like you're trying to rationalize an irrational fear."

"The Goblin King does not have irrational fears!" he said, stomping a boot on the tiled floor. "They are vile, evil, demonic creatures, Wren. Do I need more of a reason to fear them?"

I smiled and got a spatula to remove the cookies from the sheet, "No. I suppose not. Want a cookie?"

His face instantly brightened and he retrieved a bowl from the cupboard. Stacking them in the bowl, in an elaborate pattern of his choosing (he is such a girl sometimes!), he walked me, carrying the bowl of warm cookies, (he scooped up the bowl with raw dough still left in it, though there really wasn't that much left anyway) back to where we had been sitting earlier on the couch.

I watched him with fascination as he quickly decided the warm, oven fresh cookies were better than just the cookie dough, and chewed happily on one. I resumed our DVD.

Two cookies later, Jareth was holding a third, eyeing it. I had eaten one, and was trying to resist more. I leaned against his chest, watching the show as he twirled the cookie in his fingers. When the cookie disappeared, I figured he'd eaten it.

That is, until I found it wiggling it's way under my nose, just as my pigtail had done, earlier.

I swatted his hand away again – how was it that he could make a cookie, a COOKIE, tickle my nose? – and looked at him. He was grinning very wildly. I would say he grinned devilishly, but it's hard to say that to someone with chocolate on his mouth.

"Would you like another cookie, Wren?" he asked with feigned innocence, "Or shall I stick this in your ear, too?"

I burst out laughing, "Cookies bring out the weirdness in you, you know?"

He licked the chocolate off his lips, wrapped an arm around me, and sighed, "Cookies are delightful, but I believe it is you that brings out the weirdness, as you say. " I grinned at his words, nabbed up a lock of his long hair, and wiggled it into his own ear. He yelped and pulled away.

"Dang straight, it does!"

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A/N: Man, how did I manage this chapter so fast! I have no flippin clue... it just came out.

I apologize for the slight OOCness of Jareth… but I couldn't resist. Aren't irrational fears the BEST? For the record, mine is moths. Like Jareth, I have no logical reason for being petrified of them. Just thought I'd say that.

Reviewers are welcome to Wren's leftover cookies! Mmm… chocolate chip…