I'd Be Surprisingly Good for You

"I can't believe you gave me the Goblin flu," moaned Sarah. She sniffled loudly and glared from the kitchen to the sofa where Jareth was resting with one gloved hand over his eyes.

"Stop moaning and stir the bloody soup," he commanded wearily.

"This is ah…ah…AH-CHOO! all your fault," Sarah growled as she stirred the pot of chicken soup. "If you hadn't shown up and kissed me…"

Jareth held up a leather-clad hand. "Sarah my dear," he said, "My head already feels as if I consumed a barrel of goblin ale. Could you lower your voice to a less shrill decibel?"

Sarah slammed the spoon against the side of the pot and Jareth winced and rubbed his temples.

"Look here, Goblin King," she spat. "You're the one who showed up uninvited and brought this blasted plague with you. I've been nice, generous, as you would say. I haven't kicked your sniffling, sneezing ass out on the street. I've allowed you to stay here against my better judgment since, as you claim, you're too weak to poof yourself back to Fantasyland. And now, I'm sick too, yet I'm slaving over a hot stove to make soup so we don't die of this horrible flu! You are in no place to make demands of me, so shut the hell up and take a nap!"

Jareth lifted his hand from his eyes and gazed at her. "Gods, you're gorgeous when you're angry," he told her with a smirk. He barely dodged the soup spoon that flew at his head and landed with a clatter behind the sofa.

"Ow!" cried Jareth and Sarah as they both rubbed their throbbing temples.


"Any better?" asked Jareth later after they'd finished off the reheated chicken soup.

"No," Sarah answered flatly. "I still want to die."

"Tch, so dramatic," Jareth groaned.

Sarah glanced at him from the other end of the sofa. He lay against her collection of throw pillows with his head back and his eyes closed. His frost-blond hair spilled over the back of the sofa and his forehead glistened with the perspiration of fever. His shirt front was unbuttoned and open, revealing his pale, smooth chest adorned with his ever-present pendant. Sarah couldn't help but stare as his chest rose and fell with each wheezing breath.

"How does he manage to still look so damn sexy when he feels like death?" she wondered, biting her lip.

Jareth opened one eye, the dark one, and caught her looking at him. "Enjoying the view, Precious?" he purred.

Sarah didn't answer, but folded her arms over her chest and turned away. Arrogant bastard…

"I fear the chicken soup isn't working," Jareth said with a sigh.

"I know," whined Sarah, shaking her head. "I don't understand it! Hoggle said it was magic and that he was cured after one pot!"

"Perhaps he deviated from your recipe," offered Jareth. "Maybe he added something you didn't."

"But I didn't give him a recipe…" Sarah started to argue, but saw the error in her logic. "I just told him to make soup!" she said slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand.

Jareth sat up straight on the sofa. "Well then," he said with a weak smile. "We have something of a solution, don't we? We'll simply call on Hedgehog-"

"Hoggle."

"Whatever. We'll call on him and ask him for the recipe. Or better yet, tell him to bring us some of his soup."

"It could be terrible," Sarah said, making a face.

"Well, Precious," replied Jareth, "you could always just suffer through the Goblin flu."

"Fine," Sarah relented. "I'll call Hoggle."


Sarah set her soup bowl down on the coffee table and looked at Jareth. "You know," she said, "That wasn't bad soup. I think I actually feel a bit better."

"As do I," replied Jareth, seductively licking his soup spoon. "I must give the dwarf credit. He really did discover a miracle cure for the Goblin flu."

"I wonder what made the difference," Sarah thought aloud. Jareth looked at her and raised an eyebrow and she continued.

"I mean, what did he use that made it work? You would think chicken soup would be the same whether you were Above or Underground. Isn't it just ordinary chicken soup?"

Jareth stretched his legs and crossed one shiny boot over the other on Sarah's coffee table.

"Sarah," he said, "Surely you of all people know that things are hardly ordinary in the labyrinth." He saw Sarah's confused expression and added, "Perhaps you should ask the dwarf for his recipe. Just in case."

Sarah nodded and stood and held out her hand to him. "C'mon, Majesty," she said. "I'll call Hoggle again and we can thank him for his help and get the scoop on his miracle cure."

Jareth smiled and took her hand and let her lead him to her bedroom. He looked around warily as they entered her private space. Clothes were piled up at the end of her bed, books and papers were stacked in teetering towers on her dresser, desk and side tables, and her floor was littered with an assortment of mismatched shoes.

"You seem to have an aversion to orderliness," he mused.

"Two words, Your Majesty: Throne. Room. Besides, this is my personal space and I can do whatever the hell I want with it," Sarah countered.

Jareth shrugged and Sarah plopped down in front of her vanity mirror. "Hoggle, I need you," she said.

"Sarah!" cried Hoggle when his face came into view. "You look much better!"

"I feel better, Hoggle," Sarah told him with a smile. "So does His Majesty."

"Hmph," grunted Hoggle, his smile disappearing.

Jareth stepped toward the mirror. "Higgle," he began.

"Hoggle!" Sarah and the dwarf exclaimed in unison.

"Whatever. Sarah and I appreciate your assistance, but I must ask what it was that made you chicken soup so…effective. Would you be so kind as to share your recipe?"

Hoggle looked at the Goblin King with unease, but started listing ingredients.

"Well, first of course, there's the chickens," he began. "Black ones. I like to use the really chubby ones 'cause they're easier to catch."

"Yes, go on," urged Jareth.

"I put in carrots and celery from my garden, as well as some salt and pepper and fresh parsley…"

"Anything else?" questioned Sarah.

Hoggle thought for a moment. "Oh yes!" he said brightly. "I use some special ingredients, wild black mushrooms and Damiana."

"Damiana?" asked Jareth, surprised.

"Yes," answered Hoggle. "The leaves help deepen the flavor."

Jareth stroked his chin and grinned. "Yes, of course… Tell me, how are the goblins?"

Hoggle shrugged. "Beats me," he answered. "I ain't seen a one of 'em for a while. They've all gone out of sight. Recoverin,' I guess."

"Well, thank you, Haggis. You've been most helpful," said the Goblin King. He chuckled and walked away.

"What is so funny?" asked Sarah after she had thanked Hoggle and bid him goodbye.

"That silly dwarf and his special ingredients." Jareth laughed out loud.

"I don't get it," Sarah said, putting her hands on her hips.

"He put Damiana in the soup," answered Jareth.

"So?"

"So… don't you know anything about herbs?" asked the Goblin King. "Damiana is an aphrodisiac. Quite powerful, in fact. The goblins are probably screwing like rabbits!" He threw back his head and laughed heartily. Sarah began to laugh as well until an awful realization hit her.

"Jareth!" she cried. "We ate that soup!"


Half an hour later, Sarah found herself crushed between Jareth and her bedroom wall. Her hands tugged at his loose shirt and ran through his hair as he feverishly kissed her.

"Oh god-oh god-oh god-oh god- Yes!" she thought as his mouth burned over hers and his hands slid under her thin t-shirt to touch the bare skin beneath. Jareth's lips left hers for a moment and he stepped back and looked into her eyes.

"Sarah," he said breathlessly. "I don't want you to hate me once the soup wears off. Perhaps we should stop."

Sarah narrowed her emerald eyes at him. "Don't you dare," she hissed as she grabbed him and began backing him toward her bed.

As he fell onto her bed, one last coherent thought crossed the Goblin King's mind.

"The dwarf will definitely be getting a Nobel Prize."


A/N:

Chicken soup is good for the soul and perhaps even for the libido. Yes, Damiana is an actual plant. Its leaves are believed to have "special powers" and though it's not proven to aid in intimate matters Aboveground, who knows what Underground Damiana can do?

For any sharp-eyed sci-fi/fantasy nerds, Jareth's response to Sarah's messy room is directly lifted from Comm. Data in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "In Theory."

I'm not sure how much longer I'll keep this series going as it's steadily descending into ridiculousness. I'll see what I can salvage with the next installment. Till then, please leave comments, critiques, incoherent ramblings, whatever in the nice little box below.

Any guesses as to the musical? Clue: I've used it once already.

Thanks, my Lovelies!

Fanny