Luobö (the grudgeful court-appointed chef) eyed the carcass that had been hauled up onto their workbench with unmitigated annoyance.
"…'Nd dis is fer?" they growled, prodding the thing with the tip of their lance. It squelched unpleasantly and seemed to deflate on the side that had a large tire mark running over it.
"It's a turkey," explained Dîakon, patting the part that still had some feathers.
"Yeah?" graveled Luobö in obvious disbelief. "Where dja get it?"
"Up," replied Îlka, succinctly.
Luobö nodded. "...You wan' it buried?"
"No!" exclaimed Dîakon. "Cooked. S'only a lil flat."
"An' stabbed," Luobö added, eyeing the arrangement of weaponry protruding from the bird.
"We only put dem der while we carried it back," Îlka mumbled, and retrieved a dagger from the bird's side, pulling it out with a sloppy sucking sound and wiping it off on his trousers before re-sheathing it. "It was jus' lyin' there."
"Yeah," Dîakon chimed back in, "but finders keepers."
"...Aye…" Luobö grumbled, insinuating that not all found things should be kept, and poked it again. "But—"
"S'all yours, Maestro," Dîakon interrupted with a satisfied nod and a hard pat on Luobö's back—pointedly ignoring the chef's acidic glower—and reached under his helmet to pull out The List, and with the stub of pencil he'd stashed behind one tufted ear he scribbled through Turkëe with enthusiasm.
As it always does, Christmas Eve descended out of nowhere, becoming a speedy frantic day of wrapping, packing, and baking that left Sarah's apartment a mess of festively patterned paper scraps and discarded clothes.
Her kitchen smelled like spices, sugar, and copious amounts of frosting. Toby's Special Spiced Cookies had cooled on the rack and were finally ready for decorating.
As she expected, involving Jareth was slowing the process considerably.
He'd removed and hung his cape over the back of a chair, and left his gloves on the coffee table, to Sarah's unending distraction. Lounging with effortless regality in the kitchen chair next to hers, he chewed on one of the cookies as he watched her swirl frosting onto a reindeer shape, his boot occasionally grazing the back of her calf until she kicked him away with a playful glare.
"Stop. It," she growled as he finished the cookie, eyes glinting with wicked promise.
A smatter of flour dusted his cheek from where he'd gotten too close to her mixer, and Sarah had decided not to wipe it away.
Some decorated his hair after she'd thrown a handful at him (punishment for daring to mock her baking attire of an old green sweater and pajamas).
"You draw patterns on them to eat?" He leaned in closer as she reloaded the decorating pen with blue icing to adorn the snowflake-shaped sugar cookies.
"Uh-huh," she replied and raised an eyebrow like he was being deliberately uncomprehending.
She froze when he took the icing pen out of her fingers and pulled her hand closer. With effortless artistry he adorned her skin with intricate spirals and circles in frosted blue—swirls and shapes reminiscent of snowflakes, up over the fleshy mound of her thumb, along her fingers to the tips, hypnotizing Sarah with the speed at which the pattern came together.
"Like so?" he asked, gesturing down at his handiwork.
With difficulty, Sarah wrangled an unimpressed look across her face.
"It's supposed to go on the cookie."
"You didn't specify any one surface." He smirked, and the smirk turned into a grin. "Take off that hideous green monstrosity."
"No!" Sarah protested, still holding her hand flat so as not to smudge the beautiful icing decoration.
"Yes! Do as you're told," Jareth chuckled, reaching for the hem. She batted his hand back, protesting through hysterical giggles as he stood and sat down again straddling her lap.
"Get off!" she sputtered and attempted to use her confectioned fingers to ward him back.
He caught her wrist, and with the flat of his tongue licked from the base of her index finger to the tip, before sucking it into his mouth. Sharp teeth squeezed gently as he pulled back, taking the frosting off without breaking away from Sarah's gaze, all too heavy-lidded and readable.
He released her hand and pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head to the side. She held her breath, shivering in anticipation as he brushed her hair off her shoulder.
"Stay still," he purred and Sarah felt the coolness of the icing over her neck, little prickles of what she suspected were intricate snowflakes being drawn over her skin from the slope of her shoulder up to her ear. She rested her un-frosted hand on his thigh, and the muscle beneath tensed encouragingly under her touch. He leaned back, and Sarah held her breath as he surveyed his handiwork—
—and promptly destroyed it with a long, slow lick from jugular to lobe, leaving open-mouthed kisses over her skin. His kiss became a bite as he nuzzled deeper, and she jerked her head back.
"I have Christmas with my family tomorrow, don't you dare leave a mark," she admonished, poking him in the chest. He grinned at her and sank his lips over hers. Without thinking Sarah cupped his face, leaving frosting smears across his jawline, but he only pushed forward more, hungry for her and growing ravenous—
The phone trilled from the living room and Sarah made to pull back, blocking Jareth with a hand over his heart so she could pull away.
"Hold that thought," she hummed and motioned him up off her legs. He obliged with an impatient glare, and Sarah grabbed a cloth to wipe off the remains of the frosting from her fingertips before dashing for the phone.
"Hello?" she answered and was promptly bombarded with the voice of her stepmother.
"Oh! Sarah, have you seen the news?!" Karen blurted out, sounding panicked.
"What—no, uh… hang on," Sarah rooted in the sofa cushions for the remote and flicked on the TV.
"Channel eight," her stepmother instructed and Sarah scrolled quickly through the channels landing on a news program.
"...Record-breaking snowfall. The National Weather Service has issued a Severe Weather Warning. All residents and nonessential personnel are being advised to keep off the roads and stay indoors…" intoned a weatherman, standing in front of a map of the city that was nothing but a giant white swirl indicating the storm above.
"Oh," Sarah gasped, her eyes snapping to the windows and realizing the gentle snowfall that had been fluttering down for the past few days had become a white impenetrable wall. "Guess I'm stuck," she mumbled through the shock.
"Sweetheart, are you going to be alright?" trilled Karen, a tightness in her voice indicating she was near sick with worry. "You have food? You're warm? You're safe?"
"Yes, I'll…" Sarah's heart sank, the looming prospect of being alone for Christmas freezing her heart more effectively than the snow was freezing the roads. "I'll be fine… I'll… uh… g-give Toby a big hug from me, okay?" she stuttered, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. She rushed through a conversation with her father, yes she really would be fine, no she promised she wouldn't drive anywhere, yes she'd phone in the morning and rang off before the tears could spill, heaving a deep sigh.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
"What's wrong?"
Sarah jumped, having not heard Jareth walking in behind her.
"Fuck, I'm going to have to get you a bell," she huffed, hurriedly wiping the tears away from her cheeks. "Roads are closed, can't go home tomorrow," she explained quickly, turning the phone in her hands.
"I see..." Jareth nodded. The flour and frosting had been either wiped or magicked away and he looked solemn with concern, sympathy being an unusual expression on his usually haughty face. "I'm sorry."
"Oh!" Sarah's eyes darted up to his suddenly. "Can you fix it? If I wish it you can… you can—?" She let the question hang.
Jareth's face fell.
"No, Sarah," he replied, shaking his head. "I have no power over you." His lips tightened as though he regretted repeating the words, hurt momentarily darkening his eyes.
"But…" Sarah gestured to the hallway mirror, "-the mirror and the Underground—"
"I make you a door," he interrupted, trying to prevent her from getting her hopes up. "You're the one that walks through it."
"So make another door!" she implored.
"This is your kingdom, not mine. I cannot move you through it."
Sarah swallowed down the bitter taste of heartbreak and dropped her eyes to the phone in her hands.
"Fuck," she muttered and pinched her eyes shut.
"Forgive me," he said and sounded so genuinely remorseful that she shook her head hard to try to force a show of indifference that felt cobweb thin.
"It just sucks," she whispered, sniffing down the last traces of tears. "I've never been alone at Christmas."
The bark of laughter startled her, and her brow knitted at the look on Jareth's face. Adoration mixed with disbelief.
"Precious," he said, smiling wide before reaching to her neck and tugging out the medallion she still wore, tucked into her sweater. "What on Earth makes you think you'll be alone?"
