Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I checked again. I lament to say Labyrinth is still not mine.

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Sarah hadn't thought much of muffled crashes in the wee hours of the morning. Any other day, she might have grabbed the closest blunt object and whaled on an unsuspecting burglar, but this was Christmas morning, and even burglars got a pass. Her little brother was the more likely culprit, however. Toby always loved getting up early, typically between four and five, to paw through his stocking and shake his off-limits wrapped presents before the 'old' folks so much as rolled over.

Therefore, it came as something of a surprise when Sarah toddled blearily into the family room to stop the kid from prematurely ripping into his presents and found her arch enemy bound and gagged underneath the tree, instead.

The Christmas lights flickered along merrily, in spite of the Goblin King's incongruous presence. It was not so striking an image as Sarah would have imagined it to be: the villain from her adolescence tied to a kitchen chair. This was largely because decorations and wrapping paper had been appropriated to create a patchwork of festivity over odd sections of the man's hair and clothing. He had also managed to fall asleep, and in repose lacked some of the intimidating air Sarah remembered. The goblins, as Sarah discovered by the tag attached to a forelock of the King's hair, were the benefactors behind this catastrophe in the making. They had even managed to plop a big, shiny bow on his ignoble head.

Oh. Not technically gagged, after all, the young woman noted, once the initial shock wore off.

She inched closer to make out the writing on his duct taped mouth.

"Careful: Bitey." Sarah read, doubtfully.

She lingered, bemused, for a few moments before turning to the kitchen.

Sarah soon returned, and a dazzling flash lit up the room. An instant later the newly developing film popped out with a mechanical whir.

Sarah's gift snapped awake to deliver a baleful glare as he tried and failed to talk in spite of the duct tape.

Ah, problem, her freshly awake brain pointed out.

If she wanted her holiday set to rights and goblin-free, Sarah would have to talk to the man. As it happened, Sarah did not particularly want to talk to him and would have been quite content to turn heel, crawl back into bed, and forget about the weirdness that would undoubtedly ensue. The only thing that stopped her was the prospect of the rest of her family members finding a festive, otherworldly king under the tree just as she did. Their reactions would probably lean toward police and a headache of explanation. Chaotic weirdness it was, then.

Sarah stepped closer and ripped the tape away, hopping back to a safe no-bitey-possible distance. To the king's credit, his yelp of pain was short and utterly dignified.

"Good to see you haven't lost your gentle touch," Jareth complained with no small amount of derision, "Now, release me."

Mistake numero uno: removing the tape. Well, if he's going to be like that...

"What's the magic word?" Sarah sing-songed.

"Immediately."

"Mmmm. So close."

Sarah made a show of scrutinizing the king. "I like your bow, by the way. It really adds panache to the whole-" she gestured at him vaguely with the hand still holding the camera. "Now, turn a little to your left. I want to get a good one."

The snarl he gifted her with instead made up for his lack of cooperation. These are already priceless.

Flash.

"Wanna see? So far, this one's my favorite."

Sarah plucked one of her growing collection to wave in front of the Goblin King's face. The chair creaked with the rigid man astride it, and for a moment, Sarah worried about the structural integrity of the antique.

"Destroy it."

"Nah. After all these years, it's nice to know that I wasn't just a delusional teenager. I want to be able to relish this moment forever."

Flash.

"Stop that!"

He rocked forward against his bonds and succeeded in tipping the chair forward enough to fall over with a loud thud.

"What the hell!?" Sarah whispered in a voice bordering on shrill. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? That just makes me want to help you so much more."

Jareth appeared momentarily stunned by the impact as he collected his wits and rolled himself and the chair over on their side.

"Perhaps. The other members of your family might be kind enough to actually free me from this bondage."

"Oh, come on. Quit being so dramatic."

But his position marked a new and exciting angle in the Worst Present in the History of Forever Chronicle, and Sarah responded appropriately. Another flash was accompanied by a strangled roar from the lump on the floor.

"Did you seriously just growl at me? You do know that I might be more apt to help you, if you were a bit nicer and quieter, right?"

The ugly snarl fell away as his expression blanked and reformed completely.

"Come now, Precious, these cuffs are chaffing."

From anyone else, it would have been a whine. But the Goblin King had somehow managed to turn pathetic whining into sultry cajoling. And then he had the nerve to peek up at her from under his lashes.

"Please," he added.

I didn't mean puppy dog eyes. Especially not steamy puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," she sighed.

"We need to get you out of here before anyone else wakes up," she reasoned, partially to make herself feel better about relenting so easily, "Why did the goblins think this was a good idea, in the first place?"

"I've long since ceased to try fathoming goblin logic."

Sarah walked around to peer at his bonds. There was another note from her misguided benefactors warning, 'Careful: Frisky', but it was what the note was attached to that made her heart plummet somewhere down to the vicinity of her pancreas.

Great.

"These are handcuffs."

"Really? I had no idea," he deadpanned.

"Well, how am I supposed to undo you?"

"With a key, naturally."

His lofty tone did little to improve her mood.

"But there's not a lock or anything! Where did they even get handcuffs?"

"They're mine," Jareth groused.

She couldn't tell if he was more offended that his own tools had been used against him, or that it was, suddenly industrious, goblins of all creatures that had managed to do so.

"You have four pairs of lockless... You know what? I don't want to know."

"Ah, well, these are not the sets I generally use for entertaining," Jareth quipped.

Sarah chose to employ her excellent selective hearing and deleted that last comment before it reached the higher processing centers of her brain. That's what she told herself, at least. Several times. She ultimately chose to focus on the insurmountable task at hand.

"Can't you just magic them off?" It was the obvious sort of question that couldn't help but be asked. Like when someone called an appliance helpline and they asked if the non-functioning television or washing machine or blender was actually plugged in. Because every so often, it wasn't.

"Amazing! Now, why did I not think of that sooner! Why, we could have avoided this pleasant interlude altogether!" His grin was blithe and gratingly fake.

The sarcasm is strong with this one. So, he can't, for some reason.

"That's not helpful." Sarah stood and brushed the imaginary dust from her knees as she began to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

If her ears weren't completely faulty, Sarah might suspect that the Goblin King sounded worried. As amusing as leaving him to his fate could be, she was not an actively cruel person. That and she really, really didn't want to have a conversation with her dad about the guy tied to a chair in the living room.

"To get some WD-40."

"I beg your pardon?" Perceived offense was evident in his tone.

"Grease, Goblin King. I'm going to try to slip your hands out."

"You intend to sully my gloves with this Aboveground concoction? You most certainly will not."

"We could always just try breaking your hands instead," the woman called back cheerfully as she secured the combination squeaky hinge fixer, toilet bowl cleaner, and hopefully, handcuff-removing formula.

Tentative solution in hand, Sarah got him to consent to removal of the gloves instead. Working the leather off had been the opposite of easy, and became markedly more difficult once she noticed how nice his hands were. And if Sarah's touch lingered for longer than was strictly necessary in pulling the things off, Jareth at least had the grace not to comment on it. Yet, anyway.

She was holding out hope that if she could get at least one limb free, he could take over responsibility for the other three.

Of course, where the Goblin King was concerned, nothing was ever simple.

"Agh!" It was another in the latest series of near-shouts. The fact that no one had come to investigate yet was faintly astounding.

"My arm is numb!"

"Suck it up. We're over halfway there."

"At least sit me up-right."

"You're heavy, I'm tired, and really, you brought this on yourself."

Progress was agonizingly slow, but her solution seemed to be working. She just needed his thumb to go in a bit more.

"What are you doing!? It doesn't go that way!"

"But if I just squeeze it a little bit more, maybe..."

"Aagh! Sarah!" Jareth moaned in pain. But to the casual observer-

"Sarah, whatever it is you choose to do behind closed doors is your own business, but I'd appreciate it if you would choose a more traditional approach to introducing your boyfriend to the family."

Sarah froze, knelt over a strange man in the near-dark, as her stepmother made her presence known. The young woman knew what this looked like.

"He's not- We weren't!"

This so isn't happening. Please, let me be dreaming.

"Sarah," Karen said in that sharp tone that made her feel like a teenager all over again. "I was young, once. I know what's going on here."

"You really, really don't-"

But her step-mother cut her off, wanting to hear nothing other than the conclusion she had already come to.

"I'm going to start breakfast and wake the others. I expect you both to be presentable and ready to hand out presents in five minutes."

And with that, she left the pair alone. Sarah collapsed to the floor, her undertaking no longer seeming so urgent any longer.

"Well, that could not have gone more swimmingly, if I do say so myself."

"You heard her coming, didn't you? You did that whole moaning thing on purpose." she accused.

"Sarah, Sarah, whyever would I aim to embarrass you in front of your family?"

But Sarah's mind had already jumped to its next frantic thought.

"Oh, dear God. She's going to have you stay for presents and breakfast." And painful, untrue explanations.

"Excellent," Jareth affirmed, "then we shan't be needing these any longer."

The cuffs, all four sets, fell away with a clink before vanishing completely. Jareth stood before her, sprightly, even in his suddenly subdued, but pristine-Aboveground-appropriate, attire.

"Now, let's start sorting the gifts, shall we?"

Sarah's unflattering Polaroids would circulate the whole of the Labyrinth and beyond by the end of the day, she would make sure of it.

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A/N: Holy bajeebers, I actually finished something. (More or less. There's a quick doodle that goes with it that I haven't finished. I'll put it up as the story cover with a larger version on Tumblr, once I do.)

I'm trying to get back in the swing of actually writing, so here's this less than fantastic little holiday thing inspired by a Tumblr post about waking up and finding your favorite fictional character under the Christmas tree. The idea amused me. I took some liberties. Yes, it's open ended. I'm hard-pressed to write a one-shot that isn't. That's not to say that I'll never add a follow-up, but at the rate I tend to get things written, I'd say it might be up next Christmas, if it happens ever, at all.

And finally, the title for this is based on/corrupted from the saying, "Many Happy Returns." Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Chapter Text

"No, not the reindeer paper. It detracts," Jareth dictated whilst arranging the electric blue bow on top of his head.

"Well, now that's not very festive, now is it?" The goblins gave to raucous laughter as their king magicked the bow into a much more occasion-appropriate bright red.

Jareth summoned a chair from the kitchen. It was no throne, but it would suffice in this.

"Who has the manacles?"

"Me, majesty!" A small goblin waved frantically.

"Bring them, Shrump."

The creature rushed forward and Operation: Christmas Kingy Surprise began in earnest.

Jareth manifested a crystal to dispel the bindings at his will, placing it carefully- accessible but out of sight. Then he allowed himself to be tethered to the chair, relaxing as his subjects set about their patchwork method of decorating his person.

The telltale chink and sound of rolling glass told the king that his oblivious subjects had dislodged his get-out-of-jail-free card and sent it careening.

Hearing the tape being pulled free of its spool, and thus initiating the final phase of his decoration, the king set to issue his final commands.

"Retrieve the crystal and leave it within reach of mmmph mfhhg mmmrrgg!"

"Okay, boss," The closest goblin tipped his cheese grater hat before the whole lot of them vanished back to the Labyrinth.

The crystal had rolled halfway across the room, far out of reach unless he managed to tip the chair and inch his way there, which was not an indignity he was willing to suffer. Yet.

Bound and tethered by magic dampening handcuffs, the Goblin King found himself left to Sarah's tender mercies.

And he suddenly realized that he really needed to use the facilities.

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A/N: A short scene that didn't fit into the story proper. (I apparently wrote it last year and nixed it.)

Chapter Text

Sarah opened the box in her lap and immediately slammed the lid back down, her face aflame. Jareth caught sight of what she was trying to hide, his mouth tilting up into a smirk.

Of course it had been the present from him. He conjured them as soon as Karen had stepped out of the room earlier. Her parents' and Toby's presents from the Goblin King had been completely innocuous. Hers, however…

"What did you get, Sarah?" Her dad asked. "Hold it up for the camcorder!"

There was no way in hell that was going to happen.

"It was a cops and robbers game," said Toby, knowledgeably.

She could feel the blush working its way across her face. That was it. Sarah officially wanted to crawl into an oubliette and never be seen or heard from again.

Her stepmother seemed to get the gist faster than her father, providing misdirection Sarah was thankful for.

"Now, Toby! How about you open up that big red present over there?"

No longer the center of attention, Sarah turned back to the bane of her Christmas morning.

Jareth smiled beatifically, curling a lock of her hair around his pointer finger. The woman leaned back into the king, her own smile rather more strained.

"The next time we're alone, I'm going to strangle you," she whispered, cheerfully.

"I would expect nothing less, Precious." He winked. And then he continued, louder, "My darling, you shouldn't have!"

Sarah was confused for an instant, until Jareth pulled out a present supposedly from her. She hoped it was something useless, like a Santa hat. But from what little she knew of the king, it would probably be something extravagant and glittery.

But ten seconds later, lo and behold, the king indeed revealed a Santa hat, though it was much nicer and more luxurious than she had imagined. Albeit no less glittery.

Jareth eyed her knowingly, and Sarah snapped her mouth shut, incredulous. Christmas morning with her folks was not the time to be making inquiries into the extent of the Goblin King's powers, and if those powers extended into telepathy. If they did- well, Sarah Williams was in trouble.

Jareth fitted the thing on his head.

To Sarah's disappointment he did not look quite as ridiculous as she had hoped. Of course he looked incongruous with her family in comparison, but it worked for him. And that was totally not fair. And on that note-

"I'm gonna run these presents upstairs. Be back in a sec," Sarah said. She spied him as she left, preening for her family.

The young woman fumed as she all but stomped up the stairs. Jareth had insinuated himself into her family traditions, ingratiating himself to her family. Forget spreading pictures of the Goblin King's shame. This was war. And she was losing. She was going to kill the Goblin King; it was the only reasonable solution.

But for all her bluster, the stupid, pretty box with the stupid, pretty, red bow sat at the top of the pile presents she left in her room.

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"So, Sarah, how was that charity ball at work last week?" Karen asked once they were all seated and served around the breakfast table.

"Fine," Sarah replied, as she jabbed at her sausage with more force than intended.

The woman's next question was directed at Sarah's faux beau.

For his part, Jareth was loving every minute of the attention, concocting the story of how they met. The young woman found that she could not even call him out on it because he kept injecting kernels of truth.

She faintly realized that she was massacring her breakfast more than eating it. Unfortunately, she was not the only one to take note.

"Sarah, what did that pancake ever do to you?" Robert asked.

She wasn't sure why but that was the straw that made the sleep-deprived, twenty-something crack. Sarah shoved her chair back and stormed off, undoubtedly channeling the dramatics of her fifteen-year-old self.

She had successfully huddled up in her long cold bed and was screaming into her pillow when Jareth found her some minutes later.

She took one look at him standing in her doorway, arms akimbo, still wearing the stupid festive hat, and buried her face back into her pillow and screamed louder.

"Are you quite finished, now, Precious?"

"Are you gone yet, 'cause if you're not, the answer is 'no,'" she mumbled.

"Now, now, your lovely stepmother graciously extended an invitation for me to stay the week."

Sarah had missed that part of the conversation.

"To leave now would be ungracious, and with the predicted record snowfall, well-"

She lifted her face to glare at him. "What predicted record snowfall?"

Sarah turned to the window, and on cue, fat white flakes began to drift down. Of course. They really needed to have a talk about those powers of his; however, such a talk was derailed when her sight was drawn to the presents at the end of her bed.

"And I can't believe you gave me that," she pointed to the discarded box at the top, "in front of my parents." Sarah threw her head back against the headboard, mortified.

The king retrieved the box from where Sarah had slung it earlier. Opening it, he withdrew a set of golden manacles.

"Mmm, they already knew what we were up to." Jareth grinned, flashing sharp teeth.

Before Sarah could respond with an appropriately scathing retort, she heard her father calling her from downstairs.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Sarah shouted.

"Gran called. We don't want her driving in the snow by herself, so we're going to get her. Can you pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven in five?"

Jareth must have made up some sort of story, as there was no comment on her mercurial mood.

"Sure thing." She agreed.

"Your aunt an uncle will be here by eleven, if we're not back by then."

"Kay."

"And you two behave!" She heard her step-mother throw in.

A moment later the garage door shut behind them and Sarah was left alone with a man who was rapidly becoming her archenemy.

---

She dodged the king and set up shop in the kitchen. The last thing she needed was to forget about the confections and end up with a house full of smoke.

Jareth poofed into existence three feet away.

"Holy! Can you not do that? Please?" Sarah exclaimed, clutching her chest.

The king shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

She stared at him an instant more before deciding that debate just wasn't worth the effort. She would need coffee if she was going to survive the day, much less the week, in his presence. Getting rid of him at this point was unlikely at best.

He took a seat in one of the dining room chairs. Of course, he did not sit the normal way around; instead, he straddled the back, jangling the handcuffs-that-she-endeavored-to-pretend-didn't-exist enticingly. She did quite well at ignoring him for the time it took to start the coffee maker. That is, until he started talking.

"Now, about that game of 'cops and robbers,'" Jareth started, "I'll be the dashing officer, and you can be my vigilante queen."

Unable to handle a moment more of his taunting, Sarah lunged forward, intent on grabbing the dangling cuffs and throwing them out. Succeeding in grasping the metal, she only glimpsed the novel look of shock on Jareth's face as the kitchen was consumed in a shower of golden, sparkling glitter that disappeared as it hit the ground.

When the magic cleared, Jareth's shock turned to smug glee.

"Oh, dear. I do not believe this was the correct set for entertaining, either."

He leaned back in a stretch causing Sarah to tumble forward and crash into him and the chair.

"What the hell?!"

The chain was gone, but a gold band rested on Sarah's left wrist; its mate was on Jareth's right.

Comprehension dawned.

"Oh, no, please, no. Tell me that you did not-" She could not finish the thought out loud- She was chained, literally, to the Goblin King. The idea was not worth bearing.

Sarah's mind was racing with possibilities that were embarrassing and horrific in equal measure.

"I am not taking a shower with you," she blurted.

"It's rather telling, my dear, that your mind immediately tries to envision such scenarios. For all your complaints against me, I think the lady doth protest too much."

"Or maybe I don't want a stranger to see me naked, even if he is a hot-" Sarah threw her hands over her mouth. "Eep!"

"The situation is not necessarily as you perceive it."

"Well maybe you could do some explaining on why you slapped magic handcuff on the both of us!" She shouted.

"I did no such thing," Jareth sniffed dismissively. "You accepted the present of your own volition."

Sarah paled. How could she have been so foolish? She had just wanted him to stop being a smarmy ass and taunting her with his apparent bondage fetish.

She walked toward her own chair, or rather, she tried. A tug at her wrist reminded her of her current limitations, and she let loose a strangled scream of frustration.

"Get up and come over here, I want to sit down," she demanded, rubbing her forehead with her free hand.

"My darling girl, I never thought you would be so forward."

"Shut up, Jareth."

He surprisingly obliged, dragging his own chair along. For that Sarah was ever so slightly thankful as she plunked down gracelessly.

"So, lay it out for me, Goblin King. Am I doomed to forever be stuck within three feet of you?"

"'Doomed' is such a pessimistic way to put it. I thought you were the eternal optimist."

"Optimism went out the window when someone woke me up at four o'clock this morning. Now, you, handcuffs, fix it."

"I don't know how." The king shrugged, projecting an unconcerned air being indefinitely stuck together.

"Excuse me?" If he didn't know- He had to know! A King that could reorder time and call up localized blizzards at a whim should be able to fix things like this, no problem!

"I had no idea what would be in that box. The magic was based on your dreams, after all. Not to say that I'm not pleased-"

"If you say this was my fault, so help me-" Sarah let the threat hang. Partially for effect, and partially because she had no real means to threaten the imperious eldritch creature that had taken over her Christmas and somehow accidentally-but-probably-on-purpose chained them together.

"Now, now. Magic is fickle." He made a show of contemplating her, "Though, one could say that you brought this on yourself."

He would turn her words from earlier around on her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Come now, Precious." Jareth jangled the invisible chain that bound them together. "If we cannot find a way to remove them, it's only forever."

Sarah had the unsettling feeling that no amount of WD-40 would get her out of this mess.