Of Pineapples and Kings

Come closer to the fire, my sweets and let ol' Cassie tell you a story that will send a shiver down your spine. Beware, my little ones! For this tale of shadows has awakened fear in the stoutest heart and has made grown men cower beneath their ...oh who the hell am I kidding? I can't write horror; I can only write crotch-rich stories that border on crackfic (crotch-crack, if you will). So here it is-sickly-sweet Halloween crotch-crack. Really, you'll have to floss after you finish it.

Many thanks, as always, to my exceptional friend jigglypuffsvevo for exorcising the evil out of this story, with an extra helping of gratitude for naming this beastie. You should have seen it BEFORE she read it *shudders*

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story is mine. In fact, all the bits you like probably belong to someone with a really scary lawyer.
--
"Explain to me," said Jareth, reaching rather indolently for the last cinnamon cookie, "what it is that you do on Halloween."

"Hey! That one's mine!" Sarah yelled indignantly.

She tried to slap his hand away but he was far too quick. She had learned over the past three months that you really couldn't slap Jareth unless he allowed it. The fact that he allowed it more often than not led Sarah to believe that either: a) he wanted her to touch him and wasn't particularly fussy as to how she went about it; or b) the King of the Goblins harbored some not-so-closet masochistic fantasies. Sarah leaned toward the latter explanation. In fact, she had started a mental list entitled 'Evidence that Jareth is an S&M fiend' where she dutifully added 'enjoys being slapped' alongside 'is overly fond of leather', 'owns a riding crop but not a horse', and 'wears constrictive pants that may be hazardous to his health and fertility'.

Sarah took a quick look his hazardous pants-for the purposes of research, of course-and then looked back up at the King.

"You know, a gentleman would have left me the last cookie, particularly when he knew that it was my favorite kind," she said reproachfully.

Jareth nodded agreeably. "He probably would have, the pitiful cookie-less sod."

Sarah shook her head in a rather exaggerated fashion and sighed tragically. "I guess it's a sure sign that chivalry is dead when a King won't give a girl a cookie." She tried to look heartbroken.

Jareth wasn't buying it. He raised one wickedly arched eyebrow. "Precious, I do believe that the woman who defeated my Labyrinth, broke my ballroom, ravaged the Goblin city, and...what is that term you mortals are so fond of? Oh yes...bitchslapped my army can fend for herself. If she wanted the cookie, she would have taken it."

"That's probably true," Sarah conceded, pleased.

"And if we are going to talk about chivalry, do remember that I have created portals between our worlds, reordered time, and even...lord help me...jump-started your car on occasions. And I did it all for you."

"You have a point," Sarah conceded. "Though, that means..."

Jareth held up his hand for silence.

"But let me be clear on this matter; although I have been very generous up to now when it comes to satisfying your whims, this tasty morsel is mine." He emphasized his remark by sticking out his tongue and slowly licking the back of the cookie.

Sarah watched the cookie-licking in shock. "I can't believe you did that! Toby used to do that! How old are you? Three?"

Jareth positively reveled in Sarah's horror. "It's the way that the goblins mark their territory. Though, it tends to get hazardous when the object that they are marking is particularly sharp or on fire."

Sarah shuddered delicately. "You really have been hanging out with them too long." She shook her head at the grinning King. "Well, you win; I certainly don't want it now."