AN: I don't know what this will be to be honest. A short Hallmark-esque movie fic with glitter and smut? It was born of a LFFL discussion on FB. I couldn't resist tackling the ad for a boyfriend trope. Expect lots of (hopefully fun) tropes actually. It's going to be on the lighter side, but I can't promise Jareth isn't going to fall into his usual deliciously ambiguous ways… in fact bank on that.

"If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree."

Ernest Hemingway

Boyfriend Wanted.

Sarah canted her head at the screen, chewing the end of the pen she was inexplicably still holding despite typing on her computer.

She frowned and hit backspace. Companion Wanted. Better. She could explain her particular needs later but she didn't want the ad mistaken for a personal. Keep your kinks to yourself, dudes.

She didn't even want an actual boyfriend. She didn't need a boyfriend. She needed someone to pretend to be one so she could survive Christmas with her liver intact.

After chewing some more on the now dented plastic, she inserted Male as a preface. She wasn't adverse to a girlfriend per se, but inadvertently "coming out" to her parents would only bring more scrutiny, not less.

Definitely had to be generic. Someone generic. A ken doll in the flesh. Average height, average looks, decent job, and benign borderline-boring interests. Like… baseball and Civil War history. Something so forgettable and "normal" he'd be forgotten by New Year's if needed. Nothing offensive and nothing that made Karen begin buying wedding mags. A solid B boyfriend.

Sarah replaced the pen with a coffee mug and then grimaced. It was already cold.

It really shouldn't be so hard to create an ad for a fake boyfriend for Christmas. How was there not a dedicated service already available? It was 1999 for God's sake.

She mentally tallied her list of male friends and acquaintances again, double checking that she didn't already have a serviceable tool in her arsenal. Most had to be written off as already married, already divorced with too much baggage, gay and taken, or so close a friend that she couldn't easily get rid of them.

There was always Brett from the office, but he would absolutely consider it carte blanche to make the move he'd been so obviously dying to make since she'd started working for the same PR firm. That was a box of bleached blonde tips she did not want to open.

A discreet ad with a paid contract was the superior way. She would be an employer. Strictly business.

It wasn't that she couldn't get a boyfriend, far from it, it was that she couldn't be bothered to deal with a significant other while she really focused on her career. She'd had plenty of dates and satisfying (and not so satisfying) trysts between the sheets when the interest struck, but nothing she could have brought home to her parents for over two years. Nothing that wouldn't get complicated when she wanted to go back to her heavily compartmentalized life in the New Year.

She glanced at the Christmas card from her parents.

"Hope you're bringing someone special home for the holidays. I've hung up extra mistletoe". Sarah scowled at Karen's elegant scrawl. Another variation of 'you should be dating at your age'. Beneath that her father had added in his lawyer-like chicken scratch, 'I keep tearing them down. Keep it PG! Lol.' Toby must have taught them that. Brat. She could imagine their gleeful faces as they wrote the card together.

It wasn't that they meant to badger her. It was that they assumed she needed someone to be happy. Or rather that she needed the same person. Everyday. They were just products of their generation. 2.5 kids and a picket fence. They were happy to brag about her successful career and point out her more popular campaigns, but they also wanted to show wedding pictures. Her dad wanted to make a slightly inebriated speech about being her first love and handing the reigns over, but add a warning about polishing his .22 or something 'fatherly' like that. As though the New England Yale alum had ever held anything other than a starting pistol. Having realized that Toby was firmly a teenager, Karen wanted to buy baby clothes again. She could get in some cuddles without the night feedings or diapers or colic. Toby was thirteen so he was safe for at least a decade or more. Twenty eight, almost twenty nine, year old Sarah was therefore firmly in her crosshairs.

If Sarah didn't want to be set up with half a dozen 'eligible' sons and nephews from Karen's social circle over the yuletide, she'd best bring her own proverbial beard home. Karen meant well, they'd become friends over the years, but she was still an old school matriarch intent on getting what she wanted. Sarah shuddered, remembering Jordan and his 'come and see my brand new Camaro' from their summer anniversary party.

Payment in cash. Price negotiable. Serious inquiries only.

She added, acting or relationship skills a bonus. Minor physical contact only. She highlighted and underlined only.

Age 30-45 preferred. Nothing too young, nothing too old to make Karen really push for the baby-making. Food and travel expenses covered. Includes Christmas dinner, presents, and copious amounts of alcohol. She added a few more details requesting business casual dress and a police records check if available.

She mulled the whole thing over twice and then posted to Craigslist with an email she'd created just for the responses: Peachchampion at Hotmail dot com.

If she played this right she figured she could buy at least another year of peace before 'things just didn't work out. We wanted different things.' Insert fake sob. 'I need some time to process.'

Sarah powered down her computer and stretched, feeling the sudden inexplicable optimism that 1999 was going to be the best Christmas yet, like a wish she knew would be fulfilled. Even the threat of Y2K couldn't dampen her spirits. The internet was a fabulous thing. Hell, maybe she would use her business acumen and PR skills to start a fake dating service online. God bless the internet and savvy independent women.

"Merry Christmas!" she toasted her cat, and then remembered with another grimace the coffee was still cold.

Bless 'the internet' indeed, thought the Goblin King, lounging back in his apartments with a half-smile.

He felt it the moment the thought had left her head. Not all wishes needed to be spoken aloud to be heard.

It was enough. Probably a very faint shade of grey, but come Christmastide the vale was ever so deliciously thin and maleable. If he squinted sideways and held his breath it would probably pass muster. Not like he'd ever followed the rules anyway.

Snapping his fingers, a brand new state of the art something called an apple ibook appeared. The dark blue colour naturally. It looked nothing like an apple, Jareth thought frowning, but it would suffice. He logged into Craigslist, eyes only widening once or twice at what services people wanted… or worse, were offering.

Male companion wanted.

His lips twisted. Peachchampion. They formed a wide grin.

He tapped his sharp teeth thoughtfully. He was nothing if not a master strategist, thirteen years ago being the only let's-not-talk-about-it aberration. Answering it outright would prove futile. He'd be denied. Untrusted. Dismissed. He scanned the other ads. Half of them were frowned upon even in the underground. He could only imagine what kind of 'males' lurked about.

Dangerous kinds no doubt. Those with ill intentions. Not that his were particularly moral. No, leaving her ad up wouldn't do. He was really doing her a favour. A flick and it vanished.

But she had to get some answers or she'd try again. She was nothing if not persistant, that one. He had to place some pawns on the board first before making his move.

Hearing the distant din of Goblins squabbling, his plan fully formed. A few tweaks here and there. He wasn't used to playing the knight in shining armour but he was nothing if not inventive.

His hands flew over the keyboard sending reply after reply from various accounts. A Bob here. A Chad there. A David for good measure. He called for a handful of his rowdiest minions. They were without doubt the ugliest goblins ever spawned, but it was nothing a little magic couldn't cover.

And then he'd wait.

Wait before he sent his answer. The final reply she'd receive.

Wait until she really had no choice but to accept. For good measure he began spamming one Karen Williams' inbox with just the most sickeningly sweet baby flyers he'd ever seen. Enough to make him nauseous. That ought to up the stakes.

…Alright. So perhaps not quite a knight in shining armour after all.

But better the devil you know, Sarah.

Better the devil you know.

AN: Credit to Lynsey Allan (telcontarian) on FB for the idea and some spit-balling ideas from some of the other hilarious members. Several of the LFFLers are now doing a group fic on the same plot. It should be a hoot and will be posted once finished no doubt!

I have another idea for a much more "serious" Christmas fic based on the traditions of Soul Cakes. Probably set in Ireland. Not sure if I'll get to it as well, but hopefully. And hopefully another chapter of Tanglewood before the year's end. Let the festivities begin!