Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas and the specific ways in which the words hereafter have come to sit side by side.

This is a story in which one, Sarah Williams, wishes herself away to rekindle a romance with a certain someone, King Jareth, who would prefer it if she would kindly take her kindling somewhere else, and start a fire there.

Extended summary: What If, like most teenage girls, the lesson the Labyrinth had to teach Sarah didn't make it past her fantasy infused skull and instead she instantly focused on the hot guy she'd seen while she was meant to be becoming a better person? She may not be any smarter than before, but she sure is more determined. Trouble is Jareth is putting up a better fight than he did the first go around too.

Warning: Probably some OOC-ness out of Sarah.

Ch1

So, is that a No?

Sarah was surprised to find herself standing in a deserted hallway. Not that she'd never been in a deserted hallway before, or was unaware that it was a state hallways often assumed, especially late at night, she was just a smidgen surprised to find herself in this deserted hallway in particular.

Sarah knew exactly where she was, that wasn't the problem. She'd run through this hallway on her first visit to the Underground. She even knew the throne room was just a skip and a hop ahead of her. It was just that it was disorienting to not be standing in this hallway one second, and the next moment to be trying very hard to keep her balance so as not to fall through the gaping hole in the wall some might call a window. After all, when one wishes oneself away to the Goblin Kingdom to be with the Goblin King, one never really knows where one will end up, does one? And this hallway is a perfectly plausible option for said someone to turn up.

So, now oriented, Sarah crept forward hesitantly, staying securely away from the wall with the overcompensating windows and peaked into the throne room. Jareth was lounging lazily in his throne and looked rather like an unusually handsome, human shaped sack of flour being carried in the arms of a stone baker, who happened to be all torso and no head. She moved to stand in front of the throne, mind occupied trying to decide what could suitably pass for the oven in this metaphor, when his head turned to look at her.

With an 'eep' she jumped back and gazed wide eyed as he swung his legs down and leaned towards her in more menacing a way than any other man with his petite girth could hope to pull off.

"Sarah? Why are you here?" he asked in a rather more accusatory tone then she appreciated.

It was then that she realized she hadn't thought of what to say to him. 'I realized we were meant to be… that I made a mistake… I change my mind… redo?'

What came out of her mouth instead was a gurgled word. It was meant to have other words around it, but it was in such a hurry (like most things nowadays) to fill the silence that it left the rest of its comrades behind. "…slave…" Was all she could force out.

Sarah blushed in a manner she'd been told was rather like a turnip, with reddish purple blotches appearing on her pasty cheeks. She'd come to appreciate the unusual color when she discovered it would distract the viewer from the fact that it indicated that she was in an extreme state of agitation, which in and of itself was an embarrassing thing to broadcast to a complete stranger.

Jareth, unfortunately, was not so easily distracted by the odd colors of nature occurring right before his eyes and his mind stayed precisely on the matter at hand. His baffled expression changed to one of disbelief and understanding. He smirked at her, eyes amused and mocking.

"Don't tell me you believed what I said? Be your slave? Not likely." He chuckled throatily and leaned back.

Sarah's cheek color deepened to that of ripe berries, a phase immediately trailing the initial turnip stage. This was about when the viewer usually remembered what a blush was a signifier of and it either resulted in a conversational change of subject or further prodding.

"B-but… you said," she stuttered.

He waved his hand dismissively, his head resting on a propped up arm. "Fear me, love me and I will be your slave? It's the same spiel for every thirteen to… forty year old female that comes through here."

Sarah was shocked, of all the ways she'd expected this reunion to go, total dismissal did not fit anywhere in those fantasies, and those fantasies certainly did not involve a douche bag that said things like that. No, her fantasies involved a very different kind of douche bag, the kind that made a girl feel special... and wore tight pants, a quality preferentially reserved for the better looking douche bags of the worlds.

"I don't believe you!" she blurted. "And I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth, I remember that look in your eyes, you weren't lying back then."

The aforementioned eyes went stony, an expression whose emotional groundwork Sarah couldn't quite decipher, no matter true or false.

"Don't tell me how I felt little girl, of all the beauties that have passed through my Labyrinth, you think I would fall for you?" he spat incredulously; luckily his saliva was as hesitant to leave his mouth as Sarah's first words had been. Leaving her dry and him embarrassment free, though aware of the close call.

Sarah froze, stunned, but luckily not drenched by royal expectoration.

"This is no good," Jareth grumbled to himself.

He shot up from his throne and grabbed her wrist. He'd pulled her about five feet, with her stumbling awkwardly up and down the stairs of the pit of mysterious purpose in the middle of the room, when he froze. The look on his face seemed to Sarah to be about how someone would look if an action they had expected to happen didn't, and they were baffled… and maybe a little embarrassed by it.

He let go of her wrist and disappeared, then reappeared and snatched her wrist and stood there awhile. He looked down at her wrist as if bewildered that it was still clutched in his hand, or maybe he was enthralled by the freakishly fast heartbeat. Looking up at her, she spoke before he could.

"Let me guess," she purred as she propped her free hand on her hip. "I don't want to go anywhere and you can't make me."

When his only response was to cross his arms in silence, she grinned. Smug as a bug on a rug tugging a slug through mud... ugh..

She'd see who didn't fancy who when she was done with this bad boy.

A/N: A totally useless, bizarre thing of a story. Hope something made you laugh in this first humorous adventure of mine. review!