Recipe: Gather a few ideas, a handful (or two or three) of clichés, a pinch of creative license and toss into a blender. Pulse until thoroughly mixed. Serve over frozen inspiration with a dash of glitter and a little umbrella.
It's all due to a comment I made on another story, the idea wouldn't go away, and my muse was giving me death glares over a cat…
Take it for what it is, I never claimed to be good at this. *lol*
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Chapter Revised 7/21/17
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Disclaimer: All things Labyrinth are not mine.
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The dimly lit, smoky atmosphere of the bar had a relaxed feel to it. Music from the aged jukebox thrummed through the air, lending an aura of a time past as Sarah finished wiping down the bar and began putting glasses away. She smiled as the strains of White Rabbit twanged through the haze. Despite the miasma of stale alcohol and old cigarettes, the music only seemed to add a surreal quality to the environment. Being the middle of the week, the bar was rarely busy this late at night. Had it been the weekend, the place would have been packed until closing time. As it was, only a couple of the regulars took up favorite barstools, eyes trained on the outdated television screen that hung in the corner of the room, the silent, grainy images of a late-night sports channel capturing their inebriated visual senses. She looked at the clock.
"Hey, boys, it's about time to head out. Almost closing time."
"Sure thing, Sarah," said the portly older man in the button-down flannel and faded blue jeans, his kindly blue eyes bright with the effects of his drink. "Wanna call us a cab? Mike and I can share a ride home." The other man, thinner and younger with brown hair and eyes, grunted his agreement as he stubbed out his cigarette.
"He's lucky to have someone like you watching out for him, Larry," she said in reply as she picked up the phone and dialed the cab company.
Larry leaned over the bar, placing the back of a gnarled hand to his gray bearded lips, and whispered conspiratorially, "Really, I think he just likes the attention."
"Fuck you, Larry," Mike said belligerently as he tossed back the last of his whisky.
Sarah grinned at Larry, and he winked at her while she gave the cab company the address of the bar. She hung up the phone. "All right, guys, they'll be here in ten. You're welcome to hang out for a few more minutes if you want."
Mike peered at her with bleary eyes. "You know, you're a sweet girl, Sarah. Someday you really oughta get out of this shithole," Mike waved an arm in a gesture that was supposed to encompass the entirety of the bar but ended up looking like the last death throe of a dying fish before flopping back to the bar.
"And miss such tender moments as this?" Sarah laughed good-naturedly as she leaned on the aged bar, her dark hair falling forward over her shoulders and her jade eyes twinkling in the subdued lighting of hanging lamps so old they'd become vintage.
Mike scowled at her for a moment before breaking into a lop-sided grin. He slid off the worn barstool and pulled on his denim jacket as he waited on unsteady legs for Larry to do the same. She watched as the pair shuffled their way to the door.
"Have a good night, guys, see you next time," she called after them as she reached under the till for the keys to lock the place up for the night. They waved back at her as they stepped out onto the street. Waiting for a moment after they left to follow behind, she locked the door and switched off the neon "Open" sign to "Closed."
Following her normal closing routine, she stopped by the jukebox, which had fallen silent, and selected the random option to play. Lonely is the Night shattered the quiet solitude, and she danced a path between the pool tables on her way back to the bar in time to the classic rock beat. Tossing the keys back under the till, she grabbed a pencil from the counter and twisted her mass of hair into a serviceable bun, inserting the pencil to hold it together. Picking up the last two glasses on the bar and wiping the surface with a practiced swipe of a rag, she deposited the glasses into the sink, humming along with the music as she washed and dried them. She was reaching over on tiptoes to place them on an upper shelf when a flicker of movement caught her eye in the mirrored backdrop of the bar, causing her to falter and nearly drop a glass in shock.
"Damn it, Jareth! You nearly gave me a heart attack," she glared at the figure in the mirror, gripping the edge of the counter with her hand so hard that her knuckles went white. He was lounging on the bar top behind her with his back resting against one of the artificial wooden supports, one arm resting nonchalantly over a raised leather-clad knee. He gave her a knowing smirk, eerily reminiscent of one he'd given her at fifteen, once upon a dream. She took a deep breath to try and calm the erratic beating of her heart caused by the sudden surge of adrenaline.
"Interesting way to greet an old friend. Is that customary?" he asked, tugging on the edge of a black leather glove.
Forcing herself to relax, she turned around to face him, half expecting to see nothing there. Mirror communication could be tricky that way she'd learned, but no such luck was hers tonight. He was definitely there, dressed in black, from his characteristic knee-high boots to his black poet's shirt and leather vest, the distinctive pendant that lay against his chest peeking out from the silken folds with a dull gleam. She raised her eyes, caught once again by the cruel, ethereal beauty of him; the way the wild, golden strands of his hair framed the lean, angular lines of his face and lay in stark contrast to his clothing. Damn, he was even sexier than she remembered. Meeting the unique features of his eyes with her own, she cleared her throat against his roguish demeanor as he assessed her appraisal of him.
"Friend? I wasn't aware we'd moved beyond enemies," she countered, crossing her arms. She was suddenly acutely aware that she wasn't dressed all that differently than he was. She knew he realized it, too, as his gaze flicked down to take in her own boots, leather pants, a gray blouse that bared her shoulders with sleeves that belled at the elbow, and a black leather bodice that was currently framing her assets in a most uncomfortable fashion under his scrutiny. She fought the blush that was threatening to creep up her face. If he noticed her discomfiture, he chose to ignore it.
"Hmm, really? Yet, you curse my name with such familiarity," he responded casually, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
Sarah snorted. "Friend or enemy makes no difference when you scare the living hell out of someone like that." She ignored his irritating grin. "What are you doing here? Bored enough to come Aboveground to mingle with us lowly mortals?"
"Something like that. Contrary to what you may think, I do spend a fair amount of time Aboveground," he stated with an air of relaxed indifference.
"Dressed like that?" she gestured with a wave of her hand towards his clothing.
He gave her a pointed look. "Because dressing like some sort of gypsy is equally unheard of?"
She gave him a dark look in return. "I am not dressed like any kind of gypsy. Not enough color and I left the skirt at home."
"More's the pity," he responded, a mischievous spark in his eyes, "I can remedy that."
She rolled her eyes. Apparently, mortal men weren't the only ones that thought with their head in their pants. She looked down and realized she was still holding the glass tumbler in her hand. "Well, since you're here, would you like a drink?"
Heavens knew, she was definitely going to need one if her suspicions for him being there proved accurate, and based on his response so far, well, a drink definitely sounded like a good idea. Liquid courage and all, right? At the slight incline of his head, she turned and grabbed another tumbler and set them on the bar. Eyeing the selection of alcohols behind her she held one toward him. At his nod, she started to pour a generous amount of the amber liquid into each glass.
"No show tonight?" he asked in a teasing tone as she handed one to him.
She eyed him shrewdly. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard you have developed quite a flair for this bartending job of yours," he supplied with a tilt of his head.
"Have you been spying on me, Jareth?" she asked, her eyes glinting with suspicion.
"Spying is hardly the word. I have no power over you, remember?" She thought she detected a hint of bitterness in his tone as he swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, but it was fleeting. "That effectively nixes you from the spy-able population." He drained the glass in one swallow, setting it back on the bar.
"Really? Then how did you come by such information?" she asked as she refilled the glass.
"I have other ways."
In fact, she knew he only had one other way, and she was pretty sure he'd had to wring it from the poor dwarf. "You didn't threaten him, did you?"
He looked at her innocently. "Would I do such a thing?"
"Why, no," she feigned surprise, "why would I ever think you capable of stooping to such tactics? Oh, that's right, because you have. Be nice to him."
"I rather thought I was. After all, I still allow him to speak to you."
"I had figured that's how you found me here tonight." She leaned back against the counter, watching him over the rim of her glass as she took a bracing swallow of her bourbon, relishing the burn that slid down her throat to the pit of her stomach. "So, really, what are you doing here?"
With fluid, leonine grace, he picked up his glass and hopped down to her side of the bar, electing to lean against it in front of her. She couldn't help but follow the lean lines of his legs, noting his pants still left little to the imagination. Some things never changed, she thought wryly. She realized he'd caught her glance when she glimpsed that irksome smirk as he looked down into his glass as if considering his answer.
"Among some very interesting things divulged by your…friend, the dwarf mentioned something that intrigued me, and given your casual acceptance of my presence here, I'm inclined to believe he was telling the truth," he replied, his tone daring her to deny it.
Damn, so she'd been right. One night of drunken confessions to the last person she should have been revealing anything to had landed her a Goblin King. Of course, Jareth would have picked the most inopportune time to grill Hoggle on his activities. She'd known, on some level in her drunken stupor, that she'd kept the gruff old dwarf away for too long and was sure he'd only stayed late that night out of his concern for her. Sarah drank, but she very rarely got drunk, and with good reason, as epitomized by the tall, extremely provocative Goblin King standing before her. She also had the distinct misfortune of only remembering about half of that conversation.
"Hmm, and what exactly did he tell you?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.
"You're curious," he replied, stressing the last word with a slight inflection, his eyes alight with amusement.
She held her ground. "About what?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" he returned, raising his glass to his lips as he watched her.
She narrowed her eyes at him, meeting his with a hint of annoyance. So, he was going to make a game of it, was he? Of course, he would. She contemplated on how to proceed for a moment. To hell with it, she decided, downing the rest of her own drink. If he was toying with her like this, then the cat was out of the bag, and he knew it. The only thing against her now was not knowing the rules of the game he'd come out to play. She'd be damned if she was going to let him call all the shots, however.
With slow deliberation, she moved toward him. Flashing him her most sultry smile, she raised her hand to his chest, lightly running her fingers down the front of his vest, her eyes following the movement with a tilt of her head, noting how still he became under her touch. Glancing up, she met the challenge in his darkening eyes with her own, leaning forward until her chest just barely brushed his, then with a teasing flick of her tongue to her teeth, she reached behind him to pluck the bottle of bourbon from the bar. Laughing in response to his surprise at her audacity, she spun away from him and walked around the bar.
"Cruel, minx," he growled from behind her.
"If you thought I'd be frightened of you, I'm sorry to disappoint," she said, setting her glass on one of the little bar tables that sat near the jukebox and refilling it from the bottle in her hand. Trading the bottle for her glass, she turned and placed her back against the wall, studying him. "I'm not a sulky teenager anymore, Jareth, and I've had my fair dealings with the male variety."
"Have you now?" He corralled her against the wall, as she'd known he would after that display, but she refused to give an inch as he placed a gloved hand on the red, velveteen flocked wallpaper next to her head. His scent swirled around her, dark and woodsy with a subtle hint of leather and spice that banished the stale air of the bar and brought to mind suggestive images of dusky nights, cool silk, and warm candlelight. Bastard was probably doing that on purpose, she thought, doing her best to remain unaffected. A task that proved emphatically more difficult than she ever dreamed, especially with the opening verse of Rhiannon having decided to take a turn on the jukebox at that moment.
He looked down at her with a contemplative gleam in his unusual blue eyes. "And are there…other…varieties?"
She gave him a sweet smile, "Now, now, do you really think I'm going to reveal my secrets just to ease your…curiosity?"
He threw back his head and laughed with genuine delight. "Touché. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement."
"A game, you mean. I really didn't like your last game very much, you know." She glanced up and thought she saw something dark flicker through his eyes, but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his earlier mischievousness.
"Surely there were moments you enjoyed?" he purred, leaning closer.
Sarah had to smile at that. There were moments, she couldn't deny that. How else would this sinfully attractive male feature in her dreams so profoundly? He had never been far from her thoughts, especially after she understood the true nature of what was happening in the Labyrinth. After several years had passed, regardless of the continued contact with her friends, she'd simply assumed they'd never meet again. In all likelihood, it was possible he preferred it that way considering she'd rejected him, and really, that was probably for the best. That is until she'd called Hoggle during a drunken daze and spilled her guts, figuratively speaking. Drunkenness and unrelieved sexual frustration apparently made for poor bedfellows. The hangover had been monumental.
"I'd be lying if I said there weren't. Be that as it may, what makes you think I'd willingly agree to play any sort of game with you after the last one, hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him, her green eyes glittering with the taunt.
His own eyes took on a decidedly wicked gleam, and a smile that would put even the Cheshire cat to shame spread over his lips as he answered. "Because if there is one thing I've learned about you, Sarah, it's that you enjoy rising to the challenge." He leaned down further until his lips were near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "And our little game isn't over yet." He leaned back slightly, catching her eyes with his own to see the effect of his words.
She couldn't suppress the shiver she felt run down her spine and settle in her nether regions, spreading a sensation that felt suspiciously like butterflies in her stomach in addition to the more heated blossoming of desire. Not that she needed even the slightest bit of help with the latter. Just being near him triggered that without any additional encouragement, and she was pretty sure he knew it, judging by the smirk on his face. Even so, she flashed him a defiant look.
"Which game is that? I'm relatively sure I beat your Labyrinth within the allotted time and rules seeing as how Toby and I made it home safe and sound that night."
"So, you did, but I'm fairly certain you are now aware that there was far more at stake. Perhaps not the extent of it, however." He took a slow drink from his glass as he appraised her. There was a quiet intensity to his next words. "Are you ready to find out?"
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Chapter 2 is nearly finished. Was originally supposed to be a one shot, but I think now might be a 3 shot.
"White Rabbit" - Jefferson Airplane, 1967
"Lonely Is The Night" – Billy Squier, 1981
"Rhiannon" – Fleetwood Mac, 1981
Crystalline Dreams,
~*~ Sheyrina, Labyrinthian Dragon
Chapter Posted 2/11/17
