She huffed, and she puffed, and she nearly blew off her own foot.

'Oops.'

The small splatter of neon-green shone clearly against her dark brown, leather boot. An outraged growl, a sigh of defeat.

'Damn!'

He'd been teasing her the last hour, sneaking up behind her to whisper in her ear, tickle her sides, smack her backside, before dashing off faster then she could point her gun. How she wanted to show him, cover him in a rainbow of paint, splash him with bright, happy balls of triumph! But no. His quiet, excruciatingly amused chuckling at her expense was simply too much.

In a fit of frustrated anger at her failure to find him, let alone hit him, she had shot her own foot. And his taunting had won him the game.

When will she ever learn?

Why did she have to convince him that this would be fun?

Strong, lean arms covered in black sleeves wrapped around her stomach. His voice purred against her neck, laughter barely held back, "You were right, Sarah. This has been fun."

She gave up with a sigh, relaxing into his arms. Why did she bother? He loved games, and he almost always won. At least, normally, she could escape with an ounce of her dignity in tact.

But she had shot her own foot.

With a small smirk, she casually rested her gun against her thigh, leaning back to capture his grinning lips. While he was quite distracted she shot his foot with a bright pink ball of very happy triumph.

Ha! That'll show him not to mess with her.

She couldn't help but beam broadly at his sputtering.

He peered down at the ruined boot, then back up at her. One arched eyebrow seemed to twitch. The night air turned warm, clouds whisking across the sky, leaving the sliver of moon to give off soft light again. Loud bleeping, frizzled noises and the buzzing of wings began to come back into existence, filling the night with sounds of life.

Sarah stood back with her hands on her hips, her sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks, and grinning lips all that could be seen of her face underneath the black hat and heavy coat pulled tight against her slim frame. Her Earth worldly ideas are almost always fun.

In the boredom of a muggy, hot summer day, staring out over the many layers of Labyrinth that surrounded her dusty castle, another idea struck. Since she was a teenager, although only a couple years back, she had always wanted to try paintball. In a giddy moment of excitement she had pushed away from the window to dash down the hall towards her King's throne room. Shoving open the door, shuffling through the goblin hordes, she found her quarry and pounced.

Jareth, the almighty Goblin King, ruler of the unruly Labyrinth, the mysterious, gorgeous, magical Fae was pouting at her under his black mask, paintball gun clutched in his ever-covered hands.

His miss-matched eyes raked over her arrogant form, and then without a second thought,

PFFT!

The air was suddenly filled with the repeated panging sounds of shots fired. Sarah dropped her gun in shock, being pelted repeatedly with Jareth's balls. She held her hands up in unarmed defeat, backing up towards a wall of the Labyrinth. Loud laughter bubbled out from her lips. Leaning against the wall, hands clasped on her thighs, it wheezed out of her shaking shoulders. His smooth, cool lips fell against hers, smothering her giggling. Slender, gloved fingers slipped through her coat collar to gently cup her cheeks.

What a wonderful way to escape the ever present boredom that plagues the kingdom.

At least, for now.

AN: Yea, author's note time. I was in a rather carefree, happy mood, and quite randomly pictured Jareth pelting Sarah with paint balls. I thought to myself, well, why not. Everyone's got to start somewhere. This is my first tiny little ficlit, the very beginnings of my fanfiction! Yay. Anyways, review if you want, if not, I hope you enjoyed a splash of neon-coloured humor and have a great day!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the movie The Labyrinth. Sadly. Unbeta'd, and my first one. Be kind?