A/N: This is fairly cracktastic and there are some minor allusions to Lixxle's My Fine Feathered Friend (which if you haven't already read, close this, read that, review that…then read and review my story :D). I'd also like to thank everyone for their support on those that read/reviewed "Merlin" it was hard for me to write, (Especially with the realization my reality had no super-hotty of a King make a cameo to cheer me up…damnit, XD). Also the term "brain-bleach", I borrowed that from Pika La Cynique's brilliant comic on Deviant Art "Girls Next Door". Honestly I recommend it.

Disclaimer: Despite what the allusions may hint at, I do not own the Hobbit. I own a copy of the Hobbit that is worn from being over read, but that's it. Well I also own the TV movie from the 70s…well until my brother's friend 'borrowed' and apparently 'returned' it. And If I owned labyrinth the I would hold a fangirl auction to sell the rights to a fangirl and then retire.


"I'm drunk," Sarah muttered to herself incredulously, "No wait…drunk would mean slurring…I'm high…that's it. I was sitting next to a smoker who stuffed his cigarettes full of weed…yup. Totally stoned, more baked then yesterday's bread…Hell, I even have the munchies," She muttered holding an empty stomach that grumbled accordingly.

Sarah Williams was neither drunk, nor stoned, nor dead (as she was about to assume).

"Well…stoners are more relaxed, I am rigid…I must be dead!" See? Sarah Williams was neither dead, nor drunk, nor stoned, nor dreaming. She was just in one of the most awkward positions life, in general, had ever handed her. The only moments to ever compare to this level of awkward was having a Goblin King beg you to stay with him and having to reject him…and then, well, most of high school.

"I'm dreaming, I have to be," She mumbled to herself. "I've had vivid dreams before. Once I dreamed I went to school without shoes or socks…that felt pretty real. More real then this, in fact. I'm totally asleep in my bed right now," Sarah told herself, completely forgoing the fact she already pinched herself and felt pain without voicing it.

Alright, so Sarah is in complete denial of the validity of her situation. Whether it was spawned by fate, coincidence, or fanservice; all that really mattered, was someone hated her in this world. Someone just really hated her to put her in this position. Maybe Sir Didymus suddenly decided that Sarah winning at Scrabble was just unacceptable…or the goblins got tired of having to wash their hands…or maybe they finally felt the repercussions of having eaten the soap. Sarah wasn't exactly sure who was responsible…but someone sure as Hell hated her.

Someone hated her enough to sneak a drunk Goblin King in her room…

Correction. A really, really drunk Goblin King.

"Ss-saaraaahhw, yer neither dead, drunk, dreaming, high…or even happy…though you never were happy. Always complaining…whining 'it's not fair!' 'you have no power over me!'," slurred Jareth. Of course he simply had to interpret her voice all childish like a whiny eight year old…the jerk.

"You've had a little to drink I see,"

"Oh no, I've had a LOT to drink I see," Jareth replied lounging on Sarah's bed all sexy and cat like.

…Drunk Goblin Kings shouldn't be sexy! What the Hell am I on to be thinking that he is remotely sexy? Sarah thought, once again believing that smoker did stuff his cigarette with something other than tobacco.

"Jareth, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same, it's my bloody room," Jareth slurred, "And I have every right to get smashed, 'cause it's my room…and, and…what are you doing here anyway? Come to gloat? Whoa…everything's dancing ha-HA," Jareth said slurring each 'r', he sounded like a pirate, or a drunken asshat…Sarah was leaning towards the latter.

"This is my room you sorry sack of body glitter and rum…or whatever you fairies drink," Sarah said with a little less ferocity then she intended…she was more of a pissed off kitten then her inner lion. However, pissed off kittens shouldn't be trifled with either.

"Sarah, shut up…I am far too drunk to deal with you…and this is my room. Se-see those thick velvet curtains? Mine. This burgundy canopy over the bed? Mine. See that picture of you and Toby on the dresser? Mine," Jareth said pointing to silky white drapes, a sky blue cotton canopy, and a painting of two fairies in a forest.

"Wait a minute…that's not mine…what the Hell? I am in your room," Jareth muttered though 'your room' sounded more like 'y'rroooooom'.

"Great, so now that we have established the fact that you are in my room, and that your stalker syndrome involves stealing my pictures…can you get out of here? I need to change clothes…I have a," date, Sarah finished in her mind with a flinch, "-an important appointment, with a friend from work,"

"You shouldn't see friends outside of work, they might realize you are as cold on your own time then you are on your bosses," That nasty drunken asshat.

"Seriously…why are you still here?" Sarah asked pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Well, I got smashed for reasons of my own, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact you have a date with that accountant, of all bloody people, seriously Sarah, an accountant? Anyway, after getting smashed beyond reckoning I tried to teleport…oh I should not have done that. Drunken teleportation provides oneself with a migraine on a silver platter spawned from the ninth layer of Hell, with a garnish of the most body-buzzing nausea that one barely has the will to see,"

"Yet you still have the will to speak. So why are you still here?"

"It's not as if I want to be here dear girl, personally I would rather be stuck with the king of elves, and I should explain…elves are liberal in their leaders…this one is all hands. One minute I am talking about droughts and trade…the next he is cupping my tights. And Puck knows he would've had a field day with this one…me all inebriated to the point where I cannot even stand. I would need a chastity belt…" Jareth said with a grimace.

Sarah felt a twang of…well it was most certainly notjealousy, and miles away from envy. It just hurt that Jareth would rather undergo male on male crotch groping then spend an evening drunk with her. That was it…just hurt. No jealousy, and no envy.

None.

Whatsoever.

"So you are here until you sober up?" Sarah asked

"More or less…", Jareth said with a hiccup.

"Ah. Well if you don't mind…I need to make a phone call and get out of my stiff work clothes," Sarah stated with a resigned sigh of sighs, glumly grabbing some pajamas and the phone as she almost limped to the bathroom with a proverbial downpour over her slumped head.

Jareth managed to lift his head enough to see her slam the bathroom door. His smile was plastered to his face, almost as plastered as he was…though not quite. Of course…this wasn't a rare occurrence, every time that little chit decided to go on a date with some idiot that would scream girlishly at the sight of a goblin while Jareth would be just the opposite, he would drink until his sparkly liver began to cry. Did Sarah care at all? No, of course not… and he had been so generous to her in the past. I mean honestly…you think it's easy having portals where goblins and her friends can visit anytime they want? You think it's easy maintaining that energy? Jareth mentally ranted, without a slur.

For her, maybe. If it were anyone else…I would sooner comprehend spending the night at the elven kingdom…without bedroom wards.

"Ugh…either I just received a mental image, or I am beginning to sober up," Jareth groaned covering his eyes as he felt this searing pain shoot from the back of his brain to his eyelids.

"I always wondered what Fae vomit looked like. Do you puke glitter…crystals…spare pairs of tights?" Sarah asked emerging from the bathroom, garbed in yellow pajamas with green dragon print on the pants, and a larger version of the dragon on the top. The caption read "Revel in my scaly awesomeness!".

Jareth chuckled, whether it was at her obscure pajamas or her even more random notions, Sarah wasn't quite sure.

"Precious if I vomited tights, though it would explain my surplus of them, it would surely cause me great agony. Is that what you want?" Jareth asked with a lopsided smirk.

"…If means getting you out of my bed, yes. If not, then a double yes," Sarah huffed as she flopped on the other side of the bed. She indignantly crossed one foot over the other and lounged on the pillows with her arms crossed over her chest. She was officially in brat mode as she pouted, in Jareth's mind, adorably so.

"You cut me to the quick, my dear," Jareth quipped glancing at her eyes that had lime green sparks of rage whenever she glanced at him.

It was an odd sight to be seen, the two quipping, one of which was still intoxicated, but slowly growing more sober by the minute. The other simply grabbed her book off the bedside table as she sat next to the king of the schnockered persuasion. At several points the king would make a side comment, the Girl-who-ate-the-peach-and-forgot-everything, would always talk back. She wasn't necessarily fierce, she had fun with the little quip-fest, as it were. The odd thing was how Sarah couldn't even fathom how their quips could be mistaken for a new couple's arguments. Even when Jareth somehow managed to pull out a bottle of dark liquid, that smelled sharply of brandy, and Sarah then started a mild series of play wars over the bottle, which to any fangirlish or even unaware eye, it could be mistaken for a tickle-party or even a grope fest. Sarah still didn't notice it.

Why?

"You know, one would think you'd be sitting as far away from me as possible," Jareth commented with another hiccup, or a sob for the lost brandy bottle. He then wiped a glittery residue from his lips, flicking it onto the bed. Sarah was curious…was the glitter from him, or part of the lip gloss that made up his glam rock fashion sense?

Sarah watched the glitter descend from the King's not-at-all-delectable/sensual-mouth, and settle on her bed spread. Sarah twitched as she saw the sparkles almost mock her.

I was in Jareth's mouth before you, nyah nah nah naa naaaa!, The sparkles cried in her head. Sarah's eyes widened at her traitorous thoughts. Did I really think that? I just did! ohmygod, ohmygod, I'm such a horndog…easy Sarah, relax…read your book. Bilbo is chatting with Goblin Kin- Gollum with GOLLUM!

Sarah sighed audibly and silently prayed the Goblin King couldn't read her mind. As she read about riddles in the dark, she carefully eyed the king, merely inches away. He laid back with his hands behind his head, blanketed in his blonde hair. Wearing leather gloves no doubt, Sarah thought. His shirt was blue with silver embroidery and was quite loose, revealing more then a great deal of chest, making Sarah gulp almost audibly. His pants were, this time Sarah did gulp audibly, and quite loud, leather. His black boots, this time with a much smaller heel, matched accordingly with silver embroidery. All in all, he was practically edible for a drunken lump of Fae.

Gah, Sarah! Calm the Hell down! Think of Gandalf naked, Gandalf naked, Gandalf in the snow naked, no such things as yummy Goblin Kings. Just think of the naked wizard. Carpet matches the drapes, that's why he needs the robe. Just naked Gandalf in the snow… no Jareth here whatsoever, Sarah thought to no avail, despite her need of brain-bleach.

"Jareth, have you sobered up yet?"

"Sarah, why don't you like me?" Jareth asked slurring her name.

"Forget I even asked," the girl in question remarked.

"Seriously, why don't you like me?" Jareth repeated.

"You really shouldn't use words with 's' or 'r' in them Jareth, your slurring makes them almost unbearable," She said ignoring the king, instead she kept her eyes in her book.

"Sarah, answer the question."

"I only answer the right questions."

"Drunk, not stupid, there was nothing wrong with the question in question," Jareth drawled lazily.

"Fine, do you really want to know?"

"Know what? I only answer to the right questions," Jareth retaliated with a self satisfied smirk. Sarah narrowed her eyes with a frown, despite the smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

"I saw that, you think I'm funny," Jareth sing-songed pointing at her smile.

"Funny looking maybe," Sarah muttered in reply.

"Says you, but the Elf King happens to say otherwise,"

"You keep bringing him up, one might think you like him back," Sarah replied with a lecherous wink.

"You fiend!"

"Speaking of kettles and pots, who does the Goblin King stalk these days?" Sarah asked coyly.

"You speak as if there were so many options out there, I rule over Goblins dear girl…none of which spark my interest. The only women of any interest are hags in the guise of innocent little princesses," Jareth stated.

"Hmm. Sounds like my kinda gals,"

"Who spend their time trying to seduce me in order to become queen," Jareth finished with a smirk.

"Or not."

Jareth groaned again as that body buzzing nausea swept through him, "Ohhh I am definitely starting to sober up,"

As if already knowing the coming result, Sarah launched over to the nearest waist can and held it in front of Jareth's face. He seemed to almost hunch over, and groaned in body-buzzing nausea induced agony. Instinct took control as Sarah began rubbing soft soothing circles over Jareth's back. He groaned again, whether it was from nausea or Sarah's nursing antics, not even Jareth was sure. All he knew was that the second he could see straight he was going to ravish that little minx. Sarah, still unaware of how stimulating her ministrations were, continued to pet him like a puppy, comforting him the only way she knew how in this particular state. Once again, it didn't really occur to her how coupley she acted around him. She recognized the lust, that was simple, she had eyes of course but the other stuff was harder to cope with. How she could easily picture snuggling with him, or taking a walk with him, how she could easily dance with him. She could imagine herself arguing with him over the most simplistic things, such as what to name their newest addition to goblins.

It terrified her that she didn't mind the idea of being a Goblin Queen.

It terrified her how easy being with him could be.

It terrified her how very little she new about him, yet the feelings she had and acclaimed to be her naughty "Ain't ever gonna happen, but I'll dream anyway" crush, those feelings were sparking about, setting aflame throughout her heart.

At this point Sarah had unknowingly caressed Jareth's back for more then a few minutes. However, Jareth said nothing and felt the nausea pass somewhat peacefully. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, and he was exhausted from that teleportation. Not to mention being around Sarah, he added lightly while resisting the urge to purr like a kitten. After more then a few minutes, Sarah watched Jareth yawn.

"Oh for Heaven's sake Jareth, you might as well get some sleep, sure you'll have a hangover but at least you won't be as grumpy as you would be without a little shut eye," Sarah said with a huff as she pushed Jareth back on the bed and yanked Jareth's boots off his feet.

"Where will you sleep?"

"It's a king sized bed, plenty of room. Besides my sofa? Puh-lease, I'd rather sleep on Ludo's rocks," Sarah commented as she slid the sheets and coverlets over Jareth. She set the waste can next to the bedside.

"Oh, but what if you decide to play naughty nurse while I sleep?" Jareth inquired with a risen eyebrow.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind, but to reassure you," Sarah sighed while placing one hand over her heart, "I, Sarah Leigh Williams, swear on my fairytale loving hide that I will in no certain form or fashion try to violate Jareth, King of Goblins as long as the King in question can keep his hands to himself. If the King in question does attempt to seduce me, he will be maimed in the most sadistic fashion." Sarah finished with a brilliantly malicious smile.

"Leigh?"

"Family name, and it isn't spelled like that Sarah Lee twit so if I hear a single dessert joke, I will shave your fluffy head. Are we clear?" Sarah inquired with a dark glare.

"Crystal." Jareth said with another lopsided smile.

"Good, now go to sleep," Sarah replied as she shut off the lights and settled under the covers with her book in hand.

Sarah silently turned on the lamp at her bedside and continued reading her book. For several minutes she read, the only sounds heard was her breathing, Jareth's mild snoring, and the book's pages turning. Occasionally Jareth would adjust his position on the bed. Sometimes he would almost snuggle in a little too close for Sarah's sanity, but before long he would be at an easy distance. It was about midnight when Sarah decided to stop reading, the time had nothing to do with it, it merely seemed fitting to stop reading and sleep after she finished the book in it's entirety. Sure she had the rest of the series inches away…but Sarah didn't want to start another book this night. She turned off the lamp and settled on her side, hugging her pillow as she always had since she was a teenager.

"Sarah?" Jareth quietly asked.

"Yes Jareth?"

"Good night."

"Good night Jareth," she replied with a soft smile.

The following morning, it was Saturday, and a beautiful one at that. Children were playing in the streets, bolting away whenever a car would come, only to return to their game. The light sounds of dogs barking, birds chirping and a breeze blowing softly through the grass and trees. Families were carrying the weekly groceries into their houses, preparing a Saturday cook-out or deciding on an afternoon movie. Next door to Sarah's house, one could hear the radio blaring as her neighbors attempted to fix an old car of some sort.

"Damn, I seem to be waking up," Sarah muttered to herself as she began to stretch languidly on her side of the bed. She slipped the covers off of her form and peered through her curtains to see her neighbors in their driveway. She heard a loud curse as something clattered and the radio paused it's somewhat scratchy rendition of "I'm Burning For You" by Blue Oyster Colt. She chuckled shaking her head as she stretched her arms above her head, revealing her creamy stomach. She set her arms down and proceeded to pull out her clothes for the day. It's a jean day, most definitely, Sarah thought with a lazy smile. She tossed the pair of jeans on the bed, not even noticing the lump under the covers on the side opposite of hers on the bed.

"Oh do close the drapes, my eyes are killing me," Jareth muttered covering his face with a pillow as he planted his face into the mattress.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, her body rigid, she turned around to see Jareth's back and his poofy head burying itself deeper in the covers. She closed her eyes searching her memory of the previous night. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Okay, so it wasn't a dream. I'm not going to scream, I'm perfectly okay. How are you feeling?" Sarah asked, turning her back to her dresser as she pulled out undergarments and a soft t-shirt. She wrapped the undergarments in said t-shirt so as not to illicit any unwelcome jibes.

"Well while you were snoring and talking about drowning in footwear," Jareth began ignoring the skeptical glare from Sarah, "I happened to have woken up, and let's just say you don't want your waste can back. It was ruined to the point where bogging it would have helped the smell," Jareth groaned.

"Ah. How about now?"

"I feel like you should close the drapes and bring me something cold to drink," Jareth groaned, "please," he added for good measure.

If it wasn't for the fact Jareth was in pain enough, Sarah would have made some semi-nostalgic comment in regards to his power, or lacking thereof, and then proceed to take a cold shower like any good Labyrinth conqueror. However the King did say please…and frankly he looked too pitiful to be denied. Like a puppy who got in the chocolate stash and miraculously survived.

After dropping the blinds and closing the drapes, Sarah went to the kitchen, took a disposable plastic cup and filled it with water and dropped a few ice cubes in the drink. When she returned to the bedroom she nearly dropped the cup in fangirlish shock. Apparently it had gotten quite warm during the night. In fact it was warm enough that Jareth decided it was too warm to be wearing a shirt. So Jareth was sitting up in the bed.

Shirtless.

Is it my birthday? Or Enjoy Some Wonderful Karma day? Sarah thought like the naughty Labyrinth conqueror she truly was.

If Sarah had an inner voice -besides her overly prudent conscience who could give nuns a lesson in celibacy- the poor inner voice would have fainted or become a separate entity to tackle the King with offensive amounts of affection. However, Sarah's conscience clearly told her to hand Jareth the cup and then proceed to reading pro-celibate verses from the Bible.

"Sarah, are you alright? You seem quite flushed," Jareth inquired innocently.

Don't look at the chest, don't look at the chest, maintain eye contact, Sarah. If you can conquer a Labyrinth in 10 hours, it's pretty damn plausible you can go without staring at Fae chest long enough to reply. How do guys do this not-staring thing? Oy, note to self Sar, don't criticize the next man to ogle your breasts. Just be proud if he isn't drooling…oh God am I drooling? I AM! Crap!

And as if the fates decided they weren't cruel enough, Jareth got out of bed and stood up. He leaned back and stretched, making his muscles contract and in a not-at-all subtle way, mildly thrusting his hips, displaying how low slung his leather pants were. Sarah and her conscience began arguing over what to do, the conscience wanted to bathe in scalding holy water while reading Revelations, Sarah however wanted some adult-type touching, groping, and other such words of inexplicable happiness.

They decided to compromise.

"I…uh, need to go change, and shower, I need a ni-nice shower" Sarah replied nervously. Hopefully a shower so cold that I contemplate the symptoms of hypothermia, Sarah added in her mind.

Jareth's eyes glinted as if knowingly, and tussled his hair with a pointed smirk. He simply had to know how fantastic he looked just waking up. No one should look that great with a hangover. When he smiled at her, the sun seemed just bright enough to give him a halo around his hair. He looked angelic, irony was never sexier.

Mnauh…meltage.

Without another word, Sarah snatched up her clothes and strode into the bathroom. Without another thought she turned on the radio, turned it to the same station as her neighbor's and she then stripped and clambered into the shower while a nice rendition of her favorite song played. She sang with the lyrics, danced as she lathered the shampoo in her hair, and God knows what else as she rinsed.

Several songs later she wrapped herself in a large fluffy orange towel, her Ludo towel, so to speak and dried off. She turned the radio's volume down, and her sad excuse of singing became a light hum. She dressed in her t-shirt and jeans, her shirt was a soft nylon and cotton blue with silver, black, and grey patterns throughout the shirt. She dried her hair and brushed it into a pony tail and applied just a touch of blue eye shadow with her make up. Not that it was put on for a reason, who in all the world would she be trying to impress that looked marvelous in blue? Certainly not anyone wearing leather pants or happens to love sparkly substances.

After dressing, Sarah edged her way out of the bathroom as if expecting Jareth to pop out and ravish her. Not that she would have minded really, but she was the conqueror of Labyrinth, conqueror's of labyrinths simply didn't give into the villain like that. Nuh-uh, not in this universe, or the next one, or the one after that, or even the universe entirely vacant of shellfish.

The only problem was, Jareth wasn't there. He wasn't in the bedroom, and as Sarah looked around, not anywhere in her house. He was simply gone. Sarah huffed angrily and paced in her room mumbling.

"Oh thanks Mr. Goblin King, spend the night and leave. ASSHAT!" Sarah cried out over dramatically.

Sarah suddenly began pacing…she went from brat mode, to horndog, and now she is in official rant mode. Her conscience gulped knowingly while chanting for forgiveness in Latin.

"Who gives a damn about you anyway? Surely not me! It doesn't matter that I spent the evening fussing over you like some depraved little naughty nurse and then you just leave? Yo-your not even that pretty anyway…you ZIGGY STARDUST REJECT! There I said it you fluffy mulleted, tight-panted, voyeuristic little twerp!" Sarah shrieked as she paced, yelling at someone who wasn't even there with her. Yeah, she isn't losing her mind at all.

"So I rejected you that one time, that one stupid time. Hello, kid here, it doesn't matter that the entire time it was an uphill struggle to keep from looking down at your tights. It doesn't matter that my pulse raced with the time in the tunnels, which by the freaking way…Who flirts with a 15 year old? IS THIS THE RENAISSANCE? I think not! An-And…." Sarah stammered.

Sarah's rant quickly diminished to annoyed ramblings. She huffed, puffed, and all but blew her house down. She paced and shouted, kicked and pouted. She slammed doors, and stomped on floors. One might think she was merely a child again, almost as much as one might think the authoress was temporarily possessed by Dr. Seuss. Sarah eventually flopped onto her mattress with a frustrated huff. She forced a pillow over her face, as if she barely resisted the urge to smother herself. Truly describing her as pathetic was putting it mildly. In fact, she was so engrossed with her own sexual frustration, she had no idea that there was a piece of parchment descending from an unknown source, leaving a trail of glitter in its wake. She was too busy inhaling feathers and cotton to see the sparkling stationary land on top of the pillow on "Jareth's side" of the bed. For what seemed a solid five minutes, though truly only a few long seconds, Sarah came out of the exile her pillow provided. She sat up with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Screw him" She stated glaring at her wall, Oh if only, thought her conscience thought wistfully. Ah-HA you have become corrupted, scalding holy water doesn't sound fun anymore does it? Hypocrisy for the win! Sarah's inner labyrinth conqueror taunted. Hypocrisy? The words "You have no power over me" come to mind dear one, I wanted to negotiate, but nooooo you wanted to vanquish him, retorted the conscience. Sarah's inner labyrinth conqueror grew silent. The conscience blew the labyrinth conqueror a raspberry while settling down to watch some Oprah.

"So, It is official, Jareth is a synonym for douche-baggery," Sarah sighed, "This is a case for the dynamic duo of Ben and Jerry!" Sarah decided rolling over the bed in a childlike fashion. Unbeknownst to her, she rolled right over the parchment. The aforementioned parchment of the sparkly persuasion crinkled almost obnoxiously, gaining Sarah's notice. Oblivious of her ice-cream quest she glanced down at the -now wrinkled- parchment.

It was a letter from Jareth.

Sarah,

I apologize for my need to depart, wishers seem to appear whenever I hate it most, so now not only do I have to take care of a screaming baby while suffering with a hangover, I also have to resist the urge to force the labyrinth walls from turning my current runner into a fleshy pancake.

Such a pity, fleshy pancakes are a goblin delicacy.

Sarah paled slightly, however continued to read like any plucky heroine.

Perhaps after these remarkably torturous 13 hours could be cured by another one of your marvelous back rubs?

"Ha-bloody-ha Jareth, say that to my face you glittery nutter,"

Do not call me a glittery nutter, precious. It's quite rude.

"Jareth! What are you doing?" Sarah shrilled as she watched the script change across the paper. The script altered again into a bored looking font.

The runner is in an oubliette, can I not take a little break and have myself a conversation with a former runner? Why so accusatory?

Jareth had her there, and Sarah knew it, "Umm…it just surprised me is all. Not used to conversing like this."

I see, well magic has its advantages.

"Such as drunkenly teleporting to a former nemesis?"

…Touché

Sarah had herself a little victory laugh at that.

Bloody Hell…the runner is already in the hedge maze. Damn Hedgewart…

"Hoggle," Sarah cut in.

I am afraid I must go, dear Sarah, it seems I must act in the tyrannical fashion.

Jareth

P.S. The glitter may have found its way to my mouth first, precious, but you are more then welcome to take its place.

With the reddest smile, Sarah replied, "Creeper."

A devilishly handsome creeper?

Sarah crumpled up the paper with a laugh, leaving her bedroom, returning to her ice-cream quest. But what the young girl never knew, is that the sheet of brilliantly shimmering scroll was magical, and flattened itself out again.

A/N: Kudos to the person who found the Buffy Reference. :D Whoever reviews gets a pinup of Jareth stretching!XD!