I want to give a heartfelt thanks to everyone who has continued to review and offer encouragement and constructive criticism. I can't tell you inspiring that is. However, I feel that I must comment on the couple of people that have repeatedly messaged me demanding to know in what chapter Sarah and Jareth get together in without any other comment about my story. I have told you that I find that rude and I will not tell what chapter they get together in, yet you still demand to know. This fic is a slow burn and nowhere near PWP. If you're not interested in a slowly developing relationship and only in them hoping into bed instantly, this story is probably not your cup of tea, that's fine. There are plenty of other fics out there that may suit your tastes better.
Sarah lounged in the chair with her legs draped over the armrest and her boots kicked off somewhere on the floor. Jareth sat at the piano playing a selection of melancholy songs. It actually suited her mood so she didn't comment on his choice of music. She hadn't even meant to stay this long anyway. She had only dropped by to give Jareth a copy of the holiday anthology she had contributed a story to. When she had arrived not long after the club had opened, Karl had sent her up to the event room where she had first re-encountered Jareth a couple of months ago. She had found him at the piano once again. This time he playing various rock covers and she couldn't stop herself from sitting down and listening to him play and sing for a while.
"Why don't you ever perform at the club? You really are very good."
Jareth paused his playing and took a drag on his cigarette. "I'm not fond of being on display."
Sarah gave a shocked laugh. "That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth."
His lips twisted into a rueful smile. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. It is unseemly for a king to exhibit such talents publicly."
"But you're not a king anymore," she reminded him. Perhaps it was tactless to do so, but he needled her often enough.
"For now. Imagine the gossip if it was discovered that the Goblin King had been performing Nick Cave covers in a nightclub."
She grinned, imagining the idea. "I think you'd make an excellent Nick Cave. You'd have to dye your hair though."
"And I also have no desire to be a source of amusement for those who are not my intimate friends."
"You're such a snob, Jareth."
"Of course I am. As are you, my dear."
That was true.
She sighed and looked at the time on her phone. No wonder she was getting hungry. "I'm about to head out and get some dinner. You want to join me?"
"I suppose. I'm not really in the mood for the gaiety of a nightclub. Or crowds."
"I can bring you back something if you'd rather just hide out here and continue your sad song retrospective," she offered.
"No. I should get out. I've allowed myself to brood quite enough." He stood up and stretched with a groan. She wondered how long he'd been sitting there playing before she had showed up.
The restaurant they had picked was quiet and not crowded, but even so Jareth had made sure they sat in a secluded booth. He obviously wasn't joking about not being in the mood for people. He'd been subdued all night and their usual teasing banter was mostly absent. Despite his glamour she could see a certain amount of tension in his features.
"Are you okay, Jareth?" she asked.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."
"Everything is as it should be. Thank you for your concern, Sarah." There was an edge of warning in his voice to drop the subject.
She supposed he would talk about it when and if he wanted to. She searched her mind for another subject. "I've been meaning to ask you, what happened to my friends after I left?"
He seemed to relax slightly at the shift in conversation. "They're still there, but not as you remember them."
"Why? What happened to them?"
"They reverted back to their original forms. When there is a runner, the Labyrinth and it's denizens are altered by the dreams and imagination of the runner."
That was something she had never considered before. "Even you?"
He snorted derisively. "Do you really think I normally looked like a member of a hair metal band?"
She broke at into a wide grin, amused that Jareth would know what 'hair metal' was, but then again he was well versed in Aboveground music. "Well, it was the 80s..."
"Please I have a much better sense of style than that. No matter what the era."
That was true, at least if his current wardrobe was anything to go by.
He got that wicked look in his eye that she had learned to be wary of. No doubt he was about to say something outrageous. "But I must say I was rather intrigued that such a seemingly innocent girl imagined her adversary in such indecently tight trousers. I'm not even sure they could be termed 'trousers'."
She couldn't stop the sudden embarrassed flush that no doubt turned her face red and she took a large gulp of wine before answering. "Like I said, it was the 80s. There was a lot of spandex."
"But still, such a focus on my..." he paused significantly,"Assets was quite contrary to your otherwise childish dreams. And that riding crop. You didn't even imagine any horses to go with it. What was it for, hmm?"
Her face grew even hotter and she scowled at him, her anger flaring as well as her embarrassment. "Yes, and I'm quite sure my imagination was much more generous to you in that area as well as your hair."
His low laugh rumbled seductively across her nerves. "Perhaps you'll find out one day. If you're lucky."
"Oh, please," she said in exasperated annoyance. "I'm sure fae men are just as tiresomely boastful, yet disappointing as human men."
"I would be careful setting down such challenges as that, my dear."
"Or what? You'll make it your mission to show me how wrong I am about your prowess?" She laughed bitterly, though something in her was thrilled at the idea. "Been there. Done that. Always disappointed come morning. They don't call me the Ice Queen for nothing."
"Oh, Sarah, how cruel you are. Even to yourself. All these sad mortals never had a chance did they? No wonder they couldn't perform. You set them up to fail. You scared them to death"
She shrugged. It was probably true. Her expectations had always been unrealistic.
"But you'll find I don't frighten quite so easily," he continued in his smooth, confident tone. "Not to mention I have centuries of experience to call upon."
"Whatever," she said nonchalantly as she could with her pulse pounding, whether from anger or desire to explore his centuries of experience she couldn't tell. "I'm not interested in a supernatural lover either. Especially you."
"Yes," he sneered. "I suppose you're quite content with your imaginary lovers and some miracle of modern science between your legs. It's much simpler when you don't have to deal with actually people. They're such messy demanding things and you're so very selfish, aren't you, Sarah?"
"You're such a bastard, Jareth."
He shrugged eloquently. "The truth hurts they say."
She slid out of the booth, grabbing her purse as she stood. "I'm leaving."
He looked up at her, his eyes burning with something she couldn't decipher. "Yes, go hide away with your feline familiar and your dream lovers for company."
When the knock sounded on her door early the next morning, she assumed it was the old lady down the hall wanting to borrow some milk for her coffee again. However, it wasn't Mrs. Simmons and she tried shutting the door again as soon as she caught sight of that blond head.
"Go away Jareth. I'm quite content here with my cat and my dream lovers. They're vastly more entertaining than you ever could be."
He wedged his foot between the door and jam before she could close it. Black motorcycle boots she noticed absently. Good for holding doors open. "How did you get past the doorman?" she demanded.
"I don't need doors to go where I wish."
"I'm suppose I'm lucky you just don't pop in here anytime you feel like it then." She released the door and stepped back. She couldn't stop him from magically coming in if he wanted. He looked very determined. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, wishing was wearing something other than her pajamas and robe.
"I came to apologize," he said stepping through the doorway and shutting the door quietly behind him. "I should not have said such things to you. But like you I can be cruel even when I don't intend to be."
"I think you did intend to be cruel, Jareth."
He ran his surprisingly bare hand through his already disheveled hair and sighed heavily. "You are probably right. I was already in a foul mood last night. You wounded my pride and I lashed out. I am deeply sorry that I hurt you."
"You didn't. You've made your pretty speech, now get out of here," she said gesturing to the door.
"No," he replied not budging. "I value our friendship far more than that."
"Friendship?" she scoffed. "Is that what we have?"
"I like to think so. I have found your companionship extremely enjoyable since we have become reacquainted. It makes exile a little less lonely when I spend time with someone who knows what I've been cast out of. It is also very rare that I find someone I can name as friend."
"Oh, you're good."
"It's true."
She studied him long and hard. He had been without his glamour from the moment he shut the door. She'd never seen him look quite so- upset, for lack of a better word. This normally luminous skin looked dull and gray and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in a hurry in a grey turtlenecked sweater and dark jeans. His overcoat was merely thrown over his shoulders with his ubiquitous gloves peeking out of the pocket rather than on his hands.
He met her eyes unflinchingly with as an open and honest expression as she'd ever seen from him. "I don't want to lose you from my life, Sarah."
"Jareth, you're... very confusing," she finished with a sigh.
"You still see me as your imaginary villain, don't you?"
"Sometimes. You can play into it so well." She took a deep breath, trying to push the lingering anger and hurt from her mind. "But I would miss your friendship if it was gone too. You're the closest friend that I've had in a really long time. I can talk to you about things I've never been able to talk to anyone else about. I guess that means you know exactly how to cut me to the quick.
"Does that mean you have forgiven me?"
"What were you upset about last night?" she asked instead of answering his question.
He scrubbed a hand over his face as if her were completely exhausted."Yesterday, I had a visit from a cousin who decided to come by for a bit of gloating about my continued exile and to drop hints about some unfortunate things that may be happening in the Goblin Kingdom. I find it incredibly frustrating to be so powerless that I can't even confirm if the things he insinuated were true or not. Unfortunately, I couldn't allow him to see how much it bothered me, so I just brooded over it all day and you ended up being a convenient target for my ire."
"What an asshole."
Jareth's eyes widened in shock and she almost laughed at his expression. "Not you," she said quickly. "I meant your cousin. To deliberately come Aboveground to taunt you like that."
His lips twisted into a small smile. "Yes, he is."
"Well, I suppose that explains things. I thought you were just toying with me because you were bored and I was there. I've seen you be that vicious with people before."
He grimaced. "That's not one of my finest traits, I must admit. But I would never use you as that kind of entertainment, Sarah."
"Then I accept your apology, Jareth."
"Thank you." The tension seemed to leave his body at that moment. "Could I take you out to breakfast? As a small recompense?"
"Sure. Let me get dressed," she said gesturing to her robe.
Once Sarah got dressed she came back out into the living room to find Jareth sitting on her couch with Frank curled up on his lap.
"Traitor," she accused the cat. She took a secret delight that Frank would shed his creamy colored fur all over Jareth's normally pristine dark colored clothes.
Jareth stroked his back. "Your familiar is a very fine old gentleman."
"He is. I've had him for fifteen years. I don't know what I'd do without him at this point."
Jareth lifted the cat from his lap and gently set him on the couch to beside him.
He stood and looked down at the fur on his jeans and sweater. He waved a hand and it was gone. Of course.
Jareth raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the dirty look she gave him.
"Never mind," she told him. "Let's go."
