"This is surreal," thought Sarah. "I'm having tea with the Goblin King. In his living room. In Soho."

She was sitting on his red floral couch, a dainty cup and saucer on her lap, while he puttered around and opened and closed cupboards in his kitchen.

"I do apologize for the state of my living space," said Jareth, returning to the lounge with a tin of biscuits. "I would have tidied up a bit had I known I would be having company." He offered her the tin and Sarah took a biscuit and set it on her saucer.

Her eyes swept around the lounge. It wasn't dirty, and cluttered didn't seem to be the right word to describe the space either. It was just full. There were towering stacks of hardcover books sitting around the room and disorderly piles of sheet music on the coffee table and the mantle. The furniture was strewn with pillows and colorful woven throws. The walls of the room were almost entirely covered in framed prints, silk fans, clocks and shadow boxes. There was hardly any space where the wallpaper showed through. A huge, old Parisian poster advertising a dance hall hung on one wall flanked by two large glass-front boxes containing a selection of moths and butterflies. There were several odd musical instruments hanging on the walls as well: a cigar box banjo, a string of copper bells and what looked like a didgeridoo. Behind the front door through which they had entered hung an old-fashioned bicycle.

Sarah took a bite of her biscuit and looked around the room again, taking in the various pictures and books and trinkets. She'd been in what she surmised was his home in the Underground when she'd stormed his castle fifteen years earlier, but that was different somehow. To be seated on Jareth's sofa with a mundane cup full of tea that he'd made with a very ordinary-looking teapot was hard to wrap her brain around. She felt terribly intrusive surrounded by his personal effects and collected belongings.

"What brings you to Soho?" Jareth asked, taking a small sip of his tea.

"I met with my agent today," Sarah answered.

"Ah!" said Jareth. "You finally found some inspiration in your little hamlet."

"Yes," answered Sarah. "It's funny. After I ran into you… it just started flowing again. My agent was very pleased."

"As am I," said Jareth, "though I'm disappointed you didn't call me when you came to the city."

Sarah felt her face grow warm and focused her gaze on her teacup. "I- I was working," she explained. "I got kind of tuned in and everything else was forgotten. Besides, I figured you were busy… Do you seriously teach? Like real college classes?"

"You're changing the subject," Jareh said, setting aside his teacup. "But yes. I really teach. I teach three classes of European Mythology and one of Ancient Music. I have an office on the third floor of the Virginia Woolf Building and a monthly salary which helps pay the bills. I serve on the advisory board for the Medieval Studies Research Centre and I'm the Co-Chair of the LGBTQ Book Guild. I'm also a joint owner of the charming little pub downstairs as well as one in Shoreditch. Anything else?" He sounded annoyed by her incredulity.

Sarah glowered into her cup of tea. "You have got to understand that this is a bit… unreal to me, Jareth," she told him. "All I've ever known of you was what I read in the story and briefly experienced during my run. Seeing you like this, so… so normal is just a bit much for me. It's like the uber version of when you're a kid and you see your third grade teacher in shorts and flip-flops at the grocery store on a Saturday."

Jareth laughed at that. "Yes," he said. "I suppose it is a bit much to wrap one's head around, even someone as imaginative as you." He stood and regarded her carefully for a moment before speaking again.

"Sarah," he began, "I'm not usually so… ceremonious when I'm here in my natural habitat. Would you be terribly offended if I made myself more comfortable?"

"Um… no. It's your house…"

"Thank you," said Jareth with a little bow. He closed his eyes and waved his hand over his body and his dark slacks and stiff shirt disappeared, replaced by more relaxed khaki pants and a deep gray chenille sweater. His hair, which had been somewhat slicked back from his face, lengthened over his ears, though not fully into the wild mop Sarah had seen him sport in the Underground. The colorful markings over his eyes reappeared and his overall features seem to shift and sharpen. He seemed more angular, Otherworldly.

"His 'normal' appearance is a glamour, then," Sarah noted inwardly.

Jareth let out a long sigh and settled back into his armchair. "You have no idea how good that feels," he said, retrieving his teacup.

"No, I get it," Sarah told him. "I feel the same way after a long day when I finally get home and take off my-" she started to say "bra", but thought better of it and said "heels" instead.

He gave her a knowing smile. "As you can imagine," he said, "I can't go out in my usual appearance. Most people might take no notice, especially in the city, but I'd rather not call unwanted attention to myself."

"Could have fooled me, Mr. Painted-on-breeches," Sarah thought. She recalled that his Underground wardrobe had been more than a little eye-catching, both in fashion and fit.

"You still have magic, then?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Of course," he answered simply. "It's not something that exists only Underground. It's very much a part of who and what I am. I can no more separate myself from it than you can any of your senses. However, I've dampened it significantly and make a point to never use it without careful consideration."

Sarah moved to the edge of the sofa and leaned toward him. "So, let me get this straight," she began. "You just walked away from your role as king of the goblins, changed your appearance and squelched your magic in order to live an ordinary life teaching classes to human twenty-somethings?"

"Yes," answered Jareth.

"Why?"

He didn't answer right away and Sarah noticed that he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I would think you would understand, Sarah Williams," he said at last. "You left your home to settle in an unremarkable village, volunteer at a dusty museum and eat dinner alone."

Sarah felt her face grow hot. "I- I just needed a change of scenery," she blurted, annoyed at his presumption.

"Likewise," smirked Jareth.

Sarah slid back onto the couch and took a loud slurp of tea. After a few moments of silence she spoke.

"Do you live alone?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh no," answered Jareth. "I have a flatmate. She's quite lovely and she adores me. I think you'll really like her."

Sarah tensed as he stood.

"Jareth has a live-in?" her brain screamed. She watched as he moved to a large object in the corner of the room and lifted the sheet that covered it, revealing a bamboo pagoda birdcage.

"Hello!" squawked a shiny black bird with a bright red beak and yellow markings around its eyes. "Daddy's home!"

"Hello, Precious," cooed Jareth as he opened the cage and the bird hopped onto his index finger. He turned to Sarah. "Come and meet Peaches, Sarah," he said.

"Peaches, huh?" Sarah laughed as she stood. "I've never seen a Myna in real life before."

The bird looked up at her and flitted her wings. "Pretty!" she peeped.

"Thanks," Sarah told the bird. "So are you." She rubbed a finger over Peaches' head and she chirped contentedly.

"She likes you," Jareth said with a smile.

Sarah shrugged. "I seem to have a natural rapport with birds," she teased.

Jareth returned Peaches to her cage but let it uncovered. "Do you have an animal companion?" he asked Sarah.

She smiled, appreciative of the fact that he hadn't chosen to say "pet."

"Yes," she answered. "I have a fat, old tabby cat named Sir Lancelot. He's a bit grumpy at times, but he's nice to snuggle with at night."

"You live alone then." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yep."

"Hmm."

"I- uh… Would you point me in the direction of your powder room?" Sarah asked, desperate to curtail that particular conversation.

Jareth pointed down the hall. "Second door on the left," he said.

Sarah followed his directions, making a point to move hurriedly past the open door of what she assumed was his bedroom. His bathroom was small, but clean. Black and white tile covered the floor in a simple pattern. There was a clawfoot tub at the far end encircled by a plain white shower curtain. An antique mirror hung over the pedestal sink. Sarah examined the open shelves to the side of the mirror: toothpaste, dental floss, nail clippers. She noted that Jareth had a plain, cheap manual toothbrush but a bottle of rather expensive aftershave.

"Surreal," she said again, this time out loud as she looked over his assortment of toiletries. She couldn't imagine the Goblin King shaving, or flossing his teeth or… she glanced at the toilet and shook her head. Not going there.

Jareth's bedroom was unavoidable as she exited the bathroom. The door was wide open and Sarah couldn't help venturing a peek inside. She was thoroughly surprised by what she saw. As packed as his living space was, his bedroom was just the opposite. A large platform bed stood in the center, covered with a plain gray coverlet and two gray pillows. There were two empty metal side-tables on either side of the bed, a dresser opposite the bed and a large mirrored wardrobe in the corner. The gray walls were empty besides two metal sconces flanking a large black-and-white photo of a nude woman reclining on a narrow strip of sand surrounded by crashing waves.

"Hmm," she thought. "No gothic four-poster bed with dark curtains and black silk sheets."

She wasn't sure how or why her mind had always conjured up such imagery for Jareth's bedroom. She supposed it came from the fact that when she had seen him in the Underground he'd dressed like something right off the front of a romance novel.

"I don't really use the bedroom," Jareth said, causing Sarah to jump. She hadn't heard him come down the hall, but suddenly he was right beside her. "Not for sleeping anyway," he added with a grin.

"Don't really want to know," Sarah said, walking past him and back to the lounge.

"Don't you?" A smirk.

"No."

Jareth returned to the lounge and sat down in his armchair, drawing his legs up under him. He watched Sarah as she looked over the prints and trinkets and objets d'art covering his walls. She lightly fingered a gilded fan before turning to him.

"You don't sleep?" she asked.

"Oh no," said Jareth. "I sleep, but not at night, nocturnal as I am. I typically sleep in short spurts throughout the day, usually in here on the sofa."

Sarah glanced back at the floral sofa where she'd taken her tea. She wasn't so sure about sitting back down on it now that she knew he slept on it. She would technically be sitting on his bed.

"His bed," her mind echoed and she swallowed the lump that had jumped into her throat. From his seat in the chair, Jareth seemed to darken, and Sarah's heart pounded at the thought that he could be reading her thoughts.

"Not that I care about his bed," she inwardly argued. It's just the idea…"

"Sarah," called Jareth and she looked back at him, relieved to see that his expression had lightened. "It's extremely rare that I can completely relax with a human and fully be myself. You know full well what I am and have been, but don't seem terribly bothered by it." He paused and took a sip of tea. "I wonder then, if you would mind very much if I asked you to join me for dinner some time."

"Are- are you asking me out on a date?" Sarah squeaked.

"No, silly girl," answered Jareth. "I'm asking you to have dinner with me. As friends." She opened her mouth to protest but he raised a hand to quiet her. "Now, before you argue that we're not friends, let me say that we could be if you'd humor me and take some time to get to know me."

That was fair, Sarah supposed.

"Fine," she heard herself say.

"Well, don't act so enthused, Sarah dear," Jareth told her with a slight frown, "It's just dinner and conversation, not a summons for jury duty."

"Sorry," Sarah said genuinely. "Dinner sounds nice."

"Wonderful," Jareth said.

They were silent for several minutes, listening to the tick of the clocks and Peaches rustling in her cage.

"I could have handled that jerk downstairs, you know," Sarah said at last.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," chuckled Jareth. "In fact, I intervened more for that fellow's sake than yours. I've seen first-hand what happens when Sarah Williams is cornered."

A/N:

I am so happy you guys are following along and enjoying this story. Thank you to Tenjp, tonemara, and Kitomi0211 for your lovely comments!

Thanks also to new followers: glitterfangirl, tonemara, BlairBass17, Kayori.9221, PandaEars96, The Baroness, , Kitomi0211,

I appreciate your feedback so much, so please keep those thoughts and comments coming!

~Fanny~