Chapter 12

I heard the door to the bedroom close. Ten minutes pass, and I was still in Jareth's arms. Five minutes after that, and the spinning slowed to a gradual stop. Jareth moved me to the bed, and sat next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, starting to stroke my hair again.

"Don't touch me," I mumbled with my eyes closed.

He laughed, but continued to caress my hair. "I'm going to take that as a yes."
"Seriously. Get your disgusting rapist hands out of my hair," I commanded weakly.

"I didn't rape you, Misery," he sighed.

"Well, you came close enough." I slowly traveled one hand up to his and took hold of it. I moved it over his chest and dropped it there. I tried to move my own hand back to my side, but Jareth grabbed it and placed it on his lap. He started petting my hand.

"What is with you and stroking me like a dog?" I muttered grumpily, having no more energy to take my hand off his chest.

"Your skin and hair are quite pleasant to the touch," he explained.

"So? That doesn't mean you have to touch me at every opportunity given to you," I snapped softly.

"Yes, it does. I take advantage of those opportunities."

I sighed, but didn't say anything. I didn't have much energy left.

We sat there in silence for a while before Jareth ruined it. "How do you like our bedroom?"

I opened my eyes, suddenly regaining some of my energy left. "Our bedroom?" I questioned.

"Yes, our bedroom. We're sharing the master bedroom."

"The hell we are," I said, trying to sit up.

"Misery, lay back down," he ordered nicely.

"No," I said, still trying to sit up.

He sighed again and gently pushed me back down. "Misery, why won't you listen to me?"

"Because, Jareth. I am sick and tired of everybody telling me what to do. I've had enough of it to last me a lifetime." I finally gave up trying to sit; Jareth's hand was still resting on my chest and it was too heavy to move.

"Well, you didn't answer my question. Do you like it?" he repeated.

"Too white," I replied as soon as he got the sentence out of his mouth.

"We can redecorate it if you want. All black décor." He meant for the last part to be a joke, but I immediately perked up.

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

"No, of course not. I was kidding," he said with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh…" my face fell. "In that case, I don't want to share a bedroom with you. If I'm going to stay here, then why can't I have my own room? I did at Blake's."

"Two reasons. One, I don't trust you. And two, even if I did, I would still want to share a bedroom with you, just to have you close," Jareth explained.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you just take me back to Blake? Or better yet, my own home?"

"This is your home now. And I can't explain why I have to be near you. I just have this feeling."

"You haven't even known me for twenty-four hours, and yet you have this 'feeling' about me?" I asked, creeped out.

"I just do," was all he said.

"So can I have my own room?" I tried again.

"No."

I groaned. "I hate you."

"Just because I wont let you have your own bedroom?" Jareth asked, caught off guard.

"No, not just that. I hate you because you're bipolar, you almost raped me, you kidnapped me, you expect me to obey your every order, you threaten me with torture if I don't, and you drugged me."

"I am not bipolar. And I drugged you for your own good," he defended.

"Don't deny it. You know you're bipolar."

"How?"

"One minute you're insanely angry with me, and the next, you're super gentle and kind."

"That's because you make me angry, but then I realize that it's impossible for me to stay mad at you for more than a minute."

"I freakin' hate you," I told him, meaning what I said.

"Misery, just go get your pajamas on," he commanded suddenly.

"From where? And I kind of can't, considering your hand is too heavy for me to move off my chest," I pointed out.

He took his hand off of me. "The closet. Where else do you get clothes from?"

"Umm…the dresser, perhaps? What am I supposed to wear, anyways? One of your t-shirts or something?"

"No. Your pajamas."

"You have clothes in my size!?" I asked loudly (I didn't yell).

"Yes, of course. I'm not just going to bring you here, and then not have anything for you to wear," he said.

"How do you know my size?" I asked, managing to stand up.

"I have my sources," Jareth said mysteriously.

"I hate you," I said again. I slowly walked to the closet door and opened it. The inside was separated into two sections: male and female. The male side was mainly formal clothes, but there were a few casual sets. The female side consisted entirely of dresses and petticoats in different shades of pinks, purples, creams, and yellows. No green, blue, or black.

"Um, excuse sir, but all I'm seeing are dresses and no black, blue, or green. Where are the pants, shirts, and acceptable colors?" I asked from the doorway, annoyed by the sight of the happy colors and dresses.

Jareth stood up as well. "It's inappropriate for women to wear anything but dresses or skirts, and I don't like skirts. So I didn't but you any."

"What is this? The 1800's?" I asked, pissed off. I hate wearing dresses (except for formal occasions) and bright colors.

"Let's just say I'm very old fashioned." He walked into the closet with me.

"I'm not wearing any of those disgusting dresses. I do not wear pink, purple, or cream. Yellow is a stretch."

"It's either these or go naked, which is something I'm fine with," Jareth grinned.

I was appalled. "You sicko! I'll wear the damn dresses!"

He laughed. "That's what I thought. Now, the pajamas are in this drawer. Your shoes are here," he pointed to them (all white and sandals or flats) underneath the clothes, "and your underwear is in the bureau next to the bed," he explained, and pulled out a white ankle-length nightgown.

"Oh, hell no. Nightgowns?" I said, thoroughly irritated.

"It's either this or go naked," he repeated.

"I freaking hate you," I growled, and snatched the nightgown from him.

"I love you." He grinned again.

"Get out," I ordered. He didn't say anything; he just walked out and closed the door behind him. I mumbled to myself curse words describing Jareth, and threw my ball gown and combat boots off. I replaced them with the stupid nightgown, and walked out of the closet.

"I'm going to sleep," I said as I climbed into bed.

"Good night, then," Jareth called from the bathroom.

I ignored him, and fell asleep within seconds.