Disclaimer: Alright, so everyone knows I don't own Labyrinth. But I really really want to. So, you know, if anyone was wondering what to get me for my birthday...
And Also: Thanks be to my new beta, CorkyConlon, for being so absolutely fabulous. A round of applause for her, darlings?
Chapter Ten
My brain had melted.
After several minutes of inexplicable agony when I awoke, during which every slightest noise caused a sonic boom in my skull and the tiniest ray of light fried my retinas, I realized that the only reasonable cause for this was that my grey matter had spontaneously liquefied.
Domino sat beside the bed with his chin resting by my face and chuffed impatiently.
"Shuuush, puppy," I mumbled. He looked at me with mild disdain.
This is your own doing. You have none of my doggie sympathy.
"Oh, don't be so callous. I rub your tummy when you've gorged yourself on Mexican, don't I?" I chided.
He twitched an ear. That is entirely different.
I sighed, hauling myself upright and waiting for the world to stop throwing a temper tantrum and settle back down. Then I stood up and repeated the process.
All in all, it only took me about seven minutes to get my shoes and make it to the bedroom door.
"You know, Mr. Puppy, I think it's possible I had a tad too much to drink last night," I admitted, looking around my obliterated living room as my incapacitating hangover took a club to my mushy brain.
Goblin chaos had again been wreaked upon my home.
Bits of paper and other debris littered the area, my powdered laundry detergent had somehow made it into the festivities and strewn itself from one end of the living room to the other, and a number of stretched socks were scattered about like cotton cocoons shed by Gobliny butterflies.
I cocked my head, considering the scene before me.
To be honest, my house actually sort of looked better this way.
During the Week of No Goblins, it had been clean and orderly, and utterly lacking in character. Strewn as it was with debris, it sort of had a homey feeling.
I made a bee-line for the kitchen and grabbed the Tylenol. I was obviously delusional with pain and needed to cure this sort of thinking immediately. Next thing I knew, I'd have chickens running around willy-nilly and be strategically positioning an oversized armchair in the center of the room.
Returning to the living room, I half-heartedly shoved some of the mess into semi-organized piles, and realized my 'fan' had made its way back into the fray. I vaguely remembered attempting to sacrifice it to the Gods of Rum last night, though exactly what either the deities or I were supposed to be getting out of it were a bit fuzzy. I vividly remembered stubbing my toe on a dislocated fan blade, though.
I glared at my old nemesis for a moment.
"You know what? You're not going to win. I'm going to put you together, and you are going to spin and work properly, because I will not be beaten by a pile of stubborn plastic. Understood?" I told the blasted thing firmly. It did not deign to answer me, but I suspect it got my meaning.
Domino whined by the door, looking longingly towards his leash, and I sighed, shuffling over to him and hooking the lead to his collar.
"Alright, alright. But please, please be gentle with me. My brain is fragile right now, and I can't afford another unannounced melting, okay?" I pleaded. Domino chuffed in agreement, and then unceremoniously dragged me outside just the same.
And it was hailing. Hailing. And not the friendly, leave-tiny-welts-on-any-exposed-skin sort of hail, but the chunks-the-size-of-golf-balls, could-induce-permanent-brain-damage sort of hail. I growled.
Goblin Fallout, Part Four.
Domino made quick work of a few sheltered begonias, and promptly hauled me back upstairs, shaking his coat every couple of steps and liberally spraying everything in a five-foot radius of him with bits of ice.
Firmly commanding Domino to stay as soon as we entered the apartment, I fetched a couple of towels and proceeded to dry the two of us off. Once my puppy was satisfactorily de-iced, I gave him a large, yummy-centered bone to keep him occupied for the next decade or so and went to the laundry alcove nestled between the kitchen and living room to continue my efforts.
"You know, this is getting a bit absurd. Honestly, I'm about to permanently declare a goblin ban on my apartment," I groused insincerely as I pulled bits of melting ice from my hair.
"I hope that won't apply to their king," Jareth said from behind me, and I started slightly, wincing as the sudden movement jarred a couple of ill-secured brain cells loose.
Turning, I cast a glower at the bright-faced, clear-eyed blonde in my living room, who's brain had obviously not melted in the recent past and therefore could not sympathize with my plight, and promptly stalked into the kitchen to make coffee.
"Ah. Not a morning person, then," Jareth said, following me.
"It depends. Today, no," I said shortly, counting out scoops into the filter and hoping that the 3:1 coffee-to-glitter ratio wasn't harmful to ingest.
"Well, perhaps you should return to bed for a little while," he said, and I felt him slink up behind me, his soft poet shirt brushing my arms and his breath fluttering my hair as he spoke next to my ear. "If you like, I'll keep you company," he purred.
I shivered. Did he really have to make that sound so tempting?
Jareth chuckled at my reaction, and I felt my eyes narrow in chagrin.
Was he seriously laughing at me?
"Well, I'm already up now. Might as well stay that way. Did you want coffee?" I asked, pretending not to care that he was so close to me I could almost squeeze into his breeches.
I could hear the smirk in Jareth's voice as he answered. "Thank you, precious thing. That would be lovely." I nodded.
"Good. That way if the glitter you left in it is poisonous, you'll die with me," I reasoned. Jareth laughed.
"How cruel, Sarah! Spiteful little creature, aren't we?" he said with amusement, and leaned sexily against my counter. I firmly stomped on my libido, corralling it back into its pen - honestly, I knew it was getting out of hand when I was turned on by leaning.
"It's hailing outside. The goblins caused yet another fallout, and I'm getting a bit tired of them," I explained, purposely not mentioning that my foul mood was also influenced by the consequences of drinking myself into oblivion last night.
Jareth pursed his lips and studied me for a moment. I tried to pretend that I hadn't been obliterating all thoughts of him with alcohol, with limited success.
"Have you considered that perhaps you are the cause of the 'magical fallouts'?" he asked finally. I scoffed.
"I may have, if I could actually do magic," I replied.
"Have you ever tried?" he countered. I blinked.
"Well. No. But only because it would be pointless, since I'm human and humans can't do magic." I said defensively. A small smirk lurked in the corner of his mouth.
"Says who?"
I blinked again, and spluttered in an incoherently incredulous manner for a few moments before realizing I sounded like an idiot and crossed my arms, clamping my mouth closed for a moment.
"Alright, so, fine," I said, once I was sure the idiotic babbling would not resume if I unbuttoned my lips. "Let's say - just hypothetically - humans have the capacity for magic. Why didn't it work back when I was a kid and actually believed I could? Why all of a sudden now?" I demanded.
He chewed on his words for a moment, as though weighing the possible costs of releasing them. "It's possible my presence is drawing it to the forefront," he said carefully. I narrowed my eyes.
"Why would you make a difference? I've been hanging out with goblins for the past ten years, and they're stuffed with magic."
Something that very nearly resembled a wince flashed across Jareth's face.
"It may be that your magic is responding to me because… it was originally my magic."
A pleasant little flutter originated from somewhere in the vicinity of my heart - though that's not what it was, because I was not a sickeningly love-struck teenager - at the thought that Jareth had given me some of his magic, before I stomped it back down. As it was obviously impossible, there was no reason to be fluttery about it. And it was impossible, because if I could do magic, I would right now be in Tahiti basking on a beach, twirling crystals around my delightfully sun kissed fingers, and not in my dreary little apartment in New York, trying to wrestle a plastic abomination into something resembling a fan while brewing glitter-infested coffee.
I started to present my logic to Jareth, but paused as I realized the situation: Jareth, Master of Mockery and King of the Sneer, had just presented me with an opportunity to mock him.
I nearly laughed. The warm little flutter flapped back to life, doing some sort of highly energetic jig in my chest. I slipped a murderous mask over my giddiness and tried to look as though tearing off a limb or three were not out of the question.
"So it's your fault!" I said, and was quite pleased there was absolutely no trace of the happy flutter in my voice. Jareth cringed, as though this was exactly the reaction he was expecting, and I covered a triumphant grin with another furious scowl.
I pretended to ponder over the implications of this for a moment, letting him sweat as I glowered and occasionally made outraged noises, at which he winced and looked vaguely worried for the well-being of his extremities.
I supposed, hypothetically, that if I did believe I suddenly possessed magical powers, learning its previous owner was Jareth would have explained its temperamental side-effects; such as lack of order and mechanical mayhem, and sudden, violent mood swings in the weather. And come to think of it, I had been rather uncharacteristically concerned with my wardrobe lately.
A rather terrifying thought suddenly slapped me upside the brain, and I widened my eyes, looking Jareth over as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head that was quoting Nietzsche. He looked mildly offended.
"I'm not slowly turning into you, am I?" I asked, slightly horrified. I quickly turned to the microwave, using its glass door as a mirror to check my eye color.
"Both still green," I muttered for his benefit, and saw him roll his eyes in the reflection.
My hair, however, looked a tad fluffier than usual. "Did I brush my hair today?" I wondered aloud, furrowing my eyebrows with worry. I patted at it, though only a few times, as it sent extremely unpleasant tremors through my gelatinous brain, before turning to throw a pained glance at Jareth's unruly mop while purposely ignoring the rest of him, as though he were just a floating, disembodied hairstyle.
"I'm going to wind up with knee-high leather boots, painfully tight pants, and ridiculous, ostentatious hair," I predicted in a hopeless tone.
"Sarah, don't be absurd," Jareth chastised. I ignored him, trying to smooth my hair back to its usual bouncelessness . I sighed wistfully.
"Goodbye, my normal, shiny, pin-straight locks…" I lamented.
"Sarah," Jareth hissed angrily. I turned to look at him, and tried very hard not to giggle, grin, or any other telling action that would display just how proud I was of myself for pulling this off. Jareth's hair was fluffing slightly, as though being lifted by the furious heat-waves pulsing off of him, and his hands were balled into tight fists, being held rigidly by his sides. I frowned at him.
"Oh, great. My temper is going to go to pot, too, isn't it? Slightest little insult, and I'm going to start hurling death machines at people and trapping them in oubliettes," I sighed. He rolled his eyes and growled in frustration.
"Really, Sarah, while it may not have been the best idea, you were being unbearably rude, and-" he started, but finally noticed the little self-satisfied gleam in my eyes, and stopped. The tightly contained rage drained from his limbs, and he seemed to deflate slightly. "You…" he said softly, the realization falling into place with an almost audible click, and then narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.
"Oh, very mature," he said flatly. I grinned.
"Sorry, but you just rile so energetically. It's extremely entertaining," I quipped, imitating his accent. He gave me a dull stare, clearly not amused. I shifted a little, perhaps slightly uncomfortable, as my stomach contemplated mutiny. I surreptitiously pressed a hand to my tummy as I deliberately looked anywhere but at Jareth, but after several agonizingly long awkward moments, I caved.
"Well, it's your own fault for trying to make me believe you had shoved your magic down my throat when I wasn't looking," I said defensively. He blinked, and then his favorite haughty mask slid into place.
He scoffed. "And I had thought you'd finally obtained some measure of intelligence," he said in that unbearably arrogant manner of his. I felt my own ire rising.
"Well, pardon me for not realizing sooner that the impossible had happened," I spat irritably. "You'd think I would have noticed something like that."
"It's hardly impossible, either in practice or belief. You believed that silly line in the book, about the Goblin King falling in love with the poor princess, did you not?" He countered sharply, his tone just a tad demeaning. I rolled my eyes and ignored the pounding of hot blood in my head.
"And I realized it was silly. You didn't really fall for a fifteen-year-old brat and give me 'certain powers'. And anyways, even though I might not immediately declare it the best gift ever, I'm usually at least aware of things given to me. Especially if they've been shoved down my throat."
"I never said I gave it willingly, Princess," he said tightly.
"So I somehow forced you to give me your magic?" I retorted, folding my arms. Jareth abruptly threw up his hands, his hair fluffing again in a decidedly angry manner.
"You won, you callous twit! I didn't give you anything! You took it," he shouted. I narrowly kept the wince off my face at the assault on my oversensitive eardrums, and promptly gave as good as I got.
"I didn't take anything from you!" I shouted back. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, and his voice lowered in volume, if not in hostility.
"Your ignorance does not change the result," he said, obviously clamping a tenuous hold on his irritation. I rolled my eyes.
"You're seriously telling me I unconsciously took magic, that I did not want to begin with, from you?" I reliped scathingly.
"Do you see me rubbing your nose in your epic failure with that bloody plastic contraption of yours in the other room?" he snapped, and I blinked.
He was serious.
This sort of changed things.
I looked down at my fingers, wiggling them experimentally. No sparks or glittery puffs erupted from them, but I decided it was probably inconclusive evidence at best. Just for arguments sake, I decided to consider the possibility, and noticed that several things actually made sense, inasmuch as something like this could. For instance, things tended to mess up more when the goblins had been pestering me for several days in a row, and I was irritated or stressed. And when I was obsessing over that television piece, it came on every freaking five minutes. Then it was suspiciously warm yesterday, after I had been begging for good weather to take Jareth for a ride in the Challenger…
Holy crap. I kind of believed him.
"It wasn't something I did on purpose," I said in an apologetic manner, a little less testy. Jareth gave me one of his patented Eyebrow Looks.
"Wonderful. Part of my personal, inherent power was accidentally taken by a fifteen-year-old brat. How comforting."
I scowled. "Look, I didn't want your damn power, and I didn't mean to do it," I snarled.
"Oh, you didn't?" he quipped lightly, smirking. I huffed in annoyed exasperation.
"Apologies are better late than never, you know."
"I've heard nothing even vaguely resembling an apology, as of yet."
I gaped at him. "You used my own actions as a defense when you apologized!" I said incredulously.
"Because it wasn't entirely my fault. This is different."
"I didn't even know! Cut me some slack, here!"
Jareth tsked. "Going to complain about the unfairness of it all, precious?"
I glared as hard as I possibly could at the unbearably irritating man in front of me, and decided imaginary daggers just weren't good enough.
So, I turned and hefted my butcher knife. The weight of cold steel in my hand was particularly enjoyable.
Turning with what I'm sure was a murderous gleam in my eyes, I found myself met with an unfortunately king-less kitchen.
Surprise, surprise.
Why that infuriating, unbelievably boorish woman, how dare she!
"I didn't take anything from you," Jareth quoted irritably, his voice high and mocking. "Honestly, where does she get the nerve?" he demanded of a nearby chicken. It clucked noncommittally and scratched at the floor, a few feathers drifting from its tail.
"Didn't want my power, indeed. She was bloody well begging for it," he informed his feathered companion, tossing his head indignantly. "Just because she was too inattentive to notice that she had it damn well does not mean that she didn't fairly rip it from me with her blasted little monologue," Jareth grumbled, and conjured a couple of crystals for the sole purpose of tossing them carelessly at a wall and watching them shatter. "And when I go to ease her mind, tell her that she'll be in no way inferior to the bejeweled, power-mongering harpies at court, she tries to stab me! You think she would be delighted to hear that she has her own significant amount of power, but no! Instead of any sort of gratitude, I get blatantly insulted and nearly attacked. Do you know she called my hair ridiculous and ostentatious? I've bogged persons for lesser offenses," he ranted, whipping his riding crop around to emphasize his dissatisfaction with the situation.
Of course, Jareth had anticipated Sarah's less-than-ideal reaction, due to the fact that magic seemed to have given her a fair amount of difficulty over the past few years, but he certainly did not expect her outright disbelief. He'd expected better from her, after all that she had witnessed and experienced firsthand.
And mocking him had been wholly unnecessary.
She was lucky he didn't drop her in an oubliette.
Wallowing petulantly, Jareth toyed with a strand of his dramatic, ice-blonde hair. It wasn't ridiculous. Was it?
He was briefly entertaining the idea of trying out other hairstyles (simply for a change, not because it had anything to do with Sarah's opinion), when there was an almighty racket from the courtyard below his throne room window, and he rose from his throne to determine the cause.
As he looked out over his Labyrinth, Jareth's blood ran cold, and heavy horror settled in his stomach.
"Oh, Sarah, you fiend…" he murmured, torn between dismay and admiration, and promptly sealed himself in his chambers.
How cruel his queen could be.
It took about five minutes of ranting for inspiration to strike.
Why I didn't think of it instantly, I don't know, as I had just employed it the previous afternoon, but I decided to blame my extreme irritation for the lapse in scheming.
Jareth, in all his maddening arrogance, was currently under siege.
It took a little bit of persuasion (by which I mean bribing, but really, what's a few bags of marshmallows and twenty cups of cocoa, when it's for the cause?), but I managed to convince the goblins that Jareth was playing a game with me, and the goal of the game was to take over the other person's home.
And then I sent the goblins Underground, armed with silly string, balls of yarn, and miles of streamers.
Jareth didn't have a snowball's chance in Tahiti.
I hummed happily to myself as I strolled to my kitchen, fishing a pen out of the junk drawer to label today as Day One of the Goblin Coup on the calendar.
I held the cap between my teeth, running my finger along the days until I came to the present - Wednesday, February fourteenth-
I stopped.
Today was Wednesday. I had a dinner date with Jeff.
It was also Valentine's Day.
I gaped at my calendar. "Why that no-good, rotten, scheming troll!" I snarled around the plastic top, and was quite proud that none of the violent malice was lost due to slurring.
I couldn't believe that man! Did he really think I wouldn't notice that he had conned me into a date on one of the most romantic nights of the year, even though I had done everything in my power to make it blatantly obvious I wasn't interested?
I purposely ignored the fact that it had nearly worked as I stomped off to my bedroom, intending to locate his number and give that dirty, low-hitting sneak a piece of my mind -
And abruptly halted.
This was, actually, quite fortunate. With a bit of proper timing, this could be even more satisfying than mocking His Nibs' wardrobe and hairstyle choices.
Grinning, I continued toward my bedroom with a much lighter step.
Ziggy sort of suspected that Lady Sarah wasn't being entirely truthful with him about the Game with King, but her fib resulted in Lots of Fun, so he was inclined to go along with it. Besides, she had certainly improved since the Yummy Goodies Are Actually Poison fib, and it was very important to encourage her. If she kept at it, Lady Sarah may even be able to lie to him convincingly one day. Or even King, which was a feat not even the goblins had mastered yet.
Ziggy hoped Lady Sarah got the hang of fibbing to King soon, because this Game was going to make him Really Crabby.
After coating the outside walls of the Castle with a layer or two of the Sticky Rope-Spray, Ziggy led the other goblins on a brief march inside, where they proceeded to twine the yarn around every hangy thing on the walls that they came across and drape streamers over anything that would hold it.
Including chickens.
Out of pity, they targeted the bald chickens fist, so that they would be pretty and not naked anymore, but they turned out to be such good sport that the other, still feathered, chickens wound up being covered too.
Next should have been the Chair Room, but the recent threats of facial disfigurement regarding King's Chair Room, and the sudden rise in naked, smelly chickens, discouraged the goblins, and they moved onto less dangerous areas.
Like King's Sleepy Room.
I glanced at the clock, pursing my lips as I applied my lipstick.
Jareth was holding out better than I thought he would.
I had expected him to cave and come beg me for mercy hours ago. I felt a brief flash of worry for the goblins. He hadn't bogged them all, had he?
Shaking my head, I returned my focus to the beautification of my face. The goblins would be fine. I had told them all to abandon their mission and claim duress should they be conquered, and not one of them had come streaking through my living room smelling of Bog, as was customary when one of them had been caught doing something.
They were fine.
But what was taking so long?
Huffing, I gave up on my makeup after a few minutes, deciding this was as good as I got, and instead went to finish getting dressed while I waited. Jareth would be here, any minute…
A few minutes later, I caught myself standing in front of my closet, head cocked, listening for the sound of his sparkly arrival, absolutely no progress having been made on the dressing front.
"Focus, Sarah!" I berated myself, slipping into the slinky black dress I'd chosen. "Just follow the plan!" If I wasn't careful, he was going to pop in here with me half-naked, and if I could barely control myself around him while fully dressed, I shuddered to think what I would do if he confronted me with so little in the way of that hot, tingle-inducing gaze of his.
My leg warmed traitorously at the memory of his hand upon it, and my neck ached to have his warm breath brushing across it, his sharp teeth grazing -
"Sarah!" snarled a furious voice from the living room, and I grinned.
Finally.
He'd had it.
He could tolerate her claiming the right to give orders to his subjects, even allow said orders to jeopardize the cleanliness of his newly-restored castle, but he could not, could not, tolerate the violation of his private chambers.
Was nothing sacred?
Enraged, he whirled on the woman responsible as she entered from her own, goblin-free chambers, and opened his mouth to let fly a dozen or so sharp remarks about propriety and acts of war -
And found them all clotted in his throat, while his jaw worked soundlessly.
Sarah, while stunning even when clothed in naught but baggy, ill-fitting shirts and shapeless sweatpants, was absolutely devastating when properly clothed. A smooth little black number hung over her figure, snug over her hips and short on her long legs, leaving plenty of delectable skin to be appreciated. Her hair was twisted up, leaving her lovely neck bare, while a few stray tendrils hung down to frame her dark-lidded eyes and distractingly red lips.
And she was smirking at him.
"Oh, Jareth! Glad you're here. Do me a favor, would you, and zip me up?" she asked nonchalantly, sauntering over to him and presenting the back of her dress, which hung enticingly open to her waist and revealed some sort of appealing lacy contraption at her bodice and something equally interesting just below the zipper. Jareth narrowed his eyes.
She was teasing him.
Unfortunately, it was effective.
Her perfume was something light and vaguely sweet, reminding him of pale pink and sunshine, and the compulsion to sweep along her neck, breathe deeply and commit the smell of her skin to memory was quite overwhelming. The contours of her bared back made his fingers twitch, begging to brush along the lines and make her shiver underneath them, while his teeth ached to graze the lace encircling her breasts and see how long it would take to make her moan, panting and grabbing at him-
Jareth bit the inside of his cheek sharply, forcing himself to less dangerous thoughts. He could quickly spiral out of control if he continued like this, and he couldn't afford to let her win. He firmly implanted a picture of his invaded castle, bedecked in all manner of unacceptability, in his mind to override her efforts at seduction, and focused only on her dress. She had to apologize before he could enact any of the scenes her teasing had created.
Though unfamiliar, the closure method proved simple, and Jareth easily did as she asked, being quite sure to gently run his fingers along her spine as he complied. He was rewarded with a small shiver, and a smirk of his own played over his lips.
"Thank you," she said, her voice just a tad lower than necessary, and Jareth felt that ever-present desire rising up again at her tone.
"Of course," he replied, noting that his own voice may have been just a bit rough. "You look lovely. Might I inquire as to the occasion?" He asked, already quite sure he knew the answer. After her little stunt with his goblins, he'd been planning to give her a taste of angered monarchy, but if she was willing to negotiate a cessation of hostilities, and over a formal dinner at that, who was he to-
"I have a date. Actually, he'll be over soon, so what's up?" she said briskly, flouncing away from him.
Jareth rocked back a little. It took a moment for her words to stop rebounding in his head long enough to for him to remember how to use his tongue.
"A date?" he asked quietly. He had enough presence of mind left to notice that the little minx looked far too pleased with herself to be allowed.
"Yep. His name's Jeff. He's actually quite nice, you might like him. Anyways, what did you want?"
Blinking, Jareth stood motionless as he processed her offhandedly devastating remarks. He'd known she was angry, but she obviously had been as drawn to him as he to her in the car - he'd bloody felt her heart racing next to him as he'd traced his fingers over her thigh - how could she have someone else waiting for her the next bloody day -
His internal ranting paused.
Oh.
So, that was how she wanted to play, then?
Very well. He could play. He'd shatter her feigned disinterest like fine crystal. Bloody minx. Toy with him, would she.
"I want," he paused, letting his eyes roam over her slinky little dress and the pleasing length of her exposed legs, allowing her to interpret precisely how bad he wanted, "you to answer for your actions against my personal stronghold," he continued. Sarah stiffened, a faint blush creeping up into her cheeks as her breathing quickened, and he slid forward, a small grin pulling his lips.
It was impossible. It was simply impossible for someone to exude that much raw sexuality while doing nothing but walking.
Jareth was stalking toward me - there wasn't nearly enough distance for him to cover, why isn't my apartment bigger? - and looking at me in that manner of his that turned most of my load-bearing limbs into jell-o; that look with the feral, sharp-fanged grin and the hungry eyes I was sure would glow with need if I turned out the lights - Oh god no, don't think about Jareth in the dark-
I realized as Jareth reached me that I could no longer feel my toes.
Jareth tilted his head, mismatched eyes wandering over my face, my mouth, my throat, as he brought his gloved fingers up to brush against the side of my neck.
I swallowed hard and opened my mouth to speak, but my mouth had suddenly forgotten what its purpose was, and seemed to be debating between latching onto his lips or gibbering incoherently. His mouth was unbearably distracting. He wanted to kiss me. He'd be jealous if I kissed someone else. He wants me to kiss him.
"Sarah?" Jareth said quietly, smirking in a self-satisfied manner at my silence. I blinked, feeling a tiny bit of intelligence squirming back into my gooey brain, and narrowed my eyes.
He knew what he was doing. And he was stroking his own ego by making me turn to hot-blooded mush.
Heat of a different variety slid through my veins, and I clicked a cold mask on my face.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," I said evenly, putting a buffer of space between me and the heat radiating off his body. Jareth looked mildly amused at the sudden re-emergence of my spine, and took another step forward. I took one back, preserving the distance between us, and folding my arms across my chest.
Jareth tsked at me and smiled tolerantly, like a mentor at his favorite pupil. "Sarah, you haven't the skill to deceive me. You insult us both by trying."
"But I'm not trying to deceive you, O Goblin King," I said mockingly. "I have been here, in my house, getting ready for a perfectly normal, goblin-free evening with a very nice, tame-haired man. I have made no actions against you, personal or otherwise," I stated. And it was true. I had done nothing to Jareth. The goblins had been the ones running amuck with silly string.
He gave me an arch look. "You mean to imply that it was not you who sent a horde of armed goblins to lay siege to my castle?"
I rolled a shoulder, and felt a pleased little thrill as I saw his eyes lock onto the distracting things it did to my dress. I had felt his arousal like a tangible cloud before he'd zipped up my dress, and it was nice to know he hadn't shed it quite as completely as he pretended.
"Not as such," I replied, turning to enter my bathroom. "I might have given them some aboveground toys as royalties, and they may have gotten the idea to play 'Conquer the Kingdom' as a result of the games we play here, but I did not order them to attack you, personally," I said, doing a few last-minute touch-ups to my make-up. This was also technically true. I had not ordered them to attack him, I had ordered them to attack his castle. I saw Jareth's eyes narrow out of the corner of my eye, and I smirked inwardly. It was so easy to push his buttons.
"Regardless of your hairsplitting justifications, you are to blame for the current state of both my castle and my attackers," he said brusquely. A flash of worry crossed my face in the mirror, and I spun to him.
"What do you mean, 'current state of your attackers'?" I said hastily. I hadn't really gotten the goblins in trouble, had I?
"Concerned for the welfare of your traitorous little minions, precious?" he said mockingly, leaning against the doorframe and pulling a bit of compressed foam from his shirtsleeve. "Half of them are now residing in the Bog of Eternal Stench for decidedly poor aim," he informed me dispassionately. I felt my stomach drop unpleasantly.
"Jareth, that's not right. It was my fault, and we both know it. Don't punish them for it," I said sternly. He arched an eyebrow at my sudden change of heart.
"Now, Princess, you know better. Those captured in battle are to be dealt with as seen fit by their captors. Surely you knew there would be consequences to your actions?"
I squirmed guiltily. "Well, yes, but I expected you to be fair about it! You don't blame the peon for the King's faults!" I protested, and very narrowly avoided stomping my foot.
"Ah, yes, I forgot about your odd sense of fairness, precious," he smirked. I glared furiously at him, and growled in rage, fisting my hands at my side. Why did he always have to mock me?
That look he'd given me in the Challenger, the one that said just how much he thought our lips should get to know each other, slid across his sharp, angled features, and I glared harder. How dare he be turned on by me being pissed off?
He took a step forward, and I took one back further into the bathroom, refusing to let him gain any ground on the space between us. He grinned darkly, and did it again, challenge written on every line of his face. I matched his movements, raising my chin defiantly - and ran into the wall.
Oh, I thought dimly, flattening my hands against the solid barrier behind me. That was dumb.
Jareth's grin took on a triumphant edge, and he leisurely closed the distance between us, reaching out a hand and skimming his leather-clad fingers up my arm. I snarled and jerked away from his tingly touch.
"You know, Sarah, you really are adorable when you growl like that," he said, and I bit down on another growl.
"Jareth, if you come one inch closer, I'm going to hurt you," I threatened. Jareth cocked an eyebrow.
"Oh, really?" he said patronizingly. I very narrowly resisted the urge to spit in his face.
"Yes, really. Now back up and clear out, before I make you regret it," I demanded, and moved a tiny bit away from the wall to prompt him. Jareth moved forward at the same instant, and I suddenly found myself against him, able to feel the soft fabric of his breeches against my legs, noticing that our chests touched and I liked the way his was firm and warm, as his arms slid around me and secured our positions.
"And what if I were to say I would regret leaving you far more than being the victim of your violent temper?" he asked smoothly, his leonine baritone seductively low.
"I would say you were underestimating me, again," I retorted, and nearly winced at the breathy, gooey quality to my voice. "You really should let me go now, if you value the well-being of your limbs."
Jareth chuckled, and I could feel it reverberating through my own chest, and I hoped he couldn't feel how much I enjoyed the sensation. I firmly resisted pressing myself closer.
He grinned at me and tightened his arms, negating the point of my resistance, and I had a hunch he could feel perfectly well how he affected me. Well, parts of me, anyways.
"Tell me, Sarah, what exactly do you want to do to me?" he drawled, a smug little light in his mismatched eyes, and I felt my cheeks heating in anger.
"Which head would you like me to start with? The one I'm going to cut off and toss in the blender, or the one I'm going to bite the nose off of?" I countered with a snarl. Jareth laughed again.
"Careful, precious thing, or that fire will burn us both to cinders," he smirked, and I bared my teeth, willing him to lean his nose just a little closer-
Jareth and Sarah both went rigid at the sound of the doorbell, each blankly staring at the other, stumbling at the intrusion into their tense little world. Sarah regained her footing first, giving Jareth an impressively cool, arch look from her position imprisoned against his chest.
"My date is here, Jareth. Let me go," she said evenly. She didn't order or demand it; she simply told him to, and expected to be obeyed.
Jareth rebelled instantly.
His jaw set stiffly as he tightened his hold on her. Let me go. To someone else? To some drooling mortal idiot who would never be a fraction of what he could be to her? Never. He'd turn her into an owl right now, fly them both home, dump that imbecile into the Bog and make Sarah see reason before he'd let her go. Never. He would never-
He paused.
He would never win Sarah's heart that way.
His features slackened as he loosened his grip, every muscle in his body resenting the very thought of releasing her. He carefully blanked out his features, not allowing anything more than had already been revealed to be shown on his face, and refused to let Sarah see the effort it took to let her extract herself from his arms. She looked at him for a brief second, looking as though she were mildly pleased that it took such a struggle for him to do so, and carefully stepped past him without making further contact.
It literally hurt to let her walk by him, knowing that she was going towards another man. His instincts were screeching their objections, clamoring for him to snatch her up and fly her back to his Labyrinth, deal with her on his turf. His distress was making him feel flighty- his arms were beginning to feel a bit feathery. A quick glance in the mirror as he turned told him that he was indeed looking rather owl-ish; his hair was lighter than usual and floating oddly, his clothes had paled, and his boots had become slightly sharp in the toes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. It did nothing to help.
Jareth knew he should leave, come back and confront the interloper when he was more in control, but his every nerve resisted the thought. He could more easily leave his right arm behind.
Steeling his shoulders, he stalked imperiously into the main room.
I left Jareth in the bathroom, trying not to think about how his reluctance to let me go made me feel, and straightened my dress as I answered the door.
Jeff stood in the doorway, smiling in a charming manner, his hands behind his back. He was in a flattering blue button-down shirt precisely the same shade of cobalt as his eyes, left open enough to draw the eye, and well-cut black slacks, tailored to show precisely the right amount of definition without making him look flamboyant. His hair waved attractively around his defined features, accenting his high cheekbones and strong jaw. He looked like every normal girl's dream.
"You look stunning, Sarah," he said, and leaned forward to give me a kiss. I quickly employed the classic defensive-cheek-turn maneuver, and forced a smile.
"Not so bad yourself, Jeff. Though I admit I was hoping you'd be covered in grease," I said playfully, and stepped aside to allow him in. He brought an arm from behind his back as he came inside, presenting a dozen red roses.
"Oh, roses," I said, forcing another smile. Great. More murdered flowers. So thoughtful. Why did men think that killing things was remotely romantic?
Jeff grinned, oblivious to my discomfort. "I'd offer some spiel about searching the lands for a flower to match your beauty, but I'm sure some other poor sod has already sunk that ship," he said, and pulled his other arm around, revealing a heart-shaped box tied with a bow. "So I got you candy, instead."
"Chocolate!" I chirped, and smiled widely. Who cared if he was a little bit delusional, candy was candy. "Thanks, Jeff," I said, and happily took the calorie-laden gift. Jeff opened his mouth to reply, when something behind me caught his eye, and he abruptly froze. I knew what he'd seen, but I turned around with an inquisitive look on my face nonetheless, hiding my eagerness for both of their reactions.
There was a man in her bedroom.
Well, not in her bedroom, precisely, but extremely close to it; he was leaning casually against the doorframe, looking for all the world as though he belonged there, a few scant feet from Sarah's bed. He positively radiated a confident ease, like he was utterly untouchable by his surroundings, and everyone was simply there for his amusement.
His hair was in stylish disarray that few people can manage, but that seemed perfectly natural with his self-assured posture, and a white, loose-sleeved, mostly unbuttoned button-down shirt tucked into dark denim pants that were far too form-fitting for propriety. He looked like a rock-star lounging between sets, knowing full well that he was adored and that was how it should be.
And he was so far out of Jeff's league, he nearly cried. This hunk of ice-cool self-confidence must be his competition for Sarah's affections. It was a little bit daunting.
"Oh, oops," Sarah said, drawing Jeff's attention back to her. She smiled in mild chagrin. "Forgot the introductions. Sorry." She gestured to the arrogant rock-star. "Jeff, this is Jareth. He's an old acquaintance," she said, and Jeff nearly cringed at the term 'acquaintance' - code for 'lover'. He knew perfectly well what the tag meant.
"Jareth, this is Jeff." There was no category tag for him, he noticed. Open-ended to taunt the 'acquaintance'? Or was she confused of his status?
Jareth was looking over Jeff with an obviously critical eye, inspecting him in the manner of a territorial feline scrutinizing an intruder. He realized his eyes didn't match. It made Jeff vaguely nervous.
"I'm going to run and put these in some water real quick, alright? You two play nice for a minute," Sarah said, and promptly swished her way into the kitchen. Jareth broke his cool, dispassionate inspection long enough to watch Sarah's hips disappear around the kitchen wall. Jeff narrowed his eyes.
"Nice to meet you, Jareth," he said politely, giving him a small nod. Jareth- definitely a rock-star or something. Only mildly famous people could pull off that sort of unusual look with that sort of unusual name. The man-shaped block of ice gave no response. Jeff shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't think I've seen you around. Just in town visiting or something?" he tried again. The ice-block twitched a lip.
"Or something," he drawled lazily. He cast a slow glance towards the sound of running water in the kitchen, leaving Jeff with very few doubts as to what those sort of something's were. The guy's attitude was starting to grate a little on Jeff's nerves.
"So, are you going to be staying long?" he said, making one last effort. Jareth shrugged.
"Perhaps. It depends on certain factors," he replied vaguely. Now that he had spoken more than two consecutive words, Jeff noticed he had an accent. Great. One more point to the rock-star. Good-looking in an exotic, unique manner, bad-boy confidence, and an accent?
This really wasn't fair.
The interloper was antsy.
It sort of made Jareth want to hunt something.
He really was annoyingly average, too. Mildly charming, blandly attractive, bearing flowers and candy and thinly veiled intentions. Matching-eyed. Aggravating.
"Such as?" The interloper insisted on this inane chatter. Irritating.
"Such as certain factors. Of what interest is it to you?" Jareth said, perhaps a little shortly. He suspected Sarah was toying with them. How long did it take to fill a vase?
"Well, I don't want to intrude if you and Sarah were spending a little time together before you left," he said, obviously insinuating that he was confident Sarah would chose him over her 'old acquaintance'. Cocky. Jareth arched an eyebrow and let the hint of a smirk tug at his mouth.
"Please, intrude all you wish. Sarah and I have plenty of time," he assured the interloper. "I would have been more accurately introduced as a 'recently renewed' acquaintance, I suppose," Jareth said carelessly. He was amused that Sarah had chosen that title for him; he understood what it inferred. Jeff stiffened at his claim.
"Still, I wouldn't want to be rude," he protested woodenly. Jareth couldn't hide the smirk this time.
"And I suppose you think some dead flowers will steal her attention away from me?" he inquired amusedly. "How quaint. I suppose you've prepared dinner at a pricey restaurant as well? With violin players to serenade you while you eat, perhaps?"
Jeff glared, all pretense of politeness evaporated. Jareth smiled.
"Oh, you actually did, didn't you? My apologies."
"For your information, women love that sort of thing," Jeff said defensively.
Jareth cocked his eyebrow higher. "Indeed?" he crossed his arms casually, settling himself more comfortably against the doorframe. "Perhaps that's where I've been going wrong in my courtships. Here I've been tossing live serpents in her face and consistently putting her in mortal peril, when I should have been putting my effort into finding a tacky restaurant and some dying plants. How silly," he said, and heard a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled snort of laughter from the kitchen. He smirked. So she was toying with them.
"Well, at least I don't need a genital billboard to attract women," the interloper hissed, giving Jareth's pants a pointed look. Jareth raised his eyebrows, ignoring the choking sounds emitted from the kitchen, and looked down at his ensemble. He'd toned it down, for Sarah's benefit. The poor man may have had a stroke, had he seen Jareth's original outfit. He then eyed Jeff's clothing and nodded.
"Indeed not, as I see you have Sarah so securely in your grasp. Perhaps I should dress more like you. You wouldn't happen to have a shirt to lend me, would you? Perhaps in white, I think," Jareth mused, tapping his chin. Jeff glowered, rage boiling under his skin.
Jareth decided he had changed his mind about the interloper. He was actually a good bit of fun.
This was actually going rather well. Jareth hadn't bogged or goblin-ized Jeff yet, and Jeff was obviously intimidated by Jareth's otherworldly appeal. Unfortunately, Jareth didn't seem to be in the least bit intimidated by Jeff, which meant I might have to ham it up a little with him. It would probably lead Jeff on a bit, but desperate times and all that.
Jareth seemed to think that he was completely irresistible, and I needed to fix that. Regardless of the truth of the statement. I had also been hoping that confronting Jeff with the likes of my Goblin King would set his head straight about the whole relationship thing, but it seemed unlikely to stick.
Jareth seemed to be getting a bit snarky, however. I left the roses on the counter next to the dying daisies and returned to the battlefield.
"Okay, sorry about that, couldn't decide where to put them. I'm terrible at decorating, you know," I apologized to Jeff, and slanted Jareth a look. He grinned amusedly. "So, ready to go?"
"Oh, of course," Jeff said, and cast a pointed glance at Jareth. "Will we be escorting you out, Jareth?" he asked politely. Jareth grinned, and looked as though he were contemplating saying no, but nodded and joined us by the door.
"That's so considerate of you, Jed. I am actually on my way out." Jeff twitched, and I rolled my eyes at Jareth and shot him a look. Messing up his name. Real mature.
Jareth caught my eye and shrugged nonchalantly. Couldn't help myself.
I led the boys down the stairs, and congratulated Jeff on finding his way up this time, while Jareth made smug comments about owning a Labyrinth several times more complicated than any apartment building could ever be. I decided to officially declare it the Most Awkward Staircase Descent in the History of Man, and breathed a sigh of relief as we reached outside.
"I'll see you sometime, Jareth," I said noncommittally. Jareth winked and leaned down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Sometime soon, I trust," he replied, and turned, letting Jeff and I watch him walk out into the darkness.
"Well. He was… an interesting fellow," Jeff remarked. I laughed, leading Jeff to his Challenger waiting in the parking lot.
"He's kind of an acquired taste," I said.
"Hmph. I think I may have to pass," Jeff said. I laughed again.
"It actually took me years to get back in contact with him. He's not so bad the second time around, though," I assured him, sliding into the driver's seat. Jeff looked in the direction Jareth had disappeared in, and grimaced faintly.
"He seemed a little… off, to me," he confessed, his brow furrowed. I smiled.
"Yeah, he is," I agreed, and started the car as Jeff slid in. "But then again, I suppose it depends on your basis for comparison."
A/N: Alright, kittens, there you have it. No epic Battle To The Death or anything, but really, if I blew all that now, what would I have to build up to in later chapters? :D And here's a little tibit you all may find interesting: I originally intended for Jeff to be a legitimate rival for Sarah's affections. (No, really!) Unfortunately, Sarah was having none of this, and remained stubbornly resistant to his adorableness, regardless of my efforts to the contrary. It was a little bit discouraging, actually. It's as if a bit of my brain had gone rogue and was staging a plot rebellion. I wonder if this is what they mean when they say that writing makes you a little bit crazy? Anyways.
(Poor Jeff. I still like him. Maybe I'll give him a little original oneshot ficcy to himself, with no Goblin King to make him feel pitifully inferior.)
I would love to know what you gals thought of the Man-Off! (And on a side note - I loved my reviews on the last chapter. I was seriously in stitches! You guys are hilarious. Thank you so much!)
WINNER OF THE GRINCHY REFERENCE: darkbangle (But the rest of you did me proud! SEUSS FANS, UNITE!)
MyraValhallah - Ah! Alright, then that makes loads of sense. :) Thank you, darling!
DarkDreamer1982 - I do indeed know of pallets! I unfortunately must deal with them on occasion. And they are abominably heavy, let me tell you. And thank you for your leniency with my sporadic updating habits! :D I hope all goes well for you!
CoffeeKris - I think you may be one of my favorite people ever. Shadow-frolicking, blatant flattery, a firm stick-it-to-the-man attitude, and you have coffee in your name? I'm fairly sure this is meant to be. Also - there is no such thing as horrible 90's pop; once it's over ten years old, it's considered 'nostalgic'. Sounds much better when asked 'what the heck is that crap you're listening to?'
Clara954- Aww! I'm so flattered! Thank you for that, darling! (And I promise your questions shall eventually be answered!)
Nanenna - -chokes- Oh, goodness, I laughed so hard.
Geez, Sarah, what is wrong with you? Just make with the pants-removal, already…
Skylinger - Hope I didn't disappoint!
Cybernetic Mango - Intriguingly vague. :) Glad to hear you are well, luv!
Lindzxhatter - I agree - I could have had Jareth in a pinto and still wouldn't have kept my cool. Sarah is practically a bastion of self-control.
Bright Lotus - Fear not, love, there are a few more chapters yet!
Saoirse09 - Alas, actions and consequences and all that nonsense. :) Glad you enjoyed, love!
Sallafe K - Peanut! Oh, I nearly choked when I read this! And then I promptly fetched some popcorn and settled in for a Dunham marathon. :D
Darkbangle - :D I had tons of fun writing that. Also spent a lot of time wishing I had a sweet muscle car I could whip a hot guy around in, but alas. My Buick is far more economic, if less sexy.
Mystic Mundane - Cookie Toss! How fantastic is that? Honestly, that should be like the national sport, or something. I would certainly root for that.
KaikenCollison - Thank you, darling! And I have to agree. I think all this plot nonsense is getting in the way of the JS-ness. Blasted plot.
Little Margarita - Oh, I agree. Heads would be arollin' if I discovered my car had been saturated in glitter. Unless of course I found Jareth along side of it, in which case I would probably be just a tad more forgiving, but I am a hopeless sap.
Jane Owen - Sorry to keep you waiting so long after that little sneak peak! Rather unkind of me, wasn't it? I would like to say that something truly important kept me from posting in a timely manner, but the truth is that I am lazy and easily distracted. :( Alas.
Creative-Insanity - Oh, goodness. That does sound serious. You know, a little glitter will cover those stains right up. (I offer this advice in the hopes that it may forestay the beak of a particularly ferocious Chikin Of Destiny. I fear for my extremities.)
Mnleonard - Yes! I watch it all year round. I tried to sneak a Cat in the Hat reference in there too, but honestly, it's harder than it sounds. :D
Insanityfairy - Haha! Hope you enjoyed, darling. And thank you for the heads up!
The-Holy-Disciple-Of-Muse - Haha! Your review made me smile. Thank you, darling, and hope this one is up to standards! :D