There were a couple of things that Sarah just didn't understand. Ok, there were a lot of things Sarah didn't understand. She had a list. And at the very top of that list sat "how can someone who dances at night and teaches children at day get three hours of sleep and still be chipper as fuck."

Now, "chipper as fuck" had different connotations in different situations. Right now, it meant that there Jareth was, in her kitchen, not at all hung over and making breakfast about an hour before any decent person could possibly get up.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he yelled from the kitchen, flipping a pancake.

Sarah lifted her head to to glare and growl angrily, and stopped, staring.

"Sleep well?" asked Jareth, looking a bit too happy. And a bit too shirtless. Why the fuck was he shirtless. More importantly, why the fuck did he look so good shirtless?

"Because, precious, that's what happens when someone takes off their shirt. And to go upside down on that pole is quite a lot of exercise."

Ok, she might have said that out loud.

"Yes, in fact, you did. Breakfast? I made coffee. But drink that glass on the table first. You won't regret it."

"You shouldn't be awake right now," said Sarah, sitting up and eyeing the glass of clear liquid suspiciously.

"On the contrary, I should," said Jareth, starting to make another pancake, "It's around twelve, and Morgan just called me. She's inviting us to go to a late lunch with her and the consort."

Jareth drawled out the last word, making a fat caricature of his accent.

"No."

"I haven't gotten to the good part yet."

"No. There is no good part. Stop," said Sarah, keeping her voice completely and utterly flat. That could be anything in that glass there.

"Oh, I believe there is. She's paying for it, and-"

"Tempting, but not with this hangover."

"Tsk. Sarah. Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's not good form to interrupt?"

"You're in my kitchen, half naked. Good form got thrown out the window a while ago."

"Really? Then how am I still standing here and not convulsing of blood loss on the pavement outside?"

"Stop being a dick and finish, Goblin King," grumbled Sarah, finally deciding to just chug the contents of the suspicious glass. It was kind of fizzy and relatively bland. Huh.

"Thank you, my lady, for letting me fill this empty space with my unworthy words. Though even those fall from the air like heavy drops of rain in the presence of your beauty, leaving the sky clear and cloudless."

"Fuck you."

"Save the affection for after I get to the point, precious."

Sarah's face flushed red, "Then please, never get to the point."

"Too late. Morgan is offering to pay me forty dollars if you do NOT break up with me by the end of the ordeal."

"And if I do?"

"Then I have to pay her. And I do not at all want to do that."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Can't you just not go?"

"Sarah, let me explain. Morgan might be a teacher, but she's also a trust fund baby. The Consort's rich. So are Morgan's parents. Both of the endowed parties have a passion of the arts. We are artists. Do you understand where this is going?"

"Vaguely. And that is not a good enough reason to use the word endowed."

"Politics aren't quite your forte, are they? Where this is going is that they have a habit of introducing their friends to rich people who are actually successful in the arts. Believe it or not, there is a day when I would like to not have to work extra to pay the bills. And I believe you would quite like to work somewhere where the roof doesn't fall in."

"I call bullshit," said Sarah, standing up.

Jareth sighed, "You're right. I just want to gloat over Morgan and win twenty dollars. The free lunch helps."

Sarah thought about it. She shifted from left to right and put on her best thinking face for the benefit of her shirtless audience of one.

"Does that first part of the speech even count as politics?"

Jareth waved that statement away, "No matter. Are you in or not?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Jareth smiled slightly, "Not really, no. I have a lot of songs you haven't heard yet and a very loud voice."

That alone made the prospect of not going seem even more appealing, but...

Sarah sighed, "When are we supposed to be there?"

"...Around one thirty."

The actress looked at the clock. Then back at Jareth. Then back at the clock. Then back at- well, you get the picture.

"We have forty minutes," she growled.

"Better hurry then," said Jareth, no less cheerfully.

Author's Note:

So there wasn't a chapter this past weekend. I have an essay due, and the semester's coming to a close, so... It's busy. Mainly, I just wrote this to procrastinate writing my essay.
That was probably disappointing, considering what the title was...
Umm, tune in next time, whenever that may be, to find out exactly how their date goes. I don't know how that's going to turn out yet, but it should be interesting!