Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, except for the stuff that never showed up in the film, like the plot and my characters, etc. Oh, how nice it would be to own Jareth…

DanikaLareyna: You know, this is actually very different from anything else I've ever written - it's not really my style... hence the frantic-ness. I'm still working out the kinks... I'll try to improve on the details. I'm not very satisfied with the last chapter, so when I have some time, I may just edit it and make it a little... less frantic. lol. Glad I could make you laugh! (THAT's what I'm going for!)

And, as it happens, Wren and I are very much alike. Except she's sassier than I am… in person.

A/N: Hm, okay, something occurred to me that Jareth seemed a little OOC in the last chapter… well, just FYI, there is a reason for that. I swear! Well, when I get back to finishing what happened in the Labyrinth, you'll all understand why… I hope… But, for now, this is more of a continuation of chapter one… enjoy
What happened when I got home…

Thank goodness I was the only one home when I got home from work. I threw my keys down and marched to my room, threw the door open, and plowed inside.

He didn't even seem to notice me. Jareth, looking as snooty as ever, was lounging lazily on my bed, propped up on his side, flipping casually through a fashion magazine I'd left lying around.

Ah, and his boots were propped up on the bed as well. "Funny, aren't you?" I said, my hands on my hips.

He didn't look up, but instead lifted a page to smell some perfume sample, "No, dear, not funny. Fashion today is a crime."

"I'm not talking about the magazine."

He pulled a face at the smell of the perfume, quickly wiping a gloved finger across his nose as if the smell would stick to him. "I knew what you were talking about," he turned another page, "But I was also stating a fact. Fashion today is a crime – surely even you will agree with that."

"Jareth," I sighed.

He finally glanced up at me, raising one of his odd eyebrows, "Dearling, are you upset about our waltz? I thought you would appreciate it – and do not look at me that way. I was only being-"

"If you say 'generous', I'm going to blow a gasket."

He rolled his eyes and went back to the magazine. "Fine,letuscall it kind. Why else would I take time from my day-"

"Oh, yes, your day of reordering time anyhow,"

"-to spend it at your pitiful office? I thought it was a sweet gesture…"

I sighed and looked at the ceiling. My pitiful ceiling. It's the old cottage-cheese-ceiling, since my house was built in, like, the seventies. And it was chipped, too. In fact, as I looked about my room, the whole little place seemed so… drab, I guess, compared to the Goblin King, who was lounging on my bed. The finery he'd worn earlier was gone, replaced by just a gray pair of tights – which he insisted on callingeitherleggings or breeches (who is he trying to kid?) – a poet shirt, medallion, gloves (as always – sheesh, why can't he let me see his hands?) and…

"Oh, would you please keep your hooker-boots off my bedspread?" I said, putting my bag down and motioning to his feet.

He'd been just about to sniff another perfume sample, and looked up startled. "My what?"

"Your hooker-boots. They're dirty."

He sat up and looked stunned and confused. "Did you just call these," he motioned to his black shiny boots, "Hooker boots? Dirty hooker boots?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically at his face, but held my calm. "You heard me. Those knock-offs of the footwear I see on the hookers in the raunchy part of down-town. No one else wears shoes like that. Not, you know, in this century. And I've seen you stomp around the Underground. You wear them everywhere, practically. They're filthy. I don't want all that dirt and goblin crap on my bed!"

He narrowed his eyes at me and asked in a deadly whisper, "Is your family home?"

"No, why?"

He was on his feet in a blink, "THESE ARE NOT DIRTY HOOKER-BOOTS!" he roared.

I flew backwards and hit my bookshelf. One of my Harry Potter books toppled down and clobbered me good, making me stumble and sway. The room started spinning and I could see spots. I think I wimpered.

Jareth suddenly looked mortified. "Wren!" he gasped, quickly grabbing me and holding me while my vision cleared, "Wren, dearling, oh – what have I done? Are you alright?"

"Um," I closed my eyes for a moment, "Yeah, I'm good. Just a little brain joggled, that's all."

He shook his head worriedly, "That gibberish... oh, you need to sit down…"

I frowned at him, "I'm not talking in gibberish. That book joggled me around, but I'm fine…"

"There you go with that gibberish again," he withdrew a crystal from… somewhere (seriously, where does he hide those things? I mean, it's not like he has pockets in those tights) and changed it into a wet cool cloth, which he placed on my head while sitting me down on the bed.

I pushed him away, "Okay, you are being a drama queen here – I'm fine!"

He looked skeptical, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Jareth, I'm sure."

"Alright…" the cloth disappeared. "Now, where were we? Oh yes, I remember – you were about to forget why you were so upset with me as I apologize for causing you to hit your head."

"I – what?" I looked at him, "Sorry, buddy, you can't make me forget that easily."

"Oh, is that so?" Jareth leaned close to me, tilted my chin up and kissed me softly…

Heh. He was such a cheater. A way hot cheater, but a cheater all the same. 'Course, it can be fun when you don't play by the rules…

I giggled and he pulled away. "Slick, but that won't work… this time," I said with a smile.

He frowned, "Drat. Why not?"

"Because you don't know why I was upset with you."

Jareth narrowed his eyes, "Were you notmad for me coming and waltzing you around for awhile, were you?"

"Nope."

"Then… why in heaven's name were you upset with me?" he looked positively boggled. I took a moment to giggle at how he looked, sitting on my bed. Way out of place… but then again, he really looked out of place in my life. Too bad I was crazy about him. If I weren't, I'd have to redecorate him to match the green leafy and flowery motif of my room – while such an undertaking would be mostly futile in changing him in anyway, it would at least be hysterically funny to try.

Eh, but why mess with his mind more than needed? I stressed him enough as it was. Hee.

I took his face in both of my hands and pulled him close, "You kissed me, and then disappeared, laughing in my ears, when I wasn't ready for you to leave. That wasn't-"

"If you say 'fair', then I will, as you say, 'blow a gasket'."

"It wasn't nice, mister hooker-boots," I kissed him lightly and smiled, "But I'll let you off the hook for now."

He grinned at me, giving me shivers (yeah, problem with that, he KNOWS it makes me shiver… I swear it totally feeds his ego. That's all he needs, a bigger ego.). "Well then," he turned his attention to my knee, and began tracing small circles on it, "All is well. But… my my, whatever shall we do while your family is away?"

I never take his advances seriously. He knows I won't give into them, and I know him well enough to know that he only does them to harass me – which, over the last few months, had become his favorite hobby. Still, to play the game, I frowned and removed his hand, "Down, boy. You really ought to get back to your kingdom…"

He pouted, seductively, "You always ruin my fun, Wren."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, GK, but you do have to get back, and I have homework online. Care to help me write a four-hundred word description of an Informational System I've encountered recently?"

He sighed and stood up, "No, I think not." He pulled a crystal, again from seemingly nowhere. "I shall most surely have a goblin rebellion on my hands when I get back, anyway. I willleave you to your…" he made a slightly disgusted noise, "homework."

I smiled at him. "Suit yourself,"

"Oh, and Wren?"

"Huh?"

He struck a pose, sticking out a boot in my direction, cocking his head, one hand on his hip, and raising an eyebrow. "These arenot hooker-boots." And, with a puff of glitter, he was gone.

I laughed and headed over to my computer.

"Whatever you say… mister I-wear-tights-and-lipstick-too. Friggen dirty hooker-boots."

Another book, much smaller than the one that had clobbered me earlier, flew across the room and whacked me in the back of the head.

"OUCH! Urgh… JERK FACED GOBLIN KING!"

A/N: hee… okay, I think this chapter is much better with Jareth… but, as I said, there is a reason for his behavior back in the Labyrinth… and sorry about skipping around. I'll be working on part-two of 'how it all started' for the next chapter. Promise!

Oh, and people, c'mon! Review! I can see all the hits I'm getting, and so few reviews. JERKS! (kidding… I say that often) Seriously, though, it's only polite. Criticism welcomed. Flame, and I sic Jareth on you.