Disclaimer: I have lost my mind. Isn't it wonderful?

Contraltissimo: Hee! Jareth is rather useful, isn't he? Oh, and he loves fireworks. Not the noise, but, hey, shiny, right?

DanikaLareyna: Weirdo.

Anij: Family bug? Who? Where? Wouldn't know a thing about that… heh…

DarkHero87: Aw, thanks!

Silver Rebel: Ah, thank you for your wonderful reviews, my friend. I hope thinks perk up for you, soon.

Notwritten: and I enjoy your reviews!

Sammi C: Hee! Aw, so glad you liked it!

SalsaGirl626: Oh, this chapter was not easy to write. I hope I did it justice… but, all the same, here it is!

Karine Dragon'sheart: Isn't Squyshee great? I just love it when he turns up, even if unexpectedly. Hee.

Nikki: Ah, you can never tell when Jareth will show up and just decide to samba his way around a class room. I swear, my meetings at work have NEVER been more interesting. Hee.

PyroSlytherin: Ah, man, your review made me make squealy noises! THANK YOU!!!

MagicalGirl23: Yes, exactly!!! Aw… -sniff- I… I can't thank you enough for that review. That's… yes, that's it. You've got it, exactly. –sniff-

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Music Recommendations:

Love and Affection by Nelson – whoa, this reminds me of this chapter. Read on, and go listen… maybe you'll see what I do. Meh.

Strangers When We Meet by David Bowie – oh, yes. This song is very fitting.

"Remind me why I'm here," I said, turning my noise up at some perfume bottle that contained a fragrance combination that was just… blech. Disgusting. Who in their right mind would wear that stuff?

"Oooh, is that Brittany's Spears? I love that brand!"

Orla's hand reached over in front of my face, grabbing the bottle I had just sneered at. She examined it closely, then sat it down and pouted, "Darn. I was sure it was Brittany's."

I turned to my sister and glared, "Okay, I'll ask this again – why am I here?"

She frowned at me, "I asked you to come, Wren. I didn't force you, you know."

I sighed. Why can't Orla and I do anything but butt heads with one another? "But, you see, you didn't ask me. You called mom, and asked her to ask me, and mom insisted that I come with you, because you and I, as she put it, need to do more together."

She vaguely nodded, "She's right, we do. You and I never do things together, you know…" her attention was quickly caught by a shiny bottle on a shelf.

"There's a reason for that, you know," I said as I gave her a look for being so giddy over a bottle. Seriously, unless there's a genie in it, what's the point of paying so darn much for it?

She sat the bottle down and frowned at me, facing me fully, "Wren, can't you just try?"

I shrugged, "Try what? To be interested in smelly things that make my nose itch? Sure, I'll try, but I've been trying, and I can tell you know that you'd better not hold your breath on it, because so far, it isn't working."

"Okay," she said, almost huffily, "I'm willing do to something you like, too. But I don't know what you like – isn't that the problem?"

"Funny," I grumbled, "I know what you like, and you don't know squat about me."

She huffed and stomped her foot, "Stop being so snarky with me! I'm trying to do something nice with my sister!"

I held my breath and counted to three. There was some truth to what she said – we never do anything but fight, it seems. It wasn't always that way. Being so close in age, she and I were really close when we were younger. But, when we were in school, I got chubby and she got really pretty, and suddenly she was interested in all the things I wasn't. We just… became individuals. Two completely opposite individuals.

And then there were always the problems I'd had with her in Junior High and High School. As much as I want to forget those, I can't. They're never far from my mind… I can't help it. They hurt me, she had hurt me… and when a person never really says they're sorry, its hard to get over it.

But she was my sister. I should be able to get along with her. I needed to keep my snide comments to myself, the ones that came from our obvious differences, and try to find common ground with her.

I raised my hands in resignation, "Okay, I'm sorry, Orla. I'll try and… be better."

She smiled at me, "That's all I'm asking for, Wren."

I followed her around the store for awhile longer, trying not to faint in the high fragrance levels. Seriously, it was not good. And, Orla kept making me smell things, too. 'Isn't this nice?', and, 'this is SO you, Wren', and, 'what kind of image does this portray?'. I tolerated it all.

And it wasn't half bad, really. I was always worried that she was up to something, you know? Usually, she was. And, after the way she'd been at Thanksgiving and Christmas with Jareth… I couldn't fight the feeling that she was up to no good. Or something like that. But, maybe she wasn't.

"Okay, Orla," I said as we were leaving (finally! Oh, I could breathe again!) the shop, "Want to go pottery painting?"

She swirled around, her golden hair reminding me of a Vidal Sassoon commercial, and gave me a highly mortified look, "Do what?"

"We did your thing… I thought maybe you might want to try your hand at some of the things I like to do, like paint pottery. You could make yourself a little fairy or something cute to go on your shelf… or picture frames! Or – oh, these are cool – they have these odd shaped coffee mugs…"

She shook her head, "I don't drink coffee, Wren – it stains your teeth something fierce."

I paused. One, two, three. "You don't have to use them for coffee, Orla. I'm just saying they're cute. You might like them. And… you know I don't drink coffee, either…"

She gave me that mortified look again, "Well… painting isn't my thing, Wren…"

"Duh, but you might have fun. You never know, until you try it, right?"

I watched my too pretty sister suck on her bottom lip for a moment while she thought hard about her response. What that too much to ask? Go paint pottery? I just spent nearly an hour shopping for lotion. LOTION! And I didn't even buy any, because I have the skin moisturizing kind at home that has no scent, and pleases me just fine. I don't kneed strawberry-mango-pineapple-yogurt-blitz slathered on me. But, I had done it, because she'd asked, and she was my sister.

She didn't even have to do the pottery, if she didn't want to, she could just come with me, and talk with me while I did it.

She batted her eyes at me, "Are you sure there isn't something else, perhaps something less messy, that we could do together?"

My high defiance shot up. I wanted to say, right there, "No! We pottery paint, or we do nothing together at all!", but knew I didn't dare. My mother would kill me if I did.

Instead, I tried my best to find something to say to her, something not quite so defiant. I wasn't able to think of anything. Perhaps there are just people that have nothing to say to one another. I blinked, trying my best to think of something…

"I'm sorry, Orla," I said, turning away from her, "I shouldn't have come today. I'll see you around."

"Wren!" she squeaked, grabbing my arm, "Gosh! C'mon! there's got to be something we can do, right?"

"Why do you even want to try?" I asked before I could stop myself. "What's the deal? I mean, as much as I would like to think you're trying your best to do something with me, to find some common ground with me, I get the feeling that you are wanting me to do your stuff, and you really don't care about me – but for the life of me, I can't see the why in it. What do you want from me, Orla?"

She scoffed, "Now you're just being silly. I… okay, so I'm not the best at being… open minded… but why do you think the worst of me? I mean… yeah, why?"

I didn't move. I merely lifted one eyebrow at her. Did she really have to ask such a question? Seriously! And, as I watched her bite her lip and look away briefly, I knew she knew what I meant.

"Well," she said, somewhat awkwardly, "Why… how about… what if we went to get something to eat, then? I can do that, I love to pack it away,"

I inwardly grunted. Why couldn't I have been on the high-metabolism end of the gene-pool, too? It so wasn't fair.

"…and, you can pick. I promise, I will go wherever you like."

I grinned wickedly. Oh, I knew EXACTLY where I would take her… I inhaled and started to say something, but her attention was quickly drawn off.

"T.J.!" she squealed, waving an arm wildly at someone behind me. I sighed, but didn't bother to turn around. I hated to say it, but Orla's friends were pretty much all the same, and… well, I'll just leave it at that.

Besides, with the scene Orla was making, whoever it was would certain come over, and I would see them soon enough. No need to waste my time and energy in turning.

"Hey, Orla," said a masculine voice just behind me. He moved, as expected, into my sight and my sister threw herself at him, giving him a huge hug.

When she moved away, I got a good look at the beef. I groaned, inwardly. The guy… man, he just screamed of the surfing/snowboarding/extreme sports kind of guy. He was of medium height, not too much taller than Orla and I (but not nearly as tall as Jareth), had relatively broad shoulders (too broad for my taste, I preferred Jareth's more proportionate ones) and was, for lack of a better word, flatly beefy (the strong yet lean look is so much better on guys). He was blonde, but had dark brown streaks thrown all through his hair, giving him a darker appearance, and his hair was in that slightly longer style that, while not long-long, just kinda gave it a slight curl and let it tumble around his ears, one of which had a ring in it.

But, honestly, the part that just made me want to scream out something in regards to the value of individuality, was his clothes. He was wearing a white, crew-neck T-shirt that was mostly likely a size too small for him, subsequently showing off his form, and carpenter jeans.

In short, he was pretty much a clone of every other guy Orla had ever been seen with… well, almost every guy. But never mind that.

"Oh, T.J.," Orla cooed, "What are you doing here?"

He pulled away from her, a little, and frowned, "You called and invited me, remember?"

She laughed, causing me to seriously frown at her, "No, silly," she said, lightly slapping him on the arm, "I called to tell you about my plans and why I couldn't spend this weekend with you, saying I had invited my sister!"

She turned and looked at me, her face red, "Boys, huh? A couple of dates and they just can't live without you. Am I right?"

I said nothing. The only thing I could say to her would be vicious and mean, so I said nothing.

T.J., though, frowned even deeper, "Just one date, Orla…" he shook his head, almost to himself… I knew that shake. It was the kind of shake you did when you were trying to brush off something that annoyed you terribly. I had already done that twice in the last hour. I gave T.J. an inner nod. If my sister annoyed him that much, he had that much more respect from me – it meant he wasn't a complete dunderhead.

Then he gave her a look, a kind of, stop-acting-weird-and-be-polite look. "So… your sister," he gave me the briefest of glances, "Are you going to introduce us?"

Orla gave off a bright trill of laughter, "Ah, oh, yes… dummy me, I didn't even think…" she put a hand on my shoulder, "T.J., this is my baby sister, Wren. And Wren, this is my, heh, rather good friend, T.J.. He's such a sweetie."

T.J. looked at me, I mean really looked at me, for the first time as Orla introduced me. At first, he regarded me politely, if disinterestedly, but then he blinked a few times, and his expression changed to… well, given that I'm not used to getting looks from men in general, I can't say that I know how to properly explain it. He totally looked… struck? Is that the word for it?

It almost made me uncomfortable. Almost.

He extended his hand to me, almost timidly, "Wren… Hi, I'm T.J.. Wren… I like that name, it's pretty. Not something you hear every day."

Orla, who had been saying something, stopped dead and frowned at him.

I reached out and took his hand, shaking it, "Well, it's not that special, really, but I like it. Thanks…" after I'd touched his hand, he'd placed his other on top of it. I didn't know what to do, so I, awkwardly, patted his hands with mine, hoping he'd let go. He didn't.

Instead, he looked down at my hands, at my left hand… Okay, was this weird to anyone else? It sure was bugging me. He looked at my left hand, the middle finger of which carried my crystal ring, from Jareth.

"Dude, awesome ring," he said, finally releasing me.

I blushed, remembering my vacation, for no real good reason… Jareth insisting I wear his official ring, and moving this one to my other hand… I smiled, "My boyfriend gave it to me," I said (and, man, did that feel good to say… my boyfriend), "Not long after I met him."

T.J. nodded, regarding me again. Then I noticed he was looking at my necklace. What was it with this boy and jewelry? Perhaps he was gay… I snorted faintly at the thought. Wouldn't that be a horrid shock to Orla? Just thinking about her face if he was, and if he told her made me want to giggle like a mad woman.

"Did your boyfriend give you that necklace, too?" he asked, suddenly.

I shook my head, not to disagree, but to shake off the shock. Something about the way he said it just… took me by surprise. "Um, yes, he did. How did you know?"

He shrugged, "Something about it reminds me of your ring, I guess. They don't seem like, you know, a set or anything, but… maybe it's something about the style… they could have easily come from the same shop, or jeweler. They just have a certain something alike, you know?"

Uh, how about because they both came from the Underground, and are probably swathed in magic? "Yeah… the necklace was a Christmas present."

Orla coughed, nervously, "Yes, Wren's got herself a man. Okay, now, T.J., since you're here… would you like to join us?"

My mouth fell open and I found myself gawking at my sister, in incredulous disbelief. I was FURIOUS! Okay, this was supposed to be, what had she called it, sisterly time? Something to that extent, and now she wants to invite her boy-toy? Or… whatever he was?

Ah, well, at least things made sense, now. THAT was her deal. She couldn't get Jareth's attention in the least, and he fawned over me. Well… maybe not fawned, but you know what I mean. His interest was in me, not her, and I bet that bothered her. Oh, not that she would truly, consciously, begrudge me a boyfriend, but I'm sure she, like so many others, would prefer if said boyfriend was short, tubby, and balding, or something. Orla was used to getting attention, and the fact that there was a hot guy, regardless of the fact that he was dating me, who didn't even spare her a second glance must be difficult on her.

So, she had planned this, invited her new man (or, at least, someone whom she was planning to make her new man… or was she? Maybe she just got him for a date, for this sole purpose… who knew?), to show off. She wants validation that the world hasn't completely gone mad, making her plain baby sister suddenly more attractive than she.

Huh. I'm sure she must have seen Thanksgiving and Christmas as that Twilight Zone episode where the woman has the face operation or something and in the end, everyone has ugly faces and considers her new, nice face to be ugly. Her world must really be in turmoil… and the mere thought of it made me smile.

But, all the same, I did not really want to spend time around Mr. Surfer-dude here. I couldn't, for the life of me, put my finger on what it was that bugged me about it, but he just… ah, never mind. I'll just leave it at that.

I didn't like the idea of spending more time around him, and I liked the idea of being a third wheel even less.

T.J. smiled at Orla, and then, to Orla's chagrin, at me, "I'd love to."

Crap.

Well, at least I wasn't the third wheel. I'll let that be the silver-lining in the whole mess I got myself into.

What happened? I'll tell you what happened.

First of all, Orla started up again on me picking some place for us to eat. I didn't want to do it anymore, but she insisted… so, fine, I went back to my original plan of picking some place she was sure to hate: The Sushi Steakhouse.

Uh, crazy name, I know. But… mmm good stuff. I don't like the raw sushi, really, but I love the rolls… California roll, baked scallops roll, and, of course, the eel roll. Sure, you might turn your nose up at the sound of it, heaven knows I did before I'd tried it, but it's good stuff, I tell you. (If you've never had it before, I whole heartedly recommend the California roll. It's just crab and rice and stuff… not too scary. And it's really good, too).

So, I suggested Sushi. Why? I mean, besides it being seriously yummy? Because Orla is one of those people who instantly thinks sushi raw fish, and has absolutely refused to try the stuff. Weenie.

She pulled that, oh-no-not-that-anything-but-that face. "Sushi? Are… you sure?"

I nodded, "You said I could pick, so suck it up."

T.J. looked at me, "You eat sushi?"

I shrugged, "Um, yeah. Why wouldn't I? It's good."

He smiled, "I love sushi – I just don't find many girls," I couldn't help but notice the quick glace he gave Orla, "Who like it."

Dang it. Why couldn't he have, you know, been allergic to shellfish?

Desperately trying to change the subject, or to at least take some of the focus off myself, I put a comforting arm around my sister (uh, and in case you're wondering, no, I don't know what had gotten into me). "Orla, you should like fish and sushi. It's good for you! Omega three's and stuff like that, right?"

She nodded, looking rather sulky. She said nothing, though, and we moved towards her car, to go for sushi.

The Steakhouse wasn't very crowded, so we were seated right away. They gave us two options for seating: either sitting at a dining table, or at the sushi bar. Now, I like both, but for different reasons. When I'm with a group of people I like, I prefer the table, so we can all sit and chat… but, when I'm in a tighter group, perhaps with people I would rather not be there with, the bar is great. Why? You only have to worry about two people, one on each side of you. And you don't have to look at them.

I spoke up first and asked for the bar.

It had, initially, seemed ideal. I mean… I could get away with putting Orla between T.J. and I, and I wouldn't have to look at either of them. But, quickly, I noticed there was a problem. Wait, no, correction; two problems. First problem was that Orla was sitting directly in front of some squid and octopus, and she looked almost green, and the second problem was that T.J. spent most of the time turned in his seat, talking to me across my sister.

"Wren, what do you do for fun?" he asked me as we finished up dinner. This was just one of many questions he had asked me. It was an unending stream of questions that was becoming like Chinese torture treatment. I just never ended. I couldn't even get him to answer many questions about himself. I steered the conversations around where Orla could join in, and she did here and there, but for the most part I felt like I was under a microscope.

Poor Orla. She'd eaten a plain roll, but wouldn't touch anything else and had pretty much taken over the bowl of edamame (soy beans) we'd ordered. She still eyed the contents of the bar, looking a little green around the gills.

"Um, I listen to music," I said, lamely.

His eyes lit up, "Really? Me too. Have you been to the Switchblade?"

"The what?"

Orla snorted into her lemonade, looking at T.J., "I don't think she has. It's not really her style."

He shurgged, "It's great live music, I thought she'd have been there."

I frowned, "What is the Switchblade?"

Orla flipped her hair, "Fairly newer music establishment downtown. Very hip place, live music, dancing, drinks if you drink," she wrinkled her nose, "But, thankfully, no smoking."

I nodded, "A club, you mean?"

T.J. shook his head, "It's not a stereotypical club. Imagine a cross between a coffee house and a club, and that better describes it. But it's a great place… hey, they're open tonight, would you like to go see it?"

I blanched. "What?"

Orla perked up, instantly, "Oh! Totally! Let's go! I LOVE dancing there!"

I shook my head, "No, I don't think so. Like Orla said, it's not my style."

"Aw, come on, Wren," Orla said, "You might have a good time. You should totally do it."

"Yes," T.J. added, "Come on. I hear they've got a great band tonight."

"Um…"

"…crap…" I muttered as I sat at the table beside T.J. and Orla. I wasn't happy to be there, I tell you. As stylish as the Switchblade may be, and as much as I hated to say my sister was correct… it wasn't my kind of place. I mean, seriously. Perhaps if it was more on the coffee house side of things, like T.J. mentioned, then perhaps, but… as it was, it was too club-like for me.

Call me nerdy, call me prudish, I don't care – I am not a club person. Unless, of course, it's a book club, or something.

Orla was chair dancing and enjoying herself, sipping at a bottled water and listening to the live music. T.J. was attempting to continue the string of questions he'd started at the Sushi Steakhouse.

"So, Wren," he asked, "What kind of music do you listen to?"

I sighed, "Soundtracks, classical stuff, odds and ends, and David Bowie."

He pulled a face, "Really? That's… unusual…"

A grin plastered itself on my face, "Isn't it? It's great to be strange."

He lifted his hands in defense, "Hey, I agree. I'm an odd one myself – I can't get enough of the fantasy and science fiction stuff. Music wise, I go for anything with a magical kind of flare. I just meant… Bowie seems a little flamboyant, don't you think?"

I smirked at him, turning my nose in the air, ever so slightly, "I happen to like flamboyant."

"Hey," Orla interrupted, "T.J., want to dance?"

He shrugged, "I don't really dance, Orla…"

She pouted. I snorted into my water glass. (I didn't want to order anything, so the waiter had sat me down a water glass… whatever). T.J. had gotten some kind of drink… the live group had been playing something very loudly, so I'd missed what it was that he ordered specifically, but I couldn't help but notice it looked rather alcoholic.

The music kicked up, and… I also couldn't help but notice T.J. was staring at me… not like in the eyes or something, but just… me. It was creeping me out, way too much…

I turned to Orla, "I think I'm going to go."

"No!" she squealed, taking hold of my arm, "Please stay Wren!"

"Yeah," T.J. chimed in, meeting my eyes and making me feel highly uncomfortable, "Stay."

I plopped back down on my chair and gulped down my water. Absently, I was rubbing my ring. I was always careful not to count the crystals in front of anyone, but honestly it was flatly tempting to make myself just vanish on the spot.

I wished, suddenly, and silently, that Jareth were with me. It would be so much easier. Really, most things, except for making cookies and baking treats, were easier to do when he was around.

T.J. was watching me yet again. This time, I turned up, ready to meet his eyes defiantly, as if to say, 'I know you're watching, so stop it already', but the moment I did, his eyes shot up in a strange look over my shoulder. First he snorted, about ready to laugh, but his smile faded quickly into a frown.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

I bit my lip and looked up.

Wonderful blue eyes were smirking down at me from behind a few loose strands of wild blond hair.

I didn't even notice the squeak I made, jumping up and nearly knocking over my chair to fling my arms around the Goblin King. In fact, it wasn't until I had my arms around his neck and he had partially lifted me up in a tight hug, that I actually realized I had jumped up at all.

"How did you know?" I whispered in his ear.

He turned his head slightly so he might whisper in return, "I have been feeling your distress all afternoon, my dearling. When you wished I was here, even a silent wish, I felt it quite plainly. I knew you needed me, and so I came."

I kissed his cheek, "You are the best, GK."

When I turned to Orla and T.J., my sister was doing her best not to scowl, or pout, or something rather spoiled, and T.J. was blinking at Jareth in disbelief.

I grinned, "T.J.," I said, "This is Jareth, my boyfriend. Jareth, this is Orla's friend, T.J."

Jareth inclined his head to the young guy, "A pleasure. And hello again, Orla,"

She nodded wordlessly and sucked down some more of her bottled water.

T.J. instantly was on his feet and had a hand extended towards Jareth, "Nice to meet you, Jareth… hey, do you come here often? You seem familiar."

Jareth looked around him, taking in his surroundings. I examined his clothes… He'd worn the shirt I like the best on him, a deep blue one that totally brings out his eyes, and his rather tight dark jeans. He had apparently tied back his hair, but, as usual, there were several strands around his face and on the top of his head that were either too short or too wild to be tamed by a mere hair band. I smiled – he looked very nice, indeed.

When we sat down, Jareth, in an unconscious motion, scooted his chair close to mine and wrapped on arm around me. This wasn't an act, I know he'd done this before, while we were watching television and the like. I wondered when it had become second nature for the Goblin King to place a comforting and protective arm around his girl?

"No," he said at last, to T.J., "I have not been to this establishment before. I have seen it, many times, but never have I attended. But, so far, I rather like it."

Orla gave him an overly innocent look, which seemed to indicate she was covering up irritation, "If you've never been here before, then how did you know to come here? We didn't plan on this, this was just a spur of the moment thing."

Jareth smiled at her coldly, and said, in all seriousness, "I contacted Wren via her empeethree and she informed me you would be here."

Everyone at our table, myself included, and even a few passersby, stopped and looked at him. There was a very awkward pause, in which Jareth just stared back.

I blinked, "Cell phone!" I all but shouted, "He meant my cell phone. Text messages… very useful, am I right?"

My sister's jaw dropped and she let out an indignant huff of a sound. "Wreeen," she whined, "This was supposed to be our sister's day! You called Jareth?" I couldn't be certain, but I was almost positive that she stomped her foot under her chair.

I blinked and looked at my sister, "Um, and what do you call T.J.? The one mom gave up, or something?"

She began her pouting, sticking out her lips at me, "That's different Wren! I didn't call him during our day!"

I shook my head, vaguely, "I… okay, I could argue that, but I won't. Instead, I'll point out that regardless of how T.J. got to this point, he's here all the same and three is a crowd. You can't honestly hold it against me for not wanting to be a third wheel."

She crossed her arms and said nothing, choosing instead to go back to her chair dancing. I wondered if she was doing it to take her mind off T.J. paying me more attention than her…?

Well… I glanced at T.J. for a moment… apparently I wasn't the only person he was staring at. Oh, he was still watching me, but he seemed to now have a terrible fascination with Jareth. It was almost like he just couldn't figure him out, or something.

I wasn't sure which was more disturbing, the guy who's sorta-seeing my sister having more interest in me, or having more interest in MY man. Honestly, could the pretzel that was my life get any more twisted?

I felt more than heard a low rumble coming from Jareth. I turned my head looking for some kind of indication as to what was suddenly wrong. He wasn't paying much attention to anything other than my water glass, but just taking in the expression on his face, I knew what was upsetting him. Luckily, I was the only one close enough to hear the growl.

And, it was also lucky that I heard it, because it was nearly the only warning I got before he asked, "Wren, dearling, care to dance?"

"Um, sure…" Did Jareth even know how to dance to modern mortal music? Who was I kidding. He was the Goblin King. Of course he did.

"Fabulous!" he almost scooped me out of my chair and walked me, somewhat gallantly, down to where people were dancing.

I eyed him, "Feeling jealous, GK?"

He spun me around and pulled me tightly against his chest. Looking down at me, a regal smirk graced face, "Highly. I can see why you called. That boy is obviously too entranced with you – such entrancement is not a good thing."

"Why would that be?"

His smirk turned into a kind of grimace, "Because said entrancement has spread to… others."

I laughed a little, "Aw, should I be the jealous one, then?"

His steps faltered just a little, but not enough for other people to notice, "Not unless you have fully lost your mind, Wren…" he hesitated, "or you are merely joking with me."

I gave him a squeeze, "There we go, now you get it."

Dang, he's a good dancer. I mean, really. I didn't have to think about the steps, we just moved. From time to time, he would turn me this way or that, or spin me so that our arms were entangled strangely for a turn around the floor, but he seemed to be so easy to follow.

At one point, he purposefully turned me around and dipped me down low, almost exactly like he had at my family's Christmas party, except this was slow and to the rhythm of the live music. One last time as the song came to a close, Jareth spun me around him and pulled me close.

Several people in the crowd were watching us closely, admiring either Jareth or his dancing… or both. Most likely both. I blushed, and Jareth led me back to the table where T.J. and Orla waited. T.J. looked slightly on the agitated side, and Orla looked almost depressed…

I groaned, slightly. I wasn't meaning to show off with Jareth, but… I mean, come on! He's the Goblin King! He's flashy and tends to make a show of things, regardless of where he is and what he's doing! Heck, I'm sure that, if he'd lower himself to do it, he could make the chore of cleaning the toilet appear as fascinating, trendy, and enjoyable as attending the Oscars!

A very small part of me felt bad for my sister. Sure, she may have had all the hot guys when we were in school, but… she'd be terribly hard pressed to find a guy who could beat my Jareth. He was just too dang pretty – and he probably knew that, too.

We reclaimed our chairs rather quietly, Orla still chair dancing, though not nearly as exuberantly as before.

"Nice moves," T.J. said, brushing stray hairs from his eyes, "Are you a dancer?"

Jareth began to mull over the question, but I laughed a little, "Well, not at the moment, is he?" When no one got my joke, I pulled a face and continued, "He's not a professional dancer, T.J., he's just really good at it."

Some light clicked on in Jareth's head, and he looked at me strangely. "You have professional dancers?"

I nodded, "Sure."

He frowned, "So, why could I have not been one of those, rather than a child care professional? It sounds far more entertaining."

There was a great difference between what people thought he was talking about, and what he actually meant. I'm sure T.J. and Orla thought he was complaining about his career, but I knew that he was complaining that I hadn't come up with that for him, before he'd created one, which now seemed far less interesting than a dancer, for himself as apart of his background, for aboveground use.

"Don't be silly, GK," I said, "You know you love what you do. I mean, you really are a child care professional, aren't you?"

Orla looked at me, "What did you call him?"

T.J. smirked ever so slightly, "I thought you said his name was Jareth."

I blinked. Holy crap, what had I done?

Jareth was as cool as ever. He casually reached across me and plucked my water glass from in front of me and took a sip from it. "Terrible pet name, dearling," he said, "Why do you insist on using it? Especially among your friends?"

But, his comment, while it did help me think quickly in finding a way to cover my tracks on calling him 'GK' around people, did nothing to distract Orla. She was still waiting for my answer.

"Jareth Kendricks," I said, my mind working furiously, "That's… uh, you know… um…"

Orla rolled her eyes, "His initials would be J.K., Wren, not GK."

I bit my lip, "Well, of course, I know that. I'm not a complete ninny, Orla. It stands for… um… for…" My brain was going completely blank, "um… well, you see… uh…"

Jareth was looking down the tall water glass he'd decided to fully steal from me and smirked at the water and ice within.

He cleared his throat, "It stands for Great Kisser. Because I am one."

My mouth fell open while he smirked at me, deviously, from over the rim of the glass. I knew I was bright red in the face… did he actually say that? In front of a member of my family?

And Orla… oh, save me, she was giving me eyes that indicated I had just become her new juicy piece of gossip. He was dead. Jareth had just signed his death warrant, I SWEAR!

I started sputtering, which didn't help my case any, "Gah! Uhn… y-you liar, it's… n-not that, oh man," my problem was that I couldn't outright deny that he was a great kisser, because… well, then I'd be lying… and he knew I couldn't do it, too. "It's… his, uh, codename at work, you see. He also works as a guard in my building, and on their radios they call him GK, standing for…" my mind snapped over to about the worst thing I could say, "Glitter Kendricks."

Orla snorted, "Glitter Kendricks?"

I nodded, "Oh, yes, Glitter Kendricks, because he likes flare and stuff like that."

She looked at Jareth for a minute, then said to him, "If that was the best nickname your coworkers could think up, I hate to say it but they aren't very bright."

He shrugged, "They are not always the keenest of people, true."

I watched my sister… she was chair dancing again. Something was niggling at the back of my mind, and, though I can never figure out what causes those stupid niggles, I have noticed that not much good comes after them. She still wouldn't be up to something, would she?

She turned to T.J., "Are you sure you won't dance with me?"

Okay, even I felt bad for her when she asked that.

T.J. looked briefly at Jareth, then turned back to my sister. "I'm not a good dancer, Orla, I'm sorry… hey, why don't you ask Jareth for a trip around the floor?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

T.J. ignored me, "He's an excellent dancer, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind it. I mean," he glanced at Jareth again, "It never hurts to ask."

If only he knew. I gave T.J. my dirtiest look. Orla wasn't up to something, but he was. The most Orla had wanted to do was show off her new piece of arm candy, and he just wasn't as good as Jareth – she'd seriously be hard pressed to find someone who is, in my opinion, and I'm not necessarily talking about looks, either. Jareth had charm and class and was suave in nearly everything he did… well, at least when there wasn't a cockroach involved… but the point was that her goals had been passed, if not achieved.

That left me to deal with T.J.

Crap.

But… Orla wasn't saying anything. She bit her lip, much as I bite mine, from time to time, and… well, she seemed almost embarrassed to have to ask her sister's man for a dance. My sister was nothing if not prideful, and I knew she wasn't about to ask for anything, much less a dance.

Jareth was matching and raising my dirty looks at T.J. He reached under the table and squeezed my hand, reassuringly, and when I met his eyes I found him watching Orla. When he turned to me a moment later, I reluctantly nodded.

"Tee Jay," he began drawing out the letters with obvious distain, "It is never polite to leave a lady without a dance, especially if it be her wish to do so, and it shows nothing but severe contempt if said lady is your company for the evening."

T.J.'s eyes went wide and he seemed to be at a complete loss for words.

Then, without turning his eyes from the guy, Jareth said, "Orla, I would gladly take you for a dance."

Blonde curls bounced around as her head whipped up in sudden surprise. Her eyes were very bright and round and her mouth was open slightly. "You will?"

"Far be it for me to leave you without a dance this evening," He stood and offered Orla his hand, "Care to join me?"

She nearly climbed over the table to get to him and take his hand. I smiled sadly after them as he led her out onto the floor. I had mixed feelings over it. On one hand, I felt bad for Orla and was pleased like you wouldn't believe that my boyfriend was kind enough to ask her for a dance. But, on the other hand, I had issues with watching Orla walk away with my guy. It brought back memories I didn't like to think about.

"Well, I feel like a heel."

I turned and looked at T.J., who was sitting across from me. "What was that?"

He gave me a very guilty look and motioned to Jareth and Orla, "I feel like a complete jerk, now."

A small frown appeared on my lips, "Well, not to rub salt in the wound, or anything, but… why not dance with her? She asked you, rather pathetically, twice."

T.J. shrugged and hung his head down, "I come here for the music, Wren, not really the dancing. I… well, I wasn't lying when I said I don't really dance. I never learned how, and have never been comfortable with it… I didn't mean to be rude."

"Why not say that to her, then?"

He smiled and looked down at his hands, which were holding his glass, tapping at it lightly, "She'd offer to teach me, then, wouldn't she?"

I laughed. Yes, that was Orla's style. "And you say you've only been on one date with her? You're either really good at reading people, or she's too much of an open book."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, "Neither, really. I've known Orla for about a year. She was a friend of a girl who was dating my roommate, and they were always coming over to hang out. I still invite her to parties and whatnot and at the last one, she asked me if I'd like to go out with her, sometime. We did, and now I'm here."

"Well, apparently you know her, then." Um, what else was I supposed to say? Besides, my brain was suddenly consumed by the high-pitched giggle that had come from where Orla was dancing with Jareth… I didn't like happy noises like that, coming from my sister, when she was with my man. That was not good…

T.J. leaned his arms on the table, turned his head to the side, and looked at me, "What about you, Wren?"

I so wasn't listening. I was keeping the dance floor in the corner of my eye. It took me a good minute to realize he'd asked me something.

"Huh? Oh," my mind tried to drag out the question he'd asked from the clutter bin it had stuck it in, "Well, uh, being Orla's sister, I've known her since I was born. We squabbled growing up, as all good sisters do, and now that we're grown up, she's still my sister."

T.J. laughed, showing his teeth, and rolled his eyes, "That's not what I meant, you know."

I pulled a face, "Actually, I don't know. You need to be more specific."

He nodded, "Okay… what do you do for a living?"

I shrugged, "I work in the online financial division of the community college. I have an awesome job of processing paperwork all day. It's very thrilling."

He grinned, "Sounds like it."

I sat back in my seat. "Does that answer your questions? Is that what you wanted to know?" I kept shooting glances to the dance floor. T.J.'s questions were bothering and distracting me from keeping an eye on my sister. I just couldn't look away. Orla was enjoying every move they made, I could tell. And, the thing I think that bothered me the most, was that Orla actually was a good dancer. She took a few lessons when we were younger, so she had a much better idea of what you did on a dance floor than I did. So, where Jareth had to guide and direct me, Orla seemed to already know where the dance was going, and… they were more dynamic than he and I were, that was for sure.

T.J.'s eyes moved to where Jareth was spinning Orla around. "What about Jareth? How did you meet him?"

A goofy smile plastered itself on my face as I watched Jareth, "I made a wish, and it came true."

T.J. frowned a little. "How long have you two been together?"

I bit my lip, thinking. That was a good question. I hadn't thought about it, really. It had been… six months? Ah, I'd have to look up the official dates later. "About half a year," I said.

His face blanked, "So, the two of you are pretty serious, aren't you?"

She was living up to her name, that was for sure. Orla, that is. She was, in the arms of the Goblin King (even if she didn't know it), very much the golden princess. Her hair in golden curls that danced around her porcelain featured as they spun, her pearly teeth almost glinting as she smiled up at him, her back arched just so with the perfect posture and her feet in heels that looked so formal on her… heels I couldn't wear if I wanted to… And then Jareth… well, he was dashing as ever. I already mentioned how fabulous he looked, and his hair, how he'd managed to tie it back, looked very rogue-ish and his features were flawless as ever. His strong build and her petite frame… they just looked good together. It was seriously like sketches out of a fairy tale, and the more I thought about it, the more miserable I began to feel.

"Yeah," I said at last, to answer T.J.'s question, "At least… I like to think we are."

Orla's hands were a little too low on Jareth's hips, and, though it was difficult to tell from as far back as we were, (and part of me terribly wanted to believe I was just imagining it) but there were certain times when I could almost see her hands crossing his backside. I was more than tempted to go and just smack her good, right there.

And with that, my concentration was utterly blown. T.J. could have said he was a Martian from outer space, and I wouldn't have listened in the least. I think he'd asked me a few other things, like about my car and my favorite places to go to and my hobbies and stuff, but I just told him, and didn't think much more of it.

The song wasn't quite over, but Jareth's demeanor changed slightly, and I watched as he spun Orla around in a complicated twist of a kind and he walked her back to our table. The song officially ended about the time they each returned to their seats.

"Enjoy your dance?" I asked, gritting my teeth ever so slightly.

Orla nodded slowly, looking sullen. Jareth sipped at the water glass again and gave me his formal face – the one he wears when he's dealing with political figures he'd rather not be dealing with.

"Orla is very talented on the floor," he said, politely, before fixing T.J. with a glare, "Did you two find anything to speak of while we were gone?"

T.J. nodded, "Yep."

My sister was not meeting my eyes. I knew that look. She was upset over something… gosh, I was tired of her moods. I looked at Jareth, feigning shock, "Oh my gosh, Jareth!"

He flew forward in his seat, instantly, almost choking on his water and sputtering slightly, "What is wrong, Wren?"

"I've got an assignment to post to my class tonight, my online class. I completely forgot!"

He nodded – I could tell, by the look in his eye that he knew my ploy – and he extended a hand to me, "Would you like me to escort you home?"

I nodded, "I'd appreciate it."

We quickly said farewell to Orla and T.J., probably quicker than was nice, and exited the Switchblade.

Once we'd gotten outside, Jareth turned to me, "You do not have an assignment, do you?"

I snorted, "I have to post a memo, which is already written and ready to go, by midnight. It's not that important."

"Then," he began, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Am I to understand that you were as anxious to leave those two as I was?"

I nodded, vigorously, "Oh yeah. I couldn't stand another minute of my sister ogling you or T.J. interrogating me with pointless questions."

"I concur," he said with a steely gaze. I let him take my arm and we walked down the sidewalk.

I felt things begin to change before I actually started seeing it occur, but the farther we walked, the fainter and more obscure our surroundings became. The brick building we were walking beside paled in color and began to take on a green hue, the cement became smoother, the parking lot vanished entirely… and before I knew it, we were Underground, strolling arm in arm down a stone path in the gardens, on Jareth's castle grounds.

And finally, for the first time all day, I felt like I could relax. "Jareth?"

"Yes, my dearling?"

Heh. I never tire of hearing him call me that. "What happened on the dance floor?"

He smiled at me, "You and I enjoyed each other's company, did we not?"

I smacked his arm, "No, I meant with you and Orla."

"Ah," he said, his back stiffening, "It was… not entirely unpleasant."

I paused, halting our progress through the gardens, and looked up at him, "Care to elaborate?" and when he said nothing, but merely gave me a furtive glance, I added, "Honestly?"

He frowned, "She is a brazen wench who has less control over where she puts her hands than my goblins do."

So, she was stealing inappropriate caresses. I snickered, "Well, I did ask for honesty, didn't I?"

He nodded, "That you did."

I was quiet for a long while, enjoying his closeness and the sounds of our shoes on the stones beneath our feet.

And, then, my mind began to collect and sort out the events of the day.

I pulled my arm out of his and smacked him good, across the arm, "What were you thinking?"

He drew away from me, rubbing his arm, "I beg your pardon?"

"Great kisser?" I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "You just had to say that in front of Orla, didn't you?"

Jareth paused and eyed me, a very smug smirk on his face, now. I watched as he casually leaned against a stone pillar that stood beside the path, "Go on," he drawled, "Deny it. Attempt to deny it."

"Sooo not the point, GK…" at the mention of his nickname, his smirk widened. "Oh, stop that!"

He stuck out his lips, "Oh, let me have my fun, Wren."

"Stop changing the subject!" I hissed, "You totally embarrassed me!"

His head turned to the side a little, his mouth fell open a bit, "Oh, so you do deny it?"

My eyes rolled on their own accord, "Oh, you know I can't… what are you doing?"

Slowly, his boots clicked on the stones as he approached me. There was something about the look on his face, that danged smug look, that had me apprehensive. It was like he was up to something.

I backed away from him, "What are you doing?"

He raised his nose in the air and smirked down at me, "I do not think you believe that I am."

"Am what?"

"A great kisser."

"Oh, please. I think I'm probably the most qualified person to speak in your favor, at present. Will you CUT THAT OUT?" he just kept advancing, and I was running out of room to back up in. I was being pushed into a hedge.

But, no, he didn't stop. "No, no," he said, "I think you have lost faith in my abilities. I really think you have."

"I have not, fancy pants."

He was right over me, now, smirking down at me and biting his lip slightly. At least he was still in his Aboveground clothes, that were much less intimidating…

But, I blinked. I blinked several times. When the HECK did he change into his ruffled shirt, vest and breeches? I could have sworn he'd been wearing…

Dang him.

With one final wicked grin, he said, "I think I shall be generous, and prove myself to you, once again."

I frowned, "There's really… no… uh… no need…"

One of his gloved hands snaked around my waist, closing the final distance between us, the other was up behind my neck, tilting my head backwards. He leant downward and slowly – slower than I can ever recall, actually – he pressed his lips to mine.

Oh, his mouth was soft and warm… so soft and warm… and then his one hand began to trace small patterns on my lower back. All conscious thought escaped me. And I got dizzy when he began to move his lips gently against mine…

My knees shook and gave out. He caught me, of course, and when I blinked and opened my eyes, he was still smiling at me.

I returned said smile, "One day, Jareth, I am going to wipe that blasted smirk off your face."

The smile faded and he looked disappointed, "I did not prove myself well enough, did I?"

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I giggled, "If I hadn't been a believer, I'd surely be one now… but, honestly, you know you were preaching to the choir the entire time."

He started to say something, but we were interrupted by giggles in the hedges around us. I blushed, and Jareth glared, but after a moment, he shrugged and leant in to kiss me again.

There was movement, though, and lots of squeaks and shuffling. All around us, the goblins were… well, they were in the hedges, so we couldn't see them, but it seemed as if they were scurrying away.

We frowned at each other, both equally clueless as to what would cause such a ruckus, especially if they were enjoying watching their King kiss his Lady (dear me…), but… a small head peeked out of the hedge, wearing an oversized helmet.

In a very businesslike manner, Squyshee saluted us both, "They is no bothering the King and his Lady!" he pronounced, hopping back beyond our sight.

I burst out in laughter and Jareth chuckled lightly.

"I knew he was a good one to keep around," he mused.

"Yeah," I said reaching my finger upward to tilt his chin back to me, "Me too."

I know I've said it before, but I seriously think I'm the luckiest girl, like, ever. But, hey, if I wasn't the luckiest, at that very moment, I was at least the happiest.

Man, did it take me long enough to get this chapter written? I apologize. It wasn't easy for me to write, for whatever reason… probably because of so much plot that had to appear. Stupid plot.

Special thanks to Danika, who pushed me and kept me on track. You rule, babe.

Ah, okay… onto the next chapter… hopefully it will be a tad easier than this last one.

Until next, Love ya! Oh… and… uh, -points shamelessly to the review button- yeah. That.

Marti