There are two rules for success:
1. Never reveal everything you know.
Robert H. Lincoln

Robert stared at Sarah. Sarah stared at Jareth. Jareth stared at Toby, who was in turn staring at the ruined fish with no small amount of unvarnished glee.

The fish, its cloudy eye still largely intact, stared at Bill—who was too busy wondering why real estate listings didn't come with a comprehensive check on the neighbours to stare at anybody.

Karen kept her eyes fixed on Sarah.

Like a shark who'd scented chum in the water.

"You're pregnant," she repeated; her crow of being proven right morphing into a sort of stilted awe. "I'm going to be a grandmother!"

"No, you're not." Sarah fought—and failed—to keep her tone neutral.

Karen's expression immediately crumpled. "I know you've never accepted me as a mother, but really, Sarah? You won't even let me be a grandmother to your child?" She pressed her face into her perfectly spotless apron.

Robert, freed from his stunned stupor, shook his head in fatherly admonishment. "That's very unkind to your stepmother, Sarah."

"Yes, very unkind, Sarah." Jareth sipped his wine, his own expression just shy of Toby's outright delight at the turn of events.

"You!" Sarah rounded back on him. "This is all your fault."

"Now, now." Robert looked uncomfortable at what he assumed was to be a lovers' spat. Soap Operas gave him second-hand anxiety, he certainly didn't want a live show. "It… ah," he looked helplessly to Bill, who in turn pretended to find new-found fascination with the silver, "er, takes two to tango?" He glanced at Toby in concern, who merely rolled his eyes. "Birds AND the-the bees!" He held up two fingers for emphasis. "I'm certain Jareth intends to make this right."

Sarah ignored her father. "I might have given it back to you," she hissed at Jareth. "But after this little display? I'll flush it down the toilet first."

Karen, who'd perfectly heard Sarah's whisper, precisely because she'd been trying so very hard to hear, made a strangled noise and pressed her manicured hands to her mouth this time.

"S-Sarah…" Karen started again once she'd rallied. "Don't be hasty now, darling… you do have other options—"

"Oh, for god's sake, I'm not pregnant!" Before her family could say more, Sarah stood, chair scraping back into the credenza wildly, and making the rest of the Wedgewood rattle precariously. "We are leaving." She swatted a hand at Jareth's shoulder. "Come on, get up. Let's go. You've had your fun."

The Goblin King, who was rather unused to being ordered by anyone, much less assaulted by a violently flapping hand of all things, looked immediately affronted. You're being rather rude, Sarah. Your mother," Sarah was quite certain he'd said that deliberately, "cooked a wonderful meal."

Everyone pretended not to notice the fish on the floor. Karen gave another little hiccough.

"We could… order pizza?" Robert patted his wife's arm ineffectually. The hiccough turned into a choke.

Toby pumped a fist.

"Oh, dear, what a shame! I am afraid I'm allergic to pizza." Bill stood, almost tripping into the spoiled dinner in his haste. "But you… you all enjoy now!" He bobbed his head around the table. "Thanks for a, ah, a… well, an evening." And then beat his retreat without waiting for a reply.

"Do sit down, Sarah." Jareth refilled her wine calmly once the front door had slammed. "Surely, you owe your family an explanation before you run away again, as subtly as Bill just did now."

Sarah glared down at him incredulously. "I owe them?!"

"Would you prefer I offered one?" The softly spoken threat was implicit.

Sarah was reminded all at once that as comically and ridiculously disruptive he'd been to her life in such a short period, he was capable of so much more. And most of that, not very funny at all.

Robert was already on the phone to the local pizzeria, while Karen was sweeping the remains of her fish and platter into a dustpan with Toby's begrudging help.

"I should have left you in that jail cell." Sarah sank back down reluctantly.

"Very likely," he agreed. And in that moment Sarah didn't think he was joking.

"So, is this revenge, then?" The fish felt like a metaphor she hadn't yet fully grasped. "Is this what this is? Do you really hate me that much?"

His lack of answer made her cant her head enough to see his face. To her surprise, he looked perplexed by her question. Maybe even shocked. Not mocking, not glib, and not even angry. Something she couldn't entirely place flickered in his eyes. "I don't hate you, Sarah."

Something equally unexpected fluttered in her stomach at his words. She dismissed it as hunger, but her hand fell to the amulet in her pocket. Even through the fabric, she could feel the pulse of power it radiated. She knew he was watching her—tracking the movement without turning his head—but her parents had joined them back at the table.

Karen opened her mouth.

Sarah held up a hand—the one still tingling from where it had touched the amulet. "No, I am REALLY, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in his eye," she jerked the hand at the Goblin King, "not pregnant, so please stop. We weren't talking about a baby. It was very stupidly worded on his part."

Her stepmother managed to somehow look both relieved and disappointed. She settled on plastering a winsome smile on her face when she turned to Jareth instead.

"Of course! How silly of us." Robert looked like he wanted to object to the last word, and then wisely thought better of it. Karen waved a hand. "People don't just give babies away and then take them back again," she tittered. "What kind of psychopath does that?"

"Oh, indeed." Jareth's lips twitched. "Don't you agree, Toby?"

It was hard to decide who was more shocked by Sarah's warning hand on the Goblin King's thigh beneath the table. Jareth, by the nearly intimate though undoubtedly accidental placement. Or Sarah, by the taut muscles that danced beneath her fingers in a way far more palpable and dangerous than any magic amulet in her pocket. Thighs like his should come with a warning label.

Whatever further torment Jareth was about to put Sarah through with her brother was immediately shelved, and his attention fixed instead on her hand where it spanned his thigh. And then back on her face—like he was fascinated by the faint flush that crept up her neck—as she realized where she'd landed. The smile hadn't left his face, but it widened like he had altogether too many teeth, and like he might know exactly how to use them.

All the better to eat you with, my darling.

Sarah made to snatch her hand back, but Jareth was too quick once again. His own curled around hers and raised them to the more neutral territory of the table, still joined.

Karen, who'd been watching their silent exchange with morbid-cum-motherly fascination, nudged her husband.

"Hmm? What?" Robert glanced at the door in confusion. "Is the pizza here?"

"One can only hope." Toby slumped down in his chair, eyes rolling back towards the ceiling. "Can we at least have the pie Sarah brought while we wait?"

"Toby!" Karen admonished tightly, as though the thought of dessert before dinner was only marginally less shocking and untoward than Sarah having a baby with a complete stranger.

With the surname Müsnukkel, no less.

Sarah tugged futilely on her caged fingers, trying not to notice how velvety warm his bare skin was against hers.

"As I was saying, Jareth is an… an old friend. Just visiting. There was a mix-up of sorts last night with the, ah, police, and now he's staying with me. Briefly. Extremely briefly."

"An old friend?" Robert refilled their glasses on the pretext of refilling his own. "From teacher's college then?"

"Yes."

"No." They answered at the same time.

"Yes," Sarah repeated firmly.

"So, you're a teacher too then?" Karen asked, only slightly disappointed to find out he wasn't something more financially solvent, like a doctor or a lawyer.

The Goblin King recovered smoothly, aided no doubt by Sarah's foot connecting with his shin. "Of sorts."

"What do you teach?"

"A variety of subjects." Jareth drummed his lean fingers on the table in disinterest. "Ah.. Runes, Alchemy, Shapeshifting… Flying."

Sarah kicked him again, receiving a scowl of annoyance from the Goblin King—who had never once been assaulted such at a dinner party. "He means English, Science, Art and… Gym. They use 'unique' names for the subjects at his, er… alternative school."

Karen visibly blanched at the word, alternative.

"Gym?" Toby asked, momentarily forgetting about the inhumane torture of waiting for pizza, and showing the first sincere interest in the conversation. "I like gym." He considered the immaculately-dressed Goblin King, who dressed like no gym teacher he'd ever seen before. "Do you play dodgeball?"

"I'm not familiar with that game."

Toby's eyes widened. "You don't know dodge ball? You know, where you throw a ball," Toby demonstrated using a dinner roll and an unsuspecting orchid, much to Karen's displeasure, "and try and knock your opponent out?"

"I should have guessed from the very pedestrian name. My gobl-er-students," Jareth caught himself before Sarah could kick him again, "play a similar version of it using cannons."

"Cannons?!" Toby sputtered in disbelief bordering on delight.

"He's joking, Tobes." Sarah glanced warily at her perplexed looking parents. "Enough about work. Let's talk about…" her mind whirred, trying to find a safe topic, before categorically deciding he was quite capable of twisting them all. She was spared by the doorbell heralding the arrival of the pizza.

Surprisingly they made it through dinner, such that it was, without further mishap. Karen insisted on serving the artfully presented side-dishes she'd prepared for the fish, which elevated the meal, without really complimenting it. Dill sauce on Hawaiian pizza was not something Sarah particularly ever wanted to try again.

Whatever else the Goblin King was, he apparently could evince good manners when it suited him. Though she expected he was equally appalled by the supper combination, he ate a modest amount without visibly grimacing, and thanked her parents for their hospitality with a straight face. It had allowed Karen to recover somewhat from her myriad disappointments that evening.

Eager to end on a high note, Sarah refused the offer of after dinner coffee on the pretense of getting home to grade papers. They were allowed to leave with minimal protest, if only because Robert was eager to watch the game and because Sarah lied—promising to bring Jareth for a do-over dinner party, so Karen could cook him a proper meal.

Even the conciliatory pies were forgotten by everybody but Toby. And remembered only after his parents had gone to bed. He ate the majority of one with relish by the light of the refrigerator.

When they reached their cars, Sarah paused and stared dubiously at his borrowed vintage classic. "Should I even let you drive that?"

Jareth folded his arms, a twinkle of wry amusement and challenge making his eyes fever-bright. "Could you stop me?"

"Should I stop you, is the more pressing question. I am not really concerned about your neck, but know that I won't bail you out again if you kill some innocent person because you can't tell a stick shift from a riding crop."

"I know perfectly well how to use a stick shift, Sarah."

Sarah hid the immature snicker that threatened to quite undermine her stern expression. It was a euphemism he likely didn't even get.

Then his lips curled knowingly, proving her quite wrong again. "And a riding crop if your predilections run in that direction instead. I've certainly had no complaints."

"Good." Her voice sounded only marginally throaty. "Find your way back to your world and shove it up your as…" She trailed off as she noticed Karen watching them from the open door. She turned to wave; a wobbly smile on her face.

"Mortals let you teach children?" Jareth tsked, and then he leaned into whisper conspiratorially—his breath on her ear making her pulse spike. "And there are far more pleasant things to 'shove' up there. I've had no complaints on that point either."

Annoyed at how easily he could irritate and fluster her in the same moment, she wordlessly got in her car and drove home—leaving him to sort out whether or not he could make it home in one piece.

When she hung her jacket by her front door, she pulled out the amulet and placed it on the coffee table, eyeing it suspiciously and then sat to wait. Enough was enough.

Bad had gone to worse, and then crossed over into the absurd. With unnerving (intriguing?) sexual undertones.

He kept setting her off balance, and the first rule of being a teacher was never lose control of the classroom. She needed to grab the bull—or Goblin King in this case—by the… her traitorous mind immediately provided several suggestions that were not conducive to her goal of calming down in the least. She needed to get her life back, and most importantly, excise him from it as cavalierly as he'd chucked out her dinner last dinner.

He apparently had made it home in one piece, because even the lazy staccato of his knuckles on the solid wood managed to sound arrogant. Like he was humouring her by even asking first. Whether the Rolls Royce and any innocent bystanders had fared as well was another matter for another time.

She pulled the door open, and turned back to her living room without invitation. "Glad to see you weren't arrested for mowing down a granny in a wheelchair."

The door clicked shut and the snick of the lock followed. "Welcoming as ever, Sarah. Your concern for my welfare warms my heart."

"I was concerned for the granny." She took her seat back on the sofa.

He followed her into the room and draped himself into the overstuffed chair opposite like it was a throne. Then he released the glamour masking his more inhuman features. He'd still been preternaturally beautiful as a human, but it reminded her all at once that he was so much more. He remained in the bespoke vintage suit. His eyes dropped to his amulet where it lay on the table between them. As though he'd been expecting her to confront him exactly so.

That managed to annoy her further. "You haven't asked for it back."

"You haven't offered it back."

There was a sudden preternatural stillness to him—almost imperceptible thanks to this indolent pose—but which she caught, and made her strangely hesitate. She gestured towards the amulet. "It's right there. You could simply pick it up. It's yours, after all."

He made no move to take it. "You could be polite. Sometimes there's… ceremony in collecting back what's rightfully yours."

Sarah stared at him for a moment, brow furrowing at his words and eyes tracking to the slight tick in his jaw when he did nothing. She felt a sudden flush of vindictiveness for what he'd put her through. "Why won't you just take it?" She stood, picking up the leather cord and let it dangle between her fingers. "You've known I've had it all this time. You've hinted at it, but never outright asked for it back." She took a few steps forward until it dangled within his reach. As she stared down at him, she felt, for the first time, a shift in their respective roles. "Ask for it back and I'll give it to you. Right now."

He kept his eyes on her face, but all trace of playful humour was gone from them. "Offer it to me back, Sarah, and everything that comes with it. I'll accept."

Something in his wording made the hairs on her neck stand on end. She cleared a suddenly dry throat. "And if I don't? Surely you could just take it from me." The spiteful fifteen year old that still lurked inside of her swung it before him tauntingly. "I wouldn't even resist."

For a moment the signature gleam returned. "Be careful what you promise, Sarah." His voice was deceptively soft, but beneath the velvet was something infinitely sharper and well-honed. Well-used to slicing through foolish little girls. He filled the small space of her apartment in a way that was palpable and impossible to ignore. And against all reason, she'd invited him into it.

She swallowed nervously, reminded again that for all the so-called harmless enjoyment he was taking at her expense, he was not human. And he was certainly not governed by the rules of her world. Pride alone had her holding her ground. It was her world and her life he'd forced his way into… home court advantage, et cetera, et cetera. At the very least she deserved answers before he vanished again. Bravery could be a choice if not a conviction.

"Why didn't you just get yourself out of prison? Why call for me of all people? Why take Edith's car when you have magic? Why are you still here?" Another swing of the cord between them like the pendulum about to fall in a Poe tale. "And why can't you just ask for it back?"

"So many questions." He sat unmovable, save for the hand drumming on the worn arm of her chair. She was coming to suspect it was a tell of sorts. When he sat forward suddenly, she stifled a yelp that would have quite undone her bout of bravado. His fingers feathered the air around the amulet, but did not quite touch. There was a pull in the cord—suddenly gone taut—like the it was as eager to reach him, but couldn't close the distance. She tasted lightning in the air. A strange but welcome palate cleanser for dill sauce on pizza, in fact. Or at least she'd think that later.

And then nothing. Like whatever spark had been there had fizzled just as quickly. A flash of something creased his features but it had been as ephemeral as the brief pulse of magic. They stared at one another in a stilted silence. The kind that leaves bruises if left unchecked too long.

Jareth sighed—rather dramatically, like he resigned to doing something distasteful. Or perhaps like he'd gotten a lingering taste of supper.

"I had thought to play this differently, but it seems I am in need of your assistance." He said it like he was doing her a favour, if anything.

Sarah couldn't help her indelicate snort. "You mean in addition to bailing you out of the drunk tank?"

"Charming."

"Beggars can't be choosers." She couldn't be sure, but she thought she caught a slight wince. And then he was smiling again, though it was in no way the reassuring kind.

He stood. Sarah forced herself not to retreat, which meant they were uncomfortably close.

She hadn't planned to say it.

Especially in not such a rushed, desperately frazzled way that it came out more like a squeak than the powerful declaration that had once toppled a kingdom. It was rather childish to even bring it up again, in retrospect, but the lizard part of her brain—the one reminding her not to play games with the creatures who made, and oft changed, the rules—had activated the moment he loomed those few scant inches above her. Inches that irrationally felt like miles in the moment.

"You have no power over you me." Perhaps she'd only said it more to remind herself.

He didn't look disappointed this time. Nor cross. Nor even smug that she'd resorted to something so banal. In fact, he looked almost… pleased?

Jareth nodded to himself; his hand coming up to ghost the curve of her cheek. Much like the amulet, she felt an almost innate need to close the scant distance and lean into him. Without gloves to separate them.

Steady Sarah. You have him cornered now…

"Indeed. The Goblin King has no power over you." His eyes flicked down to the cord held limply in her hand and then back to her face with relish. "'Tis fortunate, then I suppose, that I am no longer the Goblin King."

AN: Dun, dun, dun! Sarah didn't see that one coming.

This update is proof I am still alive, lovelies. I hope you are enjoying the halcyon days summer (in the northern hemisphere anyway). It feels like it's flying by way too quickly. Very sorry this update took forever (and that all my other WIPs are withering on the vine). Real life is seriously kicking my ass right now, as I am sure many of you can relate. It hasn't been conducive to the creative juices. If you feel so inclined, I could use your positive energy/ thoughts/ vibes right now. They are greatly appreciated 3.

I am plugging away at the other updates (Scouts' honour) and a new AU story I started, but won't post until I finish at least one more WIP. In the meantime, a round of margaritas for all of you fabulous readers for hanging in there :)