A/N: This takes place the morning after Chapter 2.
Fade into You: Chapter 3 - I Need to Hear You Say
The mental checklist Sarah hoped to accomplish before Jareth took over her day was finally dwindling. She needed to finish the dishes, tidy up the living room, get dressed…
Sarah's heart supplied an extra tha-thump when she glimpsed the kitchen clock. Jareth would be arriving in an hour. She felt energized, much better now that the previous day was over. She'd feel fantastic once she got through everything she needed to do, but her spidey senses raised a suspicious flag over her questionable time management.
She picked absently at the sludge drying in her eyebrows and scowled at the green residue beneath her nails. With all the puttering around the house she'd been doing in an attempt to present herself as tidy and fine, she'd forgotten about the mask. Add washing her face to the list that was turning out to be less dwindly than she'd believed.
Escaped curls clung uncomfortably to her skin. Sarah scrunched her face to relieve the tight sensation, feeling the mask crack satisfyingly. Green tea flakes fell to her clean kitchen floor. Damn. Depuffing a cry-face was messy and unenjoyable, she decided.
She registered Jareth's sudden appearance at the same time she heard his shrill shriek of surprise. Sarah instinctively screamed, too, searching the kitchen in a panic for danger.
"You have been afflicted!" Jareth exclaimed, transporting himself within inches of her without bothering to take the two steps the distance required.
"What?" Sarah yelped, terrified. Her hands flew to her face.
Jareth's eyes bulged in horror when green crumbled away at her touch. When Sarah felt the texture of the mask, it all made sense. She dissolved into giggles. "Jareth, it's okay," she said, dodging his concerned fingers. The adrenaline from the mutual screaming had her feeling giddy. "It's just a cosmetic product."
Jareth's hand dropped, and he gave her a long appraising look before saying, "I somehow do not believe you."
She rolled her eyes. Rolling greens in a sea of green. "It washes off."
He released an exaggerated sigh of relief, gesturing to her sink in an implied request to prove it. "Thank the gods for that."
Sarah's sigh matched his, resigned as she was now to accomplish her checklist out of order. She rinsed her face and could feel Jareth watching her intently as if to ensure she was, in fact, still Sarah under there.
She peeked over at him while she patted her skin dry and smiled at his expression. Her smile quickly twisted into a self-satisfied smirk she hadn't planned. "I didn't know you could scream like that."
She intended to be sly. Just a light ribbing. She realized her error before the jab was out of her mouth.
There was an unmistakably elated spark in Jareth's eyes as he let her squirm for a beat beneath the weight of the trap she had set for herself. Sarah recognized the leer that gradually replaced his relieved expression. The way he loomed over her was familiar, too, his arm above his head as he leaned into the pantry door.
Uncomfortably familiar and excitingly close.
"I wonder what your basis for comparison is," Jareth said, his intent gaze belying his casual tone—the tone of someone pondering the migratory patterns of sidewalk brownies.
Fraggin' aardvarks, Sarah thought and almost laughed again under the influence of her crashing cortisol. She reined herself back into the moment, unwilling to allow her strange intrusive thoughts to divert her. While she'd never returned to the Labyrinth, she hadn't fully left either. It took effort sometimes not to retreat there, even with the King of the Goblins strategically maneuvered into her personal bubble.
Especially then.
Jareth observed her with curious amusement as he waited, all questioning brow and tilting head.
"I mean," Sarah tried to backpedal, feeling the attempt fail as her words fell from her lips. "I didn't know you could scream at all."
He patted her head, smirk stretching beyond what should be allowed. "I could let that one slide." A statement, not an offer.
"You could," Sarah agreed, hopefully.
"I don't think I will, though. It would be entirely uncharacteristic."
Sarah let out a long breath of surrender. "It would be," she agreed again and gestured in the universal sign of go on, get it over with.
Jareth considered her briefly, his attention a quick flick up and down. "Another time, perhaps."
Sarah poked him in the sternum. "How like you to keep that in your back pocket."
"You've stared at my ass enough times to realize I don't have back pockets," Jareth commented breezily. "Even as a teenager, nothing but giant lily pads adrift in a virginal pool for eyes."
Her finger prodded him again. "You are disgusting." Her tone was light despite her accusatory words and narrowed eyes. "You got off on it."
Jareth didn't bother to look offended and shrugged. "Should I have advised you to stop your gandering? Would that have been more appropriate? I did consider mentioning your ogling, Sarah, but I worried you would simply turn to dust and blow away from embarrassment." The pout he pulled was wicked. "That would have spoiled all my fun."
Sarah ignored his taunting and busied herself with drying the last of her dishes. She thought about what he'd said. What it would have meant for her to be called out at that age.
By him.
"I'm glad you didn't do that. I remember actively peeling my eyes away from you. It was a conscious effort—but I don't think I knew what it meant then. That's probably for the best." She paused and glanced at him. "I would have been more ashamed than embarrassed."
Jareth looked taken aback. His suddenly pensive demeanor surprised her. She had fully expected smugness.
"Why ashamed?" he asked, his voice padded with a sudden softness.
She considered the question while she fussed with the coffee maker. The declaration had hit her as truth before she'd internally articulated its meaning.
"There's a difference between embarrassment for being caught and shame for why I was looking in the first place," she explained. "I didn't have anyone to talk to about attraction, and I didn't understand. I mean, aside from what I read about in books. It seldom ends up well for the heroine, you see. She always gives something away."
Jareth didn't respond immediately. When Sarah's eyes cut to his, he was frowning. "You seem disgruntled," she noted, her arched brow adding a question mark to the statement.
"I am."
Sarah bristled uneasily. "With me?"
"No," he assured her. "With myself."
Her budding defensiveness dissipated. "For what?" She asked, bewildered. "You didn't make me stare at your—at you."
The corner of Jareth's lips kicked up briefly on impulse at her last-minute revision, but his countenance remained solemn. "I suspect we both have held on to a perception of what happened that day. Or what could have. Our memories do not match those of the other."
Sarah gave him a hard, wary stare. "We're not just talking about me gaping at you, are we?"
"No. At least, I'm not." He scanned her face before continuing. "I've learned I can't make you speak about anything you don't wish to. I wish you would talk to me about this, Sarah."
"Later?" she proposed brightly, pressing a cup of coffee into his hands: cream, seven sugars, and a splash of vanilla extract. "I need to get breakfast started. I'm hungry."
Jareth sighed, used to her rebuffs around their initial meeting, parting, and almost everything in between. "What you need is something aside from this morose music." He meandered over to her stereo and ejected her Fiona Apple CD. Sarah watched him slip it back into the sleeve of her CD binder and flip past the page labeled 'Moody Babes'' and land on "Diva Gods." His eyes lingered on Celine Dion, and he shot her a side-long glance. "Perhaps not this."
Sarah laughed and then noticed the time on her stereo. "Wait, why are you so early?"
Still flipping through her CDs, Jareth said, "I'm never early, Sarah." His voice was a drawling chastisement. "I was exactly on time, as always. Your clocks are faulty."
"It's impossible for all my clocks to be wrong," Sarah pointed out. "You're on Underground time."
Jareth scoffed. "It doesn't work quite like that, as you know."
Then it hit her. "Shit. Daylight savings time. I forgot."
"I don't know what that is, but I'm pleased I remembered," Jareth crowed, pausing his perusal of her CDs on a page labeled 'Mixes.' He grinned as he slipped 'NOW That's What I Call Music! 7' from the case. He brandished it in front of her as if in warning before popping it into the stereo.
Sarah groaned, but her smile gave her away. Besides glam rock, the chaos of a mixed CD with random modern music from every genre was Jareth's standard preference for a dance party. She'd stopped buying iterations of the NOW albums years ago, but Jareth insisted on gifting her the newest versions every year as a rerouted gift to himself. This one had not been broken in yet, and he merrily hit 'play,' and then, 'shuffle."
"You would shuffle a mixed CD," Sarah said, filing it away as another thing she loved about him. She laughed as the beginning of 'Ride wit Me' by Nelly spilled from her speakers, and Jareth shimmied his shoulders at her. "This is one of those songs I know every word to, but none of them are correct." She stopped to think about it and laughed. "Most modern songs, actually. I never know the words. I just make them up."
Jareth made her prove it, naturally. He chuckled at her impassioned improv. As the music faded, he applauded while she bowed. "As talented a lyricist as you may be, I don't think you're what the music industry is looking for," he remarked gently with the air of someone breaking crushing news.
Sarah feigned devastation, letting her face crumple in exaggerated disappointment. It morphed into a grin when Lifehouse's 'Hanging by a Moment' started up. "But have you seen me dance?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows like she had a secret weapon.
"Yes," Jareth replied smoothly. "I have. Have you been withholding talent?"
She sent him a mock glare. "Ye of little faith," she complained, spinning in a wobbly pirouette before launching into a full-out interpretive dance. He joined her as they acted out dramatic slow-motion heartbreaks and fainting spells. Jareth had mastered miming hanging on by an actual moment by the end of it.
As the song transitioned to 'Don't Let Me Be the Last to Know' by Britney Spears, their bodies instinctively swayed to the sensuous tune. Sarah executed a series of chassés across the kitchen, and Jareth mimicked her movements in the opposite direction. She did her best to ignore the lyrics and the fact that this was obviously a slow dance song. It became increasingly difficult as she listened.
My friends say you're so into me
And that you need me desperately
They say you say we're so complete
Sarah hand-jived and did the Charleston like she couldn't tell Jareth's attention tracked the words. They had clearly piqued his interest, as had her reaction to them. She danced on, incorporating moves that she was reasonably sure were just yoga sun salutations.
But I need to hear it straight from you
If you want me to believe it's true
I've been waiting for so long it hurts
I want to hear you say the words, please
Jareth was altogether transfixed now—on the lyrics and the blush spilling across her sweaty skin that had nothing to do with the YMCA. He was circling her as she danced, his eyes dancing with her.
Don't, don't let me be the last to know
Don't hold back, just let it go
I need to hear you say
You need me all the way
Oh, if you love me so
Don't let me be the last to know
As it turned out, her fourth-grade gym teacher had been right in predicting square dancing would come in handy someday. She'd been understandably skeptical. Unable to stand the awkwardness of Britney crooning about unrequited love while she trudged through yet another promenade and do-si-do. Sarah pushed past Jareth and made a beeline for her stereo.
"This song isn't for me," Sarah said, tapping the 'next' button. An acoustic guitar signaled the start of 'This I Promise You' by N*SYNC. "Even worse," she lamented, her finger poised to skip again.
Jareth snatched her wrist away and placed it on his shoulder. "Leave it," he coaxed, threading his fingers with hers as boy band 'oooohs' serenaded them.
He tugged her in close, his hand splaying at the small of her back. Sarah was surprised by how quickly she folded into him. Her breath caught as the lengths of their bodies aligned in a new way, their skin hot and separated only by cotton and linen. They were both breathing hard from their antics, but Sarah was acutely aware of just how ragged her breaths were compared to Jareth's.
She shook her head to dislodge the tendrils of hair that adhered to her sweaty face. He was grinning at her when she peered up from beneath her frantic bangs.
"That hair suits you, wild one," Jareth commented.
"Wild?" Sarah snorted, though the endearment thrilled her. "I am not wild."
He leaned in close, his forehead nearly touching hers. "But you want to be."
Her eyes flashed a warning at him, but she took the bait anyway. "And how would that turn out for me, do you think?"
Sarah was still out of breath and was alarmed to notice Jareth was not. Color still suffused his skin, but he seemed otherwise all too collected when he said, "I wouldn't pretend to know, considering I have been so misguided in my assumptions thus far."
The strangeness of the statement broke her from the moment. Her brow rumpled, and she pulled back fully to look at Jareth. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Jareth began as they waltzed through her kitchen and into the living room. He halted with a pained sneer as the glitter and sequins he'd littered there the night before crunched under his boots. His eyes tore from hers to toss a disappointed look around the room. "Really, Sarah. How can you allow yourself to live under these conditions? Such a mess."
"Don't distract me, J. Tell me what you were going to say."
Jareth changed direction unexpectedly, and Sarah struggled to keep up with the sharp turn. He tsked at her. "Now you want to talk?"
Her eyes narrowed at him dubiously. "That's hardly fair to ask since I don't know what you're hedging at."
His chuckle was a deep rumble that reverberated from his chest into hers. A new warmth sank low in Sarah's body. Jareth had slowed them into a sway. Nothing more than the shifting of weight within a standing embrace. She fought to keep her pulse steady, sure it pounded visibly near her throat.
"Alright, Champion. How's this for fair, then?" Jareth leaned in close again, erasing the distance with a full press of his forehead to hers. "If you need to flee the conversation, I humbly request you not involve chairs or mirrors. Words will suffice. You're adept at those, too, as we have learned."
Sarah let out a reedy laugh that sounded more strangled than she would have liked. "Thanks for the out." When it became clear he was waiting for verbal acquiescence to continue, she added, "Okay. Let's hear it."
He studied her, and she knew he could feel her trepidation. It was almost fear, but she stamped it down. Sarah squeezed Jareth's fingers and sent him an attempt at a reassuring smile—though it teetered like a Jenga tower after a misguided block removal.
Convinced enough by the gesture, Jareth pulled back from her and said, "I want to discuss that night."
"Which night?" Sarah asked numbly, knowing precisely which night.
Jareth shot her an unimpressed look as if the question was an insult to them both. It was, of course. She knew it.
"The night you, a fifteen-year-old, wished away your little brother to me, the adult Goblin King."
"Oh. That night," Sarah muttered. "I suppose that would be permissible. Though it hardly matters now."
Jareth looked almost hurt. "The very foundation of our acquaintance hardly matters? It does. I assure you."
Sarah's sigh was tinged with guilt. It mattered, and she knew it. To pretend otherwise made her feel like a fraud in his arms. "Alright. Tell me what you assume I don't already know."
"Perhaps it's not about telling. I should have been listening instead." Jareth's eyes were contemplative as he searched her face. "On the other hand, there are things I feel you should hear from me."
She studied him, scouring his opaque preamble for meaning. "You're being cryptic, and you know I've puzzled through enough riddles for a lifetime."
Jareth was silent for a moment. He looked uncomfortable, unnerving Sarah. "Now you're making me uneasy," she said. "Say something."
"I don't like the idea of you feeling ashamed," he said, his words coming out in a sudden rush that was atypical of him. "That was never something I intended for you."
Sarah, unimpressed, couldn't help but laugh. "It absolutely was."
"It wasn't. Though I see why it would seem that way." Jareth's expression was unreadable, but there was no tinge of ridicule in his words. He meant them.
"Are the years of relentless mockery all flooding back at once, Goblin King?" She tripped over her feet, and he pulled her back in. She noticed that he didn't draw her in closer like she would have expected. He gave her space while they revisited the long-ago origin story that cast long shadows on their present, friendship, and whatever future either of them may or may not ever admit to wanting.
"Embarrassment is different from shame, as you so eloquently explained to me earlier," Jareth said quietly. "I admittedly had not considered it. Shame isn't an appropriate feeling to place on a child, and I apologize. I didn't make it easy for you that night."
"Or any other," Sarah acknowledged. She did her best to brush off his words, but they burrowed into her heart a little. "You didn't actually do anything, Jareth."
"I know that," Jareth said—still so calm—but the frown lines etching deeper around his slash of a mouth spoke to his displeasure. "But I am not convinced you know I wouldn't have."
Sarah swallowed past a lump that suddenly formed in her throat. She cleared it, but her voice was still a croak when she said, "I'm not sure how you want me to respond to that."
"Forget how you think I want you to respond," Jareth hissed, sounding almost angry. His expression smoothed when he saw Sarah balk at his tone. He tried again. "I just want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what you thought then and what you think now."
Sarah inhaled deeply and released the breath while she debated.
She could abandon this conversation if she wanted to.
She did want to.
But curiosity tugged her onward. "At the time, I didn't know. Not really. I was playing the part I thought I was supposed to. I had one desire. Suddenly, I had more than one, and that was…."
Jareth watched her closely. "That was…?"
"Frightening," she finished, stunned at the word.
"I see," Jareth said. "Did I frighten you?"
"Not so much."
He pouted, and Sarah chuckled at that. "What I mean is, it wasn't you that scared me. It was how I felt about you. You were sex personified before I understood any of the implications. I didn't understand the power imbalance."
"That is precisely why this conversation matters. You didn't understand, but I did. And I did not act then, nor would I have. It's important to me that you know that. And believe it."
Sarah stared at him hard, aware he couldn't lie.
"You don't believe me," he said. There was no accusation, but there was a hurt he had no right to feel.
Sarah felt a surge of unexpected bitterness. "You were seducing me, Jareth. You can't honestly deny that."
To her surprise, Jareth looked ready for this challenge. "I don't deny it."
Something about the admission broke her. Tears started to build in her eyes, and she wasn't sure if they were from anger, sadness, or relief at hearing the truth she'd avoided for so long.
Jareth noticed her heavy blinking and hurried into an explanation. "I don't expect you to understand this now, and I certainly wouldn't have expected you to then, but I played a role just as you did. Seduction is part of who I am. It's part of the game. Distraction is in my nature, as you have pointed out many times. I recited my lines and brandished my body about you, but it had nothing to do with you."
Sarah recoiled as if he had slapped her in the face. She felt her color drain and fought to keep the burn of his words from showing. "Well," she spat. "That sorts that out."
"It doesn't," Jareth said calmly. "There was a spark of curiosity then, Sarah. I won't deny that either. I expected I would be defied someday in my long life, but not by a mortal teenager. That spark has shifted into a burning, tormenting thing, but that isn't how it started. It started with you as a child under my protection and me, an adult who knew better."
"The peach dream—" Sarah started, unable to acknowledge his confession of feelings as they related to her now.
"Was almost exclusively your creation," Jareth finished. "Your imagination was threaded through nearly every piece of that fantasy. I did take liberties with one small variable, however. Tell me, Sarah. In all your recollections of that dream, did you ever wonder why I would put you in that dress? Surely, you know I have better taste."
Sarah's feet stopped as she considered his question, and he urged her to keep moving. His hand tightened at the small of her back. "Or why I didn't hold you like this? I could have. You would have let me."
"The dress was the same as the one the dancer in my music box wore," Sarah answered. "I figured you just borrowed it."
"Oh, I did. In a moment of sheer panic. You should have seen the dress you imagined yourself in."
Sarah raised a brow. "Do I want to know?"
He grinned wickedly at her. "There isn't much to describe."
A new flush crept up her cheeks. "Perfect," she muttered. "That's perfect."
Jareth chuckled and leaned in, sensing her anger thawing. He nuzzled his nose near her temple. "At the time, it wasn't ideal."
"So you put me in that dress? Why, if you could have chosen anything else."
"I could have put you in a gold bikini and chains if I had wanted to," he agreed.
"I should have never let you watch Star Wars; you overly identify with the villains."
Another chuckle tumbled from his lips and vibrated the sensitive hairs at her nape. He pulled back to look at her, and despite the mirth on his face, his words were serious. "If I were as villainous as you have painted me to be, I wouldn't have purposely put you in a dress that kept you firmly rooted in childhood."
"With room for the gods between us," she added, beginning to understand.
He nodded. "In stark contrast to the present, as you may have noticed."
"You asked me to stay in the end," Sarah said, unwilling to fully let go of what she had assumed about him for so long.
This time, Jareth didn't laugh. He studied her closely. Finally, he said, "No. I didn't, Sarah. You've hinted at that being your perception before, but that isn't what happened."
"It is," she insisted. "You said—"
"I said what? To stay with me in the Underground for all eternity? That you could never leave?"
"No, but—"
"No," Jareth concurred. "But again, I understand why it came across that way. That was a script, Sarah. Lines I had never been forced to say because I'd never faced having a Champion before. I cannot express how unwilling I was to have one at the time, what, with my previously untarnished record."
Sarah's stare was hard as it bore into him. This was a new hurt, as much as it was another relief to the worries she'd held on to. "So, you would have tricked me into staying with you just to avoid me being your Champion? Was I a disappointment?"
He did laugh at that. Like Sarah's interpretation was utterly ridiculous. He sobered quickly when more hurt flashed in her eyes. "Hardly, Sarah. You have never disappointed me. I would not have kept you, regardless. Had you agreed to whatever you thought I was offering at the time, you would have revoked your rights as Champion. Nothing else would have changed. Toby was never yours to give."
"WHAT?" Sarah choked, pulling out of his arms. The anger she had felt before bubbled over into a rage. "You're telling me it was all for nothing?"
"Was it?" Jareth let the question dangle dangerously, laden with implications. "Did you gain nothing from the experience?"
She fumed. She stormed. She imagined smoke pouring out of her ears in cartoonish rage. "Please don't patronize me. I don't need your life lessons and never asked for them." Sarah's practiced 'please' clashed with how she bit out the words.
His eyes glinted with something before it vanished. Didn't you, though? When you wished for me?
Sarah continued before Jareth could speak the words that rang in her ears despite being left unspoken. "And how could you keep this from me until now?" There was a little less anger in her voice. More hurt. "That feels like a betrayal, Jareth. A big one."
"You're right. You don't require my lessons now, but you may have then. Either way, it wasn't my decision. It was yours. I had to follow through." He looked at her angry face and sighed. "I shouldn't have kept this from you. You're right about that too."
"Why did you?"
"Would you have been open to discussing any of this before now? I've tried, Sarah."
She wanted to shut him down and tell him that, yes, she absolutely would have been willing to talk this through. As she let it percolate, she knew that wasn't true. "I'd like to say yes, but I don't know if I would have heard you out."
Jareth smiled a smile that managed to be both warm and sad. He crooked two fingers at her, inviting her back into his space. The gesture was innately obscene coming from him, but she went to him anyway, letting him snake his arm around her waist even tighter than before.
Like he wouldn't let her go now that they'd begun to bridge the misunderstandings that had kept them apart for so long.
They swayed together momentarily before Sarah realized the song had shifted back to Britney Spears. He shrugged innocently when she cut his eyes at him. They settled into a slow pace, and Sarah let her thoughts drift as she replayed the conversation. She was pulled from her reverie when Jareth spoke.
"I suspect that even without me accusing you of lusting over me, the shame of it caught up with you eventually. I didn't realize I was benefiting from that shame by teasing you. I don't like how that makes me feel."
"Thanks," she said and winced. Then she clarified, "For a long time, yes. I did feel shame. It was confusing. It didn't fit into my ideologies of how a hero should behave."
"You carried shame over something you did not do. Something I did not do."
"It sounds stupid," she started to explain.
"It doesn't. It makes a lot of sense. I wish I had known."
Sarah frowned at him suspiciously. "What are you up to? Stop acting like you're figuring me all out."
The fine lines around his eyes deepened with a hint of mischief. "I would never profess to have you figured out." He searched her face before asking, "Are you still confused?"
"You know I am. But no, not in the same way. I don't want to talk about that right now, though"—her gaze flicked to the wall over her couch—"and I'm fond of that mirror."
"Alright. Can I say one more thing?"
Sarah let out a frustrated huff, though she was primarily annoyed by how curious she was about his final word on the subject. "Fine."
Jareth chuckled. "So gracious."
As he leaned his face close to hers, she felt his words whisper against her cheek. "I told you that my actions in the Labyrinth had nothing to do with you. I don't want you to misunderstand me. My reasons for being in your life now have everything to do with you."
Sarah grinned at that, more widely than she'd felt generous enough for only seconds before. She couldn't help it. It felt good to hear, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, she needed to hear it. She let go of Jareth's hand and slipped both arms around his shoulders. Standing on tiptoe, she buried her smile in the crook of his neck. She leaned into him, gathering him tightly, allowing herself to hold him for the first time.
In a way that differed from the hugs they had shared in the past or the comforting side-cuddles of the night before.
His hand at Sarah's back had stilled. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she had utterly misread the moment, his thumb found her spine and traced a path down. It dipped in an indentation near her tailbone and pressed there lightly. The hand she had abandoned cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled there, but he didn't hold her any closer than he had been.
"Hold me back," Sarah said, face still safely hidden. "Please."
He complied with a relief she could feel, as if he had been waiting for permission. His fingers constricted at her nape and clutched her there. She could feel his pulse; her cheek pressed to his throat as it was. The thrummingof it quickened. She wanted to press a kiss there.
His other arm encircled her fully. Returning her hold.
Of all the dances they had shared, only one had ever really mattered. That dance and what had occurred in the short hours afterward had left a wound that hadn't been cleaned before scabbing over.
What they were sharing now mattered more to Sarah than anything else had, though it could hardly be called a dance at this point. They barely moved their feet, rocking each other in the wake of what had finally been said—and in anticipation of what hadn't. Sarah wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Jareth could have restarted the song several times for all she had been paying attention. All that mattered was his smell everywhere, the warmth of his skin, his fingers in her hair.
Jareth must have been distracted, too, because the song finally changed. S Club 7's 'Never Had a Dream Come True' began, another cozy slow song. Maybe he wasn't as distracted as she'd assumed. There weren't typically more than a handful of ballads on each of these annual mixes. She squeezed him briefly and was still smiling as she pulled away to look at him.
He grinned back at Sarah when he saw her expression as though he hadn't been sure what to expect.
Sarah's mouth spread into a grin, and she asked, "Have you given up on shaping this clumsy lump of clay into a competent dancer?" She felt her eyes sparkling at him in a way she'd have never allowed before, and she did nothing to stop it.
Jareth's grin echoed hers. "Never."
Sarah's hand was back in his so fast she barely registered it before he spun her out of his arms. He caught her in a low dip upon her sudden return.
"See? You're a professional," he told her, his voice low as his face hung precariously near hers.
Sarah laughed. "I had nothing to do with that."
"Very well," Jareth said, righting her again. "Try to learn by leading."
He switched their hands: her left in his right. Jareth's grin was impossibly wide. He looked like he anticipated a protest.
Sarah felt impulsively determined to prove him wrong. Unfortunately, she was also wholly unaware of their broader surroundings, because the wild abandon in which she spun him sent Jareth barrelling into the coats hanging in the entryway.
Sarah stared at the glove left in her grasp, momentarily stunned. "Oops," she said and laughed. "Are you ok—"
She froze when she looked up at Jareth. He was a few feet from her now, grimacing as he rubbed a shoulder blade with a newly naked hand.
"Sarah, what on Earths are you hoarding behind these coats?" He tutted at her as he rifled through outerwear, bags, and other hanging items. Jareth was always on her about letting things collect in places they didn't belong. He was right, of course. She was very out-of-sight-out-of-mind when it came to object permanence. Hence, The Bowl by the front door.
She didn't have to wonder why Jareth never said anything about that. Her fingers itched to trace the tiny peach at the bottom of it to ease her nerves.
"Wait," Sarah blurted, bounding over to him.
She was too late. Jareth was already turning back around, looking very pleased. She didn't want to look at what he held in his hand.
She already knew.
When she allowed herself to look, her dread ebbed.
It was just a bottle of champagne. There was nothing scandalous or life-alteringly embarrassing about that or about the gaudy red lace thong tied to the neck of the bottle with an equally gaudy ribbon.
Wait.
No.
No. No. No.
She forced her eyes to his. His beautiful face was contorted into a nearly demonic grin. He toyed with the thong, looking thoughtful. He unfolded an attached notecard and splayed it between two long fingers and his thumb, the movement somehow vulgar.
Sarah knew better than to assume he would read the card quietly to himself.
"''Hi Sarah,'" Jareth read aloud. "'Thanks for participating in our annual pleasure party gift exchange!'" His eyes cut to hers and held them for a long moment before returning to the note. "'We look forward to your Climax Club membership.'"
When he searched out Sarah's gaze again, she was looking past him at the tote bag he had retrieved the bottle from. When she felt his attention back on her, she snapped her traitorous eyes away.
Jareth stared at her, then slowly turned again to follow where her line of sight had landed. He peered back at her, his smile a wild thing.
"My, my, Sarah," he cooed. "What have you been up to?" He hooked his finger in the lacey thong and tugged it, letting it spring back against the bottle with a lude snap.
Sarah didn't say anything. All she could do was hope he hadn't noticed the visible lumps remaining in the bag and how her eyes nearly watered with the effort of not glancing at them again herself.
"You're not going to tell me?" Jareth looked at the bag pointedly and back at her. "I am very close to launching an investigation."
Well. Damn.
A/N:
This chapter took me longer to get through than others have, and not just because of the length. I have a few other chapters written and many more planned out. But for some reason, I struggled with this one. I really wanted to get their dialogue right. Their friendship has grown to be really precious to me, and I want to protect their tenderness, stay true to their silliness, and pay the conversation the respect it deserved at the same time. It was a challenge but felt necessary. I got a little peace through writing it, and I hope they both did too. I'd love to hear what you think.
Jareth miming is a love note to David Bowie.
Sarah putting cream and seven sugars in Jareth's coffee is a love note to Our Flag Means Death. (Wouldn't be the same with six 3)
I know I ended this one on a bit of a…well, I hesitate to call it a cliffhanger. But please note I have added tags :D:D I'll warn up top about smut in general when it happens.
Current Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut, Resolved Sexual Tension, Humor, Fluff and Crack, So Many 90's and early 2000's Pop Culture References, Adult Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Friendship, Friendship/Love, Eventual Romance, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Eventual Smut, Pegging, Switching, Sex Toys