Fade into You: Chapter 15 - Somebody Who Loves Me
The storm had cleared by the time they had the car packed up for their return home. Sarah had barely started her ignition when Jareth magicked himself into full Goblin King armor in an explosion of feathers and glitter.
"Ah, much better," he rejoiced, though his stiff attire looked much less comfortable than the jeans and borrowed t-shirt he had been wearing. "Still so sure you're not the least afraid of me?" he asked, infusing his sharp grin with intentional menace that didn't land.
Sarah gestured at the bucket hat still perched atop his head with a tip of her chin. "That really dampens the scare factor of the whole ensemble," she told him. "I'm more afraid of how many quarters I am going to blow through vacuuming all this glitter out of my car."
Jareth harumphed. "I just wanted to remind you of who I am, in case you forgot over the long," he paused to leer at her, "and eventful weekend."
It was Sarah's turn to harumph as she pulled her car over on the narrow road to let a passing van into the campground. A woman in the passenger seat waved absentmindedly before her head snapped over to stare at Jareth in a slack-jawed double-take. Sarah sank down in her seat while feathers billowed out of the windows.
As the van crawled by, a wide-eyed child in the backseat pressed their face to the window before sticking their tongue out at Jareth, who grinned back and pulled what, by all appearances, was a living weasel from his sleeve. He gave it a quick peck on the nose before it vanished.
Sarah revved her engine and peeled out onto the main road, glancing in her rearview mirror to see the woman in the passenger seat leaning out the window, gesturing frantically with a phone pressed to her ear.
"Subtle," Sarah grumbled as she steered her car around a corner and out of sight. "The outfit and Goblin King confetti weren't enough?"
Jareth sent her a pout, a feather sticking to his protruding lower lip. He blew an abrupt raspberry to rid himself of it before saying, "You gave the impression I wasn't frightening enough."
"So you went the weasel route," she commented, shooing the arrant feather away with her hand. It danced toward Jareth before sharply changing course and darting back in Sarah's direction like a magically influenced homing device.
"Mousse is a mink, as we've been over," Jareth reminded her with a huff, as though quite put out at repeating something he'd told her exactly once. He reclined his seat and lounged back, sighing a wistful sigh. "I missed him. I intuitively sensed he needed a little kiss."
Sarah felt her eyebrows shoot past her hairline. "That was Mousse?"
"It was." He sighed once more. "In my armoire again, of course." He pulled both hands up to his face and made small burrowing motions. "Mussing up all my things."
"Mousse-ing up all your things, you mean?" Sarah offered, biting back a smile at her own joke.
"Oh-ho!" Jareth crowed. "Who would think that after making such a stink about a simple hyjink, she'd crack jokes about a mink?"
"I need a drink," Sarah added flatly, rolling her eyes and batting the tenaciously aggressive feather away again. "That was not one of your best."
Jareth shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He didn't trouble himself to hide his grin as the feather sauntered back to her mid-air like a sultry burlesque dancer about to perform a solo act for her benefit.
"This fucking thing!" Sarah complained, pinching it between two fingers and flinging it out her window. She shot him a self-satisfied grin that quickly faded as the feather simply re-entered the car via the window behind her that she could have sworn she had left rolled up. "Get this thing off of me, you insufferable pest!"
"Hmm?" Jareth replied vaguely as he rifled through their road trip CDs, feigning innocence. He looked over at her distractedly and widened his eyes as though surprised to see the feather now pummelling her shoulder. "Oh, dear," he lamented as the feather fluttered over to him and ornamented the brim of the bucket hat. "Drafty in here."
Sarah's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "It's going to be a long drive, isn't it?"
He chuckled as he popped a CD into the stereo. The car filled with Prince's 'Raspberry Beret' as red and blue lights flashed behind them.
"Damn!" Sarah exclaimed, slowing her car and checking her odometer. "I'm getting pulled over."
"Speed demon," Jareth scolded disapprovingly.
"I wasn't speeding," Sarah groused as she pulled her car over. "Act"—she was going to say normal but thought twice about all the ways that could be interpreted—"human."
He scoffed like her request was ridiculous. "Obviously."
Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel as she watched the officer approach her open window. "Hi!" she called out in what she quickly decided with regret was a much too cheerful greeting under the circumstances.
The officer frowned and peered into the car, her eyes skimming past Sarah and narrowing in on Jareth. "Ma'am, is everything alright here?"
"Of course!" Sarah chirped, cursing herself again for her overly bright tone. She cleared her throat. "Is there a problem?"
The officer sighed as though quite annoyed to be having this conversation. "I got a strange call from someone reporting a man pulling a living ferret out of his….boney armor." The end of the word armor kicked up in a question as she assessed Jareth.
Shit.
Sarah had been so concerned about his behavior that she'd forgotten all about his outfit. Her head snapped over to Jareth, who was back in her 'Sunnydale High School - Class of '99' t-shirt and jeans. There wasn't a feather or speck of glitter to be found.
"Min—" Jareth began to say before Sarah cut him off.
"What?" Sarah said with a nervous laugh in which she literally said, "Ha, ha, ha!" before she cleared her throat again and added in a more serious tone, "Not us. Definitely not us."
"No wild animals in here?" The officer said, unamused, as she peered into the back seat. "That's a criminal offense."
"Zero," Sarah assured her, a smidge too desperately.
The officer looked unconvinced until her eyes zoomed in on the shirt Jareth was wearing. Her face lit up. "Hey! Nice shirt. I'm a huge Buffy fan."
"Go, Razorbacks!" Sarah and Jareth said in unison, Sarah's tone flat and Jareth's enthusiastic.
The officer grinned before the expression vanished, serious cop face returning. "All seems to be fine here. I've clearly got the wrong couple. Carry on." She patted the side of the car before turning and walking back to her vehicle.
Sarah could see Jareth smirking at her in her peripheral vision. When the officer pulled off onto the road and disappeared from view, Sarah started her engine again and said, "Don't."
"Don't….what?" Jareth teased.
Sarah sighed. "You know what."
"Don't mention that she called us"—he made spirit fingers—"a couple?"
She groaned. "You are incorrigible."
"I think she thought we were cute, Sarah Bear." His tone was observational as he shrugged. "It must have been the adoration for me spilling from your eyes like tiny heart balloons."
"Have I told you how much I hate you?" she asked, her heart rate skyrocketing past what could be healthy.
"You have." He tutted. "Have I told you what a terrible little liar you are?"
Sarah could feel her cheeks flushing as 'Raspberry Beret' ended and Simon and Garfunkle's 'The Sound of Silence' started playing. "Perfect," she said, turning up the stereo.
Jareth didn't take the hint, singing along at the top of his lungs. He wove in a third and, somehow, a fourth harmony, filling the car with a cacophony of beautiful sound.
"Showoff," she said, but couldn't help but smile as she began to sing along with him, her left hand dancing in the breeze out her window.
Sarah relaxed as she steered her car through the familiar forested roads. She grinned as the stereo switched to 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' by Whitney Houston, seeing Jareth perk up excitedly beside her. She shimmied her shoulders and sang every word with him as loud as she could, not even blushing at the 'with somebody who loves me' bits. Not much, anyway, or so she hoped, though Jareth's knowing smile told her otherwise.
The trees thinned as they entered the main road of a small town. "Awesome," Sarah said. "I'm starving. Let's find somewhere to stop for lunch."
They passed beneath a large, hand-painted banner reading, 'Welcome to Pinewood Village, home of the Pinewood Renaissance Faire.' Costumed residents milled about in a wide variety of ensembles. A person in a green and purple dragon getup ambled down the street. Another looked like he was straight out of Final Fantasy. A woman in a wizard costume with a tall, pointed hat fumbled with various vials attached to a bandolier across her chest, taking a swig from one. An adult with long, blond Legolas hair shepherded a group of small children wearing ill-fitted curly wigs. A woman was swallowing a flaming sword and hoola-hooping next to a group of robed figures performing a Gregorian chant.
"What is a Renaissance Faire?" Jareth asked with interest, gawking openly at the passersby as Sarah navigated her care carefully past the crowd.
Sarah considered how best to answer what shouldn't be such a complicated question. "It's… well, a festival where people pretend to be from the Renaissance."
Jareth hummed. "Very few of these people look like they are from the Renaissance," he commented, eyeing a woman in a barmaid outfit that tracked as something from the Dark Ages.
"You sound like you were there." Sarah laughed, but it caught in her throat as Jareth sent her an impatient look. "Wait, were you?"
"Which one? And Yes," he answered casually. "Really, Sarah, you think I would miss such parties?"
Her stomach did a little flip-flop as she absorbed that he was that old. "Oh." She swallowed and added numbly, "You know what? I'm actually not that hungr—"
"What is that?" Jareth interrupted, eyes fixed on a child wearing a Robin Hood outfit and fairy wings.
"Just a kid, J. They don't know shit about the Renaissance—"
"No," he said, a note of desperation in his voice. "What are they eating?"
Sarah glanced back at the child. "It's funnel cake. It's like… fried dough squiggles with"—she sighed, knowing she was sealing her fate—"sweet stuff on top. Like fruit and whipped cream, and—"
"PARK THIS VEHICLE IMMEDIATELY, OR I WILL PARK IT FOR YOU," Jareth said with urgency. "I must taste this funnel cake for myself."
Sarah looked at him with trepidation, but he was suddenly wearing his fanciest billowy poet shirt, high-collared Goblin Armor cape, tightest of tights, and high-heeled black boots. The look on his heavily painted, glittery face told her she really had no choice in the matter. She sighed again and pulled into a parking space.
Jareth was out of the car before Sarah could unbuckle her seatbelt, flinging her door open. When she paused to stretch her arms over her head, he looped an arm around her and slung her over his shoulder as he strode toward the booths.
"Hey!" she chided, giggling at his enthusiasm. "This cape is pokey as hell. Put me down!"
He did, but not without demanding she hurry up. "Funnel cake is my absolute favorite treat," he told her seriously before adding, "And whatever that is." He pointed to a man in a knight outfit gnawing on a chocolate-dipped fried Twinkie. "Also my favorite."
Sarah laughed as he took her hand, guiding her through faire patrons who greeted them by way of saying things like, "Good morrow!" and "Hail, and well met!" Sarah mumbled hello's as Jareth bowed and curtsied at random, returning greetings she was pretty sure were made up.
By the time they'd stopped at all the food vendors they could find, they were both juggling armfuls of snacks. "We should find somewhere to sit," Sarah told him, glancing around. She gestured with an elbow toward an empty picnic table. "How about there?"
Jareth nodded, and they beelined for the table but were stopped by a group of teenagers.
"Woah, dude!" chirped one of the kids. "Sick costume. What are you?"
Jareth looked briefly offended before ostensibly remembering he was at a costume event. He straightened, the royal effect lost by his armful of goodies. "Hello, children," he said proudly. "You have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the Goblin King himself."
"Wicked," another kid remarked as the others smiled and nodded like they had a clue what a Goblin King was.
"Yeah," added one of the teens with forced confidence. "That's, like, my favorite fandom of all time."
Jareth frowned, visibly deflating. "Fandom?"
Sarah bumped him with her hip and said the only thing she could think of to distract him. "The whipped cream is melting, Lanks."
He glanced at the funnel cake, eyes bulging, and hurried away from the teenagers toward the picnic table with Sarah in tow.
"Reminds me of that Halloween I brought you home to trick-or-treat with Toby," Sarah reminded him once they'd found their seats across from one another. "When Dad asked you what your costume was, and you told him you were the Goblin King."
Jareth huffed though he was clearly hiding a fond smile. "He didn't even bow or cower in fear or anything."
Sarah grinned. "Toby couldn't say 'Goblin King.'"
"And your entire family has called me 'Gobking' ever since," Jareth added with a sigh.
"You secretly love it," she accused. "You"—she pointed a turkey leg at him—"think it's charming."
Jareth rolled his eyes in a perfect Sarah imitation. "Because it is charming, though I live in perpetual dread over my subjects overhearing such a moniker."
"Our secret," Sarah assured him with a very Jareth-like wink.
"Gracious," he said. His tone was sarcastic, but his eyes danced with hers.
They smiled at each other as they sampled the various foods, Jareth contentedly humming along to the tune of a nearby lute player. He winced abruptly and complained, "That's not how the song goes. They are going completely rogue." He made to stand. "I should show them how—"
Sarah hooked her ankle around his beneath the table. "Chill, Gobking. I think you'll survive a few bad notes."
Jareth settled back in his seat. He looked surprised at the sudden contact she'd initiated before his expression morphed into a smirk. "You just want to keep me near," he told her as the toe of his other boot began stroking the side of her calf.
"Maybe," she admitted casually, though her ears burned. "Or maybe I just want to see your face as you try your most favorite treat for the very first time."
"I've already decided it's my second favorite," he told her, the corners of his lips kicking up in a sensual smirk as Sarah shifted awkwardly.
The funnel cake, of course, had every possible topping option adorning it and was starting to wilt in the summer heat. Sarah laughed as Jareth 'mmm'ed and 'ohhh'ed around mouthfuls, melty whipped cream dripping down his chin. "You sound like you're having an orgasm," she told him.
His eyes shot to hers and held with a look of pure sin. "You would know."
Sarah bit back an embarrassed smile. "Maybe."
Jareth chuckled. "So bashful," he commented, stroking her calf again. "Why?"
She choked. "I'm not—"
"You are," he told her. "You're redder than this strawberry." He picked up said strawberry between sticky fingers and pressed it to her lower lip.
Sarah let him slide it into her mouth, grateful for the moment it would take to chew so she could think of a response.
Jareth patiently waited for her to swallow, and when she still had nothing to say, he asked, "Well?"
"I'm just…" she trailed off, cursing herself for being at a loss for words. She never used to lack things to say.
He was searching her face when she looked up at him—his expression tinged with worry. The foot sliding up her leg dropped. "You're just….what, Sarah?"
Sarah looked away and mulled over his question. "Adjusting," she offered with a small shrug.
"Ah," Jareth said.
She expected him to say more—to double down on his teasing—but an uneasy silence fell between them. She glanced up to see him pushing around an almond on their mini charcuterie board with a morose look of concentration.
"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her chest welling with concern. "Why is your face doing that?"
Jareth flicked a grape at her. It bounced off her forehead as he said, "You're confused."
"Hey!" she admonished before his words caught up with her. "What? Confused about what?"
"About us," he elaborated, aiming another grape at her. She dodged it as he added, "About what you want."
Sarah reached out her hand and placed it atop the one assailing her with fruit. "I'm adjusting," she repeated. "This is new, and you're…coming in hot."
Jareth blinked at her. "I don't know what 'coming in hot' means, but if it's a compliment, thank you, and I know."
She laughed and squeezed his hand. "It means you're just being you but extra," she told him.
"I see," he said. "I can stop—"
"No," Sarah blurted. "I don't want you to stop."
The phrase reverberated in her brain, reminding her of when she'd said the same thing to him hours before in a cozy tent as they kissed for the first time. She suspected Jareth was thinking about it, too, as his booted toe resumed its path up her leg.
"Alright," he said. His voice was full of adoration when he added, "You positively befuddling creature."
Sarah smirked at him and shrugged her shoulders again. Her breath caught at the expression on his face, his lips curving into a nervous smile like he was about to ask her something crucial.
"Sarah—"
"How now, fair maiden! Kind sir! Wither be the privies?!" interjected someone who abruptly appeared beside them.
Jareth and Sarah jolted out of the tense moment they were sharing and looked at the intruder, a man dressed in full court jester regalia, long enough to say, "Over there."
They pointed in conflicting directions. Both flustered, they changed the orientation of their fingers, again pointing opposite ways, before Jareth glowered and said, "Prithee, fool, you must away."
The jester-man backed off before making himself scarce.
They turned back to each other, and Sarah frowned as Jareth quickly looked down at the plates before them. He busied himself with putting together a tiny sandwich of dried meat and cheese one-handed.
"Hey," she coaxed. "What were you going to say?"
Jareth set the sandwich down and met her gaze. "Sarah," he began but paused, sending her an appraising look.
"You said that part already," she teased lightly. "What's the next bit?"
He sighed warily before cautioning, "I don't think you'll like it."
Sarah gave his foot a reassuring nudge, though her stomach plummeted. "Try me."
"It's a question," Jareth warned.
She feigned nonchalance, picking up the little sandwich he had built and taking a bite. "Okay."
"When we were at the pool," he paused again as though recalling a long-ago memory for the both of them. "Oh, you remember the one with the lovely waterfall and the smooth rocks on which we defiled—"
"I remember," Sarah choked.
"You called me romantic." Heavy and meaningful, the statement hung between them as he held her gaze.
Sarah swallowed. After a moment, she admitted, "I did."
"You said it like that was something you wanted." That worried look Sarah didn't like reappeared on his sharp features. "Hours before, you shared that wasn't something you sought from anyone."
Her heart began pounding violently in her chest, and she found herself speechless again. She did her best to still her hands as they started to tremble.
Jareth tightened his fingers around the hand still joined with his. "You're panicking," he observed with a hint of alarm in his own voice.
Sarah could deny it but knew it was obvious. Instead, she said, "I thought you had a question." She bit her lip, regretting her statement immediately.
He searched her face, his gaze lingering on the lip she chewed. He seemed to consider his following words carefully, but they came out in a rush when he spoke. "Do you want me to be romantic?"
Sarah froze. "I—"
Jareth continued, "Because I understand romance isn't for everyone."
"Jareth, I—" she tried, but her words were lost on him as he prattled on, his free hand gesturing wildly.
"It's quite alright if it isn't something you want," he assured her. "I wouldn't pressure you into such things, and—"
Sarah snatched his flailing hand out of the air and pulled it down to the table, interlacing their fingers. "Jareth."
Jareth's mouth snapped shut. He waited.
She took a steadying breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. "I'm not sure if I've had romantic feelings for anyone before. I think what I've felt in the past has had more to do with obligation and duty…whatever role I was taking on in the relationship."
"What do you mean by 'role'?" he asked, uttering the word with distaste.
"I mean…" she took a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing, "It took years of therapy to see it for what it was, but I emulated the dynamic I saw between my parents. It was a business relationship, more than anything."
Jareth tightened his grip on her hands and inclined his head, encouraging her to resume the confession she hadn't expected to be giving.
Sarah squeezed his fingers in return and said, "My dad was unwaveringly there for my mom. He took care of her and supported her emotionally when she was chronically unavailable in every sense of the word. And he just….accepted it."
"And you think you're like your father?" Jareth asked gently.
"I think I have been," she admitted—a vice compressing around her heart. "I know I may have sounded"—she searched for the right word—"flippant about my choice to stay out of relationships before, but I don't feel flippant about it. Not really."
"I know," he told her, his voice hushed and reassuring. "That last part, I mean."
"I've been unquestioningly present for partners when they weren't meeting my needs or even bothering to know me. Who I am." Her words caught in a small sob that surprised her. She looked down and said, "My mom only ever saw herself."
Jareth was quiet for a time before he freed a hand from her hold and reached up to touch her cheek. "Sarah," he said, guiding her eyes to meet his again. "There is so much of you to see."
Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears as she scanned his face for any hint of teasing, anything that would make her want to take her admission back.
All Sarah saw was love.
"I see you," Jareth told her, brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had stubbornly escaped her stinging eyes. "And the more you let me see of you, the more I cherish."
Her heart felt like it shattered and expanded all at once. She nuzzled into his hand and let him hold her there for a moment as she took in his words. "I know," she finally said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
"That frightens you," he said, both a statement of truth and a question.
Sarah sucked in a shaky breath. "It does."
"But it's more than that, isn't it, dear one?" Jareth probed. "It isn't only what you know I feel for you that causes fear in your heart."
"I don't think I deserve it," she admitted, "these feelings you have for me."
"I know that, too," he said, and his eyes were glistening. "And it's a lie you've been telling yourself for a long time. Before we were as we have become. Before we were more."
"I'm grumpy," she told him, her words spilling out like the tears he brushed away. "And indecisive, and befuddling, and—"
"You're a person with flaws," Jareth interrupted. "But you're perfect to me. You're tender-hearted, quick-witted, and oh, so brave." He sent her a watery smile. "As well as an envy-inspiring dancer."
Sarah laughed in spite of herself. "Liar."
"Impossible," he said. "You can do the Charleston. I'm sure someone in this vast world would be jealous of that skill." He pressed his thumb to her lips when she opened her mouth to speak. "And before you regale me with tales of how much you hate me, consider that the opposite might be true. The feelings you spoke of, the feelings you know I have for you—you feel them too. For me. And that, Sarah Bear, is what truly frightens you."
Jareth dropped his hand and waited for her reply. His fingertips began to trace patterns on the inside of her outstretched arm—long, soothing strokes.
"Jareth," Sarah said with no plan of what she would say next. She watched him feather figure eights across her wrist, grateful for the distraction from his gaze that pinned her in place.
"We should date," he said abruptly.
"We—what?" Sarah stammered, her eyes flying to his.
"Date." He repeated the word like it belonged in his universe. "I'm making my intentions clear. I wish to date—to court you."
Sarah stared at him, flustered by his sudden declaration. "Um," she finally managed. "Okay."
"Okay?" Jareth asked with a hesitant smile.
Sarah felt her own lips curving. "Okay."
His smile spread into a wide grin. "Splendid!" he cheered before his brow furrowed slightly. "What, exactly, does dating mean?"
She laughed. "What, exactly, does courting mean?"
Jareth flipped his wrist dismissively. "Something more archaic than I intended. Let's go back to dating. Tell me about dating, Sarah."
Sarah snorted, lifting her shoulder to wipe straggling tears on her shirt sleeve. "It can mean a lot of things. In general, I think it means getting to know each other in a romantic context before commitment." She blushed, surprised she had included the word romantic. Her heart gave an extra little pitter-patter at realizing she wasn't upset by it.
His head tilted, owl-like. "What do people do while they are dating?" he queried.
Sarah hummed as she considered the question. "Well," she said, "They go on dates."
"I like where this is going," he told her. "What else?" He quirked a suggestive eyebrow at her as his toe resumed its path up her calf.
She sent him a mischievous smirk. "Some people abide by the 'three dates rule.'"
Jareth's smile faltered. "I tend to dislike rules, but continue."
Sarah stifled a laugh. "Three dates before sex," Sarah clarified, sure he would react in horror.
"I love it," he announced, beaming at her.
"You—what?" she babbled, shocked. "You're joking."
"I'm not," he told her, booping her nose with a fried Twinkie. "I can't lie, remember?"
Sarah blinked at him. "You really want to abstain from sex for three whole dates?"
Jareth took a beat to answer, then clarified, "I wouldn't say I want to, Sarah. But I think taking a step back would be a good idea."
"A few steps," she corrected and felt herself flush again.
"A few steps," he agreed. "Though the way you are blushing right now almost has me reconsidering."
A POP sounded as a small goblin Sarah immediately recognized as Flit appeared on the end of the picnic table. "THERE YOU ARE!" she blustered, kicking away the wheel of brie ensconcing a tiny, armor-clad foot. "How dare you turn off your magic?" she demanded, the cheese sailing past Jareth's head. "I have been worried SICK!"
Thank you, Geliot99, for being a stellar beta! Love you, dude. 3
On that note, I must take a moment to defend myself, as the aforementioned Geliot99 hath UNJUSTLY ACCUSED ME of fading to black at the end of my previous chapter. 😤 I want to assure you all that NO smut has been withheld! I would never do such a thing. In my head, they literally romped around in the rain and cleaned up. I'll probably write a flashback to that at some point but wanted to make sure everyone knows that, at WORST, I faded to gray for the simple fact that they were nude. 😂
I had way too much fun writing this chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it! Geliot99 made me cry at her outburst of rage at the jester interrupting Sarah and Jareth's deep convo, in which she left a comment in our beta doc reading:
"Do not block
the emotional cock"
...and I cackled for days.
Anyways, OMG THEY ARE DATING YA'LL. THEY ARE ACTUALLY GOING TO BE DATEY! AHHHHHHH *chants* Sarah and Jareth sitting in a...faire...D-A-T-I-N-G-!
Please let me know what you think! ❤️ Sending you all so much love.