Play the Game

Chapter 4 – Coffee and TV

His wet hair twisted up in a fluffy blue towel and the rest of him wrapped in a pink robe that was too small and scandalously short, but the softest thing garment he had ever worn after his owl-feather cloak, Jareth lounged on Sarah’s couch and stared unseeing at the images flickering on the television, lost in thought and feeling very, very sorry for himself.

The entire day had been a complete disaster from the get-go, and the start of his second day was rapidly approaching without any improvement (or Sarah) in sight. He should have taken his owl form and followed Sarah on her outing. Better yet, he should not have allowed her to leave her residence in the first place. Of all the things he should be doing, watching television was not one of them. But somehow, here he was, alone in her apartment while she was entertaining another man. A dead man. Well… a seriously inconvenienced man when this bet was over and Jareth could set his Goblins on him. Perhaps he’d make Sarah watch as a reminder of what happened when one ditched the Goblin King.

Shifting on the couch unhappily, he picked up the flat plastic device (he’d seen them manipulate televisions on prior visits Above) that had been laying on the coffee table and began to press buttons until the images on the television changed to a scene with two young humans in a canvas structure doing naughty things that he should have been doing with Sarah.

Sarah.

She had banished him – transported him to the living room and prevented him from entering her bedroom while she was still in it.

Granted, she had only sent him maybe thirty away, but she shouldn’t have been able to perform that level of magic, period. Yes, he had granted her certain powers before she had wished away her brother and yes, he had fed her an enchanted peach. He hadn’t really considered the far-reaching consequences of his actions at the time; she wasn’t supposed to have returned to the human realm! After she had left, he had not been in the proper state of mind to ruminate on the effects of Fae magic on human physiology. Copious amounts of Goblin ale did that to one.

Jareth jumped as screams blared out of the television set, and he refocused to see a large man in a mask beating the canvas structure with an oar while the teenagers were still inside it. Shuddering, he punched at the button he had used previously and sighed in relief when the picture changed to that of a couple sitting at a small table in a dimly lit room. Their limpid gazes locked on each other, they reached across the table and clasped hands. He frowned irritably and switched pictures again. This time, it changed to that of a beautiful barn owl sitting regally in a pine tree as it preened its snowy feathers. Smiling, he set the remote back onto the table.

Also odd, but working to his advantage, was his ability to do magic while in her presence: he had been able to transport himself into her room while she was still in it. It had been sheer reflex when he had done it, and he had been just as surprised as she was when he appeared in her bedroom. Draconus, the bastard, had said, “No magic in front of the humans.” Humans. So what did that make Sarah, other than a woman whose beauty and irresistibly were matched only by her sheer bloody-mindedness? Did that mean that she was no longer human, or did her ability to perform magic cancel out Draconus’ stipulation? Jareth had no idea how to find out; it hadn’t come up before.

“To attract his mate, the male barn owl hovers over the female, displaying his chest and belly…”

Blinking out of his thoughts, he watched the owl on the television trying to tempt the female into mating with him. Apparently pleased with the male, the female took flight and allowed the male to chase her through the moonlit pine forest. Mid-flight, she wheeled around and took off after him, and the male was only too happy to be chased in return. Eventually the birds got down to the actual mating, and Jareth averted his eyes respectfully. Leave it to humans to record such a private moment and put it on display for the entertainment of other humans. The perverts.

He wished it were as easy as showing a little belly and then playing a game of chase to bed his temperamental female. Sifting restlessly again, he wondered if Sarah could shape shift yet. She’d undoubtedly be a barn owl as well, since she had acquired her magic from him…

‘Hold on.’ Jareth paused that thought to further explore the prior one. ‘What if it is as simple as showing some skin?’ he asked himself. And the Underground knew that he loved a good chase. First things first, he had to win the lady’s heart through her kisses.

Pushing himself out of the squashy cushions of the couch, he padded barefoot to the telephone table where he had left his copy of the script for Journey to the Center of the Maze. They had filmed one scene earlier that day, and Phil had been aghast at how poorly he knew his part. Phil had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to learn tomorrow’s scenes or he would find himself on a plane back to England. Just as unequivocally, Jareth had told Phil that no one would find his corpse as it moldered at the bottom of his deepest oubliette. Sarah had jumped in at that point with a bright laugh and had promised Phil that they would both rehearse their lines that night. Slightly dazed under the force of her somewhat novice, though effective, attempt at glamour, Phil had forgotten all about the plane and oubliette and had clapped Jareth on the back, wishing him a pleasant evening. His mouth twisting in a self-deprecating grimace, Jareth thought that perhaps such a strong glamour should have clued him into Sarah’s proclivity for magic, but since it had furthered his plan to go home with Sarah, he had dismissed it without a second thought.

Though Jareth had no intention of rehearsing unless it was the parts with kissing, he was curious as to when he got to steal his first cinematic kiss. Sprawling back into the couch and flipping through the thick stack of papers, Jareth scanned the bits that contained interaction between his role and Sarah’s. Many scenes bore a resemblance to Sarah’s adventure in Labyrinth; indeed, the whole thing was uncannily familiar. Of course, he had been much wittier than this Jarlath character. Snorting to himself, he read aloud, “You have one day to reach the center of the Maze. Fail, and your little sister will be mine! Forever! Hahaha!” Shaking his head and turning the page, he scoffed, “Who writes this rubbish, honestly?”

By the time he had reached the end of the script his frown had deepened into a dark scowl. There were no kisses. Not even a measly peck on the cheek! Wrenching back his arm, he was about to chuck the script at the television when an idea struck him. Jareth glanced at the lighted clock on one of the strange machines in the kitchen; it reported the time as after eleven. It seemed fairly late by human standards; the plan might just work.

Settling the script back into his lap, he flipped through the pages until he came across several promising scenes. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a crystal orb out of the ether and concentrated on the changes he wanted, but stipulated that all copies of the script were to be changed or none at all. Once the new scene was clear in his head, he pressed the crystal into the page, watching as words disintegrated into individual letters that floated in ripples around the orb as it was absorbed. If even one copy of the script was being touched or observed, then Draconus’ constraint would prevent his magic from affecting it, and the entire spell would be undone. For a long moment, it seemed that the letters might reorganize to their original state, but finally, with a sudden churning and swirling, they arranged themselves into something much more agreeable. He had even improved the dialogue.

Satisfied with a plan well executed, he tossed the script onto the coffee table and turned back to the television. A bald eagle was flying over a clear blue mountain lake, her shrill call echoing off the water and the steep sides of the valley. The voice narrating informed him that the eagle was warning other eagles that the area was defended, but she was actually complaining bitterly about the local murder of crows and the mess they had made of her favorite sunning spot.

---

Sarah let herself into her apartment with a minimum amount of key jangling and her heels hooked by their straps over two fingers. Holding her breath, she peered around the door into the living room, half expecting Jareth’s scowling face to pop up in front of her like an eighties glam-rock jack-in-the-box. The living room was semi-dark, however, lit only by a softly glowing lamp and the muted blue-green flicker of the television, which displayed a school of tuna gliding in tandem through the ocean. There was no sign of pad-crashing Fae men, but Sarah knew better than to trust appearances.

Sliding through the door, she shut it quietly behind her and eased the deadbolt into place with a faint click. She set her keys on the telephone table and her shoes under it, then tiptoed to the couch and peered over the back. Jareth had pushed the coffee table away from the couch and piled all of the cushions on the floor into a haphazard circle. The blanket and sheets were strewn across the cushions and tumbling onto the floor. In the middle of the mess, Jareth was sound asleep and spread out in the center, one of the sheets twisted around his legs and a corner of the blanket strategically (or accidentally, who knew) placed to reveal that he was wearing her bathrobe, a golden chain strung with three gems, an odd, sickle-shaped pendant and nothing else. The goods were covered, but he had a very well formed abdomen that the guys at the gym would have killed to acquire and a nicely ridged ‘V’ that started at the tops of both hips and disappeared under the blanket. Sarah approved.

As if aware of her scrutiny, Jareth muttered and shifted in his sleep, the blanket losing its tenuous grasp on his modesty, and Sarah quickly averted her eyes and bolted for her bedroom. Once the door was safely closed behind her, she collapsed against it and allowed herself an internal squealing. Presumptive jerk or not, Jareth was a fine specimen of male flesh. And what a pity, to use his words, that she had met Draco just before he had wormed his way into her production.

She liked Draco; he had potential. The dark Fae was just as superbly put together (as far as she could tell through his shirt) and kissed like a demon. The good kind of demon that applied just the right amount of pressure, knew how to use his tongue, didn’t slobber like a golden retriever for a milk bone, and kept his hands considerately away from bits that shouldn’t be touched on a first date – or kiss. He had the added advantage of not being a presumptive jerk and had behaved the perfect attentive gentleman. Strangely enough, he had shown an unusual amount of attention to her diet and health. Not in the “wow, baby, you have a tight bod, do you, like, live on celery sticks and water and work out all the time?” Instead, he had insisted that she order the angel food cake with strawberries instead of the double chocolate cake.


“Chocolate has caffeine in it. You do not need such chemicals polluting your body,” he said in a reasonable tone, despite the ridiculousness of the claim. Sarah had lived on coffee since puberty. “This,” he tapped the menu with an elegant finger, “is high in protein and anti-oxidants.”

“We’re drinking tea,” she pointed out with a gesture at the offending cup. When he had mentioned “drinks and dessert” earlier, she had pictured an Irish coffee and something fudgy. Not this pale liquid and cake that was one step away from cloud cover.

He raised a perfect black eyebrow and reached across the table to take one of her hands, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “Chamomile tea is a natural relaxant.” So was the silky glide of his fingertips across her skin, and before Sarah could recover or protest, he had ordered healthy desserts for both of them and dismissed the waiter. “You should take better care of yourself,” he murmured in a tone as sinful as the chocolate he had denied her. “I will take care of you.”

Clawing her way through the fog in her mind, Sarah took a deep cleansing breath, but left her hand in his. She had forgotten how warm and soft Fae flesh actually was. Touching him was reminiscent of being wrapped in fluffy comforters just out of the dryer on a chilly winter’s evening.

“We just met this afternoon,” she gently reminded him. She had learned with Gwydion and Jareth, to a certain extent, that Fae fell hard and fast, and though all but immortal, didn’t waste time when proclaiming (or demanding) commitments. “Casual dating” was not a concept that Gwydion had understood. “I appreciate your concern, but like I said—”

“You can take care of yourself. Yes, I remember,” he purred, giving her hand a squeeze. The heat of his hand was creeping up her arm and raising the fine hairs as if it were a current of static electricity. “Grant me this concession, which is only in your best interest, and I will grant you one in return.”


Well, what girl could resist such an offer? She had abandoned her side of the tiny booth to slide into his and had learned that he tasted like strawberry Pop-Rocks, complete with tingling fizz. She had completely forgotten to ask what his concession would be.

Sighing softly and shaking her head, Sarah pushed off the door and undressed on her way to the bed, tossing her clothes unceremoniously over her vanity stool. Clad in nothing but a pair of panties, she slipped between the sheets and curled around a pillow. Finally, in the dark of her room with nothing but the soft sounds of traffic outside her window, she allowed her mind to truly dwell on her unforeseen houseguest.

She had never expected to see him again. That’s not to say that she had never wanted to see him, but since the only instance that had brought him to her was when she had wished her brother to the Goblins, she had considered it a moot point. She certainly wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Over the years, she had come to see Toby’s stint in Labyrinth as exactly that: her mistake. She had made the wish, and the Goblin King had simply collected what was rightly his. Perhaps his self-proclaimed generosity had extended to allowing the attempt to reclaim her brother; she didn’t know if he was compelled to do it or not. He had even stuck to his word, relinquishing Toby when she had finally reached the Castle. Fair being fair, he hadn’t “stolen” anyone.

So now the dashing scoundrel from her adolescent adventure was passed out on her living room floor, and in all likelihood would be staying with her for the next two weeks. She wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed, giddy with excitement, or nervously apprehensive. To her surprise, she found that she really didn’t mind all that much. Sure, it would have been nice if he had asked instead of maneuvering her into it, but this was one of the more exciting things to have happened to her in a long time. It gave her an excellent opportunity to ask some of the questions about her time in Labyrinth that had plagued her over the years. She liked the idea of having the Goblin King on her own turf and somewhat at her mercy. He was definitely easy on the eyes – perhaps too easy. He also bore watching, but not in a good way. She was certain that he was up to something, and it probably involved some inconvenience at her expense. She had not mentioned her houseguest to Draco. Undoubtedly, it would have complicated matters, and it really wasn’t his business.

Of only one thing was she reasonably certain: by “entertainment” Jareth did not mean taking him to see the stars on Hollywood Boulevard. Convinced that it would take her hours to get to sleep, she dozed off relatively quickly while wondering what a Goblin King would find entertaining.

---

Sarah woke groggily to the harsh buzzing of her alarm and whacked the top of her clock, turning it off by feel and experience alone. Expecting blessed silence, Sarah groaned when an obnoxious rapping on her bedroom door foiled her plan to sleep for nine more minutes.

“What?” she hollered hoarsely at the door and then had to clear her throat of the frog that had taken up residence. It took her sleep-addled brain a moment to come to grips with the fact that it was probably Jareth on the other side of the door and another moment to wonder why he didn’t just barge in; that seemed to be more his style. She wasn’t about to complain, however, because she slept almost in the nude and her robe, which usually hung by her bed, was otherwise employed. “He’d better be wearing it,” she grumbled to herself as she lurched from the bed and stumbled to her dresser, pulling a pajama set from a drawer that she normally would not be caught dead wearing in front of male company. “Or maybe his own damn clothes.”

“Sarah! Open this door!” Jareth’s voice was strained beneath the authoritative tone, but it was much too early in the morning for her to care. He punctuated his demand with several more sharp raps. Screwing her eyes shut and scrubbing at her face, Sarah glared at the door. Knocking that loud before one’s first cup of coffee should be punishable by law.

Tugging the top and bottoms into place, she snapped, “It’s not locked. You open it.” The knob rattled, and the door popped open to reveal a disheveled Goblin King wearing her bathrobe and an expression of desperation that was poignantly familiar. “What?” she asked again, slightly worried now. “Did something happen?”

He sized her up and then eyed her bed, relaxing into an indolently unconcerned pose. ‘Is he… checking up on me?’ Sarah wondered in muzzy disbelief as she rubbed a crusty eye. ‘Making sure there isn’t a man in my bed?’ The idea was as preposterous as it was short-lived because with his feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms akimbo, he was straining the capacity of her bathrobe to keep him covered. Oddly enough, he wore the pink Hello Kitty bathrobe (her brother Toby’s attempt at a joke, but it was very soft and cuddly) surprisingly well. “Are those rabbits on your…” he waved a disdainful hand at her flannel pajamas.

“No,” Sarah said, matching his pose and keeping her eyes resolutely on his face. They weren’t rabbits, they were dormice, and they were sipping tea with Alices and Mad Hatters. “Were you trying to break my door down just to insult my pajamas?”

“No, though since you have mentioned it…” His gaze became less invasive and more calculating, a curious and excited light dancing at the backs of his mismatched eyes. Twirling his wrist, he produced a crystal orb, and in the same movement, lobbed it at her chest. Sarah had barely managed a squeak of surprise when she felt a telltale draft around her thighs and arms. Glancing down in dread, she saw that he had transformed her pajama set into a baby doll top and bloomers the size of hot pants. The dormice were still having tea with Alices and Mad Hatters, only now the Alices wore nothing but ruffled open-backed aprons and the Hatters sat proudly in the buff, their hats perched on their crossed legs. Smirking in satisfaction, he took a strutting step forward. “Ah, much bet—”

He disappeared before he could finish the sentence. Sarah’s triumph was ruined when loud delighted laughter erupted from the living room. Sighing heavily as she slouched into her master bathroom to wash her face, she wondered why she had thought it might be interesting to play hostess to the Goblin King.

Twenty minutes later, a freshly scrubbed and dressed Sarah entered the living room to find Jareth lounging on the couch, which had been put back together as if it had never been stripped to make a nest of its cushions. The bedding was neatly folded and stacked beside the television, and the coffee table had been pushed back into place. Like a professional, Jareth flicked through the channels, never resting more than ten seconds on any one.

‘Must be a male thing,’ she though without rancor. She’d expected to still have a disaster in her living room and have to convince Jareth to clean it up. “Do you like coffee?” she asked pleasantly on her way to the kitchen.

He peered at her over the edge of the couch. “With cream and sugar,” he confirmed. “Lots of sugar.”

Shaking her head, she asked, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I am as sweet as I am handsome,” he quipped, giving her a jaunty wink.

Taken aback, Sarah stared at him for a long moment. He was flirting with her, she realized. It wasn’t the first time, either, though for the other instances she had been too distracted to really take note. ‘What is he playing at?’ she wondered. ‘Does he have a purpose or is he just bored and wants to cause mischief?’ She supposed she would find out sooner than later, but firmed her resolve to stay on her guard. He was still watching her with that odd unblinking stare. The blue fabric of her couch reflected in his mismatched eyes, accentuating the enlarged pupil of the right and coloring both a startling shade of cerulean. Feeling her own beginning to water in sympathy, she blinked several times.

“Not to mention modest,” she called over her shoulder as she rounded the peninsula counter separating her kitchen from a tiny eating nook that was really just an extension of her living room. Filling her electric kettle with water from the Brita carafe in the fridge, she opened the cupboard above the French Press. Three pairs of yellow eyes stared back at her, round, yellow and lamp-like.

Stumbling backward, Sarah shrieked in surprised and pressed a hand to her swiftly beating heart. Just as startled, two of the Goblins jumped and smacked their heads against the bottom of the shelf. The middle one met Sarah’s shriek with a high-pitched squeal and sprayed her front with masticated coffee beans. Laughter erupted from the living room, and Sarah glared over her shoulder at the mop of blond hair visible over the back of the couch.

“Jareth,” she snapped, brushing gooey grit from her tee shirt, “would you like to explain why there are Goblins in my cupboard eating my coffee?”

“Not particularly,” he said, still laughing, as he pulled himself up to lean his elbows on the back of the couch. His expression dissolved into a slightly pensive frown. “Though, coffee isn’t good for Goblins – it winds them up. They’ll be eating the furniture next.”

Feeling a headache coming on, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment of mental rallying, she opened her eyes and sighed. “I’d rather they didn’t. Why don’t you send them back Underground, and we’ll hit Starbucks on the way to the studio?”

Jareth was on his feet in a gracefully feline move and prowled toward her. Sarah did not like the predatory look on his face or the sudden squishiness of her insides. Grinning with a mouthful of sharp teeth, he purred, “Requesting a favor of me, are you, precious thing?”

Clearing her throat just in case her voice decided to quaver, Sarah straightened her spine and tried not to notice that a burgundy shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest now framed his pendant. His dark denim pants were skinny-cut and fitted to his lean thighs. He could have passed for a typical would-be actor if not for the black leather gloves that covered his hands. Meeting his gaze challengingly, she said, “I wouldn’t have called that a request or a favor.”

“I would,” he said lowly, “and favors aren’t free, as surely you know. However,” he said, stopping her protest with a raised hand, “I don’t ask for much.”

“Let me guess,” Sarah growled, her irritation quickly outpacing her attraction to the man. “Fear you, lo—”

“Ah, ah,” he chided softly and pressed a gloved finger against her lips.

Sarah jerked her head back and glared at him. “Stop doing that.”

He merely smiled and propped an arm against the wall, leaning toward her. “Nothing as grandiose as all that. How about…” he trailed off and appeared to give it some thought, “… a kiss.”

“What’s with you and kissing all of a sudden?” Sarah asked as alarm bells began to ring in her head. It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, nor was she particularly opposed to the idea, but he seemed to be stuck on it. This was the second time in two days that he’d asked for one. Thinking back, she remembered that Jareth had banished both she and Hoggle to the Bog of Eternal when she had kissed the dwarf. Unfortunately, she now had approximately twenty minutes to get a cup of coffee and arrive at the sound stage on time, and she didn’t relish the idea of Goblins chewing on her living room set. Before she could further analyze her actions or give Jareth time to add anything to his ridiculous demand, she pecked him on the cheek. His skin felt like velour against her lips, and a beguilingly sweet, spicy scent filled her nostrils, tempting her to linger despite her misgivings. She resisted, drawing away quickly to grant him a bright smile.

He blinked at her sudden move and almost lost his balance, grimacing down at her in startled surprise. “That wasn’t what I had in mind,” he protested as she brushed by him and walked toward the door, her hips swaying of their own accord.

“Hm,” she hummed noncommittally. “Now would be a good time to send the Goblins home. We have places to be.”

“I see I’ll have to be more specific,” he grumbled at her back. Sarah just chuckled.

---

A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers and last but not least, my wonderful beta leanesidhe.

The title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Blur. It has the most awesome video. Go check it out.