#ITS SCARY to drop the absolute word vomit of a long fic

[arainesque]

i have a Monster of a wip

[alltheselights]

emmaa i think you should post a snippet of your wip because of the wip meme thats going on 🙏🏾🙈 if you want thouuu xx

I have no idea what meme is going around, but since I’m sooooooooo late in posting the actual fic, I’ll post a snippet. This is part of the first chapter of my fic. If you want some context for it, this snippet is from the fic that I describe briefly in the second to last bullet point here.

Also, fair warning - there may be typos in this and it may change somewhat before the final fic is posted.

–



Louis startles awake some time later. For a second, with his headphones on, he can’t figure out why he woke up so suddenly. Then he realizes it’s because the plane is moving unsteadily, jerking somewhat and causing the luggage around them to jostle in its compartments.



Louis yanks his ear buds out of his ears.



“What’s happening?” He asks, and he can hear how scared his voice sounds.



“It’s just turbulence,” Harry says from next to him, and Louis turns toward him. He has a concerned look on his face, the same look that people get when they’re approaching a wounded animal.



Louis can hear a voice over the intercom reassuring the passengers of the plane that they’ve encountered turbulence and requesting that they fasten their seatbelts, and Louis follows the instructions with shaking hands.




“Hey, Louis,” Harry says. “Are you okay?”



Louis digs his nails into the armrest.



“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, body tensing with every jerk of the plane.



“Listen,” Harry says, leaning toward Louis, who is trying very hard to look unbothered by the fact that their plane may or may not be seconds from plunging them all into the ocean. “I don’t know if you fly a lot or not, but I fly back and forth between London and New York City quite a bit and I swear this happens all the time. I know it’s scary, but—hey, Louis,” he snaps his fingers, forcing Louis to look at him instead of moving his eyes rapidly around the first class cabin. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you this is just normal turbulence.”



Louis barely hears him. All he knows is that the wine he drank is churning in his stomach ominously and his blood is rushing in his ears and the entire place is shaking. Their plane, thousands and thousands of miles in the air, is jerking around and moving up and down and Louis is fucking terrified.



A particularly hard jerk of the plane causes a woman’s glass of wine to knock over, and something in Louis just fucking snaps. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the stress of his work disaster, or maybe it’s the fact that what was supposed to be a relaxing plane ride back to the UK has forced Louis to deal with a devastatingly attractive man, a bitchy and neglectful nanny, and an impending plane crash. In retrospect, Louis will decide it’s probably a combination of all these factors, but in that moment, all he can focus on is his own panic.



“We’re gonna fucking die,” Louis says, shaking off Harry’s hand, which is gently clutching Louis’ arm in a comforting gesture, and grabbing it in Louis’ own sweaty hand. “This plane is on its way down and we’re going to fucking die. After the absolute shit day I had, this is how it ends for me. It’s like a sick joke.”



Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, looking alarmed.



“I really don’t think ⎯”



Louis cuts Harry off, not listening.



“Listen mate, I’m not ready to die. I’m not ready. I haven’t even had the chance to make my mum proud yet. My childhood friend, fucking Stan, that arsehole, goes over to my mum’s house all the time to have tea and he tells her all about the amazing things he’s doing with his career, and here I am, a fucking failure who lies to my mum to make my job sound more important than it is. I’m a goddamn marketing assistant, I mean ⎯ what the hell?”



“You’re not a failure,” Harry says kindly, his voice low like he’s trying to talk someone off the ledge without making a scene. What’s even the point in talking Louis off the ledge, at this point? Every bump of the plane makes it clear that Louis’ death is imminent. What’s the point of anything anymore?



“Oi, you don’t have any fucking clue, mate. Want to know how my morning went?”



Louis continues before Harry has the chance to respond, squeezing Harry’s hand more firmly.



And then it just all pours out.



All of it.



Not just the events that transpired that morning, either. Oh no, Louis isn’t able to stop the word vomit (better than wine vomit, but not by much) after telling Harry, who he hadn’t known before he stepped into first class and allowed his eyes to fall on this fine specimen in a pristine black suit, just sitting there like a fucking wet dream, about the humiliating experience of spilling orange juice on the suit of a random businessman and ruining an important business deal for his company.

Instead, he keeps going.



“It’s probably better that I die now because once my boyfriend hears what happened at work, he’ll probably break up with me. Which might be a good thing, actually, because he keeps begging me to move in with him and I really don’t want to. He’s always such an arse when important people are around at work and it makes me feel like shit. He just comes around to make me look like an idiot and then three seconds later he’s like, hey, Louis, I need your help with some paperwork, which actually means…”



And going.



“…Sometimes Liam asks me to go to the bar with the guys after work, but I’m too tired, so I tell him that I’m headed to the gym, and then I really go home and put my joggers on and watch shit telly for hours with Zayn. So now Liam thinks I’m some kind of gym freak, when actually…”



And going.



“…I shouldn’t have gotten the tattoo, but to be fair, they shouldn’t have given it to me when I was that wasted. Isn’t that against the law? So now I have to get fucked with the lights off and refuse shower sex because shower sex in the dark is dangerous and would probably end in a concussion, so…”



And going.



“…It’s just embarrassing, a 27 year old man who can’t cook, so I tell everyone that I’m…”



And going.



“…Lottie bought me these fucking panties as a joke, right, and I was never going to wear them. Then one day I’ve got a huge meeting, right, my first at the company, and I haven’t done laundry in like three weeks because I hate doing laundry, so I just say, well, fuck it, and put them on. The meeting went so well and I’m not usually superstitious, but I won’t tempt fate either, so now whenever I have an important meeting, I wear panties. I forgot them when I flew to New York, so that explains why…”



And going.



“…When I realized what Cleo had done to the sheets, I cried. I’m man enough to admit it…”



And going.



“…I went into his office to feed the goldfish and he’s just floating there upside down, the poor fucker, and Niall had put his faith in me so I couldn’t tell him. I ended up heading to this pet shop and I found one that looked similar and just…”



And going.



“…I’m not a huge fan of beer, I prefer fruitier drinks, but I feel like a twat at a bar ordering that, so I…”



Louis doesn’t know what’s come over him, but by the time he stops talking, his mouth is dry, his lips are chapped, and he’s told this man every single secret he’s ever had in his life.



He’s panting, finally having run out of words entirely, and that’s when he takes a second to glance down at his hand, still clutching Harry’s so tightly that the poor man’s knuckles are white. Harry is staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide, and then Louis begins to tune into the rest of his surroundings.



The plane isn’t moving. The plane isn’t fucking moving.



“We landed,” Louis says, somehow finding his voice again as the realization washes over him like a cold rain. His throat feels dry and scratchy from overuse.



“Yes, we did,” Harry says calmly. His eyes are smiling.



“We didn’t die,” Louis says, ignoring the fact that most of the people in first class are already grabbing their carry-on luggage and filing out of the plane.



“No, we didn’t,” Harry confirms. Now his mouth is smiling.

“I’m—” Louis begins, and then cuts himself off. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened. I know I can talk, I mean, my mum and Zayn and Brad and everyone I know, actually, they tell me all the time, but that was a lot. You should’ve stopped me.”


Louis then realizes that he and Harry are still holding hands, and he drops Harry’s hand like it’s scalding.


“You didn’t really pause long enough for me to step in, truthfully,” Harry says, and Louis watches as he stretches and wiggles his fingers, probably testing whether they still function after Louis gripped them hard enough to cut off the circulation for god only knows how long. “But I didn’t want to anyway. It seemed like you needed to let that out, and I didn’t mind. Please don’t worry about it.”



“Don’t worry about it,” Louis repeats in disbelief. “I just told you every single one of my deepest darkest secrets and you hadn’t even met me before we got on this plane.”



“It happens?” Harry says as he unbuckles his seatbelt, shrugging. He then gives Louis the dorkiest smile Louis’ ever seen on such a beautiful person.



“It really doesn’t,” Louis, says, groaning and unfastening his own seatbelt.



“Well, it happened this time,” Harry amends, finally getting to his feet and reaching his hand out to help Louis up in a very unnecessary gesture. Louis accepts the hand anyway.



Louis has a slight headache throbbing at his temples, a consequence of the wine, probably, and he’s too overwhelmed to deal with an attractive human that just listened to him rant for hours when he should’ve slapped Louis across the face and told him to shut the fuck up.



Louis grabs his backpack from where it’s been sitting at his feet this entire time and takes one more look at Harry, who is currently cracking his back with an expression of mild discomfort.



“Uh, thanks for dealing with all this,” Louis says quickly, gesturing to himself to make it clear what “all this” refers to. Harry, who’s now stopped cracking his back, pauses and opens his mouth, likely intent on saying Louis’ words aren’t necessary and he was happy to deal with Louis treating him like a diary for the past several hours because this guy is some kind of fucking saint.



As the reality of what Louis confessed to this poor man sets in, he can feel the humiliation spreading. He takes one last appreciative look at Harry, trying to memorize everything about him to file away in the back of Louis’ brain, which is where he plans on shoving this memory as soon as possible.


“Anyway, bye!” Louis adds before Harry has the chance to say anything else.


And with that, Louis turns on his heels and half walks, half runs out of the cabin, barely even hesitating for long enough to thank the pilot and members of the cabin crew he passes on his way out.



Since Louis didn’t check a bag, he’s able to keep up his brisk pace while he passes through Heathrow. In fact, he doesn’t stop until he hails a taxi outside the airport and is sitting safely inside, giving the driver the address for his building and trying to ignore the scratchy feeling in his throat.



In another universe, one where Louis and Brad weren’t together and one where some things actually go right for Louis, he would’ve loved to have flirted with Harry on the plane, maybe even gotten his number by the end of the flight. In this universe, however, Louis has faced one disaster after another in a single day and spent the past few hours completely humiliating himself in front of a man who would probably rather watch paint dry than ever hear another word out of Louis’ mouth.



Things didn’t work out for Louis today, but it’ll be fine. Come Monday, he’ll work things out at Kiwi Corporation and figure out a way to save his job.



And as for the word vomit thing on the plane, well. It was an embarrassing experience and Louis will have to try very hard to block it out of his memory, but it’s not like Louis will ever see Harry again.



Why would he?

[ladyofstardust]

Meanwhile in Prague

Word Count: 6k

Rating: T

Summary: In which they go to Prague to vomit, eat, and make-out. In that order. Sarah is still trying to pretend this is Not A Date and Jareth is mostly trying to touch her butt. Nobody does a very good job.

Notes: Apartment-verse fic.  Directly follows the Tinder Incident.  Before Goblins Roasting.  

Sarah paced back and forth in front of the mirror in her kitchen.  It was five minutes to seven and she was trying very, very hard not to think about what was about to occur and instead on picking the lint off of her favourite dress.

She’d changed four times.  Four times and there definitely wasn’t time to change again.  At that point she risked him walking in on her naked.  Which he’d like just about as much as she wouldn’t.  

She thought about what led to this.  Kissing him under the the dim flickering lights of her kitchen.  The tv playing 80s sitcom reruns in the background.  How she was wearing sweatpants and her old college hoodie.  How he’d raked his hand through her gross knotted hair.  How his hand ran underneath the sweater and up her cool back.  He’d felt like fire.  He’d felt like jumping into a cool lake.  Or the way you feel right before you hit ‘send’ on an important email.  Exhilarating and scary all at the same time.  Where you let out a breath only to be punched in the gut.  

But then she thought about real stuff.  About things other than that split second.  About going to the movies with her friends, or walking into a library, or seeing a broadway show downtown.  Then about her career, her apartment, her family and friends, her retirement fund (pitiful as it was), her doctors appointments and dentists.  The restaurants she loved eating at, and the places she dreamed of visiting.  

Fire might keep her warm at night, but it still burned up anything in its wake.

If Sarah was being honest with herself, and like, at this point she figured might as well.  She’d dreamed about kissing him from the first.  She’d dreamed about a hell of a lot more than kissing him and frankly, if she thought she thought she could have that without consequences, she would’ve long ago made those dreams a reality.  Leaving aside everything else, Jareth was just stupid hot.  Like walk into walls, drop whatever was in your hands, make yourself forget about your life to kiss them hot.  But it wasn’t like this was news to her.  Yeah he was hot, but he also drove her nuts.  

Even if she didn’t care about the whole, ‘give up your whole life just to see if this is maybe viable’ thing, which she did, Jareth was also the fucking worst.  He allowed the goblins to treat her home as an extension of their kingdom, he stole her brother and tried to throw her in a feces filled swamp, he used her feelings toward him as a weapon to trap her in that ballroom, he stole her makeup and leftovers, he left glitter goddamn everywhere, and he hated dogs.  Who even hates dogs?

So in what messed up world would she ever want to date him?!

Which is why she changed her outfits four times, and was counting down the seconds until he took her to do just that.  

She watched her phone’s clock go over to 7pm and heard the familiar chime of the bell over the mirror.  

“Goblin King,” she turned to greet him.  “Were you just waiting by the mirror to step through at the precise moment it clicked over to 7?  How very Cinderella of you.”

“Is this typically how one greets one’s date in the human world?”  he frowned.  “I thought you were supposed to be ‘showing me the ropes’ as it were.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows both out of surprise that he was actually planning on holding her to that farce, and his altered appearance.  He’d slicked back his hair and tamed it into a ponytail of sorts.  He was still wearing his leather jacket, but his shirt was plain in nature and was buttoned fully.  He’d also changed into a pair of plain black pants, although he wore the same boots she often saw on him.  The change of his eyes was the most striking.  Jareth had done something to them.  Blunted their effect somehow and instead of a mismatched set, two ice blue eyes stared back at her.  Sarah realized that with those subtle differences, he easily passed for human.  He reminded her a bit of David Bowie with his androgynous features, though Bowie never rocked the ponytail.  

“Fair enough,” she said holding up her hands in a truce.  “You look, weirdly nice Jareth.”

He smiled.  “You should expect nothing less from me.  But I must say, you quite took my breath away as I watched you pacing just now.  I’ve lived a long time Sarah, but seeing you tonight has already been a memory I will cherish.”

“Goddammit,” she hissed, giving him a playful whack on his shoulder.  “You can’t admit to spying and then drop that Jane Austen shit on me.  Don’t make me drape a sheet over the mirror.  But thank you, that’s nice, I’m still mad, but that’s also still nice.”

“Apologies,” he said taking her hand in his.  She made note that he was still wearing his gloves, apparently that had not been part of his humanization.  “I shall endeavour to stare at you less, but you do make it difficult precious.”

He laid a delicate kiss on the top of her hand and raised a brow expecting her to challenge him.  

“Okay first rule of dating human girls,” she said withdrawing her hand.  “I’m used to you and the way you like to talk.  Other humans won’t be.  You’re gonna come off as a creep if you use language like ‘I shall endeavour’.”

“So you wish for me to speak as you do?  With your imprecise phrases and doublespeak?”

“No I think we can write off you using modern slang entirely,” she said, trying to picture him telling some poor girl that his castle was lit or something.  “But let’s shoot for curmudgeonly old person rather than CS Lewis character.  Actually that brings me to rule two, absolutely no talk of magic, goblins, goblin adjacent stuff, and most importantly, me.”

“I cannot believe you’d think I’d tell any old human girl the secrets of my kingdom,” Jareth sniped, insulted.  “You can insult my person as much as you please, but I’d ask you keep your opinions on my rulership to yourself.  If you are neither a citizen of the Goblin Kingdom, nor my wife, then you have no power over my rule.”

“Okay,” she said evenly, pleasantly surprised.  She rarely heard him talk about his kingdom like that.  She knew he didn’t tell people about goblins or magic, but she thought that sometimes he would let his little games of misdirection and teasing go a bit too far.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

“Of course if you were my wife, you’d be in charge of deciding these things with me,” he grinned at her.  

“I’ll add it to the pro column,” she grumbled.  

“Oh I have a pro column!”  he exclaimed, delighted.  “Well I’m just dying to hear more about all my great attributes over dinner, but I think it best we head off lest we miss our reservation.”

“Yeah considering we’ve already had to apologize to each other and we haven’t left my kitchen, this is starting out like most of my dates already.  You said you wanted to pick the place so where are we going?  Do I need my car keys or can we walk?”

“I was thinking somewhere a little further afield,” he said, extending his hand towards her again.  “Are you willing to let me take us there?”

Sarah hesitated a moment, debating, before sighing and placing her hand in his.  

“Let’s roll magic man,” she said.  “Before I change my mind.”

“Best to close your eyes Sarah,” he warned, pulling her in tightly so there was no space between them.  “It is unpleasant if you are unused to the sensation.”

Sarah closed her eyes and felt the floor drop out from under her.  She dug her nails into Jareth’s wrist in an attempt not to panic, and he squeezed her hand right back as if to reassure her he wasn’t going to let go.  She didn’t dare open her eyes until she heard his voice in her ear.

“Welcome Sarah, to the great city of Prague.”

“PRAGUE?!” she exclaimed, that had snapped her right out of it.  

Well, for about the half second she had to register where she was before she promptly vomited all over the alleyway he’d landed them in.  Jareth, to his credit, seemed to take it in stride and simply grabbed her hair to keep her from being sick all over it.  

“Great,” she said wiping her mouth.  “Usually I like to save the vomiting until later in the date.”

“No time like the present,” he said brightly handing her a handkerchief from his pocket.  “I did warn you, the trip can be unpleasant.”

“Understatement of the year.  Does everyone puke?” she asked, gratefully taking the cloth from his hands.  

“I don’t make it a habit bringing humans along,” he said with a shrug.  “It mostly only seems to occur when I move from place to place in your world.  It actively works against my magic instead of helping it the way the Underground does.  If it makes you feel better, it is deeply unpleasant for me to travel significant distances in cars or most of your trains.”

“That does make me feel a bit better yeah,” she said, smoothing out her dress.  She’d missed her shoes at least.  “But I’m good now.”

“Still feel up to eating?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“Yeah since you brought me halfway across the world and all, the food better be amazing,” she said linking her arm through his.  

“I’ve been coming here for over a hundred years, a relatively new place by my standards,” he said absently.  Sarah struggled to think of a place she’d been going to for ten years let alone a hundred.  

“You’re a creature of habit,” she pointed out.  “You like what you like and then kind of just keep doing that.”

“How true,” he conceded.  “For instance I like you.”

“Nope,” Sarah replied, shaking her head.  “This date is not a real date.  It’s a practice date so you can date other people and stop liking me.”

“Well how am I doing so far?” he asked.

“You lost points when you admitted to watching me standing in front of the mirror, but gained them all back for how nice you were about me getting the pukes in front of you.  But I don’t think I need to tell you most women won’t have to deal with teleportation sickness.”

“There,” he said pointing to a little arched doorway.  From the outside it didn’t look terribly impressive.  An old fresco was painted on top of the doorway, which had writing Sarah couldn’t read.  

Jareth held open the wooden door for Sarah to step through.  As soon as she entered the restaurant she realized that she was dead wrong about this place.  Beautiful elaborate paintings decorated the arched ceilings.  Gold chandeliers lit the room, which complemented the candelabras on the individual tables.  A luxe red carpet lined the room which looked only large enough to seat about thirty or forty people.  

“Jareth,” she hissed into his ear, anxiously smoothing down her suddenly very plain feeling jersey dress.  “I’m massively underdressed.  Also I cannot afford anything on this menu.  I live in a city with hundreds of great restaurants - we couldn’t have just gone there instead?”

“This place is called U Malířů1543.  It is named such because that is the year it was established.  Excellent year by the way, some of the best wine.  You said I could choose the place, and this is one of my favourite Aboveground establishments.  If I thought there was any chance I could have taken you to one of the hundreds of fine establishments Underground that I love without you throwing a fit and spouting off about kidnapping and faerie food again, I would have.”

“That picnic was a terrible half-assed idea and you know it,” she interrupted.  The time he’d tried to surprise her with a “friendly platonic picnic” she was sure seemed like a great idea in his head.  Except he’d forgotten to ask her if she wanted to come and instead just ambushed her one time when she was trying to visit with her friends.  Locking her closest friends in oubliettes while he dropped grapes into her mouth like some sort of demented fairytale was not on. 

“My point is,” he said gruffly, ignoring her.  “I wanted to show you a bit of my world.  Or perhaps more accurately, the parts of your world that I enjoy that have nothing to do with you.  You’re not underdressed, you look perfect as we have already discussed, and as this date was my idea, I will be picking up the cheque Sarah.  Before you interrupt to argue with me about owing debts to faerie, consider the fact that you’re helping me learn how to interact with humans and write it off as a fair trade.  Now are there any more objections or can we take our seats?  We’re already late for our reservations.”

“I have a feeling reservations is going to be the theme of the night,” she muttered, smoothing down her dress.  Maybe if she hadn’t spent so long trying to decide what to wear she’d have had time to iron it.  Sarah eyed the lady at a nearby table.  Her diamond bracelet clinked against her plate every time she reached for her wine glass.  Sarah looked down at the hair tie on her wrist and the cheap charm bracelet her mom had got her a number of christmases ago.  She had no business being in a place this fancy and everyone here knew it.  They were probably already discussing who that dishevelled, puke-smelling girl that just walked in was.  

Jareth stepped forward to speak to the maitre d.  He spoke quickly in a language Sarah guessed must have been Czech.  Her hands tightened into fists as he led them to their seats.  She felt Jareth’s hand over hers and he patted her fist kindly.  

“Why are you so concerned about these other people who you will likely never see again after this night,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t like people thinking I’m weird,” she replied quietly.  “It reminds me of being a kid and feeling powerless when people would make fun of me for, well, being weird.”

Sarah sat down and smiled at the maitre d as he pulled out her chair.  If she couldn’t be the best dressed she could at least be the most polite.  

“How do I say thank you?” she asked Jareth quickly.  

“ Děkuji,” he replied nodding at the maitre d and taking his seat.  “Do you mind if I order for you?  The menu is also in Czech.”

“Yeah it’s fine, just no white wines and no fish,” she said gratefully taking another look around the dining room.  

It really was a beautiful place.  Looking at Jareth she realized she was wrong, that she wasn’t the worst dressed here.  Jareth was dressed much the same as she was and he obviously didn’t care.  

“You dressed to match me didn’t you,” she said, realizing.  “You knew how fancy this place was so you watched to see what I would be wearing before choosing an outfit yourself.  You didn’t want me to be self-conscious.”

“Yes,” he replied, eyes shooting to hers as he peered over the menu.

“So then why didn’t you just tell me we were going somewhere fancy so I would have worn something nice?” she asked, confused.

“I...didn’t think you’d come,” he replied, equally confused.

“Okay,” she said putting her head in her hands.  “I would have probably asked if you were planning on covering the bill and maybe the name of the restaurant yeah, but I still would have come Jareth.”

“I will know for next time then,” he replied smoothly.  

“I kinda just want to point out something though,” she said, deliberately stepping over the next time comment.  “I think you spend a lot of time feeling like I should loosen up and go with your plans more.  Then you say something like how you didn’t think I’d come if you told me to wear something nice.  That’s totally different and it kind of upsets me that you don’t get that.  I’m not some fun hating monster Jareth.  I mean for goodness sakes, I let goblins have free reign of my apartment and I go along with your plans more often than not.  But you can’t paint me enforcing what little boundaries I have left as me being rigid.  It’s not fair and yes!  Before you say anything, I know that life’s not fair thanks.  But if you want to date me, or any other human girl, you have to respect our boundaries.”

“So what is the difference between this and say, the picnic,” he said carefully, taking a slow sip of his far too expensive wine.

“Well for starters,” she said, gratefully taking a gulp of the same wine which tasted like every other red wine that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, “that time you didn’t ask.  You gotta ask.  Like that is level one humaning stuff right there.  Most girls don’t mind a bit of a surprise every now and then.  I like surprises!  This is kind of a fun surprise, I’ve never been to Prague.  This is cool.  This would have been ten times as cool if you’d told me this is what we’re doing beforehand because I could enjoy it, dress appropriately, and mentally prepare myself to be teleported halfway across the world.”

“Okay,” he said seriously.  “Let us do something called compromising.  I promise not to take you anywhere without your permission, if you agree to tell me your reservations instead of simply dismissing me.  Allow me the chance to convince you,”

“I’ll agree to that,” she said with a sigh.  “Though that’s mostly because I know you at this point and I trust you not to do anything shady or convince me of anything that is going to hurt me later.  But I feel it’s important you understand that no is an okay answer sometimes.  I’m not rejecting you, well, I’m not always rejecting you, sometimes I just don’t want to and that has to be fine.  Maybe I just don’t feel like doing something insane and wacky, maybe I just want to hang out on my couch and read a book.”

“Is this how all humans treat their friends?” he asked with interest.  “That doesn’t sound like a great deal of fun.”

“Yeah mostly,” she said rolling her eyes.  “Fun is when everyone is having a good time.  I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have fun at one of Toby’s soccer games or hanging out at Six Flags.  So I don’t “surprise” you by taking you there assuming that you’ll have a good time because I am.  You get what I’m saying?”

“I suppose so,” he said crisply.  “But what are six flags?”

“An amusement park,” she said with a smile.  “Do you wanna go?  I could be wrong about this, you don’t seem personally concerned with things like gravity so maybe you’d have a blast.”

“Is that one of those places where everyone gets in the little metal box, allows the teenager standing at the controls to fling them about a bit, then they all get out and talk about what fun that was?”

“The very same,” she said brightly.  “Still wanna go?”

“No,” he frowned.  “I’m fairly certain some of the lower kingdoms still use that as a method of torture.”

“Exactly.  Different definitions of fun,” she smiled, she was cheered up greatly feeling like she’d finally managed to get through to him.  “Though while we’re on the subject of dress,” she said gesturing towards his hands.  “I’ve always wanted to know something.  What’s the deal with the gloves.”

“The gloves?” he said, turning over his hands to examine them, as if he was surprised to find them covered.  

“Yeah, you wear them all the time.  Any reason?  If you touch me will I turn to gold?  Are you secretly Midas?” she asked with a grin.

“No,” he said with a shrug.  “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about how you would perceive it.  Where I’m from, showing one’s hands is an especially...intimate gesture.  Unsuitable for polite company and generally reserved for family and close lovers.”

“Oh really?” she asked, intrigued.  “I never thought about it like that.  Why is it so intimate?”

“Our hands are the conduits for our power,” he replied simply.  “We move and manipulate spells with them.”

“That makes sense,” she said nodding.  “Do you guys feel the same way about breasts as the rest of North America?”

“No,” he said with a laugh.  “The women typically cover themselves but mostly to wear the more elaborate garments most of the high court is so fond of.  The peasant women cover them to keep warm in the winter months, but in the summer it’s common to see them walking around mostly nude.  We’re not very prudish about these sorts of things.”

“No, I never got that impression from you,” she said with a raised brow.  “So the glove thing is a bit of a surprise.”

“I suppose we all have our traditions,” he said with a smirk.  “Now what other human things should I be aware of before throwing myself into the dating world of humans.”

“Well for starters, it’s good to ask people questions about themselves.  Then listen to what they are saying and ask questions about their answers.  It’s not a quiz though so don’t take notes or rapid fire random crap like what their favourite ice cream is.  Just have a conversation.  Kinda like we’re doing now.”

“Yes I should think I have a handle on that,” he said rolling his eyes.  “But why did you request I not speak of you to these women?  Shouldn’t one tell their date about their friends?”

“Yes…” she said carefully, she’d really hoped to avoid this, but knew it had to come up at some point.  “But I don’t think you should mention me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure you can talk about me in a way that doesn’t immediately tell any date that you’re interested in dating me instead of them,” she answered quickly, just wanting to move past it without much discussion on the subject.

Jareth looked as if he was thinking about this for a moment, considering a possible answer.  Then he turned back to his meal as if she’d said nothing at all.

“Are you not going to argue with me?”  she was genuinely confused by his reaction.

“No.” he said, taking another bite of his dinner.

“Because I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Well...okay,” she said confused.  He had agreed with her, so why was she so annoyed?  In fact, he’d dropped the subject quickly which was the best scenario she could have hoped for.

They sat in silence for a moment as Sarah picked at her dinner.  It was easily one of the best meals she’d ever eaten but she was having trouble enjoying it.    

“Are you really going to go out with one of those girls from Tinder,” she finally blurted out.  

“I don’t know,” he said putting down his utensils.  “Do you still want me to?”

“I owe you an apology probably,” she said with another sigh.  “I’ve been a shitty friend lately.  Running away every time you come near and then shoving all those women in your face like they’re interchangeable.  I’ve kind of been behaving like a child.”

“Kind of?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t push me Jareth,” she said shaking her head.  “I panicked.  When you kissed me it reminded me of the ballroom, you know, the elephant in the room we don’t talk about?”

“Yes,” he said avoiding her eyes.  

“Yeah so it kinda brought me back to that moment.  When all I wanted was to kiss you - which I think you knew at the time so let’s not pretend this is new information.  The last time I wanted to kiss you it nearly cost me everything.  You nearly cost me everything.  I know we’re trying to move past that to be friends, but you kissing me is making that hard.”

He paused and looked at her consideringly.  “Has it occurred to you that perhaps I want you to want to kiss me?”

“It’s occurred to me plenty yeah,” she sighed.  “But I can’t want that.”

“Can’t?”

“Can’t,” she replied firmly.  “The price is too high Jareth.”

“You don’t even know what the price is,”  he challenged.  “I’ve never asked anything of you.”

“But that’s the thing, you don’t have to ask. I know - I’m not stupid and I’m not some kid who’s just gonna throw my hands in the air and shout about true love being all that matters.  For starters true love is bullshit, and for another I have things about my life that I really like that are just straight incompatible with - whatever the hell we’d be if we just started kissing a whole bunch, I don’t know.  I just know that I don’t want to want to kiss you.”

“I’m sorry for putting you in a position where you feel you can’t want to kiss me,” he replied. “But know that I hope you’ll change your mind.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for forcing your hand so that you felt the only way you could take me on this date was to trick me into it.  I can see how we ended up here and this one is mostly on me.  But somehow, someway, despite all my very best efforts, you’re my friend Jareth.  I’d like to keep you as my friend but you need to cut this kissing shit out.”

“I would remind you who kissed who in the first place,” he said, taking another careful bite of the very expensive potatoes.

“Oh but you finished it Goblin King,” she replied evenly.  

“I intend to yes,” he said with a smile that Sarah didn’t entirely trust.  

The rest of the meal passed, to Sarah’s surprise, relatively pleasantly.  Jareth told her about the last couple times he’d been in Prague and how the city had changed.  Sarah enjoyed listening to him tell her about a world that she’d only known from her history books.  It was a unique perspective, and one many would kill for.  She enjoyed hearing him describe the concerts he’d been to and the different people he’d met.  Most of their names he had forgotten, but she was surprised at the affection his voice held when he spoke of them.

Jareth had suggested they take a bit of a walk after dinner.  Sarah thought this was a great idea as walking around Prague at night for an hour, and then getting to crawl into her own bed to sleep seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity.  She hadn’t planned for the change in temperature though so Jareth lent her his jacket.  Sarah gratefully accepted.  

“I feel you should know something,” she told him as they walked along the cobblestone streets.  

“Oh?” he said in surprise.  

“Yep,” she nodded.  “I drank all that fancy wine at dinner and those food portions were teeny tiny and you see I have no food from before in my stomach because of the puking and basically, hello I am tipsy.”

“Excellent,” he said wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  “Then this would be the perfect time to ask you all those soul searching questions.”

“Oh no,” she said laughing.  “You’re not going to in vinos veritas me.  No no.  Not today buddy, not today.”

“Hmm,” he said considering their surroundings.  “This does make the matter of getting you home more difficult though.  I don’t want you losing that very fancy dinner all over your nice kitchen floor.”

“Yeah how’d you pay for that anyways?” she asked.  “Pretty sure you’re not walking around with a Visa card in those tight pants of yours.  I would know, because of how tight your pants are.  Your pants are tight Jareth.  Tight Pants McGee is what I should call you really.”

“Oh you are just delightful when inebriated aren’t you?” he said with a grin.  “Tell me more about my tight pants and all the ways you’ve noticed how tight they are.  Actually I’d prefer an alphabetical list of all the times you’ve checked out my ass in my pants.”

“Sure sure ass,” she said nodding.  “Definitely just the ass.  Anyways no thank you Mr. Tighty, as I just said, we’re not in vinos veritasing me.  I’m a strong independent woman who can handle her shit and her wine.”

“I’d never dream of suggesting otherwise.”

“But like, just checking, we didn’t dine and dash that place did we?  I don’t think they’re gonna track me down and find me or anything, but I’m not about tricking people that we paid when we didn’t.  I know about faerie gold.  I can’t really afford it, like at all, but if we need to I can go back and put it on my card.”

“No,” he said waving a hand. “That is a trick for lower faerie.  I have some human investments that do quite well.  Real estate mostly.  It collects a nice paycheque that I use to fund myself and my kingdom’s activities here Aboveground.”

“You’re...a landlord.” she said with disbelief.  The idea that Jareth could be anyone’s landlord was somehow baffling. Especially when she considered her own landlord, the overweight fifty something gentleman with a limited understanding of English but who really loved the local hockey team as everything he owned seemed to be plastered with its logo.

“I suppose I am,” he replied.  “I don’t actually do anything to earn the money.  I have human emissaries who handle that side of my business.  Not uncommon for high faerie to have human businesses, and we learn a little about your economics and history during our schooling.  I have a couple lawyers and whatnot and I believe an accountant.  To be honest I can’t quite recall.”

“This is completely mind blowing,” she said.  “You’re probably like crazy rich then.  God, my mom would just freak out if she knew I turned you down.”

“Every time I hear about your mother the woman sounds more and more … complicated,” he finished diplomatically.  

“Yeah sure,” she said with a snort.  “Complicated.  You can say shallow you know.  It’s not like this is news to me.  I worry a lot about ending up like that.”

“You do?” he asked with interest.  “Why?  You’re nothing like the woman.”

She stopped walking and stared at him.  He took his arm from her shoulder and gave her a puzzling look.  “What is it Sarah?  Have I upset you?”

“No it’s not that,” she said, her head starting to clear up.  “It’s just, you know you’re the first person to say that?”

“I am?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion.  “That cannot be true.”

“People are always going on and on about how much like her I am,” she said raking a hand through her hair.  “I know I look like her.  But my dad and Karen used to say during arguments how I was just like her.  So stubborn and sharp tongued.”

Jareth took her by the wrist and gently guided her down a narrow alleyway.  “You are stubborn and sharp tongued.  But you’re not just like anyone.  You’re not vain, shallow, or obsessed with your status in life.  From what you’ve mentioned about your mother, I would guess you have very little in common.”

“I know,” she said squeezing his hand.  “It’s just nice to hear someone else say it for once.”

“Are you still inebriated,” he asked her taking a quick look around.

“No, I’m pretty sober now.  The walk helped a lot.  Did you figure out an easier way for me to get home.”

“I did,” he replied.  “Or at least, I should like to try something.  As I said I don’t take humans alongside very often so I’m not sure if this will work, but I think it is our best shot.  Though you may not like it.”

“It definitely can’t be any worse than the trip here,” she said with a laugh.  “So just go ahead, I won’t bite.”

“Promise?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eyes.  

Sarah didn’t have a chance to answer before he pulled her in.  She wasn’t sure if the ground fell because he kissed her or if he kissed her to keep her from falling.  He kissed her smoothly and easily, like it was something he did every morning before she left for work.  He kissed her like it was summertime and they had the rest of the day to just lie in the grass kissing each other like that.  He kissed her like he knew her and it made Sarah’s heart jump to think that maybe he did.  

The last time he kissed her, she reasoned that she needed to kiss him back because she wasn’t going to let him ruin kissing for her without ruining it for him right back.  This time she kissed him back because it kept her from thinking about them falling through the nothingness of space and time.  

Or at least that’s what she’d say if anyone asked.  It absolutely definitely wasn’t because he smelled good and kissed even better.  Nope, that had less than zero to do with it.  

She barely noticed they’d landed before he pulled back.

“There, I thought that might do it,” he said smugly.  

“Well...you were right,” she said slightly out of breath.  Her head was swimming but her dinner seemed content to stay where it was.  

“I was?” he said with smug smile.

“Yep, I didn’t like that,” she said giving him a solid whack on the arm.

“Ow Sarah!” he whined.  “It worked did it not?”

“That was absolutely the last kiss you’re ever getting so I hope you made it count because kissing is done now,” she said annoyed.  

“Something tells me it won’t be,” he said with a smirk and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.  “But I’d like to point out I did ask.”

“Bite me.”

“I intend to,” he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.  “But as you know all good dates end with a kiss and I think this was a very good date indeed.”

“I suppose,” she grumbled.  A small part of her was quite pleased she’d had another excuse to kiss him.  But like hell if she’d ever admit that out loud.  

“Have a good rest of your evening Sarah,” he said stepping backwards through the mirror.  “Until next time.”

“Ugh whatever,” she sighed waving him off.  She waited until he was fully gone and then narrowed her eyes into the glass.  “And if you’re still watching know that I can absolutely move this mirror into my landlord’s bathroom and I don’t think you’ll like the view from there half as much.”

Sarah thought she heard a laugh somewhere in the far distance and decided she was just going to have to take her chances.  There was a reason the mirror lived in the kitchen and not her bedroom.