A/N: Apologies for the insanely long delay for this part, but life just gets in the way sometimes. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I felt I just needed to get this out and move forward.

Sarah awoke feeling like absolute crap.

And it took her quite some time to realize she wasn't in her own bed, despite what felt like Frank curled up against her. She worked up the strength to open up her eyes and saw an expanse of mint green dupioni silk duvet.

She sighed in relief to realize she was in Jareth's spare room.

Jareth. New Year's. Dancing. Champagne. A lot of champagne. A soul scorching kiss. And-

Oh.

Shit.

She couldn't believe she let him talk her into that.

Her entire body burned in embarrassment and not a little arousal at the thought of Jareth going down on her.

There was a brief knock on the door before it opened. "Time for breakfast. Or rather lunch."

Sarah pulled the covers over her head and curled up in a ball. He was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. "Go away. I want to die."

She heard his rumbling chuckle and felt the bed dip as he settled onto the end. Frank crawled out from under the covers and ambled over to Jareth. "Traitor," she whispered.

"You'll feel better if you eat something," Jareth told her.

"I doubt that." Just the thought of food made her more than a little nauseous. Besides food would not take away her embarrassment. "Just let me wallow in my misery."

"What's to be miserable about? It's the start of a wonderful new year."

She pushed the covers down slightly to peek at him. "What are you so chipper about?"

"New beginnings are significant to the long lived." He smiled at her so guilelessly that she didn't trust him. He stretched out across the foot of her bed, one arm supporting his head, the other stroking Frank. "I'm not leaving until you eat your toast." He gestured to the plate on the nightstand next to what looked like a glass of ginger ale.

"Fine. If it will let me rest in peace," she grumbled. "You're such a bully, your majesty."

He grinned. "And you're willful and stubborn to the point of your own detriment."

Sarah glared at him even though he spoke the truth. She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled on it as she studied him lounging like another cat on the foot of her bed. He was dressed as casually as she'd ever seen him in dark jeans and a plaid flannel shirt that was, of course, halfway unbuttoned down his pale chest.

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at the incongruity of the Goblin King in a flannel shirt. It was such a cheerful plaid too.

His attention focused back on her. "What?"

"Of all the things I've ever imagined you wearing, it's never been a flannel shirt.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, sounding slightly offended.

"Nothing. It's nice shirt. I just didn't expect the Goblin King to wear something so casual and mundane."

"I do so enjoy defying your expectations, my dear. Why should I not be comfortable in my own home? Or should I be trying to impress Miss Williams?"

She snorted. "Your wardrobe is even more impressive by the inclusion of a plaid flannel shirt."

After she had eaten breakfast, Sarah had gone back to sleep to try to sleep off the rest of her hangover. She awoke in the afternoon feeling slightly better. She found the black velvet robe she'd worn at Christmas draped over the chair and put it on over the green silk pajamas that had been laid out for her last night.

She made her way down the hall and paused in the doorway before entering the living room. Jareth was lounging on the sofa, one arm draped over the back, the other hand holding a book, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Frank was curled up in his lap. He looked almost like a Polo ad in his elegantly furnished living room and plaid shirt. Except there would probably be a dog if it was Polo.

She must have made some small noise because he looked up from his book and met her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said moving fully into the room and taking a seat in the chair. "Are you trying to steal my cat?"

"No," he smiled, stroking Frank's back. "Cats are generally attracted to magic and magic users. Probably some relic of their temple dwelling ancestors and why they're associated to witches."

"Are there such things as witches? Human ones?"

"Of course, though rare. Herbalists and healers were generally lumped in with them as well through most of history, but there were some humans with true magical talent. Although most of those bloodlines have died out. Or, rather, were killed off," he amended.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, I suppose."

"Pardon?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Monty Python."

"A snake?"

He looked absolutely mystified and Sarah laughed. Jareth seemed so at ease Aboveground and well versed in so much pop culture, she forgot that this wasn't actually his world. Every once in a while she discovered a huge chunk of knowledge that was missing. She had to admit she did enjoy sharing some of those things with him. She went and got her phone so she could show him the skit.

Sarah awoke and found the room all in shadow. She must have slept away the rest of the afternoon. It took her a few moments to realize why she felt oddly warm. There was a warm body between her and the couch back and a heavy arm across her waist.

"Jareth, what are you doing?"

She felt a long exhale against her neck in what she assumed was a sigh. "I was taking a nap," he grumbled.

"But- why here?"

"It is my couch, is it not? Besides you looked so content in slumber here that I couldn't help myself."

His hand seemed sear her through the thin silk of her pajamas. She tried to shift away from him, but she couldn't go far without falling off the couch.

"What are you so nervous about?" he questioned and she stopped moving.

"I'm not." She huffed in irritation. "I'm just not fond of people all in my personal space." She wasn't lying. She had never been a snuggler. Those boyfriends that always wanted to hold her or constantly touch her even in sleep never lasted long.

His arm dropped from around her waist. "My apologies," he replied somewhat stiffly.

She didn't move and if it was possible she was even more aware of the absence of the warmth of his arm than its presence.

"Jareth-" She didn't know what to say. She didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but she had to protect herself. Especially after last night. Geez, last night he went down on her, stole her panties, and then made out with her for quite a while on the dance floor. What was this really all about? She took a deep breath. How she hated conversations like this, but she had to bite the bullet. "Jareth, what was that all about last night?"

"I've wanted to do that for a long time and it seemed to be perfect opportunity," he told her matter of factly. She was glad that he was being so straight forward. Dancing around the subject would only make it more difficult.

"But why?"

"Come now, Sarah," he chided her. "You know I'm attracted to you. And I know you're attracted to me. The tension has been so thick with us at times you could cut it with a knife."

"I suppose," she conceded.

"Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"No. I mean yes, I did. You're very talented."

"Thank you." She could imagine the smug look on his face that went with the tone.

"So, what now?" The light on the end table came on and Sarah shut her eyes. "Turn the light off. It's easier to talk in the dark."

"Alright," he said softly and the light blinked back off.

"What now?" she repeated.

"I rather thought we'd become lovers."

"Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?"

"I would never use such an infantile term," Jareth replied, his tone indicating his distaste at the term.

"Right. So, what exactly do you mean by "lovers"?

She could almost swear she could hear him roll his eyes. "People that have sex with each other on a regular basis."

"Exclusively?" she doubted she had the stamina to keep up with his intense sex drive.

"That could be a point of negotiation."

"I see."

"Don't sound so enthused," he told her, sounding a touch hurt.

"It's just that I thought we were friends." Heaven knew she was attracted to him and had way more erotic thoughts and dreams about him than she ever wanted to admit to. But he had become her friend, perhaps one of her best friends ever and she was afraid sex would ruin that.

"Can't we be both?"

"I don't know."

"I know you want me, Sarah."

"Just because you want something doesn't mean it's good for you."

Jareth was quiet for some time. Then he lay a hand on her hip and asked, "Sarah, are you afraid of me?"

"No, but-"

"But?"

"I'm not afraid of Jareth, the man who's become one of my dearest friends. But there is a small niggling part of me that can't help but wonder if this has all been some insanely elaborate ruse to lull me into a false sense of security so that the Goblin King can take his revenge."

She felt another long sigh from Jareth. "You are right to be suspicious of a fae's intentions in such a way. I, like all my kind, can be capricious and cruel, perhaps more so than most."

"You're not exactly being reassuring."

His hand seemed to almost spasm on her hip, then it stroked down her side almost as if he was smoothing out the silk of her pajamas. "I let you go once when I didn't have to."

"Does that mean you really have no power over me?"

"Only that which you allow me to have."

"Hmm." How much power had she already granted him by allowing her back into her life?

He stroked her side again like one would soothing a nervous cat. "You know, you don't have to make a decision right this moment. It's not a now or never proposition."

"Really?" Sarah asked in surprise. Usually this type of conversation ended in an ultimatum.

"Of course. We've had this mutual attraction for some time. I doubt it will dissipate any time in the immediate future," he said in a completely reasonable tone of voice. Any other man she'd had this sort of discussion with would get angry without an immediate "yes". Her mind was racing as she continued to lay there stiffly beside him. Jareth remained quiet and relaxed and she really thought that maybe he had fallen back asleep.

"I have questions," she announced. "That you need to answer satisfactorily before I can even think about how to proceed."

She felt more than heard him chuckle. "Of course. I would expect nothing less. Ask away."

"In fairy stories, it always seems like people that get involved with a fae end up wasting away after it's over, pining for their fae lover. Would that happen when we stopped being lovers?"

"Well, not to sound like a braggart," he said, although his tone was, of course, boastful. "But I have had quite a few centuries of experience. I doubt any mortal male could really compete. You would likely find them even less satisfying than you do now in comparison."

Sarah couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes."I meant biologically. You are a different species after all. I don't know, do you excrete something when you have sex that make humans addicted?"

Jareth gave a hearty laugh. "Oh, Sarah, how you do amuse me."

"I'm serious."

"No." He got his laughter under control before continuing. "The fae do not biologically produce anything that would make humans addicted. You haven't seen any of my former lovers wasting away on my doorstep from addiction do you?"

"No," she conceded.

"What else?"

"What about birth control with fae? Having sex with one won't magically modify my body to make me super fertile or something?"

"Fae by being neigh immortal have a very low fertility rate," he explained patiently. "While we do breed more easily with humans, it is still extremely rare. Any human contraceptive should be sufficient."

"Good." She didn't want children period, much less a magical one.

"Anything else?"

"No. Not right now." She sighed heavily. Her pragmatic side was warring with her lust for Jareth, but she resolved to not make a decision now. Especially not here, where she could feel his warm body behind her and with his scent enveloping her. She needed a distance and a bit of time. She would think about it tomorrow when she was home.

She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, but her am was falling asleep.

"Turn over," she told Jareth.

"What?"

"Turn over. My arm is going numb."

He obliged her by shifting onto his back. She then turned over and rested her head on his chest. His arm went around her back to keep her from falling off the couch. His other hand reached out and pushed back a bit of hair that had fallen in her face, before coming to rest on his stomach. She could just make out his pale hand in the low light coming through the windows. The opal in his ring almost seemed to glow. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch it.

"I've always liked opals, but I heard they're bad luck for anyone not born in October."

"What a preposterous superstition," he sneered.

She laughed. "The mythical magical being is calling a superstition preposterous?"

"Of course. People both Above and Under have been wearing opals long before there was ever a month called October."

"Huh. That's true. I never thought of that. "She traced the carving in the gold of the band of the ring. It felt even warmer to the touch than body heat would warrant. "Is it magical?"

"Yes. It keeps my human glamour in place even in sleep or if I fall unconscious for some reason."

She had never considered the danger he could be in before. She had no doubt there would be any number of people that would like to have an immortal fae in their clutches to experiment on. "Have you had any problems?"

"Not this century, but as you said, 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.'"

She smiled at his call back to her earlier comment. But she couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet at the thought that even with his vast powers he was still vulnerable in her world. "Your secret is safe with me," she grasped his hand.

"Of that I have no doubt," he replied squeezing her hand.