Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its characters; this fanfiction is not made for profit in anyway; it is only further proof of my love for the movie and that I have an overactive imagination.

Description: A light hearted look into Jareth and Sarah's predicament inside fanfiction.

Title: Something Fuzzy this Way Comes

Sarah couldn't breathe.

Her hand was gripped tightly by a black leather glove as Jareth cried out, "Faster! Keep running, we have to get up higher!"

One look down the spiraling staircase and Sarah screamed!

"This way!" He cried, throwing open a door and pulling her in. Not only did they push the bolt in locking the door, but working together, shoved chairs and bookcases and anything heavy to barricade it against the onslaught.

Breathing hard, Sarah shook and stood near the back corner of the room as Jareth placed his ear next to an unblocked part of the door's wooden plane.

"They're coming," he snarled, straightening up and looking fiercely at Sarah.

"Are…" Sarah swallowed, "Are we safe?"

"I'm not sure. Did you see them?"

"Yes, oh god, there were hundreds of them! What's going on? This is more than double the normal amount of plot bunnies! Unless…"

Jareth looked at her fiercely, his eyes hard and cold with the oncoming horror, "Valentine's Day," he hissed.

A large boom knocked against the wall, causing both main characters to nearly fall down. Even before the dust could settle, the sound of a thousand pointy nails scratching against wood and stone ensued.

"No…" she whispered, her hand held limp against her mouth like a frail handkerchief, just like the on the day of her birth mother's funeral. It was a cold day. Dandelions dotted the green –

Jareth shook her. "Snap out of it! They're already affecting you and the damn bunnies aren't even inside!"

Jareth looked up at the sentence over their heads just as it began to fade.

"…Like a frail handkerchief…" he scowled, "ugh, poetry plot bunnies must be joining them, bad ones at that."

"No! Not poetry bunnies!"

"Oh, yes!" he said angrily, holding her by the sides of her arms and looking at her face to face, "and do not forget horror and angst bunnies! I saw them come in like a tsunami wave Sarah, one of them got me just as I grabbed your hand."

Sarah looked down at the two tiny teeth marks on his wrist, just below the lacy cuff of his shirt.

"Your magic?"

"Gone," he replied, "a fan girl obviously wants you to play nurse nightingale to me. Either that or teach me what it feels like to be human." Letting go of her arms he made an ugly face as if he wanted to spit.

"Hey there are worse fates!" she cried, sitting down suddenly in a sulky manner. "Do you know how many times I've been broken hearted, attacked by evil magical forces set out for your throne, made to have suicidal tendencies, drugged up, victimized, and killed!?!"

"Only as many times as I have been manacled, tortured, mind manipulated, and driven to the point of madness with longing for you!" He too angrily sat down on the cold dusty floor.

Sarah could see the bunnies snuffling through the crack under the door. Their whiskers flickered among the shadows. Panicked, she tried to think of anything else, anything conversation wise would be better than thinking all the hundreds and thousands of… She shivered.

"So where are we?" she asked, looking round, noting the high ceiling and rusty gold long stemmed lamps.

"My study," he replied dryly.

Sarah looked around, her eyes wide with shock, at the messy room overflowing with dust.

Jareth coughed, embarrassed, "With all the… 'time' I spend with you…" and here he glared at the door, "I don't get much time to do anything else. There are matters here concerning the kingdom, I haven't even had a chance to read yet."

Sarah looked at the giant piles of paperwork thoughtfully. Some of the piles were over three feet high, next to other equally daunting piles.

"That's…so unfair," she smiled, sharing the joke that had been copied, cut and pasted between them for more years than she'd like to think about. But for once, it actually felt appropriate and mildly amusing, if not at the very least, ironic.

Jareth looked up at her, mildly surprised. And then the lines around his mouth and eyes softened just a tad as he nodded his head and replied wholeheartedly, "You've got that right."

They worked quietly together the rest of the day, Jareth at the small desk on one side of the room, and Sarah on the other.

Since Jareth was the only one who would be making executive decisions on each piece, his main role was to read and catch up. Sarah helped by sorting out the piles into categories. Once done, she helped Jareth further by putting together a pile of all the papers sent to him within this year and the previous year before it.

"We would be most pleased at your attendance of the Winter Royal Gala," he sighed, reading one of the invitations out loud. "Pity, Madame Brikum always serves the absolute best champagne and fruit tarts."

Sarah looked over her shoulder and shrugged, "I'm sure she'll understand your absence…"

"Dated 1992," he said in a bored manner.


Jareth handed her the invitation and she put it in the "trash" pile. Both were silent for a moment.

"I didn't know you like fruit tarts," Sarah said softly.

"Ah, but these are no ordinary fruit tarts," he said smiling, turning in his chair to face her and then grimaced because it sounded too close to that other line he was always damnably repeating.

But this is no gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby.

He covered his face with his hands dejectedly. Damn was there no escaping the roles they were typecast? He felt a headache coming.

A hand gently touched his shoulder.

"Forget that," she whispered, understanding Jareth's anguish completely, "tell me more about those fruit tarts…and the Royal Gala."

Jareth looked at her, really looked at her and saw the concern there. It surprised him a bit, because truthfully, he never gave it any thought if Sarah and he were friends or not. They were partners (it was a given), always paired up and riding whatever plot bunny idea that came their way. But now, trapped together in his study, he found that he liked how she was concerned about him. He liked her green eyes, how the intensity of the color seemed to alter faintly whenever her mood changed. And for once he was genuinely intrigued by this person, whom he has been working with for years.

After all the plot bunnies that had him declaring undying love and devotion, had him die for her, taking her virginity over and over again, he was startled by the sudden thought, She's really quite pretty.

Smiling to himself and tucking away this tiny revelation for later, he took a relieved breath and replied, "I suspect her cooks use nutmeg, but my cousin seems to think they use…"

They talked for many hours. Soon they could see the sky darken outside the huge glass arched window. With matches and a few burnt fingers, they lit the rusty lamps. They also both huddled underneath his black robe for warmth.

"I didn't know you wanted to be a veterinarian," he said, one eyebrow arching up in surprise. He had always assumed, like the rest of the world he guessed, that she wanted to be an actress or some sort of fiction writer

"Yep," she grinned, "since I was 10 years old. I go to school part time so I can also work. Just one more year to go before I have enough credits and can apply for an externship," she said. Her eyes brimmed with excitement.

"What do you do for work?"

"Oh, just secretarial work. Typing…filing…you know."

Looking at Jareth's small gentle smile, made her feel slightly silly and shy. She never noticed before how pleasant he could look when he was relaxed and having fun. In their adventures together she had only seen him, distraught, angered, scowling, tense with pain, suffused with passion, and most often arrogant and haughty. Who knew he was such a nice guy?

And who knew how much he liked food? He was so slim; she had worried over the years that he was possibly anorexic. But listening to his enthusiastic discussion on spices and herbs, she knew she was listening to a man who secretly yearned to be a chef, but because of his kingly responsibilities had settled for being a food connoisseur.

"Are they still out there?" she asked just as a yawn overtook her.

Jareth carefully stood up and tip toed to the door. He listened intently for a few minutes before brushing some of his hair away from his face and saying quietly, "I hear snoring. Apparently they have all fallen asleep."

When he turned back he saw Sarah leaning against the wall, her cheek lying on one shoulder; she was asleep. An odd warmth welled up in Jareth, as he walked back to her, and carefully arranged the robe to stay around her shoulders. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she smiled slightly mumbling.

Curious, he took off one glove and trailed two fingers down her cheek…and hesitated. Her cheek was so soft, and she looked so sweet and vulnerable, sleeping there beside him. His heart beat increased as he realized that more than anything…he wanted to kiss her.

He sat next to her on a few sheets of parchment, slightly confused. Did Sarah maybe feel this way? After everything they had been through, was it possible that maybe both felt a sort of – affection for one another?

Looking back he was amazed at how nice everything was at the moment. No murdering armies, no dragons, or warlords, no werewolves…And here beside him was Sarah. Not Sarah, the whiny princess, the seductress, or super depressed lets take a razor to my wrists kind of Sarah. But Sarah, the girl who understood what he was going through because she was in the same predicament. Someone he enjoyed talking to, and someone he hoped also liked talking to him.

He had really appreciated her helping him in his study, sorting papers, not once complaining, and he remembered how calm she looked when he felt overwhelmed by their bizarre situation. Damn those bunnies. It was true now. He liked her.

A small wistful smile grew on his face.

But then he wondered…what if she didn't see him the way he was seeing her? What if the thought never crossed her mind?

Sarah turned in her sleep and laid her head on his shoulder. Jareth held his breath, hoping she wouldn't hear his heartbeat, now madly thumping. Sleepily she held his hand, and mumbled, "night."

Normally, it is a huge breach of protocol to hold someone's hand, unless, he determined, there is affection involved. Emboldened by the thought Jareth gently parted the hair covering her forehead, and placed a soft kiss.

He didn't feel nearly as apprehensive at the idea of tomorrow morning as he did a few hours ago. With Sarah's body pressed close to him, he felt warm and for once, content.

"Maybe bunnies aren't so pointless after all," he said to the room softly, placing an arm around Sarah and pulling her close.

Sarah waited until he fell asleep before whispering next to him, "Happy Valentine's Day Jareth."