Title: Oh Bother

Author: Kytten

Pairing: Sarah x Jareth

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Summary: Trying to stop goblins is like trying to stop rain by threatening god with a frying pan.

Author's Note: I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing proper fanfiction. I'm not alltogether pleased with this, but it's nice enough, I suppose.

There were goblins in the basement. But then, there were always goblins in the basement lately. Getting rid of them was like… like trying to stop rain by threatening god with a frying pan. Sometimes it worked. More often one simply woke to find something squelchy and unpleasant nesting upon one's foot whilst making little oinking noises.

Sarah sighed and pushed the hair out of her eyes, setting back to washing the dishes as downstairs unidentifiable objects crashed and thundered about. Not much had changed since she'd returned from the Labyrinth.

Well, she'd changed. But Karin certainly hadn't and her father was just as oblivious. Now that she'd turned eighteen, Karin thought it her responsibility to put her to ten times the menial chores she'd forced her into before. Earning her keep, she called it, leaving Sarah to wish that much harder for the summer, when school would finish and she could finally move.

That would certainly be a blessing. To finally be away from this house and leave Karin to manage these bloody goblins who had a nasty tendency of coming up from the basement at night to steal her things.

Karin, of course, simply told her she'd forgotten where she'd left them. But as Sarah was fairly certain that as she hadn't left half a dozen live chickens in the basement, her step mother hadn't the faintest idea what it was she was talking about.

Bloody Jareth. He was probably up there—down there, rather—laughing his tight-bedecked ass off every time his goblins broke another of her toys. Probably thought the whole thing was just bloody hillarious.

Aggravated at these goblins, her own stupidity in calling on Jareth and the fact that Karin had managed to bake jello into a casserole dish, Sarah gave up scrubbing in favor of a nice sulk on the couch.

Jareth glared at his crystal, rather aggravated that his plan of attack wasn't working. He knew Sarah had a quick temper and a low tolerance for aggravation of any sort. And yet for two years his goblins had been rampaging through her house and she hadn't said so much as a peep to him about it. For two years, the only one in that house to utter his name was Toby. And Toby… he had to smile at that. Toby gurgled his name constantly, clapping every time he saw a bubble blow or the crooked end of a goblin.

Also, while one eye was shedding its perfect baby blue for a greenish-brown, the other refused to budge. It was quite content to stay blue, thanks very much and no amount of coercion was going to change that fact.

It set Sarah on edge. But then, so did Toby's shouting his name at odd hours. And it didn't help set the poor girl's mind at ease that she constantly found the boy surrounded by persistent bubbles when there was no soap at all to be had.

Jareth smiled. Even at such a young age, the boy was a quick study.

But Toby wasn't his problem. It was Sarah. Stubborn bloody Sarah. He could simply come down and spirit her and the boy away from this bickering and drudgery (and he knew she'd be grateful) but he would not give that little minx anything more to hold over his head. She'd beaten his Labyrinth and that was enough. He was not going add his coming to her rescue like some soft-in-the-head prince to that list. He was a king, by the gods, and it took a hell of a lot more to move a king to rescue anyone.

He would, however, settle for a polite request.

If he could bloody well get Sarah to say his name.

Slowly, Jareth smiled.

He had a plan.

Three days until graduation. Three blessed days. Sarah woke with a smile, ignoring the odd smell in her room through force of habit and leapt to her feet to get dressed.

Problem being, her clothes were missing.

Every. Last. One.

She could already hear Karin's oh-so-logical tirade.

"Well, if you'd wash your clothes once in a while, they wouldn't all be dirty, would they? What do you mean they aren't in the hamper either? They couldn't have just disappeared! What did you do with them, young lady? Oh, you don't expect me to believe that nonsense, do you? Well, you'll simply have to go to school in your pajamas. I'm not about to be pushed about by your dramatics. A young woman your age—"

And on, and on…

Karin's soon-to-be tirade droned through her mind, accompanied by a low level panic. What was she going to do? She didn't have anything. Not so much as a clean pair of socks. And her stepmother's clothing certainly wasn't about to fit her.

Well, there was a shirt in the back of her closet—


Oh dear. Sarah closed her eyes at Karin's bellow, still standing in front of her empty closet. It never boded well when Karin bellowed.


Why is it always me? she wondered bitterly. Why couldn't Father have done it for once?

"Your clothes are missing too then?" she asked as the woman stormed through the door.

That cut off the rant rather nicely.

"What do you mean missing too?" she hissed, the wind somewhat taken from her sails. "Who in gods name would come into this house to steal all of our clothing? Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Oh yes," Sarah snapped. "I just love stealing my own clothes for the hell of it. It's a hobby of mine."

But Jareth's plan hadn't run its course yet. Karin stormed down into the living room to search for the missing clothes, Sarah following reluctantly behind only to find said living room coated in goblins.

There were everywhere— a handful hanging on the ceiling fan, a few dozen clinging to every corner of the couch. Three were attempting to pull the TV apart while their kin dragged the refrigerator into the living room rather than continue throwing food to span the gap between rooms.

And they were all wearing the stolen clothing.

Every. Last. One.

"ROBERT!" Karin bellowed, in fear, shock and denial so strong her mind was doing back flips in an attempt to logic out how things it knew it was seeing were still nonexistent.

Sarah also bellowed. But her bellow was shaped rather differently.


And smirking that his beautiful plan had worked, the fae in question obligingly appeared, somehow managing to stop time in the process.

"Yes, darling?" he purred. The goblins continued their rampage completely unaffected though Karin had been frozen in a totally unflattering pose, mouth wide open and eyes squinted with disbelief and rage at seeing her good suit on an obese, fish-faced waddler doing an impression of someone she dearly suspected to be her.

Sarah, on the other hand was somewhat worse off. Upon finally seeing the (devilishly handsome) man she'd been (dreaming about) contemplating every (single night) so often for the first time in two (achingly long) years, Sarah's thought process stopped dead.

Well, actually, that statement isn't entirely true. What it stopped doing, was anything useful.

Useful would have been something along the lines of, "What do you think you're doing sending your herd into my house to tear up my things, and rampage through my living room and is that one wearing my bra on its head? Yes, I think it is. And whose fault's that, you ass?"

Unfortunately, her brain-to-mouth filter had shut down with the majority of her brain cells and so the only thing functioning was enough hormones to power a small army.

An army that was currently saying things like, "Oooo… can you feel our legs?" and "WE SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T RAVAGE SENSELESS WE WILL DO GENERALLY UNPLEASANT THINGS TO YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE." And "Has she ravaged him yet? Did I miss it?"

So instead of saying something properly threatening, Sarah simply smiled and said, "Do you always come when you're called, or just for me? Honestly, Jareth, I'm touched."

Which did the job rather nicely anyway, lack of thought process or no.

At least, she thought it had... until she saw that wicked, mischievous smile curving at the edges of Jareth's lips and the promise of something she Would Not Like glittering in his eyes.

This, she decided, torn between gleeful anticipation and pure dread, was probably going to be much worse than something squelchy and unpleasant nesting upon her foot.

Oh bother.

Bloody hell. Must you all complain about my word choice? XD I changed bugger. Happy? And there will be no more. That's why it's labeled -complete-. For it is. It has been my pleasure serving you this one shot.

Now bugger off.