Thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Say women they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know, you'll know

Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

It all began with a hotdog. Or maybe ended. Something began and something ended with a hotdog. Phase 3 he'd later call it. She liked phase 3.

The hotdog on the other hand, she fucking loved. Hotdogs were, as far as she was concerned, the best goddamn food in the universe. It was the middle of July and a deep thick humidity hung low on the city. The smog, heat, and approaching rain clouds, tinted everything with a sticky greyness. She was sitting on her fire escape in just a pair of shorts and an old ratty t-shirt. Multi-tasking by listening to the radio, parsing through some overdue reports, and eating a hotdog because it was July, and a Friday, and that was what Sarah Williams did in July, on a Friday.

The radio crackled and Stevie Nicks' soulful voice turned to static. Sarah smiled, biting her lip - he was back.

"Took you long enough," she glanced up to her bedroom window, where he sat perched on its ledge. The thing was barely wide enough for the pigeons to stand on, how he was sitting shouldn't have been possible. But then, that was Jareth.

"Yes well," he smiled raising his eyebrows suggestively. "The Undersea proved less susceptible to my charms than some people."

"Everything okay?" she asked, choosing not to take the bait.

"Yes," he said, hopping down gracefully. "Just a miscommunication needing a couple extra days to sort out. Annoying, but relatively benign."

"Well let me know if there's anything I can do to help, crack a few fae skulls, besiege some cities, tear down some worlds, you know - the usual," she replied with a grin.

"Mmm yes, I'll keep that in mind," he said glancing at the sky. "It will rain later."

"Supposed to do more than that," she swallowed the last bite of her hotdog. "Summer storm coming through."

"What in stars above are you eating," he interrupted, his nose curling in distaste.

"Uh a hotdog?" Sarah said, licking the last bit of ketchup off her fingers.

"A what?" his nose curling even further.

"Oh my god, don't 'a what' me - a hotdog," she said, climbing to her feet. "The best food ever. I swear Jareth, is this the part where you say you've never had a hotdog and now we have to go get a hotdog? Because if you say you've never had a hotdog that's what we're gonna do."

He stared at her with a sulking frown. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I think one bite of whatever that was would literally kill me," he finally replied, sourly.

"Come on," she grabbed him by the hand to drag him back through her bedroom window.

There was already thunder rumbling in the distance when they got to the park. Sarah had insisted that for his first hotdog, he needed the best hotdog. (The 'Top Dog' she kept insisting to him and laughing to herself. He didn't understand why it was funny, she didn't care). So naturally they had to have Park Dogs.

Hotdogs from the park were an even bigger summer tradition than just regular hotdogs. Park Dogs were the kind of thing that happened every time her grandmother visited for three weeks in the summer. When she would practice running lines with Sarah, and helped teach her how to sew. She'd braid ribbons in her hair while Sarah ate her hotdog by the pond. Feet dangling over the edge, her grandmother would tell her about King Arthur and his court. She had died three months before Toby was born, but Sarah still made sure to get at least one Park Dog a year.

"You cannot be serious," he drawled, snapping her out of her reverie, "we're eating food - from a cart in the woods?"

"Okay first of all," she said rolling her eyes, "this is a park. The woods are all the way over there. Second of all, I've literally seen you drink Goblin Ale, and I think you and I both know there is no good in knowing how that stuff is even made nevermind what's in it."

"That's hardly fair," he argued. "Goblin Ale is a national delicacy."

"Well so are hotdogs. It's like the song says - if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my hotdogs."

"I don't think that's how it goes," he said with a sigh.

Sarah paid the man for two hotdogs (and if anyone dared question why she was eating two hotdogs in a row, she'd laugh and laugh, and then order another hotdog), and loaded them both up with mustard and ketchup.

She'd brought him over to her favourite spot by the bridge and slid off her flip flops, dangling her feet in the water. She watched him stand there hesitantly, watching her for a minute, before finally deciding to get down on the ground with her. He didn't dip his feet in, but Sarah stared him intensely as he took an apprehensive first bite of a hotdog.

"Well?" she asked as he slowly and deliberately swallowed.

"It is," he said clearing his throat. "Acceptable, I suppose."

"Meh," she shrugged. "I'll take it."

"I promise I'll love it if you love it," he said putting an arm around her shoulder.

"You don't have to love everything just because I do, I just want you to be open to trying new things. Human things," she said poking him in the ribs. "Because I'm human. I do a lot of goblin things and fae things, but human things are important to me too."

"I thought you didn't want me doing your human things," he said with some surprise.

"No," she corrected. "I don't want you touching my human things without asking first. Mostly because things have a tendency to go all 'eldritch death horror' on me after. Let us not forget the DVD player incident."

"Oh stars know we could never forget that," he said poking her this time. "Because you will not let it go."

"Sorry I've just never seen an inanimate object do that before! I didn't know they could do that."

"Yes well, faulty wiring," he said waving her off. "What I would like to know though, is why you feel so strongly about these hotdogs?"

"Lots of reasons. Short answer is because I think they taste good. Long answer is because eating them reminds me of spending summers with my grandmother, who I miss," she paused, thinking to herself. "I suppose if we want to get super self-aware, it's because they remind me of something I'll never have again."

"Your grandmother?" he said kindly.

"No, I mean yes of course, but it's also about magic. Everything's about friggin' magic these days," she sighed. "It reminds me of when my parents were together. Of when I was a kid and I didn't have to worry about filing reports on time. My big dreams of magic and going on broadway. I can't carry a tune in a bucket - but all I wanted to do was be Patti Lupone. I'll never be that girl again. I don't want the same things she wanted and that's good. That's part of growing up. But sometimes I just want a damn hotdog you know?"

"I don't know if I do," he said with some concern. Sarah knew him well enough by now to interpret the second unsaid part of that sentence was and where do I fit into these very human things? She wanted to know the answer too.

"Crap," she said as a raindrop landed squarely on her forehead. "I thought we could beat the storm."

Jareth's brow furrowed as he looked up at the quickly dampening sky, "Yes, so did I."

"Can you magic us out of here," she asked, trying in vain to shield her head from the rain.

"Unfortunately no, lightning interferes with my magic. I can't be confident I'd get us there safely. I usually fly in these storms."

"Well then I think we've only got one option," she said climbing to her feet.

"Which is?"

"Run!" she cried grabbing his hand in hers and dragging him across the lawn of the park.

"Run where?" he asked, barely avoiding slipping on the grass.

"My parents house is only a couple of blocks away," she replied as the rain started coming down harder and faster. "They're at Karen's family's cottage for the weekend so nobody's home and I have a key."

"Lead the way," he yelled over the now deafening sound of thunder.

Sarah's sneakers skidded across the grass as she reached the forest. Quickest route home was through the woods but she knew Jareth wouldn't like them running through all those trees in the middle of a lightning storm. He squeezed her hand tightly and she wondered if he was resisting the urge to turn into an owl. Sarah knew the only reason he wasn't flying ahead was to stay with her. She appreciated that and gave his hand a squeeze back as they hit the main road.

She thought about the last time she ran from the storm in that park. She'd seen his owl form in but obviously hadn't assumed 'magical weirdo' instead of just 'owl'. Never had Sarah imagined that a decade and countless games of scrabble later, she'd be the one holding his hand and giving them shelter from the storm.

She ran up her parent's front steps, both of them completely soaked through, his ridiculous hair lying damp and limp over his eyes. She dug the key out from her dad's "secret hiding place" (under the mat because, welcome to Upper Nyack) and they tumbled through the entryway just barely managing to avoid slipping on Karen's marble floor.

"Okay that could have been timed better," she said wringing out her hair. "I don't know about you but I'm soaked through. I'm going to change - do you need clothes?"

He pulled his wet gloves off his hands and laid them over the bannister. "A towel will suffice."

"One towel coming right up," she said bounding the stairs.

She tossed Jareth down a towel from the linen closet before tossing her clothes in the dryer. As Sarah dug through the drawers of her childhood bedroom, she discovered two things. The first, was that all of her old clothes had been donated. The second, was that her bedroom had been taken over by a preteen boy, and her sweet, girly room, had been invaded with jockstraps, half eaten potato chip bags, and what Sarah really, really, hoped was just an old science fair project.

She opted to touch nothing, having spent enough time around goblins to know that even they were preferable to Toby's hygiene habits, and last week she'd found a grilled cheese in her stereo. Luckily, she found Karen's bathrobe hanging on her parent's bathroom door. She was just about to head back downstairs when she heard him knock.

"You can come in," she called over, "I'm decent."

"You weren't able to find any clothes?"

"No surrendered to decluttering stepmothers and preteen boys, but I put them in -" she turned around and immediately stopped, caught off guard. Jareth having apparently taken the opportunity to remove his wet clothes and instead wear the towel. Just the towel.

"Where are your clothes," she sighed.

"I made a fire in the living room, they're drying out. Hope that's alright," he replied grinning. Oh, she was going to get him for this. Except now, neither of them were wearing pants, and this was becoming more of a problem every second.

"It's like 95 degrees out but sure, let's have a fire," she said, trying not to notice each and every muscle in his chest. Or where they met together and curved around his taut stomach muscles. Or how his hipbones jutted out just above the towel and how they might feel gripped in her hands.

Nope. Everyone needed pants, right now.

A clap of thunder outside and Sarah jumped a mile, losing her footing and stumbling forward.

"Are you alright?" he said, reaching out to steady her.

"Fine, I just - the wind blew the doors open" she gestured to the french doors rattling in the wind. "Dad probably forgot to lock them again." Sarah walked over to close them, a spray of cool rain hitting her face as she pulled the latch.

"Sarah."

She turned to find him behind her. He always did stand too close to her, and every time she was perfectly happy to let it happen. That teasing game they'd been playing since the first time she'd stood with him in that very window. But she'd had enough playing.

"What are you doing?"

"Where did you find that robe? It doesn't look like it fits you at all," he purred, tugging her by the belt. "It's much too short."

He was right, Karen was a good four inches shorter than Sarah. The robe was barely mid-thigh on her. "What are you doing," she whispered again.

"Much too short indeed," he said, slowly pulling at the knot apart. "Where did you say your clothes were?"

"In the dryer," the tie at her waist came undone and her robe came ever so slightly open.

"What a pity."

"You could have dried us off anytime you wanted couldn't you?" he slid his hand around her waist closing the final inches between them. Her chest pressed up against his, and the towel doing nothing to hide how very, very glad he was to have her there.

"Of course," he smirked.

"I hate you."

"Of course,"

She took a step back, and came up against the cool glass of the door.

"Take off that robe," he instructed.

"What if I don't want to," she challenged, very aware of just how open her robe was.

"Do you not want to?"

Her eyes flitted downwards. To his tight jutting hipbones. Those stupid goddamn hipbones. "Take off your towel."

He didn't hesitate, letting the towel drop by his feet without a second thought. Sarah immediately understood why. Fuck, she was so screwed.

"Do you not want to?" he asked her again, taking a step forward. There was nowhere else to go. But she didn't really want to run anymore.

"Take off that robe."

She slipped the robe off her shoulders.

"Stars," he let out a slow breath she didn't realize he had been holding. "I could worship every part of you, a hundred years for every inch, and it still would not be enough."

"Worship me later," she said, closing that final space between them. Skin to skin, and she kissed him with the same fire and desperation she'd been saving since that first moment. Since every kiss, and not kiss, and all those other moments. She was tired of being restrained. He returned her fervour gripping his hands around her back, pulling her tighter against him. As if she could never be too close.

Her hands raked through his hair as the taste of him, the heat of him, his mouth trailing along her neck, her collarbone, it felt like the floor disappeared from under her. She answered each one of his kisses with her own, gripping him tightly wanting to feel every inch of him against her. She ran her hands down his chest, she had to touch him. To memorize the feel of him under her hands. Every angle and hard plane, every ridge and every freckle.

He began to nudge her towards the bed but she shook her head and pointed to the floor. "Lie down," she told him.

"As my lady wishes," he smirked, dropping to his knees. He laid the previously dropped towel down for her. "Your turn."

She held his gaze as she lowered herself onto the towel. Slowly, she crawled up towards him, and he leaned back as she inched on top of him. Her core tightened in anticipation as she propped herself up, not quite touching him, letting him barely graze her entrance. Sarah smiled down at him. His desire and appreciation written plain on his face.

"Goblin King, Goblin King," she said each word slowly and deliberately. "Tell me what you wish."

"I wish for nothing," he said hoarsely, hands twitching at his sides. "I have everything I want right here."

"Oh nothing?" she said, inching slightly back, teasing. "Nothing tra la la?"

"Cruel girl."

"Always," she smiled wickedly, before lowering herself onto him. He leaned forward to claim her mouth. Sarah savoured his groan of pleasure as her hips rolled in gentle thrusts as he pushed himself deeper.

She could have taken her time. Slowed down and drawn it out. But she didn't - couldn't. Her fingers clawing at his back as she pulled them closer and closer. His kisses were hungry and unyielding. Hands pulling at her hair and caressing her breasts.

There was...nothing else that mattered. All of her carefully laid out plans. Her very good reasons for avoiding this - it didn't matter. All she cared about was that he kept kissing her. Kept touching her. Kept claiming every piece of her under his mouth, his hands, himself, like she was some far off kingdom he was intent on conquering.

"Jareth," she moaned his name, into the crook of his neck and she felt his whole body tense. He pulled back slightly and cupped her face between his hands.

"What are you doing," she barely managed to choke out, she was so close.

"Just in case," he replied kissing her once on each temple. "I never have this again, I want to remember."

Beyond words, she grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him deeply, pulling him tightly against her chest, holding him as close as she could. Feeling every bead of cool sweat and his shuddering chest. She rolled her hips faster and faster, as he moaned her name. Every movement, every shared breath and second as she inched closer, until finally she took her release, crying out his name and sending him over the edge with her.

She collapsed down on top of him as they finished. Out of breath and panting they stayed silent like that for a few minutes. Sarah savouring the sound and feel of his rapid heartbeat against her chest as the last drops of rain pattered against the glass doors.

"You don't have your pendant," she finally said, running her hand over his bare chest.

"It's downstairs with the rest of my things," he murmured. "Are you really trying to rush me out so fast?"

"No," she said playing with the tips of his hair as they grazed her cheek. "I thought you needed to wear it at all times. Isn't it like the source of your power or something?"

He barked out a laugh of surprise. "Where on earth did you hear that?" he asked.

"I don't know!" she said, swatting him playfully. "I just assumed I guess."

"I am the source of my power," he kissed the top of her head. "The pendant is what marks me as King of the Goblins. A symbol, nothing more. It was either that or the crown and the crown looks ridiculous."

"No Jareth," she said with a playful tug on one of the strands, "I think that's just your hair."

They stayed like that for a few minutes longer before Jareth finally asked the inevitable question. "What now?" with none of the nervous hesitation in his voice she knew he felt.

"Now we go home," she told him, standing up and wrapping Karen's forgotten robe around her.

"We?" he said, propping himself up.

"Yes," she replied extending a hand towards him, which he gratefully took. "We. I don't know what happens now. But we've done okay so far, I think we should continue to do that. See where it takes us. Besides I remember a certain king promising to worship me, and I intend to hold him to his word."

He waved a hand over himself and he was clothed again, pendant included. "Then I suppose my next question is, which home?"

"I don't care," she smiled, stepping into his embrace. He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her and spiriting them back to her apartment, where they continued with said worshipping.

Karen called a week later to inquire why there was a set of Sarah's clothes in her dryer. It was all she could do to stutter out "rain and hot dogs," before forcing a certain Goblin King, who was doubled over with laughter in her bed, to magic Karen's robe back before she noticed that missing too.

A/N: Pika has been taking us all to church lately, so I gotta bring an offering for the Labyrinth gods I guess. Alternate title: Here's Your Friggin' M Rating You Pervs but Also Lets Give it Up For Healthy Consensual Sexy Times! Though I think the one I went with flows better. Also, if you're not aware, Fleetwood Mac basically just sings about Jareth and Sarah doing their thing. 10/10 would recommend for all your Labyrinth daydream needs.