tampered | Log; Ongoing; Backdated

Log; Ongoing; Backdated

When; BACKDATED - Male Pregnancy Day
Rating; PG for puke and other pregnancy symptoms
Characters; Sarah

thexgoblinxking
Summary; Jareth isn't feeling too well, so Sarah decides to be nice and take care of the sick Goblin King.
Log;

Sarah shut her laptop with a definitive click. Apparently men were getting sick all over the City, and as soon as she caught wind of it, she knew Jareth would be miserable as soon as his illness kicked in. Part of her found it amusing that Jareth should be experiencing the symptoms of pregnancy, but her kindness eventually won out and she decided to be nice and take care of him.

Grabbing several cans of soup, medicine, pickles, blankets, and books, Sarah packed them all up in a small duffel bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she left her apartment, locking the door behind her, and descended the stairs to the City. As she made her way to Jareth's apartment, she sighed, thinking about how strange this whole place was. She would get used to it eventually, she supposed. The curses were surprising to her, and although they fascinated her, they scared her at the same time.

Just as she was getting tired, she arrived at his apartment building. She climbed the stairs and stopped in front of his door, setting the duffel bag down to knock. She had forgotten to press the button for the intercom at the bottom of the stairs, but surprising him was no big deal to her. 'Jareth? It's me, Sarah. I was dropping by to check up on you,' she called out, hoping he could hear her.

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He awoke that morning with the desire to try pickles smeared with peanut butter.

Never mind that Jareth had never tasted pickles or peanut butter at any point in his long life. The name of the food had popped into his mind, and it was now of the utmost importance than he give it a taste.

Provided he stopped feeling as though his stomach was already stuffed full of food, that is. Why exactly he felt so bloated, he didn't know...but he did.

He'd been up for a few hours now, but the craving for pickles had not subsided, even after he attempted to sate his hunger with toast. (It was one of the few meals he could make for himself, after centuries of expecting his food to arrive ready for him to eat.) Currently, Jareth paced the floor in a disarrayed state, fighting a battle of wills with this urge for...well, whatever pickles happened to be.

At the sound of the knock and a voice making her presence known, his face lit up. Sarah! He had been hoping to see her, and she might know about this mysterious food he wanted.

Jareth opened the door, ready to greet her, and suddenly bent double, his already pale face blanching to a sickly white. Before managing a "hello," his breakfast was all over her shoes. He straightened up again, searching for something to say, when suddenly, another urge overcame him.

"I'll...be right back," he told Sarah hurriedly, before turning tail and rushing towards his bathroom. She was left standing on the threshold in his vomit, the door to his flat wide open.

Every possible symptom of pregnancy had hit the Goblin King at once...and he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

'Eeew. How positively lovely.' Sarah crinkled her nose in disgust at the vomit on her shoes, thankful that none had gotten onto her socks. Sighing in annoyance, Sarah carefully took her feet out of her shoes, stepping over the mess gingerly. I'll have to clean this up... she thought, picking up the duffel bag and entering his apartment.

'Great. Just great. What a way to start my day...getting Goblin King puke all over my shoes,' she muttered, setting the bag next to Jareth's couch, taking a look around, heading towards the kitchen. She poked and prodded through his refrigerator and cupboards, and was surprised at what she found. His kitchen was well-stocked, but it looked as if he had barely eaten at all. She wondered if an immortal Goblin King needed to eat as much as humans did, but then realized that he probably just didn't know how to cook himself. Sarah shook her head. 'Poor guy. If I hadn't have shown up he'd probably be throwing up without anyone to take care of him.' She knew he was used to servants waiting on him hand and foot, and being in a place where he had to fend for himself...well, it would be different, wouldn't it?

Sarah followed the retching sounds and approached the blonde immortal from behind, announcing her presence by clearing her throat. 'Um...how long've you felt this ill?' She asked, reaching out to stroke his hair. It was not a suggestive gesture, it was merely something Sarah's own mother had done for her when she had the flu. It had always made her feel better, and it was the only real way she could think of to comfort the sick man in front of her.

Jareth made it to the toilet this time, but only just, and when he had finished throwing up a second time, he sagged against the rim of the bathtub. Sarah's hand slipped tenderly through his pale hair, and he didn't shrug away as he might have on another day.

Why bother? He'd thrown up on her and now was curled up on the floor of his bathroom, feeling weak and defenseless. His humiliation was complete. Accepting some comfort from her couldn't bring him any lower than he already had slipped.

"Since I awoke," he replied, gritting his teeth in hopes of quelling the third wave of nausea that was threatening to overcome him. Several minutes passed, while he said nothing and willed his insides to behave.

It didn't entirely work, but he began to feel a little bit better and struggled to his feet (with more help from Sarah than he wanted to admit). One glance down at his wrinkled poet's blouse and hose, and he declared, "I'm going to change. Sarah, will you see about...that?" The last statement was accompanied with a wave towards the front door as he stumbled to his bedroom.

Once away from the sight and smell of his regurgitations, his head cleared, and when he returned (wearing a fresher outfit), Jareth looked a bit less ill. He paused in the center of his living room, his eyes, as always, on Sarah. "What brings you here this morning?"

Sarah rolled her eyes as he attempted to regain his superior position over her. She didn't say anything, just looked around until she found the laundry room. She brought out a bucket, bleach, towels, and a rag, and began to fill the bucket up with hot water. I am so not cleaning this up, she thought. It's his puke, he should do it.

...No. He helped you, remember? Think of this as returning the favor. Finished filling up the bucket, she poured some bleach in the bucket and carried everything to the open door and began cleaning the mess.

'I heard men everywhere were showing signs of pregnancy and illness,' she informed him. 'I knew you'd be a complete and utter mess without someone here to help you, so...I figured I'd help you out. You're not human, so all of these wierd urges and stuff are probably making no sense to you at all.' She paused in what she was doing, turning around to face him.

Making up her mind, she stood up and crossed her arms, looking at him sternly, like she would look at Toby if he did something wrong. 'Okay, Jareth. I know you aren't feeling good right now, but you did puke on my shoes, in your apartment, so I think it's fair to say you clean this up yourself. Besides, you're going to need to learn how to fend for yourself here. None of your servants are here. It's just you and me, and I refuse to be treated like one of your goblins.' She took a deep breath as she finished, waiting. No one was allowed to speak to the Goblin King like that. Ever. But she maintained eye contact, standing her ground. She wasn't going to let him push her around, niceties aside.

Pregnancy.

So that was the reason he'd felt so strange all morning. It was another curse--one he wouldn't have understood had she not explained it. As he considered this, he nearly missed what she said as she continued. It was very sweet (though he'd describe very few things as 'sweet' normally) that she'd come to check on him out of concern for his welfare...

...What was not so appealing was her suggestion--no, demand--that he get on his knees and clean up the mess in the doorway. In front of her, no less. Anger suddenly boiled up within him, his eyebrows twisting into a frown as she finished speaking.

"I absolutely will not!" he snapped suddenly, stomping one booted foot on the floor for emphasis. "I am ill, and you are not. If you have come to 'help me out,' you will start by cleaning off the floor, and then you will find some pickles and peanut butter for me. I will sit right here--" He stomped over to the couch and flopped down in the middle of it-- "and watch you."

He crossed his arms and glared up at her, daring her to do otherwise.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "All right then. I'll make you some sandwiches and give you some pickles, but I won't clean up goblin puke." She shuddered, moving towards the kitchen. "Until you do it yourself, it's going to just have to stay there."

She rolled her eyes as she pulled the bread out of the cupboard. He was worse than Toby! It was ridiculous. She wasn't his maid or anything, and his nausea had passed. He was more than capable of cleaning up after himself.

Opening up a jar of pickles, Sarah couldn't help but hide a tiny smile. Pressing his buttons was kind of funny....

Jareth sighed heavily. "I. Am. Not. A. Goblin. Whatever gave you the idea that I was?" He bore no resemblance to the creatures he ruled over--was she under the impression that, despite their dissimilarities, he was one of them?

...Because, really, that was a bit of an insult.

She'd agreed only to half of his demands, but he could wear her down on the other half. That mess couldn't simply sit there all day, but he would be damned if he got on hand and knee in front of a guest and clean like a servant.

During all of this, the idea that he might use his magic to clean up did not occur to him. He'd used it far more rarely as of late, in this place, than he had in his labyrinth. And in his current state, Jareth was having trouble thinking of much other than the smell of what he presumed must be pickles.

"They call you the Goblin King for a reason, don't they? I mean...the goblins wouldn't have a human as their ruler, would they?" She asked from the kitchen, putting gobs of peanut butter on the sandwiches. She set the knife down and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a jar of strawberry jam.

The pair were both stubborn as hell. That puke could sit there for days without one of them even touching it. Sure, Sarah had learned to be more helpful and was more intelligent than she was before, but she knew a power game when she saw one. If she gave in to his demands, he would know that he could use this tactic again and again to get what he wanted out of her. She wasn't about to let that happen, no matter how gross the smell of puke lingering in the doorway was.

Finishing the sandwiches, and opening the jar of pickles, Sarah put the food on two respective plates, pulling out a couple of glasses and filling them with water, bringing Jareth's food to him. "Here you go, preggers," she teased, stifling a laugh at the whole situation. It was Jareth, the Goblin King, and he was showing signs of pregnancy. It wasn't every day you got to see that. She returned to the kitchen to get her own food, plopping down on the loveseat to eat her sandwich.

"If I made your little friend, Hogwart, ruler of the Bog of Eternal Stench, would that make him a bog?" Jareth answered, sighing once more as he ran a hand through his pale hair. "The fact that the word 'Goblin' appears in my title doesn't make me one."

He neglected to mention what he truly was--Faerie--unconsciously assuming that if she was honestly that curious, she'd ask on her own. They might be allies in this strange place, but he was still quite unused to giving her straight answers or volunteering information about...well, anything.

When she handed him the plate, he had to bite back the very strong urge to kick her in the shins; this was all miserable enough without her bestowing nicknames like 'preggers' on him. He resisted, turning his mind to the food laid out before him.

Jareth bit into a pickle first, which didn't taste quite as he'd expected it to...but it wasn't horrible. He pried the two pieces of bread apart and the hand holding the pickle hovered over his destroyed sandwich. One of the spreads had to be peanut butter--she had promised to bring him peanut butter--but he had no idea which one. And until he knew, he'd be unable to find out exactly what pickles and peanut butter together tasted like.

Giving her a puzzled, sideways glance, Jareth asked, "What exactly are these...spreads called, Sarah?"

"Hmm. True." She wanted to ask him what he was, then, because she knew he wasn't a human, but somehow wasn't able to. It was one of those personal things she instinctively knew he wouldn't tell her until he was ready.

Leaning forward to point at each side of the respective sandwich, Sarah had to contain her surprise that he didn't even know what peanut butter and jelly were. "This one's jelly," she explained, pointing to the red spread. "And that one's peanut butter." She pointed to the brown sticky mess, then leaned back in her seat. "They taste better together as a sandwich, but if you want to dip your pickle in it, go right ahead. I personally wouldn't try it at all."

She took a bite of her own sandwich, downing some water to help get the sticky taste out of her mouth. She glanced over at the pile of vomit that still sat in the doorway, the stench beginning to drift over to the pair. "...Why don't you just clean it with magic?" She asked. "There's no shame in that, is there? At least you won't have to clean it with bleach and get down on your hands and knees or anything like that."

Had she asked, Jareth would likely have told her just about anything about himself--despite everything, he felt (perhaps instinctively) that he could trust her not to repeat anything he wanted her to keep quiet. ...Though really, who might she tell? Their associations were rather limited in this city; she was one of only two important affiliations he had here.

Her warning gave him pause as he looked down at his open-faced sandwich--but he hesitated only a moment before swirling a pickle through the peanut butter and popping it into his mouth.

And suddenly, everything felt much better. The craving for that particular combination of flavours had been an unscratchable itch in his mind--but no longer. Giving her a smirk, he said, "You'll simply have to miss out, Sarah. That tasted...perfect."

Glancing over at the sick still left on the floor, his expression turned to a frown of annoyance. How had he missed that solution? This turn of events was irritating. "Go and find us some entertainment, and I will," he replied, setting his plate aside. "I won't do so in front of you." Not because of any desire to preserve some mysticism of his powers--no, he was just feeling obstinate and didn't want to employ her solution in front of her.

Sarah resisted the urge to let out a loud "eeeewwww" when he ate the pickle with peanut butter. It was disgusting to watch, and his smug attitude only made it even more unappealing. "Ugh," was what she settled on, since that seemed to be the most effective way of showing disgust without being too silly.

"All right." Sarah laid her plate on the coffee table in front of her, getting up and leaving the room to leave him to his magic. At least it was getting done; that smell was disgusting. She rummaged through her duffel bag, finally finding a pack of cards. That would work for the time being. She figured that she had better leave sometime soon anyway. She was probably getting on his nerves. They could play a couple of card games and then she'd be out of here.

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Log; Ongoing; Backdated

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