A/N: I've had this little AU in my head for some time now. I think it started around the time Rock of Ages came out and somebody on my dash joked about wanting to see Loki in a Stacee Jaxx cosplay. It got me thinking, what if I wrote a short little AU with Loki as a rock star in the 1980s? That might make a fun Lokane drabble.

Now, obviously, it didn't pan out the way I thought it would. My little drabble fic turned into this enormous thing that I am still in the process of writing. As if I needed another chapter fic...

Nevertheless, I have been teasing this fic like crazy since August now, and I'm not going to back down! Plus, it's great to finally explore my inordinate love of all things 80s in fanfic. I hope you all enjoy this crazy ride into the era of big guitars and even bigger hair (and lots of cheesiness as that last line should hopefully exemplify).

Alright everyone, let's rock!

This was by far the worst idea Darcy Lewis had ever had. Jane was sure to hiss this in her ear as the two of them were ushered backstage amid thousands of screaming fans into a cramped hallway filled with security guards and roadies running all around them with disassembled instruments over their shoulders.

"Oh don't be such a buzzkill, Jane," was Darcy's answer, and the only one she would be giving for the rest of the night.

At the moment, a black clad man carrying a guitar had all her attention. Darcy shrieked like a banshee and ran after him, demanding to know who the guitar belonged to and if she could touch it. Jane stayed back, safely hidden behind a metal pillar, and tried not to develop a skull splitting headache. It was a daunting task.

She never should have let Darcy convince her to come here. Her best friend of ten years and roommate of five never seemed to have a care from the day they met. If Jane didn't know for a fact that Darcy had been fired from her last job and her half of the rent was going to be late for the third month in a row, she might have believed it. Darcy just wasn't the type of person to let things get to her. She'd rather have as much fun as possible until she couldn't any longer. It was a trait Jane envied and hated in equal measure, barring nights like tonight.

She came running back now, her much too short skirt threatening to flip up and the strings of her shirt coming undone.

"Dude, I totally just snuck this guitar pick off the roadie!" She had her ill-gotten prize in Jane's face like it was the Holy Grail and not just a piece of plastic. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

'Don't announce it to the world,' Jane thought.

"So when do we actually see the band?" she asked tiredly. "Or do we just stand here all night with the groupies."

She eyed a group of skimpily dressed woman up ahead, playing with their hair and stealing glances into an open door on the right. Inside, Jane could see the end of a well upholstered couch and some kind of fancy light fixture. It provided a glowing contrast for the smelly, dirty hallway.

"Why are you so impatient anyway?" Darcy asked, rolling her eyes. "You're the only reason we're here in the first place, remember?"

Jane looked away, remembering it perfectly and wishing she didn't. If it wasn't for Darcy's ceaseless insistence mixed with her trademark 'pouty face' showing up whenever Jane dropped her guard, she wouldn't even be here. She'd be in her nice, peaceful room in their nice, peaceful apartment in a nice, peaceful neighborhood that she'd always loved for being… well, nice and peaceful. She'd be looking over her dissertation papers one more time- rewriting a couple of parts here and there- then she'd lay in her bed and stargaze until bedtime. If not that, she'd get herself a big bowl of butter pecan ice cream, put on a favorite movie and waste the night away. Anything but this.

Jane didn't even listen to this kind of music. She'd heard a song on the radio once, with the heavy guitars and rough, high vocals that so-called 'hair metal' music was famous for, but it was slower and sweeter and Jane found herself humming it for the rest of the day: while she was getting dressed, making her breakfast, sitting in the library before class, coming home. She never found out the name of the song, never particularly cared to. Then she let herself hum it in front of Darcy. Once she did that, Jane might as well have signed her own death warrant.

By the time she went to bed that night, her head was spinning, her eardrums were probably busted, and she'd learned everything she never wanted to know about Darcy's many favorite bands with names she couldn't even remember the next morning. All that was left was the pounding; the horrible, ceaseless pounding.

That was how Jane arrived at this point, and why she should have torn up Darcy's front row tickets and pretended the cat did it when she had the chance. She thought the nightmare was over when the band walked off stage for the final time, and then as Jane was pulling Darcy to the doors (with a bit more fervor than necessary) they were stopped by a very large man with a head covered in red hair.

"Hey there," he said to them, though Jane had a sinking suspicion that it was mostly her he was addressing. "Would you lovely ladies like to come backstage and meet the band?"

Of course Jane didn't, but Darcy was quick to accept the invite for her. At least twenty different girls Jane had never seen before looked ready to kill them as they were led away. Jane herself could've strangled Darcy for this.

They stood away from the groupies. Darcy was almost beside herself with excitement and anticipation. She bounced around, she checked her watch endlessly, she wrung her hands in glee, she made a sound like an ornery cat when the wait got too long.

"Are the ever going to let us in or what?"

"We could just go home," Jane hopefully suggested, not that she thought it would work.

Whatever sassy retort Darcy had in store (and it was sure to be a good one because she was passionate), Jane never got to hear it. The red haired man from before exited the band's room, his girth taking up half of the hallway.

"Alright," he said, catching all the gathered women's attention. Then he pointed at Jane and Darcy. "You can come in now."

Darcy's hand latched painfully onto Jane's shoulder as she jumped in the air and squealed.

"This is it Jane, this is it! We're actually going to meet Midgard Serpent. Can you believe it?"

"No Darcy, I really can't."

"Come on now, Sister Christian." Darcy pulled her along.

The two of them entered the room. As predicted, it was a great deal nicer and roomier, with expensive looking- and so far only minimally damaged- white and gold décor. A barely touched high class dinner of beef wellington was all set up by the window, the obligatory wine bottle upturned and empty. It didn't seem to suit the at all, what with their teased out hair, studded black leather and running make-up. A couple more girls were littered about the area, draped around the two band members on the couch.

They were half of Midgard Serpent, the biggest band in the world this month. It was a really bad name for a band, at least that's what she thought before Darcy started introducing her to some of her others favorite bands and she learned that it could get much, much worse than that (she still wasn't quite over Whitesnake and the horrible mental images that name gave her). Before the concert, Darcy had forced Jane through one more cram session. She sat her through an entire run of the band's first (so far only) album and feeding her useless bits of trivia about the members that she read in magazines, most of which Jane didn't believe was true. The guitarist was immune to poison because he had twelve pet snakes and slept with them in his bed every night. Yeah right.

At least a little of Darcy's info was true, though. For one thing, their bassist was a woman, and that was unheard of.

"You'd have to be damn tough to be in a metal band with a bunch of crazy dudes drinking hard, shooting up and breaking their instruments over everything," Darcy had said. "And I hear she's trained in, like, twenty different styles of martial arts. Plus, she's married to a boxer or something, so she could probably kick everyone's ass fifty ways to Sunday."

The woman in question was seated away from the two men. It could only be her; the tight leather corset and arm length fingerless gloves she wore were of the highest quality, and her make-up was impeccably applied. It was mostly black around the eyes, enhancing her wild black hair and giving her a fierce, intimidating look that made Jane glad she was too busy strumming the strings of her bass and mouthing the lyrics to see them.

"Jane, Jane," Darcy hissed, her nails digging into Jane's sensitive flesh. She stared reverently at the blond headed man with three girls on his arms and a bottle in his hand. "Fandral is over there. The Fandral! Oh my god, I think he's looking at me!"

"Could you please let go?" Jane asked through grit teeth. She wiggled around to try and shake her off, to no avail.

Darcy was not just acting up either. In spite of the scantily clad woman dry humping him to hell and back, the one called Fandral was indeed looking their way. He had massively teased out hair like his bandmates, but as the frontman and lead singer, his was bigger and more attention grabbing. How on earth did anyone maintain hair like that, Jane would never know. She had enough trouble getting her own to behave every morning. He had a scruffy, unshaved face and bright blue eyes that would be boyish if taken on their own and not with the rest of his appearance. He disentangled himself from the girls with ease, like he'd spent his whole life doing it and sauntered over. They pouted for a while, but contented themselves with rubbing the leather jacket he left behind all over their faces while smiling foolishly. Jane was starting to understand that the dense alcohol she smelled hadn't merely come from the band.

"Well hello ladies," Fandral said without really seeing anyone but Darcy. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

Darcy stepped forward, thankfully letting go of Jane. She looked at Fandral like she'd just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

"I just want you to know that I love you and will do anything you want me to," she said.

Jane was feeling a bad headache coming on.

Fandral smirked, crossing his well-muscled arms over his chest and shifting to one side.

"Well, how about we take a walk and discuss that?" he said, offering Darcy a hand that she eagerly took.

"Oh come on," Jane moaned as they sauntered off. "Darcy please don't have sex with a rockstar on a couch."

"You don't have to worry about that," said an Asian man Jane dimly recognized as Hogun, the band's drummer. He looked a lot bigger without a needlessly large set of drums in front of him.

"You don't know Darcy," Jane said wearily.

"No, but I know Fandral, and he never has a woman in public," Hogun clarified. He then motioned at a door in the back, which had a sliver handle and a red ribbon tied to it. "That's what the walk-in closet is for."

"Okay sure, that's better…"

Jane pressed herself against the wall, wondering what in God's name she was even doing back here. Nobody was talking to her or even acknowledging her existence. What was she pulled out of the audience for in the first place? Did the band just have women brought to them at random just in case they decided they wanted them?

"Hey, were you guys sitting in the front row?" Hogun asked suddenly.

Jane blinked, and then looked at him when she realized she was the one being addressed.

"Yeah, that was us."

A strange silence fell over the whole room. Even the groupies felt it. They all stared at her over the jacket, their eyes not judging or angry, just awestruck. Somehow, that was even worse.

"Uh…" Jane really hated being the center of attention; being so far out of her comfort zone was even worse. Giving speeches as part of a final exam before her entire class of thirty students? That was one thing. She knew what to say then. This? Not so much.

"Oh," said the bassist, looking up from her guitar for the first time. "So you're the girl he wanted to see."

Some of the groupies whispered to each other, but Jane couldn't be bothered with them.

"Who's 'he?'" she asked.

Fandral gave a laugh. He was on a less crowded couch now with Darcy in his lap and his hand disappearing up her skirt.

"Who? Why Silvertongue of course! Who else?"

Jane started to ask who he was referring to. She knew at least on a conceptual level, every band with a singer, a bassist, and a drummer would need a guitarist to round things out. He just didn't appear to be around at all. She looked behind her, like he'd just been hiding in the shadows and watching her all along. All she could see was another door, bigger than the walk in closet, with nothing but dull white paint to mark its existence.

"He's back there," Hogun said, confirming her suspicions.

"I'm surprised that he asked for you," Fandral said good-naturedly. "No offense meant of course, Silvertongue just never asked for anyone before."

Jane nodded, her vision starting to spin. Now was probably the time to run to the door, go home and never get out of bed again. Instead, her feet came to life and steered her all the way around. As she moved towards the door, her ears sharpened to the chatting groupies.

"I can't believe Silvertongue asked for her of all people. She's not even that pretty."

"I don't know, I think she's cute it a mousy kind of way. He still should've picked me, though."

"Hey, don't tell Fandral or Hogun I said this, but I think Silvertongue is definitely the hottest guy in the band."

"No duh, of course he is!"

"What I wouldn't give to have him in my bed with some handcuffs and whipped cream…"

Jane opened the door wide, and it was pitch black inside. Nevertheless, she pressed on, crossing the threshold into the point of no return.

With all outside light blocked, Jane found that the room was not as dark as she thought. A few candles were lit in the corner, too weak to provide light for anything but that one little space. They're just strong enough to show Jane that she was not alone. The man standing by the wall was obscenely tall with a slender build, all features beyond that hidden in silhouette. Except for his eyes, which were great and appropriately snake-like upon her, she couldn't see him at all, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

Did he want her to say something? Ask a question? 'Oh hello, Mr. Silvertongue, is it true that you like to drink blood and bathe in scalding hot water while you summon hellhounds from the seventh circle to do your bidding?'

Why didn't she go home when she had the chance?

"Um… hi?"

He stretched away from the wall, his movement as precise and fluid as that of a snake.

"Good evening," he said, and Jane had to suppress a shiver. After listening to Fandral's magnified, ear-splitting shriek for four hours, the so-called Silvertongue's deep, melodic voice was like caramel candy to her ears.

"If you'll just wait a moment."

He moved away from the candlelight, back into the darkness. From there, he could have gone anywhere in the world, Jane hadn't a clue. She heard his footsteps, but it wasn't much to go on, only that he was still a short distance away from her and showed no signs of getting closer. Maybe if she was really discreet about, she could inch her way to the door.

She heard the click of a lighter, and then another side of the room came into view. With those candles lit, she could see his lengthy form as he stood back up. He remained shadowed, but the room itself was coming more into focus. He did the same thing twice more, and then in the middle of the room on the coffee table. With the whole place bathed in a golden, flickering light, Jane could see a plain white walled room with an inordinate number of guitars surrounding the leather couch set. Silvertongue himself lounged there, now fully visible.

He was quite unlike his bandmates in that he didn't sport the same mass of hair. His was long, pitch black and worn straight over his shoulders. He wore leather pants and boots and nothing else, leaving his torso on full display. He wasn't as bulky as Fandral was, but his leanly muscular build spoke of strength and power. He was sort of like a panther, just sitting in wait of his prey (her?).

His head lolled to one side, facing her, and with a single finger, he beckoned.

"Please, take a seat."

Jane hesitated by the door. She could still get out if she was quick. Surely he would just shrug it off and go look for some groupie to bother, someone ready and willing and here of their own free will. What kept her from doing just that and got her walking to the couch and sitting down was a mystery to her. Silvertongue's lip twitched into something like a smile; whatever it was, it was gone in an instant.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

His question was not sudden or unexpected, but Jane's mind was blank and his expectant eyes didn't help at all. She really had no idea how to answer him. The truth was out of the question. Who knows how he'd react if he knew how she really felt about the music his life revolved around. Darcy thinking she was a crackpot and a bore was bad enough; she didn't know anything about this guy.

"I- well…" This wasn't good. She'd always been a terrible liar. "I… did. I did. Enjoy myself that is."

Silvertongue nodded slowly, and then gave the first real smile Jane had seen from him. It wasn't a happy smile, more like the kind an axe murderer would wear as they were hacking up innocent victims.

"Did you really?" he asked.

Jane's brow furrowed. What was with that tone? Was he challenging her?

"Yes, really," she said.

"And what is your favorite song?"

"Love Cannon, definitely," she said firmly.

Darcy had had Midgard Serpent's album blasting from the stereo all week in preparation for tonight. Every note and lyric Jane had never wanted to learn was forcibly stuffed into her brain, taking up space that could have been left for something useful, and still Love Cannon was the only song she remembered clearly. The entire chorus was just that one sleazy phrase screamed over and over again with increasing volume, so that was probably why.

"Your favorite song is Love Cannon," he said.

"That's right," Jane said, feeling a bit more at ease and like she had a handle on the situation. "I thought you were brilliant on that song."

"I hate that song."

Then again, maybe she didn't.

"Oh," she said weakly. "I'm just… sorry."

"Don't apologize."

He got to his feet and starting walking around the room. His finger ran along the necks of his many guitars, brushing the strings gently, just to feel them on his skin. They don't make a sound when he does it. Even with the attention off her, Jane felt like she was being scrutinized. It really wasn't fair that anyone could have that kind of presence.

"So uh… what's your favorite song?" Jane asked. Why she asked, she didn't know. If the next words out of her mouth weren't, 'thank you but I must be going now,' she would have to assume that the fumes were addling her mind. She knew those girls in the bathroom before were smoking pot, and Darcy said it was just her imagination.

"Of my own work, I take it," he said. It wasn't a question or directed at her, just his thoughts given voice. At least, that's what Jane had to assume when he didn't pause speaking. "I suppose my favorite would be Street Talk."

"Oh, that's a good one," Jane said with the biggest, fakest-yet-still-real-looking grin she could muster. "You're really good on that one too."

He answered with yet another 'axe murderer' smile.

"We don't have a song called Street Talk."

Jane's face fell like a brick, and Silvertongue laughed with abandon at her reddening cheeks and forming scowl.

"Are you playing games with me?"

"I merely want honesty," he said, crossing his arms. "You did not enjoy the show. I'd even wager that you're not a fan of the band at all."

Jane wanted to say something, but there was no point in arguing the truth with lies.

"So tell me what brought you here, if not a love for our music?"

Jane chewed on her bottom lip.

"My friend, Darcy, is a fan," she explained. "She made me come along."

"I take it she's with Fandral now."

"How'd you know?"

"I know his type."

Silvertongue stretched his arms out, long and toned and as hard to ignore as the rest of him. Jane countered by staring pointedly at a blank portion of the wall, but he was still there in the corner of her vision, bare chested with tattoos littering his skin in all different places.

"So you dragged me back here because I'm not enough of a screaming fan," she said matter-of-factly. "You want to try recruiting me into the club now, huh? Well, I'm not interested."

'In any way,' she added with her eyes. He was smart enough to catch the meaning, that he had proved tonight beyond anything else, except maybe for the fact that he was also cocky as all hell. Why else would he single her out like this?

"I know you aren't," he said, sounding far too satisfied with himself; like he knew he'd just defied her expectations of him. "I saw you during the show. It was hard to take my eyes off of you. You were the only one still in your seat by the time it was over. You never cheered or applauded or opened your mouth for anything except to take a drink. It may seem arrogant of me to say, but I haven't met a woman like you in the longest time."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me that I'm the first woman in the world who's never thrown herself at you."

"Not in the whole world."

Jane shook her head, feeling like laughing even though nothing was funny.

"So what do you want from me then?"

"Not much," he answered. He rested his head in his hands, shocking green eyes taking in her form. Jane felt for a moment mesmerized by them. They had to be his best feature, shirtlessness notwithstanding.

"How much is not much?" she asked.

He lowered his head, the whole of him and the room itself darkening. It wasn't a physical thing like the lights getting dimmer (they were dim enough as it was), but more on the metaphysical side. It was like Silvertongue had a magical control over their surroundings, bending them to his will. He leaned closer to her. Something like an invisible set of hands kept Jane from backing up like she should have. He parted his lips and sinfully spoke two words in her ear.

"Your name."

Jane blinked. Then she blinked again. In the time it took her to blink the second time, Silvertongue had returned to his first position, which compared to what he just did made him look sort of like someone on a job interview.

"My… name?"

"That's what I said." He even sounded businesslike now.

Jane gawked, unable to work out what had just happened in a prompt fashion. That he retained that smug satisfaction that she was coming to associate with was ever worse. How many other women has he brought down here just to spin circles around their heads, she wondered.

"Why do you want my name?" she asked.

"Why not?"

Well, if that wasn't the soundest logic she had ever heard. Why not? Because! Because why? Because because! An endless loop it would be. The only thing she could do now to get any sort of point across would be to get up and walk away like she should have done hours ago when Darcy was too busy screaming her throat raw to notice.

Which only made the fact that she was still seated all the more mind-boggling.

"Jane," she said finally. "Jane Foster."

"Jane Foster," Silvertongue repeated, in that slower softer voice from before. That was about enough for Jane. She regained control of her lower body and sprang up.

"Well, this has been fun, but I have homework to finish and class in the morning. I'd better go."

She walked to the door before he could stop her, not that he tried. She didn't turn back, but she imagined he was still sitting, probably not even watching her go. Why would he when there were about thirty girls out there who would give him their names and everything else without question.

"It was nice meeting you, Silvertongue," she said at the door.

Her hand was on the doorknob, twisting it from one side to the other. Her nerves prevented her from finding the right way to turn it for some time, and then his shadow creeped over her, and she could feel him barely an inch away from her back.

"Loki."

She tried not to spin around too fast, lest she appear intimidated by him, which she definitely wasn't, not one little bit.

"What?"

He leaned over her against the wall, and still she had to crane her neck up to meet his gaze.

"My name is Loki," he said again. "I hate the name Silvertongue."

Without warning, he was level with her, pressing warm, soft lips to her forehead. It was really more of a brush than anything else. It lasted a split second and then it was over, leaving her whole body numb except for that one tingling spot atop her head.

Loki pushed open the door for her; Jane shambled out into the light.

"Until we meet again," he said.

When it closed again, Jane came back to herself. It felt like she'd been out of it forever. The groupies had disappeared, leaving only Hogun and Sif smoking a cigarette and writing out sheet music respectively. Maybe she really had been in there forever. Jane took a deep breath, bringing enough air into her lungs to nearly make them explode, but God did she ever need it. Her mind and her stomach were a storm of emotion, most prevalently exhaustion. She should've been in bed hours ago. She needed to get Darcy, get out of this arena, go home, do some stargazing before bed and pretend this whole stupid night never happened.

First, she needed to find Darcy. That was easier said than done. Her fun loving roommate had vanished along with the groupies. Whatever way Jane looked, not a trace of her neon green shirt or pink leggings could be found. At a loss, Jane looked to Hogun, who twirled a drumstick in one hand and pointed at the closet door with the other.

"…you've got to be kidding me."

A new day ideally meant eating a well-balanced breakfast and perusing a science textbook until it was time to leave for class. In the real world, Jane spent the morning after the concert in the shower, trying to wash the smell of old socks and dirt off her skin. Why the hell didn't they clean those arenas more thoroughly? Did they want to give people diseases?

She was clean by the time Darcy finally rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, something Jane had hoped to avoid.

"Coooffeeeee," Darcy moaned like a zombie. She certainly looked the part with her naturally curly hair wild and out of sorts and last night's make-up smudged across her cheeks. All she needed now was some rotting flesh and to replace coffee with brains and she was good to go.

She stopped in front of the refrigerator, forgetting that people don't typically store coffee in there. Jane wordlessly filled a second cup with the steaming liquid she had only just made, letting the smell waft through the air and coax Darcy in the right direction. While she waited, she took long gulps of her cup; just enough to finish it fast and not burn the back of her throat in the process.

"Rough night, huh?"

Darcy groaned incoherently. Jane took that as a yes.

"Any regrets?"

With great difficulty, Darcy forced her eyes all the way open and focused as best she could on Jane. She was veering ever so slightly to the right.

"Not a one, my friend. Not. A. One."

She put on the most disturbing attempt at a smile Jane had ever seen, the kind that made you want to put a bag over someone head and never let them take it off. Luckily, Darcy was still too out of it to keep it up for long. It was amazing that she hadn't drank anything last night.

"Are you sure about that?" Jane asked, getting up to put her coffee cup in the sink for later. "You're kind of... well-"

She gestured up and down at Darcy, making her point clear in the way words were failing her.

"Doesn't matter, this is rock in roll!" Darcy threw up the metal 'devil horns.' "Ain't nothing but a good time, you hear me? I'm such a rock star right now."

Jane looked at her flatly. "You're not a rock star, Darcy. You just had sex with one."

"Same difference."

"There's a very big difference."

Jane would've liked to end it there. Getting involved in this kind of argument with Darcy would only lead her to play more of that horrid music tonight as revenge. She'd been waiting far too long for an end to that, and she wasn't about to jeopardize her shot at freedom just because Darcy had delusions of grandeur.

"So, how'd it go last night with Silvertongue?"

Jane stopped dead in her tracks and scrunched her eyes shut. She was in front of the coat rack, right next to the front door. So close. So damn close…

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Darcy sprayed her coffee everywhere as she laughed at Jane.

"Oh don't even try that with me. I know where you were last night."

"I was with you," Jane said sharply under her breath. "I was going deaf in one ear and sitting around with half-drunk musicians and groupies while you got laid in a closet."

Darcy grinned. "And you haven't even asked me yet if it was good or not."

Jane cringed. She was reminded of the first few months she and Darcy lived together, when Darcy was dating Saul, a hard drinking partier who spent far too many nights at their place (to the point where Jane often wondered if he even had a home of his own). She knew for a fact that Darcy never slept when he was over, because she didn't either. After six abysmal months, Jane was pretty much done being curious about Darcy's sex life. The sound of a bed creaking still gave her flashbacks.

"Personally, that's the kind of thing I'd keep to myself," she said.

"Yeah, but that's because you haven't had a date in two years. And for your information, it was a-freakin-mazing, and nothing else will ever compare."

She squealed the final words, suddenly wide awake with the caffeine running through her system. For her part, Jane didn't see what made an essentially 'all downhill from here' sentiment something to cheer about, but why spoil her fun?

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," she said disinterestedly. "And for the record, I'm not going to start announcing it whenever I do get a boyfriend, okay?"

"If it's good you will," was Darcy's cheeky response. "Just like me! Last night, I had my mind blown by the lead singer of possibly the biggest band in the world right now."

Jane bit back a sigh. This was shaping up to be last night all over again.

"And you know, the funny thing is that Fandral wasn't what I expected him to be," Darcy went on thoughtfully.

"I thought it was 'a-freakin-mazing,'" Jane said.

"Oh it was, I never said it wasn't. I guess I just thought, with his reputation and all, he'd be more of a hard dominating type, when really he was kind of a puppy. I mean, once we got right down to it-"

"Okay, I think I got it," Jane cried out. She snatched up her bag and ran for the door. It was a shame there was nothing blocking Darcy's view of her except the staircase.

"Jane, I was more or less with a god last night, forgive me for being a little excited."

Jane resisted smacking her head against the wall by walking back the way she came and grabbing some bottled water out of the fridge. If that tightness around her temples was the headache she feared it was, she was going to need it.

"Darcy, Fandral is not a god, and neither are the rest of them. They're just a bunch of overhyped, oversexed, drugged out musicians who probably can't even play their instruments correctly. In a couple of months, everyone will move on to a different fad and they'll forget all about Midgard Serpent or whatever they're called and frankly, I will be a very happy woman when that day comes."

There was a long pause. Jane opened the bottle to take a slip, and then-

"You fucked Silvertongue last night, didn't you?"

She spat it all out.

While she choked on the little of it that got down her gullet, Darcy took care of the mess with a quick application of paper towels. She patted Jane on the back when she was done.

"Okay, shake it off," she said. "And I'll take that as a yes."

"Don't," Jane gasped as strongly as she could. "I did not sleep with him. At all. We barely even spoke. He asked me some questions and then I left, that's it."

"That's it?" Darcy repeated, scandalized. "Oh come on, Jane. Even if that was true, no one could possibly walk away from the opportunity to sleep with Silvertongue!"

"He didn't want to sleep with me, okay?" Jane hacked out the rest of the water, her chest was burning from the effort.

"So you guys didn't do anything at all? You didn't even get to first base?"

Jane was about to say no, and then a wave of heat came over her, most of it directed to that same little spot on her head. She shook it off before Darcy had a chance to ask questions. She was off in her own world by now anyway.

"I mean, I'm a Fandral girl through and through. I think I've made that clear," she said, her eyebrows wiggling. "But I'll admit I've more than once thought about what else Silvertongue can do with those guitar playing hands of his. Know what I mean?"

"No, I don't, and now I'm going to class."

Jane walked with solidly entrenched finality in her steps. She would not hear another word of objection, nor would she let herself fall to the level of petty comebacks. She should never have enabled any of this in the first place. Now she was going to be late to class, and Professor Selvig was going to have a fit.

Jane waited before starting the car. The clock was ticking, but she needed to catch her breath and forget about last night before she did any driving. Damn that Darcy for reminding her. Tonight, she was burning all of her records, for real this time.

Jane puts the key in the ignition and steps on the break. The engine and the radio came to life. Jane nearly jumped out of her seat when a hard riff assaulted her eardrums. Joining in was Fandral, singing passionately about beautiful girls and how much he wanted them to feel his love cannon.

The song was about to end, so Jane let it play out until the DJ came on, fast talking with the catchy leitmotif behind him.

"Hey what's up listeners? That was Love Cannon, the mega smash hit by Midgard Serpent. Coming up in an hour we have an exclusive interview right here at W-RKG with- get this- Silvertongue. That's right my hard rocking friends, we have Silvertongue in the house, so stay tuned to this station. Next up, we've got the latest single from Guns n' Roses, this is Sweet Child O' Mine on W-RKG."

This new guitar melody was actually very nice, but Jane changed the channel and spent the rest of the drive to campus listening to some new broadcast about some mobster the police were chasing. It was no more interesting to her than the last station, but at least it had no Silvertongue. It was time to let that one go once and for all.

He'd probably forgotten all about her by now anyway.

Jane was not one for drinking, but Nick's Tavern on 5th street was her favorite place to go on the weekend. People were often surprised when she told them that, even Darcy. Nick's was a cozy little place tucked into the corner of a busy avenue. A much bigger and more exciting bar and dance club existed up the street, so Nick's was mostly frequented by a group of ten or twenty rowdy fans watching sports on the little TV nailed to the ceiling. They could get loud when they wanted to, but they usually weren't a bother, and the bartender always had some ethereal instrumental playing in his mini boombox behind the bar. Now that was good music.

Jane flipped to a new page in her spiral notebook. The previous twelve pages were filled with notes and ideas for her thesis. Professor Selvig had called her into a meeting after class yesterday to discuss it, and Jane had to admit with a great deal of shame that she'd basically gotten no work done thanks to that concert. Professor Selvig had taken it well, he even offered her a small extension on her deadline, but Jane hadn't taken it. She was no charity case and she was going to prove it.

"Let me know if you need any help," he told her at the end of their session. "My door is always open for you, Jane."

"I know, thank you Professor."

It was nice of him to offer, but Jane always had to remind herself that it was because she was genuinely one of his best students and that he didn't only favor her because he'd been friends with her father. She hadn't even known that when she first stepped into his class, so how could he?

Jane licked her lips and pulled her bottle of light beer closer to her. It gave little resistance, mostly because it was empty. Jane sighed and glanced around for the bartender, only to find him serving drinks to a pair of spectators arguing about the boxing match on TV.

"I'm telling you, Odinson is going to clock out in the next round, just look at him! Broken nose, one eye swollen shut, he's done!"

"Are you crazy? He's up against that little pussy bitch Vanko, and Odinson is built like a tank. Vanko only got a few lucky hits in. He's gonna be out cold, just watch and see."

Their fight continued in time with the one on TV. In the next round, the large, muscular blond man got several good hits on the much smaller man's face and presumably achieved that knock out the second man was talking about. While the first man screamed and cursed and the second one gloated, the bartender returned to his post and snapped his fingers at Jane before she could signal to him.

"Another light beer, coming up."

He pulled one out of the cooler and placed it in her cupped hands, he didn't even stop when Jane tried to call him back and pay him.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You're paid for the rest of the night, have as many as you like."

"I am?" Jane asked incredulously. "Who paid for me?"

The bartender nodded over her head. Jane turned around and nearly fell out of her seat when she caught sight of Silvertongue, all the way at the corner table, a single whiskey bottle and shot glass his only company. He smirked when he caught her eye, and lifted the full glass to her as a toast.