Author Note: Thank you everyone for all the follows and the favorites and reviews. It means the world. It honestly keeps me going. I cannot express my gratitude aptly through words, so just know that I am internet hugging every single one of you glorious readers.

Now, I feel the need to explain my character choice with Alice. I purposely made her something of the exact opposite of Jane. Why? Because Loki is the opposite of Thor. They have sort of that Yin and Yang thing going and I wanted their love interests to as well.

Anyway, enjoy. And I beg you to review when you finish. I would appreciate it greatly.

John was fucking terrified.

Perhaps terrified wasn't quite the right word, but he was seriously fearing for his life.

Never in his life had he ridden with such an aggressive driver. Alice was a maniac behind the wheel, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting near the open window, a cigarette between her fingers. Had they been in any other situation, he would have found it a rather beautiful sight. However, between the blaring music and the string of profanities she was shouting at the other drivers, he didn't really have time to notice.

"Do you always find the need to drive like this?" he demanded as they swerved across three lanes of traffic to get to their exit.

"Most of the time," she shrugged, taking a drag off the cigarette, which she had barely touched since lighting it. He had a hunch that it was really there for looks more than anything. "But it's rush hour traffic, you kind of have to be crazy to drive in it in the first place."

"Which is why I suggested the train!"

"Mary-Ann can take it, can't you, old girl?"

Mary-Ann was what she called the supped up '55 white Lincoln convertible that she had, apparently, fixed up herself. It had a v8 engine (whatever that meant), which roared when she pressed the gas, and an overpowering sound system that seemed to only play songs with screaming guitars and stampeding drumbeats. The leather seats were black and cozy, and the backseat was so roomy that it was giving him ideas that he knew he really shouldn't be having, considering they had met mere hours previous. Admittedly, he was quite fond of the car, and its driver for that matter. However, he was not too fond of them as a unit.

"Just because the car can take it, doesn't mean I can!" he objected, but she simply laughed in response.

The sigh of relief was unavoidable as they pulled off the Wheaton exit and the car slowed to a speed that didn't make everything a complete blur. They drove past the college and into downtown, Alice muttering something about her dislike of suburbanites.

"What's wrong with suburbanites?" he asked, finding her distaste amusing.

"Everything," she grumbled. "They are all the same, all the soccer moms and their rich husbands and their 2.5 kids and white picket fences. It's disgusting! They are like this hive-mind of women who believe they need to be a size 2 to be attractive and men who encourage that. They single out those who do something they don't like, pressure them into fitting their norm."

"And you don't, I take it?"

"Do I really look like I want to? Look at me! I've got more curves that a fucking circle, I'm covered in ink, I like music that could be used to torture war prisoners, and when I was a teenager I read comic books instead of Cosmo."

Her passion ignited something in him that he had never felt before. It was an oddly passionate disgust for the people she descrbed. Instinctively, he swallowed the feeling, but it sat in his stomach and burned there until Alice pulled into the theater parking lot.

The engine died, taking the music with it. Slowly he turned to face her, still hearing her words ringing in his ears.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She complied, blue eyes glinting in the glow of the theater lights.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face. "And in the art world, curves are considered far more attractive than those stick-like women. You are a goddess amongst peasants."

The words didn't feel like his own, seeming to come from the same forgotten place that his previous burst of disgusr had. It made her smile, though, which had been the ultimate goal.

"You are seriously the cheesiest," she laughed. "But it's really sweet of you to say that."

A chaste kiss was planted on his cheek before she turned and got out of the car.

For a moment, he sat stunned. Had she really just called him cheesy? And that kiss, though quick and chaste, had been so unexpected. He couldn't help wondering if it actually meant something.

"Come on," she called. "We're going to be late!"

Grinning, he climbed out of the car and followed her to the ticket window.

"What can I get you?" the teen working the window sighed.

"Is Casa Blanca still playing?" Alice asked.

"Nah, we stopped playing it last week," the kid replied. "With Halloween coming up we're mostly playing horror movies."

"Are you playing anything that isn't a horror movie?" John inquired, earning a confused look from Alice, which he pointedly ignored. He wasn't the biggest horror movie fan. Not because he scared easily, but rather because most counted on gore or cheap jump scares to sell an otherwise uninteresting plot. It surprised him that anyone could be genuinely scared, let alone entertained by them.

"I think we're playing Gone With the Wind," the kid offered.

"Which horror movies are you playing?" she asked, trying to hide her smile when he attempted to object.

"Dawn of the Dead, From Dusk til Dawn, and-"

"Nope," interrupted Alice. "Gone With the Wind it is."

Surprised, John turned and looked at her. All she did was shrug in return and nod toward the ticket boy.

"Are you sure?" he whispered. "If you want to see a horror film that's-"

"I've already seen both of those billions of times," she assured him. "Let's go see the most tragic romance of all time. Otherwise my grandma will come back from the dead and murder me for passing up the opportunity."

He wasn't sure if he should laugh about her dead grandmother, but she was, so he offered a hearty smile.

"Well, you heard her," he chuckled, offering the ticket boy his credit card. "Two for Gone With the Wind."

John was the best possible movie date Alice could have asked for. He didn't laugh at her for grumbling about what a bitch Scarlett was. He even quoted some of her favorite lines as they watched.

When the movie let out, they filed out of the theater behind the few others who had watched it as well.

"You know," she sighed, tossing the mostly empty popcorn bag into the trash. "I really hate that movie."

"What?" he nearly gasped. "It's a work of art, so tragic and honest. And the love story…"

"I know it's great," she nodded. "But I just hate that it ends tragically. She dies cold and alone. The end. While I appreciate its tragedy, I have to admit, I would love it even more if she realized she loved him and he stayed. I know she treated him like dirt…but it's just…"

A frustrated sigh was all she could manage, shaking her head with her loss for words.

"He worked so hard to have her, and he just gives up when he finally gets what he wants?" John offered.

"Yeah," she smiled. "That's exactly it."

"I still enjoy it," he grinned. "And if you don't like it then-" He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Peels of laughter rippled through her and she nearly fell over before he let go of her, though his arm managed to find its way around her shoulders.

"You had almost stopped being cheesy," she teased. "And then you did that."

"It's part of my charm, dearest."

"I'm sure it is."

Smirking, she looked up at him. He was a good head taller than her; she felt the need to stand on her tiptoes whenever she wanted to look him in the eye. Returning the expression, he finally disentangled her from his grasp. Gracefully, he opened the car door for her, ushering her inside with a light hand at the small of her back.

"So," she sighed as he climbed into the passenger seat. "I should probably take you home now, right?"

"My, you are rushing things," he smirked.

"I meant drop you off at your house!"

Though she tried to play it off, she could feel a blush coloring her cheeks.

"Oh dear, now you're blushing!" he gasped in mock surprise, making her turn an even more violent shade of red.

"You turned my words all around!" she grumbled, trying to hide her face in her hands.

"No, no, don't hide," he laughed. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not!"

"You're right, I'm not."

"So do you want me to take you back to your house?"

Though still smirking, he shook his head.

"I don't want you to have to drive back downtown. I can get a taxi from wherever you're going."

"I have to go back downtown anyway. I live above the shop."

He laughed, and initially she thought he was laughing at her for living above the record store, which made her angry. It must have shown on her face because he shook his head as the mirthful noise died.

"No, it's not you. It's…" He took a breath allowing the last of the laughter to fade from his face. "I live literally three blocks from the shop. I can walk home. It's fine."

It dawned on Alice that she knew exactly where he lived and it also made her realize that he was way out of her league. The closest apartments to the shop were the Waterfront Apartments. They overlooked the shores of Lake Michigan, and were insanely expensive to live in.

"What's that look for?" he scoffed. "We've had a wonderful night so far!"

"I know we have," she grumbled, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. "I'm just bothered that a smooth talking rich artist managed to drag me on a date, dazzle me with his ridiculously charming smile, and still made me pay for gas."

"I'll make it worth your time," he chuckled, returning his arm to its perch around her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" she teased, trying not to look too insecure, and for once she seemed to pull it off.

"Positive," he promised.

When they arrived downtown, Alice pulled down the alley beside the shop and into the hidden garage. The ride had been relatively silent and Alice was afraid that she had blown her chance with John by admitting his money intimidated her. Dating rich guys wasn't exactly her style.

"It's not that it bothers me that you have money," she had explained as they weaved through the lanes of traffic. "I just…I'm not classy."

"I know," he nodded quietly, ignoring the indignant look she gave him. "And I don't expect you to be. That's why I like you, Alice; you're not like other girls. You don't hold airs, you don't pretend to be something you're not. You are honest, and that is so hard to come by."

The sentiment had made her heart flutter, but she still felt a pang of regret for even admitting how unsettled she had been. Class had never before intimidated her. However, John was also the first man to ever show interest in her who didn't work in fast food. She had just assumed that anyone who lived in luxury was an asshole. Apparently, she had been wrong, at least in this case.

"You can stop over analyzing things now."

As she climbed out of the car, it took a moment for her to realize that he was the one that had said it and she hadn't just been ridiculing herself.

"What?" she asked, her brain feeling hazy as she attempted to come back from her thoughts.

His door shut and he leaned on the top of the car, eyes boring into her.

"You've been quiet the whole ride home," he sighed. "Please tell me you're not still overanalyzing things."

"I'm not," she lied, but he saw right through her.

"Alice," he groaned, standing straight and running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You can't let something so trivial bother you."

"What's bothering me is the thought of completely blowing my chances with you because I'm an irrational bitch sometimes," she countered.

Mentally she cursed herself. Why was it so difficult for her to play cool around him? Usually she had no problem putting on a good face, no matter the situation. But with him it was different. He read her so easily that she had no option but to wear her heart on her sleeve. Quite frankly, it terrified her.

And yet, he simply chuckled at her response, his face erupting in that charming smile of his. Slowly he wandered around the car, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You are so fantastically honest," he mused. "And you have no reason to worry, I had fun. We will have to do this again soon."

"I would like that very much," she honestly replied.

"Good! How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's no good. I have to close the store by myself. How about Friday?"

"Friday it is!"

His long arms pulled her to him and she was wrapped in his embrace. It was odd how natural it felt, how easily she just melted into his grasp. The scent of him intoxicated her. There was no cologne, just a satisfyingly clean smell with the slightest hint of paint.

"Well," he decided, leaning back slightly to look her in the eye. "I should probably get home. I have to finish a piece for a coffee shop on Canal by tomorrow."

"I could have brought you home earlier if you had told me!"

"No, this was completely worth it. Thank you, Alice McCormick, for an almost perfect evening."

"Why just almost perfect?"

"Because I haven't done this yet."

In one quick movement he cradled the back of her neck with one hand and pressed his lips against hers. Alice's heartbeat sped up, her hands finding their way into his black hair. Smirking against her lips, he pulled back with a content sigh.

"Now it's perfect," he nodded. "Goodnight, Alice."

"Goodnight," she breathed, heart still racing as she watched him turn and walk down the alley toward the main road.

As he disappeared around the corner, closed the garage door and headed up the stairs to her apartment.

"Yeah," she grinned to herself as she unlocked the door. "Absolutely perfect."

All of Asgard knew Thor was a wreck. Ever since the banishment of his brother, he had lost his desire to do much of anything. Not even a good brawl could bring him to good spirits. Yes, he tried to smile and laugh with his friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, but he had no heart left, no passion. He was only a shell of the man he once was.

On a particularly bad day, the Warriors and Sif came to him in his chambers. He wasn't much for leaving them on days like this; content to stay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take him again.

"Thor, my friend," called Volstagg, poking his head around the door. "Thor, would you like to join us in the dining hall? They're preparing roast duck for supper."

"No, Volstagg," Thor groaned, trying to shield his eyes from the light pouring in from the door. "I am not feeling up to feasting today."

"But, dear friend," objected Fandral. "You've been locked in your chambers all day!"

"I told you I am not up for feasting today!" Thor reiterated forcefully.

"This isn't about your appetite, Thor!" Sif protested, pushing the men out of the way as she stormed through the door. "You haven't been yourself for nearly a year. I know you mourn for your brother, but there comes a point where you must move on!"

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Thor roared, getting to his feet and stalking over to where his friends stood. "My brother is lost to me forever. Though I know he lives, I can never see him. I miss him terribly."

"I implore you to listen to reason," Sif fumed. "Your brother committed unspeakable acts. The All-Father punished him as was fitting for his crimes."

"But at what cost? The cost of tearing our family, the Royal Family of Asgard apart; and causing me such intense grief that I cannot sleep. I am up at all hours, feeling my brother's spirit cry out to me, pleading with me to save him from his horrible exile."

"How do you know your brother is unhappy on Midgard?" Hogun challenged. "This is something you cannot be certain of."

"I cannot imagine Loki happy on Midgard unless he was ruling it," Volstagg chuckled.

Sif glared at him and he realized that it may not have been the most helpful thing to say.

"Regardless," Sif pointedly said. "You cannot save your brother from his fate."

"But I just want to know that he is safe," Thor sighed. "I just want to know he is happy. All of the things that make me happy are on Earth. Jane is there, my friends the Avengers, and my brother all reside on Earth."

"Then go to Earth!" Sif suggested, doubting very much that Thor could do so. "Go to Earth and see that he is safe. Be with your friends and your lover."

This seemed to brighten the god's mood notably. His blue eyes glinted with hope at the thought of seeing his Earth friends again.

"Do you think that would be possible?" he implored.

"Ask Heimdall," the female warrior shrugged, feeling confident the gatekeeper would never let him pass, though she hoped that getting him out of his chambers would help improve his mood.

"I shall!" Thor decided. "I shall go now and speak with Heimdall."

Sif nodded, confident that the journey would prove pointless. The great gatekeeper would never let Thor pass to find his infernal brother. However, she could see the thrill of adventure beginning to bring back his good spirit already.

Not even once did it cross her mind that the plan might actually go according to Thor's plan as they crossed the newly repaired bifrost. That is, until they were standing near Heimdall, watching Thor prepare to make his descent to Earth.

"Are you positive this is your will, Thor Odinson?" Heimdall asked, his voice like a gurgling stream.

"I am positive, good Heimdall," Thor once again reiterated. "I want nothing more than to visit my friends on Midgard, especially Jane."

It angered Sif that he had pointedly left his brother out of his pleas to Heimdall, though she felt the gatekeeper knew of his hidden scheme and was simply overlooking it.

"Then return to Earth, Thor Odinson," Heimdall said. "Farewell."

And in a flash of light, Thor Odinson was gone from Asgard, making the long descent to Earth.