The lead singer's bare torso gleamed under the strobing lights, tracks of perspiration inching towards the virulently violet pants that sat low on his hips.

"He's something, isn’t he?" Robert muttered, half in awe, half in envy. I wish I could do that - chuck my shirt offstage and bask in my hyper-masculinity like some kind of sex god.

The idea made him grin. Him - a sex god? It would certainly be an especially ironic twist of fate if he were ever labelled one.

Jimmy, right elbow hogging the armrest of Robert's seat, let his mouth stretch into a lazy grin. "He's alright. A bit pitchy, though."

Robert fought the urge to roll his eyes. That was Jimmy Page for you - business and technicalities first, pleasure later.

It had been a month since the 'Big Reveal' - since Robert had learnt that the guitarist reciprocated his feelings (albeit not as intensely) - and their relationship was still in its plodding, early stages. It was difficult, almost impossible, to get to know Jimmy. To really know him.

He was never honest, unless he saw something to be gained from being so. Yet he would capitalise on Robert's affections whenever it suited him, with the kind of ruthlessness that would make Wall Street types run for their mothers.

Robert's was a thankless campaign - but there were bright spots amidst the darkness.

Tonight was one of them.

Jimmy was in one of his 'happy moods' (as Robert so named them), which meant that little careless gestures of affection were to be expected. The hogging of Robert's armrest was case in point - the guitarist would never encroach on someone's personal and space unless he were entirely comfortable around them.

Robert counted that a victory.

Was it greedy of him, then, to expect more? Perhaps - but he was only human.

"Come on, now, Jimjam," he tested the little frivolity of affection that he'd been throwing around in his head for days, "he's not so bad."

"What?" Jimmy turned to face him and it was with relief that Robert noted that his expression held surprise and not, as he'd half-expected, annoyance. "Jimjam? That makes me sound as if I'm some children's toy, marketed at six-year-olds."

"You're cute enough to be one." Robert replied, gaily throwing caution to the winds.

Jimmy's expression struggled to adopt some sense of severity. "I am not."

"You are."

"No, I assure you that I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"You are, if I say you are."

Whatever severity Jimmy had been able to muster crumbled. He laughed. It was a genuine laugh - not the sort of polite laugh he adopted whenever social norms deemed it necessary to find some entirely inane comments amusing.

"You're an utter buffoon, Robert Plant." Framed by lashes, Jimmy's eyes seemed to dance with the same kind of humour that lent a glowing sort of amusement to his voice.

If it were humanly possible to fall even more in love...well, Robert realised that it was only a downward trip from here. He would never stop falling.

"What?" Jimmy's nose crinkled. "Don't say I've managed to insult you enough for you to-"

"No." All of a sudden, Robert had something caught in his throat. He felt an odd desire to hide his face behind his wild mass of leonine hair; a need to shield himself from the guitarist's gaze.

It was a stupid need - Jimmy had looked at him plenty of times before. No cataclysmic disaster had shaken the world; neither of them had dropped dead. Why, then, was he suddenly so on edge?

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Robert half-expected to find sparks shooting out from under his fingernails.

The look Jimmy gave him was all too perceptive in its nature to afford him any ease. "Why don't we get away?"

For a second, there was a screech of white noise, and the world seemed to stand still. Or so it seemed to Robert, who hastily realised that he was staring at the guitarist with an unflattering look of open-mouthed surprise on his face.

"Well?" Jimmy did not suffer fools gladly. Even if they happened to be young, naïve fools.

"You mean..." Robert licked his lips nervously, "Go back to your place and-"

"Oh, no. I can't have you thinking it's a halfway home of a charitable and convenient kind - a place to drop in whenever the fancy takes you." The admonishment was administered with a smile; the guitarist was evidently in a very good mood. "I suggest a night on the town." His smile curled up at one end like some kind of lewd suggestion, despite no lewd suggestions having been made.

"Alright." said Robert, who was so utterly lost in the dark caverns of affection that he'd have agreed to wander onstage clad in only tomato ketchup if Jimmy had asked him to do so.

"Wonderful. Let's go." Winding his scarf more securely around his slender neck, Jimmy got to his feet.

Robert followed suit - albeit as gracelessly as gangling colt. It was remarkable how the strange, fluttery feeling in his chest had managed to turn his feet into clubs of dead wood in as much time it took for him to glance towards the exit of the club - the substandard band of which they'd had an hour of their time wasted by.

Outside, out of the heat, cigarette smoke and music - offensive in its lack of musicality (really, thought Robert, the lead singer is about the only part holding the entire thing up) - was a whole different world, it seemed.

Jimmy was still cheery, but, in the dim light of the anaemic streetlamps and wishy-washy electric signs, his features grew more mysterious.

It struck Robert then that he knew very little of the guitarist's thoughts. Why, he barely knew him at all!

Was it right, then, to fall so completely in love with him?

"Come on." The guitarist glanced over his shoulder, face intriguingly half-hidden by a tangle of hair that Robert longed to run his fingers through.

It was the kind of stare that made a complete mockery of practicality.

Robert let himself be led, like the proverbial lamb; no expectations and yet a wild array of hopes. Would tonight be the night...?

The edge of anticipation lent a special glow to the atmosphere of their walk. It was an anything-can-happen kind of mood - like the jittery, fumbling hours before a first date.

Jimmy smiled, checking to see if Robert were still behind him - the very picture of calm.

"How d'you do that?" Robert blurted out.

The guitarist came to a halt, scarf dancing in the wind like a whisp of smoke. He looked altogether too much like some kind of spectre, some kind of unearthly supernatural creature to be real.

He said nothing; simply stood there in quiet bewilderment, brow slightly furrowed.

"How?" Robert echoed. "Here I am, crazy about you - no, I'm not too embarrassed to say so - and you're...you're...bloody hell, Jimmy! For fuck's sake, tell me what you're thinking."

Jimmy, at least, had the good grace to look mildly shocked. "What? What have I done now?"

"You're making me nervous!" Robert hissed.

An old man, shuffling along in true geriatric style, gave them both a very odd look as he passed.

It occurred to Robert that the street - the most public and indiscreet of places - was not the best place for conversations of such a nature. Had he been any less wound up, he'd have felt self-conscious.

"Is that all?" Jimmy had the audacity to laugh. "You're a funny man, Robert. You don't seem to trust me at all."

"Would you?" Unpleasant memories of the guitarist's aptitude for manipulation surfaced. If Robert's heart beat any faster, it'd jump right out of his chest.

The guitarist inclined his head. "No, I wouldn't." A sneaky grin slipped across his face. "But that doesn't mean we can't have fun tonight. And I promise that we will."

There was a subtle emphasis on the 'we'. It was as close to a true promise as any.

Robert decided to take it.

🦋

Greetings!

A happy (ish?) chapter for a change - an apology, of sorts, for being away so long and leaving you guys hanging.

I've been reading some Zep books and what they all seem to agree on is that Jimmy Page is about as mysterious as they come. I've (hopefully!) managed to inject an air of mystery about his person in the chapter, as I find it ties in well with the manipulative characteristics and remoteness I've decided to give him in the fic.

As always, comments are much appreciated!

Peace out, Annia. ✌️🏻