CMT, I will love you forever. Can not wait to see what the new showrunners do to turn this ship around.

In the meantime, this is a version of Rayna and Deacon getting together back in the day. Not necessarily how I think it happened but it sure is fun to play with them. :) Multi-chapter.

'Wheels up is in two weeks. It doesn't give you long to get a show together, but I said you'd do it.'

Watty, sitting opposite Rayna, lifted his coffee cup and waited for her reaction, blowing lightly on it with a small, patient smile.

'Are you serious?' she squeaked, staring at him in disbelief. 'You got us a tour slot? With Randy Travis?'

'One of Randy's openers dropped out and I jumped on it before he got someone else. It's perfect for you, Rayna. I'll help you get a band together, I've got some great guys in mind.'

Deacon, in the seat next to Rayna, was beaming at her. 'Did you know about this?' she asked, whipping around to face him.

'Watty mighta called me last night,' he admitted, and she swiped her napkin at him.

'You sat in this booth with me for a whole hour knowing Watty was gonna come in here and land this on us?'

'I didn't want to ruin the surprise.'

'Deacon's agreed to lead your band.' Watty had that ever-knowing look that was so often on his face. 'You'll be in good hands with him.'

Oh, Rayna knew that.

'If you'll have me,' Deacon added, and his expression was so earnest she couldn't take it. There was a little hint of nervousness there, as though he thought she would dream of going out on her first tour without him. It had been a little over a year of making music with him and somewhere along the way he'd become part of her, no going back.

'Hmm,' she mused, turning towards the window. It was a bright, sunny day in Nashville, trucks rolling by outside in no hurry. 'I'll think about it.'

She saw him nod in acceptance out of the corner of her eye, and turned to unleash a full-force smile at him. 'I've thought about it. You're in,' she said, and his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. 'Congratulations, boss,' he told her, shaking it mock-formally. 'Your very first tour. Won't be long before you're headlinin', Ray, I just know it.'

/

By the next afternoon she'd officially accepted the slot and had a full band in place. Watty's suggestions had proved spot on and Rayna and Deacon had loved the two guys he'd lined up, and Deacon's roommate Vince fit the bill for a second acoustic guitar player and his right-hand man.

It was all moving so fast, Rayna could barely get her head around it; a band, her band, talk of tour buses and set lists and cities she'd never been to. She couldn't wait.

'So,' Deacon said when they got back to his house that night, 'how you feelin' about all this?'

She smiled, the kind of smile with a mind of its own. 'I'm still in shock, but it's amazing. I can't get over how lucky we are.'

He shook his head, still stunned himself. 'It's crazy. But you deserve this, you've worked your ass off this past year to bag something like this.'

'We deserve this, Deacon. You've worked just as hard as I have. I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you. I couldn't do it with anyone but you.'

He looked at her in that way only he ever had, and she turned away to shrug her jacket off, tossing it onto the back of a chair and trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

'You sure you're good with quitting your job to do this?'

'It's a shitty bar job, there are plenty more in this town. And the money from the tour is a whole lot better anyway - I can't believe they're payin' us to go out and play, Ray. I'd quit a thousand jobs for this.'

'Two months, just music and an open road,' she said, feeling like she was floating. 'This is it, Deacon. This is where our whole lives change.'

She flopped onto the couch and he watched her for a moment before he sat, a little cautiously, next to her.

'What?'

'I just... I'm just real excited about this. I'm really happy to see you so happy.'

She squeezed his hand, and for a moment they sat grinning at each other, neither moving to let go until the shrill ring of a phone broke the moment.

'Yup,' Deacon answered when he got up to grab it, still looking at Rayna as he wedged the receiver under his chin. She watched his face turn a little pale as the person on the other end spoke. 'It's your sister,' he said, holding it out for her. 'She wants to know when you were gonna tell her about Randy Travis.'

###

'How about this one?' Tandy asked, holding up yet another little black dress. 'You'd look cute as hell in this.'

'Isn't that a little short, Tandy?'

'Are you kidding me? Those legs deserve short dresses, babe. If I had pins like yours I wouldn't cover them up if I was in a blizzard in Alaska. And this is a killer boob dress too.'

'I thought the rule was legs or boobs?'

'Oh please,' Tandy said with an airy wave, 'if you've got it, put it in a hot dress and flaunt it.'

Rayna shook her head in amusement. 'And here I was thinking you wanted me to be trussed up like a nun every time I was out of the house.'

'The boys look at you either way, so you may as well get this music thing off to a flying start. These tour outfits are going to be people's first impression of you - we're gonna make it a lasting one.' Tandy winked at her sister, shimmying the dress this way and that so it glimmered enticingly at her.

It was cute. Rayna trailed her fingers over the fabric, imaging herself wearing it on stage singing some of the uptempo songs she and Deacon had been writing. She reached for the price tag.

'Good Lord! It costs more than I make in a week - I can't afford that.' She moved onto the jean skirts and plaid section - far more appropriate for the kind of impression she wanted to give off on her first time out anyway.

'You know, I still need to get you a housewarming gift, it's been what, six months?' Tandy said, catching up to her and thumbing through the shirts on the nearest rack, trying not to look critical. 'Why don't you let me get this stuff for you?'

'A housewarming gift? Since when did you want to warm that house, Tandy? You hate that I'm staying there. And it's been four months, not six.'

'Daddy hates that you're staying there, I only worry. How is that going, anyway? The Deacon thing…'

Rayna held a pair of denim cut-offs up against herself. 'The Deacon thing? You mean him letting me stay in his house so I'm not living under a bridge, while Daddy chooses which of his six bedrooms to sleep in? It's going great, thanks for asking.'

'You know what I mean. How is it living with him? I mean, he's… older, and, you know, rough around the edges. It's not the best situation.'

'He's a perfect gentleman Tandy, if that's what you're getting at. He's my best friend, and my writing partner. You wouldn't believe how much we get done, it's amazing.'

Her sister fixed her with a knowing look, one that irritated the hell out of her. 'Oh I'm sure there's a lot Deacon wants to get done. Is he still letting you sleep in his bed?'

Rayna wasn't sure why her cheeks flushed, and she cursed herself for it. 'Would you come on? He sleeps on the couch every night, like I told you. He insists on me taking the bed, and I feel just terrible about it. It's temporary, anyway. When we get back from this tour and I've earned some decent money I'll be looking for a place of my own. I'm on my way to making it, I really am.'

Tandy stopped and looked at her. She twirled one of her curls around a manicured finger. 'I know you are,' she said quietly. 'I'm proud of you, little sis, you know that.'

For the smallest of seconds, she looked just like their mother, the tilted smile she would have worn when Rayna shared her first chance of success. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared though, and a stern look rolled across her face.

'Just you make sure Deacon Claybourne keeps his hands on that guitar.'

###

'So we gonna sub-let this place or what?' Vince asked, popping the cap on a sweating bottle of Bud and leaning back on the couch.

'Sure, we just gotta find somebody to take it. Landlord's happy as long as he's gettin' a cheque at the end of the month.'

'My buddy from the bar's lookin' for a place to move in with his missus. I'll ask him tomorrow.'

Deacon dropped into a moth-bitten armchair, a spring digging into his right buttcheek. 'No guy should be movin' his lady into this dump, Vince.'

'You moved your girl in. Place is good enough for Rayna ain't it?'

'This place ain't nowhere near good enough for Rayna. And neither am I - she ain't my girl.'

'That why you pine after her like a stray pup?'

'I don't pine,' Deacon objected with a scowl, 'and you know why I moved her in here. She had no place else to go.'

'And you came along like her knight in shinin' denim and saved her from the mean streets.'

Deacon shook his head and reached for his guitar. 'I ain't even listenin' to you anymore.'

Vince chuckled; if there was one thing he loved, it was winding Deacon up about Rayna. It was an easy sport - Deacon's sore spot when it came to her was a mile wide. 'She sure has kicked our asses into shape though, huh? You even wash dishes now.'

'She's the best thing that ever happened to this hellhole, that's for sure.'

'Ain't ever seen you this whipped. God help us all when you eventually get a clue and start screwin' her.'

Deacon stopped playing abruptly. 'You're an asshole, man. You know that?'

Vince smirked and took a swig of his beer. 'Sure you want me on this tour?'

'I ain't sure at all. You gonna hit on Randy's groupies and make us kick you off the bus?'

'I can't promise you that won't happen.' He reached for the TV remote, flicking over to a football game just as the cheerleaders were strutting onto the pitch, much to his joy. 'You gonna hit on Rayna and get us kicked off the tour?'

###

The coffee in the polystyrene cup in Rayna's hands was sending little swirls of steam up towards her nose; she breathed them in, hoping maybe the caffeine would hit her bloodstream without her having to drink the stuff. She thought coffee tasted awful, bitter and pungent. but everybody else was knocking it back by the gallon and it seemed to help them get through the long days.

They'd been rehearsing for a week, for as many hours each day as they could cram in. Rayna was still waiting tables at the diner in Deacon's neighbourhood, where he'd helped her to get a job after her father turned his back on her. She was living off exhilaration and handfuls of sleep, finding herself yawning as she was wiping tables and counting the minutes until she could escape to Soundcheck.

She had quickly become addicted to the buzz of the place: the people pacing around in all directions, the smell of the equipment, most of all to the sound of music emanating from every rehearsal studio and twisting out into the corridors. Watty had had a backdrop made up for her with her name on it and she'd thought she might faint with joy when he'd arranged for it to be put up to show her. They'd left it in situ in the studio reserved just for them, her name in thick swirly typeface greeting them every day when they walked in.

She spooned a big heap of sugar into the coffee and stirred it in, hoping for the best as she tipped her head back.

'Hey Ray, you want to go over Already Gone one more time? I think we could speed the tempo up a little, I don't feel like we've quite nailed it yet.'

Deacon was hunched over a set list, a pen in his hand, his guitar around his neck. He'd taken to the role of bandleader so naturally Rayna would have thought he'd done it a hundred times, but he hadn't. His resume was far more modest but full of hard work - he'd been performing with his sister since they were kids, with Vince since he'd come to Nashville a couple of years earlier, in various friends' bands around town whenever a lead guitar gig came up. His love for music was intrinsic to who he was; his ear for a melody, the fingers to execute it with ease. Something to say. All Deacon needed was a break, and Rayna hoped with all she had that this was it.

'Sure,' she said. 'If we're making it more upbeat I think we should move it to the opener too.'

Deacon nodded emphatically, scribbling again on the list of songs, most of which they'd written together. 'That's perfect,' he said, lifting his head and grinning at her.

'From the top?' Jimmy, their bass player, asked, strumming a couple of warm up notes.

Watty had introduced them to Jimmy and his friend Kennedy just over a week earlier. They'd been playing in a band together locally, Jimmy on bass and Kennedy on drums, and Watty had been waiting for the right opportunity to poach both of them after seeing them at an open mic in Midtown. They'd started rehearsals the very next day, getting to know each other better that same evening over a firepit at Kennedy's house in Inglewood.

Rayna was surprised by the respect they'd shown her as a songwriter; she wasn't used to being taken seriously yet, not by anyone other than Deacon and Vince, and Watty, who'd always championed her but she'd never really known if it was out of obligation to her mother. Jimmy and Kennedy had listened to her ideas, had relished learning and performing her songs, complimented her lyrics.

'Deacon has a lot to do with those,' she'd tell them, but Deacon wouldn't let her sidestep any credit.

Rayna wanted to hug herself every time she thought about the prospect of hitting the road with their little group, all the times they would share, the stories they would tell each other. As much hard work as they still had to do, it was all coming together.

###

The diner always smelled like burnt toast and pecan pie, curiously, considering they hadn't served pecan pie since the owner's mother had died and taken the recipe with her.

The owner, Old Billy, had a soft spot for Rayna. He'd changed the rota so she could fit shifts around her rehearsals, and had promised her there would be a job to come back to should she need it after the tour.

'You won't though,' he'd said more than once, twirling the end of his white beard the way he always did. He looked like a hillbilly Santa Claus, kind and a little bit cartoonish. 'I've heard you singin' while you been washin' dishes in the back there. Y'all are gonna leave this place in the dust, I know it.'

'Old Billy's right you know,' Katie, one of the other waitresses, told her one afternoon with a wink. 'You ain't comin' back here.'

'Not on this side of the counter anyway. Gonna be us waitin' on you if you're ever through that door again.' Annabelle was Old Billy's niece, blonde as they came and sweet as the waffles she was famous for serving up. She was older than she seemed, younger than her trademark false lashes made her look.

Katie was a couple of years older than Rayna, and as was the norm in Nashville she moonlighted in a few bars around town, singing wispy folk songs for smiles and tips.

Rayna liked them both a lot. She knew they were both concerned that she was fending for herself at such a young age, and they looked out for her in their own subtle ways. Annabelle sent her home loaded with leftover pies and cakes she'd baked more than a few times a week - to Deacon and Vince's delight - and Katie quietly swapped their shifts so that Rayna was always on an early finish when she had a gig. As much as she didn't want to lean on anyone too much, it was a comfort to have good people around her.

'I wish y'all could come out on tour with me,' Rayna told them. 'You could even out the testosterone levels. I've already heard more fart jokes than I ever thought was possible.'

'Honey, wait until you're on the bus with all those guys. You'll be wishin' you were only hearin' about farts.'

'Boys are awful,' Katie agreed, wiping her hands on the skirt of her pale blue uniform and picking up a fresh pot of coffee. 'Except Deacon,' she added, turning back as she headed towards a table of truckers to top them up. 'Deacon is anythin' but awful.'

'Well would you speak of the devil,' Annabelle said, looking up as the bell above the glass door pinged. Deacon took off a pair of shades and caught Rayna's eye, and Annabelle whistled under her breath. 'Damn is that devil handsome.'

'Hey Ray,' he greeted her, and she dropped the dishcloth in her hands onto the counter and hopped around it to hug him briefly.

'What are you doin' here? I thought you were openin' at the bar today?'

He was in one of his usual flannels, his jeans perfectly snug. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Annabelle smoothing the hair that was piled up on her head and straightening her skirt, and Katie beelining back towards them.

'Hi Deacon,' they both purred.

'Afternoon ladies,' he replied, dipping his head and giving them a dimpled smile, in full charm mode. Rayna snorted.

'I'm on my way over to the bar now,' he said, turning back to her. 'I just had to come see you first, I couldn't wait to show you this.' He hitched the guitar case from his shoulder and set it down on a nearby table, and she frowned.

'What is it?'

'Watty came to see me. He brought this.' He flipped the clasps and opened the unfamiliar case, lifting its contents out reverently. 'It's a Hummingbird, Ray, one of the best Gibsons around. I ain't ever even held one of these before. Isn't she beautiful?'

Rayna ran a finger over the smooth, red-tinged wood. She knew nothing about guitars but even she could tell it was something special, and the awe in Deacon's voice was undeniable. She watched him gaze down at the strings as he plucked a couple of notes; he shook his head at the sound it made and looked up at her again, thrilled to see her approval.

'Why did he bring it over?'

'He wanted to give it to me, but I couldn't accept it. This guitar is worth a fortune, it ain't somethin' I could ever take freely.'

'But it's so pretty,' Rayna said, imagining how good it would look in his hands on stage, what kind of magical sounds he could coax from it.

'That it is.'

'Are you sure you couldn't accept it? Watty has a whole lot of guitars. He'd be happy for someone with your talent to have this one.'

'I'm sure I couldn't,' he said, setting it back in the case carefully and closing the lid, but then he broke into a grin. 'So I agreed to borrow it instead. Just while we're out on the road, seein' as we're on a real professional tour. Ain't nothin' wrong with my old Gibson, I saved up for three years to buy that guitar and it's never failed me. But it is a little worse for wear, and we gotta look polished.'

'Want some cherry pie Deacon?' Annabelle asked, sidling up to them, her voice an octave lower than it usually was. She'd somehow managed to apply an extra coat of lipstick in the last couple of minutes. 'It's homemade, I baked it myself just this mornin'.'

'That is a delicious and very sweet offer,' Deacon said, 'but I really should pass I'm afraid. Rayna here has been feedin' me up so well on your wonderful pies I'm afraid I'm gonna have to go up a belt loop.'

He shouldered the guitar case as Annabelle and Katie giggled, offering reassurances that the contents of his belt were just fine to their eyes.

'Y'all are gonna blink your eyeballs right outta their sockets, you bat your lashes any harder,' Rayna said in amusement when he'd bid them goodbye and made for his truck.

'Can you blame us?' Katie asked, throwing him a last girlish wave as he pulled away. 'I don't know how you sleep at night with just a teensy little wall between you, Rayna. I'd sweat myself right outta bed.'

Annabelle slung a tea towel over her shoulder and picked up a plate of biscuits and fried chicken the chef slid through the hatch. 'It is a damn shame I got that lazy ass of a husband at home gatherin' dust. I would divorce him in a heartbeat for an hour with Deacon Claybourne's belt loops.'

###

'So what's the deal there? He her boyfriend?'

John Jenkins had met Watty when they were Saturday boys at Ernest Tubb record store downtown, polishing the glass frames on the wall and re-arranging the discs in alphabetical order. They'd earned their salt in the years following - these days they were two of the most respected names in all of Nashville. John ran a successful indie label on Music Row, feeding the occasional act to the bigwigs for a generous commission, cherry-picking the more intriguing ones for himself. Watty had scouted many an artist for him, and though she was still polishing her show ready to take it on the road, he wanted to put Rayna on his radar.

'Nope.' Watty shook his head. 'They're not together. I've known Rayna all her life, watched her start to realise she has a gift, learn how to use it. She just needed something, you know, she wasn't quite ready.'

'Or someone.'

Watty nodded. 'Bingo. I stumbled upon Deacon playin' over at the Bluebird last year. Knew the kid was exactly what Rayna needed right away. He's got some serious talent.'

John Jenkins sat back in his seat, still scrutinising them. 'Won't argue with you there. This girl's got somethin', no question, but he brings it out in her in a way I haven't seen in a long damn time.'

Up on the stage, Deacon leaned into Rayna, and she looked up at him with absolute trust, nodding at what he was saying and motioning with her hands. It seemed he agreed with whatever her point was, and a moment of understanding passed between them before Deacon turned back to the band and relayed tweaks to the number.

Watty smiled indulgently. He never claimed credit for any of the acts he discovered, merely made connections and saw what other people didn't. This particular connection, though, may just have been the best thing he'd had a hand in yet. He knew John was impressed; he was a chatty guy, someone who knew his stuff and was leaps ahead of most others in the business. His silence as he watched Rayna and Deacon said everything it needed to.

'I'll have Randy's manager hold me back some seats for the home show. I want to see how long it takes my wife to fall for these two.' He turned to Watty. 'Been a long while since we've had a bonafide Johnny and June on the circuit.'

He looked at them again, seemingly unable to help himself. Deacon's eyes were firmly fixed on Rayna's as they sang, their harmonies a perfect blend. 'You sure they're not together?'

'I'm sure,' Watty said, though he had his own thoughts on the matter.

John laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he rose from his seat. 'We'll see how long that lasts. I hope you know what you've done there, my friend.'

###

'I'm not used to being anybody's boss,' Rayna said, walking arm in arm with Deacon through the Soundcheck parking lot towards his rusty old truck. 'It's so funny that the guys are all looking to me to tell them what I want. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that.'

Deacon squeezed her arm tighter. 'You will, darlin'. And for the record, you're pretty good at bein' bossy.'

'I am not.' She nudged him with her hip. 'Get in that truck, I want BBQ.'

He laughed and headed around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. Rayna jumped in, dropping her canvas bag onto the floor. She felt giddy, lightheaded, the songs they'd spent all day going over swirling around her head. Deacon threw the truck into drive and backed out of the lot and she rolled the window down, the humid summer's night air hitting her face.

She could hardly wait until they set out on the road; this life was exactly what she'd dreamed of for so long, and it felt good. It felt really good.

'Is Vince gonna meet us there?' she asked as they slowed at a traffic light. They were on Broadway, and the music engulfed them from every direction.

'Nah, he's got a hot date, that well-endowed waitress from Hooters he met the other week. I swear, that guy has the worst taste in girls, he never changes.'

Rayna smirked. 'Worse than you?'

The sky was turning, fluorescent lights from the honky tonks just starting to take over for the night shift, and they highlighted Deacon's jawline. Even at twenty years old he was so manly, in many ways. And in others, Rayna had silently observed, he was a boy, vulnerable and raw as could be. She was sure he wouldn't want her to see that side of him though.

'I have bad taste in girls?' he asked, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow, but she saw a little something else not quite masked by his nonchalance.

'I wouldn't know.' Maybe it was the exhilaration of the day making her feel a little daring, but she couldn't help pushing him a little. 'You haven't been on a date since I moved in. Vince told me you've always been a ladies' man. What, am I crampin' your style?'

He laughed softly, looking out of the windscreen as the lights changed to green. 'Somethin' like that.'

Rayna watched him for a moment. 'Is it because I'm in your bed?'

When he turned towards her, the look in his eye said much more than she could understand, and it was gone before she could start to.

'No,' he said, a little gruffly. 'I don't want anyone else in my bed.'

They were silent until they pulled up outside the BBQ place. Rayna climbed out of the truck, always just short of being able to comfortably hop to the ground when she swung her feet out.

'It's because Vince has already been out with every girl in town isn't it?' she said, poking him in the arm to lighten the sudden mood. 'You were just too slow, cowboy.'

His face crinkled into a smile. 'That, and you keep stealin' my best shirts and usin' 'em for pyjamas so I'm all out of stuff to wear on any dates. Between the two of y'all I got no chance.'

###

'You've fluffed that same cushion three times, man. I don't think it's gonna make it any less beer-stained. Anyone would think you're expectin' the Queen of England round for dinner.'

'You've never met Rayna's sister,' Deacon said, shooing Vince off the couch. 'Would you take that trash out when you go to pick up some wine?'

'We're havin' wine? This chick not a beer drinker?'

'Word of advice Vinny. Don't even think about callin' Tandy a 'chick' when she gets here. She will end you.'

Vince let out a low whistle and grabbed his jacket. 'I want her already. Red or white?'

'Get a couple of bottles of red, a decent one.'

'How do I know if it's decent?'

Deacon frowned, picking up a detergent spray from the counter that half-heartedly separated the kitchen and living room. 'I don't know, I guess anythin' more than twenty bucks has gotta be drinkable, right? Grab some cash out of my wallet, it's on the coffee table.'

Vince gave him a salute and pulled out a couple of notes. 'We need anythin' else?'

'Maybe some of those fancy olives or somethin',' Deacon said, his head in the cupboard under the sink where he was rummaging for a clean dishcloth. 'Ask the guy at the deli what goes with wine. Not sure you and me are qualified for that kinda decision.'

'You think?' Vince plucked an empty beer bottle Deacon had missed from behind a pot plant and slam-dunked it into his trashbag. The plant was Rayna's doing, as was the photo of the three of them that hung above it.

'Hey buddy, one more thing,' Deacon called.

'You want me to change my t-shirt.'

'Yup.'

Vince sighed, looking down at the outline of a busty girl straddling a motorbike. 'Least I won't spill wine on Marilyn.'

/

'Are you gonna come out and see a show Tandy?' Deacon asked, spooning spaghetti bolognese onto Rayna's sister's plate. Rayna caught his eye and gave him a grateful half-smile, and he felt a familiar warmth fill his chest.

'I certainly am,' Tandy replied, nodding a thanks at him when he set down the serving bowl. 'I'm hoping to make it up to Louisville.'

He hadn't had a clue what a serving bowl even was until Rayna had educated him, and he was still baffled as to why there needed to be a step between cooking and putting it on your plate, but he'd take any tip he could to make Tandy look at him with slightly less disdain.

'I hear the crowds are great over there,' Rayna said, grating parmesan over her food. Deacon had never had fresh parmesan before, he'd always bought the kind that came out of a packet. He watched her, hoping he wouldn't get it all over the table when she passed it to him. She must have sensed his apprehension, and she held the grater towards his plate, meeting his eyes and sprinkling a neat little pile on top of his sauce for him.

'I'm sure they will be,' Tandy said. 'It seems Randy Travis has quite the following.'

'He does,' Rayna nodded enthusiastically, clearly a little surprised that her sister would have paid enough attention to know so. 'I still can't believe we get to tour with him. How crazy it that?' Her face lit up, and Deacon only realised he was staring at her when Vince kicked him under the table.

'It's certainly going to be quite the experience.' Tandy twirled spaghetti around her fork, lifting it to her mouth without spilling a drop. 'Are you feeling prepared?'

Deacon sipped his wine. Twenty dollars bought an expensive bottle of vinegar, it turned out. 'I think we are. We've been rehearsing every minute we can, the set is soundin' pretty great.' He looked at Rayna and she nodded in agreement.

'You should hear how good everyone sounds together Tandy, it's so wonderful. I just want to sing every minute of every day.'

Her sister smiled at her, and her face softened. She certainly loved Rayna dearly. 'You always have,' she said.

'I can't wait for you to meet the guys in the band. They're so great. We're gonna have so much fun out on the road.'

'Not too much fun,' Tandy said, the schoolteacher tone back. She fixed her eyes on Deacon, and he heard her warning loud and clear. He cleared his throat and tried as hard as he could not to squirm in his chair.

Vince, oblivious, loudly slurped in a mouthful of spaghetti and declared, before he'd properly swallowed it, 'Work hard, play harder, that's what they say.'

The swivel of Tandy's head in his direction was slow and sharp as a kitchen knife. Vince gulped, his fork faltering on the way back to his plate.

'Anyone for water?' Rayna asked, hiding a smile.

'We're sure gonna be workin' hard, no two ways about that,' Deacon threw in hurriedly. 'We're on the whole first leg of the tour, forty-two dates all in, countin' a handful of matinees.'

'And all those places we get to see, Tandy - I haven't been to even half of them!'

Rayna crossed her legs and brushed Deacon's ankle with her foot unintentionally. She let it rest there and his attention on the conversation faltered, whatever Vince was waffling about going completely over his head. She'd dressed in an outfit he'd never seen before, a demure black dress that fell just above her knees, casual enough for dinner at home but smarter than the cut-offs or leggings she usually threw on after work. She'd kicked her shoes off under the table though, he realised, and her bare foot was warm against the skin between his boot and the hem of his jeans.

'Is this a Rioja?' Tandy asked, and he tuned back in before she read his mind and disposed of his balls with the cheesegrater. She swirled the wine around her glass and sniffed at it, swallowing a trial sip.

Deacon nodded, watching her reaction with apprehension. 'It's er, an '87 reserve,' he said, glancing surreptitiously down at the label. When she hummed in approval and swivelled the bottle around to look at it more closely, he shot Vince a discreet thumbs up in relief.

'Not bad,' she conceded, taking a bigger mouthful.

'We do enjoy a good reserve from time to time,' Vince said, sampling his own glass. His face changed as he tasted it, and for a second Deacon thought he was going to spit it back out.

'I'm sure you do,' Tandy replied, unable to hide the purse of her lips as she turned to look at Vince, taking in the sauce splatters on the blue Grandad shirt he'd changed into. She winced ever so slightly and covered it with a polite, if forced, smile. 'This spaghetti is lovely, Deacon. I didn't know you were a whizz in the kitchen.'

'Oh I'm far from it, but my mama was quite the expert at comfort food when I was growin' up. What she doesn't know how to cook ain't worth eatin'. I picked up a few recipes from her, pretty basic ones but they do the trick.'

'Are your parents from around here?' Tandy asked conversationally, and Rayna stood quickly.

'More sauce?' she offered, dolloping a spoonful on each of their plates without waiting for their answers. 'It really is great, Deacon.'

Tandy took the hint and let the question pass unanswered. 'I'm sure however simple your cooking skills you're a vast improvement on my sister. She won't make anyone a good wife in the kitchen department, no doubt there.'

'You're one to talk,' Rayna said. 'Tandy once tried to bake cookies for homeroom and gave everyone food poisoning. The whole class had to stay home for two days. Billy Shroeder puked so hard he burst the capillaries in his eyes and they were red for a month. He looked like a vampire.'

Deacon chuckled, enjoying watching Rayna laugh with her sister. She'd spoken, sometimes sadly, of their past closeness, but there had been so many tensions between them since their father had told Rayna to leave the family house. It was no secret that Tandy didn't agree with her life choices, but Deacon could see she was doing the best she could to be supportive anyway.

'You know, Tandy,' Vince said, rotating his wine glass in the way he'd seen her do, 'I bake a mean dessert.' They all looked at him, Rayna and Deacon bracing themselves.

'Is that so?' Tandy deadpanned.

'It sure is. I could show you sometime, if you like.' He leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back of hers. 'Always happy to help a lady ice her cookies.'

###

'I can't believe we leave tomorrow already. This couple of weeks has felt like five minutes.'

Rayna stretched her legs out onto the coffee table, joining Deacon's and Vince's. She slid a cushion underneath them, flinging herself back into an almost-horizontal position and making herself comfortable. Deacon took advantage of the spare half of the cushion, crossing his feet at the ankles and propping them on it.

'The bus is so much better than I was expectin' for our first tour,' he said. 'I can't wait to get on it and get goin' on this thing.'

Watty had had it park up a day early at Soundcheck so they could see their home for the next couple of months. It was pretty basic, definitely lived in, but it had everything they needed and plenty of room for the five of them. He'd set them up with a manager of sorts, a guy called Bucky who was a few years older than them, with enough experience to know what he was doing but in need of a break himself. He'd be joining for some of the bigger dates, staying on the bus occasionally.

'You packed all your girl stuff yet?' Vince asked, leaning over Deacon to look at Rayna.

'I packed a week ago Vince. Have you thrown a spare pair of boxers and a bottle opener in a bag or are you not quite there yet?'

'I'm almost done, sugar,' he said, feigning indignation. He sat back. 'Just gotta remember the boxers. You got any clean ones I can borrow Deac?'

'You gotta watch him, Ray. He'll start tryin' to wear yours when he runs out of mine. Trust me.'

The opening credits of Flashdance started up in the video recorder, and they settled in for a night of calm before the chaos started. Barely halfway through, Deacon felt Rayna's head fall against his shoulder. He peered down at her to see her eyes closed, her mouth parted a little.

'Would you look at that,' he laughed quietly, nudging Vince. 'She makes us watch a chick flick and falls asleep on us.'

'This is why you never let a girl choose the movie.'

'Lesson learned. You'd think I'd seen enough Molly Ringwald to have figured that out sooner.'

'You wanna turn it off?'

Deacon looked at the screen. 'No,' he admitted, 'I kinda wanna see the dancin' part.'

Vince snickered. 'I won't tell Rayna you said that. Your feminine side stays between you and me, sweetheart.'

They tipped their whiskey glasses at each other, avoiding a clink so they wouldn't wake Rayna. Deacon watched the actors on the screen, half following the story, half revelling in the feel of Rayna leaning against him. He shifted slightly so he could tuck her under his arm, and she burrowed into him, her hand resting on his chest. When he turned back to the TV, Vince was watching him silently.

'What?' he asked, a little defensive.

'You need to be careful there.'

'The hell you talkin' about, be careful?'

There was no teasing edge to Vince's tone, no glimmer of a joke in his eye. He looked at Deacon squarely. 'This girl is different from us,' he said in a low voice. 'You saw her sister - she comes from a whole other world. And you and me don't belong in it. She ain't ever gonna be yours, Deac.'

Rayna sighed lightly, and curled a little more into Deacon, her head in the crook of his neck. He avoided Vince's gaze, trying not to think about how good her hair smelled so close to his face. He didn't know what to say to that - it was true, all of it, and he hated that he was all too aware of it. Somehow the words being said out loud made them heavy, real.

'That said,' Vince added, letting the tension evaporate as thought it had never been there, 'I wouldn't mind a pop at Tandy. She is a fine woman. I could handle bein' her piece of rough.'

Deacon rolled his eyes. 'You're unbelievable.'

'So the ladies tell me. I think she likes me, I felt a spark.'

'I'm surprised you didn't feel her hand across your damn face.'

Vince laced his fingers and stretched them above his head, cracking his knuckles. 'I wish. I'd have dined out on that for weeks.' He got up from the couch and headed for the bathroom. 'Enjoy your dance movie, I gotta take a leak. And find some of your boxers to pack.'