A/N: So I'm a bit of a Nashville late bloomer - only discovered it in the last couple of years, but I was swept up in that incredible Rayna/Deacon chemistry and couldn't help but write this fluffy (and whatever else this is) piece with them (oh and there's a little bit of Liam thrown in for good measure).

Honestly, there's not much of a story to this, it's just a little imagining of that damn sizzle after that elevator kiss in Season 1, and my version of how Rayna and Deacon might have ended up together (so I've borrowed bits from the show but haven't followed the events exactly).

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with these amazing characters or Nashville.

Chapter 1: After that elevator incident:

Rayna Jaymes was normally an early riser. But, thanks to the hotel's black out curtains and a fitful night's sleep – or lack of – she was still dozing at 10am. Her traitor of a subconscious mind had been replaying last night's events in the elevator again and again, and elaborating on them very explicitly. Moaning softly, she let dream-Deacon explore her longing body, exquisite sensations emanating from her core.

A sudden ringing woke her, her eyes sprang open and she sat bolt upright, drawing a hand over her face, hard.

"Oh my Lord." she breathed, taking a minute to crash back to reality as the remnants of her fantasy drifted away. Rayna hadn't been able to get Deacon off her mind since that kiss, her body hadn't stopped tingling, and her lips were still raw from his stubble.

"Ok, ok!" she shouted at her persistent phone, rubbing at her forehead again, sucking in a deep breath before answering.

"Hey Buck, morning."

"Rayna, good morning! I'm just calling coz I haven't seen you yet today, and I wanted to make sure you remembered the photoshoot. Hair and makeup need you at 10:30, yeah?"

Rayna shoved her bedhair back from her face. Oh God, the photoshoot!

"Uh, yeah, yeah, Buck – of course, I'm just on my way down now! See you soon." She dove towards the bathroom for a cold shower, hoping to erase all memory of her dreams from last night, and do her best to wash all traces of Deacon from her skin before she had to face him again that morning.

Rushing out of her hotel room, Rayna couldn't believe the timing of this photoshoot. A magazine was doing a feature on '20 years of Rayna Jaymes' to mark the anniversary of her very first album release. So now she had to head down to have pictures taken with her band – including Deacon, even though she'd fired him a couple of weeks before.

"And of course he chooses the night before an already awkward photoshoot to accost me in this damn lift!" she muttered to herself, waiting for the elevator doors to close. As they did, she had a visceral flashback to the last time she'd been in it - pressed up against the wall, Deacon's hands raking down her body... she slapped at her cheeks to try and dispel the memory.

"Oh Lord, get a hold of yourself!"

What was going on with her? She'd been working with Deacon platonically for the past 14 years, and she'd never been twisted into such a knot over him before. It had been one kiss! And given their relationship history, it was hardly the most sordid memory she had of him. But something about that damned kiss had opened a floodgate that had been tightly sealed for over a decade, and she felt powerless to stop the deluge of emotion that was pouring through. If only she'd been able to speak to him last night. She'd typed out a text to him, asking him to come and 'talk', but hadn't quite been able to bring herself to send it. And then Bucky had appeared at her door asking her to do a last minute fact-check for the feature. By the time they'd finished that and went over some other business, it was late, and she'd lost her nerve. And now here she was, about to face him again, the butterflies of anticipation fluttering up a hurricane in her stomach.

She tried to shake the feeling off. "We are professionals!" she schooled herself. But it sure didn't feel like that right now when 11 years of sexual memories were suddenly replaying in vivid technicolour in her head.

Flying into hair and makeup, Rayna chatted overenthusiastically to the team, fueling the conversation so there'd never be a gap big enough for her to start musing over Deacon. As she headed into the shoot, she tried her best to ignore the very persistent butterflies in her stomach that keep rising like a storm every time she thought of seeing him again. She felt like a giddy school girl - and for what?! They'd spent more time with each other than not over the past years, what was the big deal now?

But she knew.

A little piece of the staunch barrier around her heart had been torn down, and she was afraid to look at the bright trickle of truth that was steadily pouring through. He had awoken something in her that she thought had been well and truly buried for a long time, something she thought she wouldn't have to face again. But it seemed like one kiss from damned Deacon Claybourne was all it took to dissolve her into a swooning mess. Rayna dragged in a deep breath and tried to get a grip on her emotions.

"It's the same Deacon as always. We are just friends. I am a professional. And this is just business as usual this morning." she reminded herself firmly as she headed to greet the photographer.

"Heya, Gruff!" she greeted Marty 'Gruff' Pullman, confidently pulling him into a friendly embrace.

"If it ain't the queen herself!" The photographer enveloped her in a bear hug. "How long's it been?! How are those beautiful girls of yours?"

Rayna pulled back to arm's length and surveyed the big man that she'd worked with several times in the past, also quickly sneaking a glance around the room – no Deacon to be seen yet, to her relief.

"Aw, you know, they're great, growing up so darned fast! And dare I ask how the triplets are?"

Gruff gave an overexaggerated groan and threw his meaty arms in the air. "Aging me like nothin' else! Those kids gonna send me to an early grave, I tell ya, but y'know, lucky they so damn cute - drive me crazy and melt my heart all in one go!"

Rayna laughed with him, grateful for the ease of working with old friends. She thought back to when she'd first met Gruff. Originally, she'd assumed that the big man's nickname had come from his size, deep voice, and no-nonsense manner. It wasn't until much later she'd discovered that the nickname had come from a time when he'd had a giant pimple on his nose that had refused to recede for weeks, and one of his mates had donned him the Gruffalo, like his son's favourite storybook character with the poisonous wart on the end of his nose. Somehow that name had just stuck, year after year, much to Gruff's chagrin. Rayna stifled a grin at the thought of a pimple dictating your professional identity.

"Right!" Gruff's demeanour morphed into business mode, and Rayna mirrored his professionalism. "So, what I'm thinking is some casual shots of you and the whole band to begin with, you and Deac at the fore, then round off with some of just you two, and then a couple on your own to wrap. Yup?"

Rayna shivered at the mention of 'just you two', and her gut dropped in apprehension. She sucked on her bottom lip, and gave a hesitant intake of breath. "Well, Gruff, Deacon isn't in my band anymore, so I don't know if we really need to have any shots that are just focusing on the two of us, y'know?"

The photographer gave her a level stare. "Honey, this piece is about '20 years of Rayna Jaymes' and correct me if I'm wrong, but that man has been working alongside you for that entire time, bar the last 5 minutes where God-knows-what is going on with y'all. And Deacon is half of at least half of the beautiful music that has given you your career. So, yeah, we sure will be getting some shots that are just the two of you."

Rayna pursed her lips. Gruff was not one to beat around the bush. "Yeah, but I don't want to make the other band guys feel like they are any less important, you know, so maybe just some casual shots of all of us-"

Gruff cut her off. "Ray, y'know that a lot of your fans love you primarily for your music. But there is a huge subset who are all in it for the…" he waved a hand in the air, searching for the right word. "- story. Suckers for a bit of romance and heartbreak. It's a big selling point, and I gotta capitalise on it. So - I'm gonna need some of that famous Jaymes-Claybourne sizzle. I hope you can put whatever is going on with you guys aside for now, and just get back to a little of -" he tapped a meaty fist over his heart.

"Gruff, there is nothin' going on with us, we're fine. I don't know where you woulda-"

He cut her off again. "You fired him, right?"

"Well…" she shrugged.

"Yep, she sure did." Deacon's head popped up suddenly, from next to a nearby speaker. "Mornin, Ray." he drawled with a smirk that let her know he'd heard everything.

Rayna's heart dropped to her feet with serious g-force.

"You're early." she muttered in surprise.

Deacon gave a pleasant shrug. He had, in fact, been uncharacteristically early that morning, hoping to catch Rayna on her own to clear the air, but of course this had to be the one morning that she had been uncharacteristically late. He'd been on his knees uncasing his guitar not far from where Gruff was standing, when Rayna had finally whirled in. Deacon's stomach had clenched with primal desire when he'd heard her voice this morning, his mind tripping back to their lustful kiss in the elevator, and how good it had felt to finally let his heart take priority over his head for the first time in more than a decade, and the resulting fire in his belly was a welcome relief to years of repression.

Was it the right move to make? He wasn't sure, but he was sure that she had returned that kiss with some serious passion of her own. Although, he had also been sure she would contact him last night – but nothing. And now she was trying to worm out of having to be in close proximity with him. That didn't seem like the actions of someone who was thrilled that her ex-boyfriend had just made a move on her. The more Deacon thought about it in the cold light of day, the more he started to doubt himself, and worry that he might have made a move that would push her further away from him.

But then he locked eyes with her across the speaker, and could almost sense a little smoulder in the air between them, and he raised a curious brow. Then, just before she broke eye contact and moved away to talk to someone else, her right shoulder hitched a little, and she rolled her head back and sideways slightly to meet it, lips parting, a breath catching in her throat, and both of Deacon's brows shot up in surprise.

Her mannerism was brief, and unremarkable to the untrained eye, but Deacon considered himself to be very well trained in the art of Rayna Jaymes. He recognised this specific little idiosyncrasy from a game the two of them used to play all those years ago… when they were on tour, or out in public, or anywhere where they were supposed to behave, he'd tease and torment her with secret caresses, dirty whispers, and stolen kisses. As their game progressed, she'd hitch her shoulder like that when she was turned on as hell but trying to maintain her composure and steel herself against his efforts, playing the good girl when she was, in fact, melting inside.

Rayna ended up having to always carry a couple of spare pairs of panties in her handbag as Deacon became incredibly adept at their game, and (to Rayna's extreme irritation) managed to stay as cool and composed as ever while devilishly showcasing his skill. When they were finally alone, she'd pull the damp underwear out of her handbag and throw it at him, and he always considered it a very good day if there were more than 2 pairs. She'd curse him and tell him it was unprofessional, and in the same breath would beg and plead him to take her right then and there, unable to wait a single second longer. He knew that she loved it: loved the secrecy, the thrill, the absolute explosive sex it always led to when they were alone. And he loved that he had awoken that side of her.

He had only seen a version of that shoulder-hitch once in the last 14 years. And that one wasn't a good memory. He had just gotten out of rehab and heard that she'd married another man. He was feeling invincible, like he normally did for a little while after rehab - until the temptation started to wear him down again - and he was so sure of the love between them that as he was going to see her for the first time, he was certain he'd win her back. Only feeling a little shaken when he arrived at her new house, a big mansion in Belle Meade, he reminded himself it was the same old Rayna; his Rayna that he knew inside out. He was wearing a new shirt, freshly shaven, all cleaned up, and swaggered in to greet her with his confident drawl, "Hey, Ray baby." turning his Claybourne charm up to full wattage. She'd stared at him from behind the kitchen counter, and hitched her shoulder, preparing herself against him as he neared, but this time there was something different in her eyes, something muted and sad. In that moment, his confidence wavered, but he stood tall, still believing he could win her back. But then she emerged from behind the counter and for the first time he spotted her swollen pregnant belly. All his hopes fell away, disintegrating like ashes in the flames, and with his heart shattering to pieces, he realised that this time was different. They'd hugged and they'd cried, but she shakily managed to keep him at arm's length, and when they parted ways, they both knew that Deacon had well and truly lost the game this time. He'd lost her. And, like a good loser, he'd respectfully toed the line of friendship, and never attempted to charm her again.

Until now.

Deacon was getting a little sick of being the loser, a little sick of all these damn lines.

It was time to have a little fun.