October 22nd, 1988

Smoke filled the bar, the haze surrounding everything, the air thick despite the autumn chill outside. The crowd was restless, mostly male, and rowdy. Rayna was in the middle of her set, her denim skirt creeping suggestively up her thighs as she shimmied across the stage finishing the last bars of one of her most upbeat songs. Her tank top was clinging to her skin, her ample cleavage slick with sweat.

Rayna looked out into the crowd, watching as they swayed along to the music, bottles of beer and mixed drinks in their hands, their eyes focused directly on her. Her eyes fell on Tandy and Sam, both nursing martinis at the bar, both sticking out like sore thumbs but, Rayna noticed, smiling nonetheless.

Deacon was behind her on stage, his eyes on her and nowhere else. Smiling, she walked over to him and slung her back against his as they both leaned into the microphone to sing the last line of the song. When the crowd erupted in applause, Rayna stepped forward, her chest heaving, slightly breathless from the performance.

Rayna leaned down and grabbed her bottle of water and twisted the cap off. She brought the microphone to her mouth.

As the whooping and applause continued, Rayna smiled, still breathing hard, "Thank y'all so much, I sure do love a rowdy crowd!" Taking a sip of water, she put the cap back on and set it down on the front of the stage, "This next one we wrote a few weeks ago, tonight is our first time trying it out. It's called…"

Just then, a booming voice from the crowd shouted, interrupting her, "Show me your boobs!" His voice carried through the crowd, and a short-lived hushed silence fell over the room. The man, a heavyset fellow in his mid-thirties with long hair and a cowboy hat laughed; his friends surrounding him followed suit. At their outburst, several other drunk men in the crowd began echoing the sentiment with variations of their own, some expressly cruder with harsher language.

Sam and Tandy were frozen at the bar, and Watty was standing at a high top watching the scene intently. His look vacillated between annoyance and anger, but his curiosity was piqued by the impending exchange. He knew without a doubt that Rayna was tough, and not just for seventeen, but she'd never quite been on the receiving end of these sorts of sexualized taunts—how she handled it in this moment, he knew, would be telling. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her on stage, silently willing her to keep her level head.

For his part, Deacon felt his blood run hot as he looked into the crowd, his eyes staring daggers at the man who started it all before his eyes began darting around the crowd at the various men joining in. Deacon slung his guitar to the side and started to step forward on the stage ready to grab a microphone or jump down and fight, but Rayna's soft hand on his wrist stopped his progress.

Smiling sweetly, Rayna leaned into the microphone, "Sorry, y'all, but we retired that one last year." She made direct eye contact with the heavyset man who was still staring at her lasciviously. Her face flushed, but she didn't miss a beat, "So this one will just have to do."

A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd, and the man who made the original comment guffawed loudly and then raised his beer up in the air in a mock toast to Rayna, bringing his other hand up in a little salute.

As the band started up behind them, Deacon stared at Rayna in awe, a slow smile spreading across his face as he started the lead-in, his anger forgotten and replaced with something else; a warm feeling crept into his bones as he began playing, a small smile remained on his face, and he never took his eyes from Rayna.

When their set was over, a breathless Deacon grabbed Rayna's hand and led her off the stage and out the back door situated behind the stage, the cool air rushing over their bodies as they slipped into the night. Rayna was laughing as Deacon spun her around, his arms sliding around her waist, his fingers splaying over her lower back.

"You were incredible, Ray," Deacon whispered, his mouth against hers as he pressed her up against the red brick wall behind the bar.

Rayna smiled, "You were incredible too, Deacon," She said, laughing as his hands skated up her sides to tangle themselves in her hair.

"The way you handled those assholes," He shook his head, still in slight disbelief at the way she carried herself in the bar, "You," He whispered, "Are somethin' else," He pressed his mouth against hers again, this time sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

Rayna walked her hands up his back and slid her fingers into his hair, pulling lightly on it. She hummed against his mouth and felt the heat spread throughout her body as he kissed her. She was becoming intimately familiar with the way desire coursed through her body when Deacon kissed her; wanting him in a way she had previously been unfamiliar with was rapidly becoming second nature to her.

As they kissed hungrily, the cool brick pressing into her back, Rayna marveled at the feel of Deacon's mouth against hers—a month ago she had hardly been kissed, and now she swirled her tongue around his like she'd been doing it for years. In truth, it felt like she had.

She pressed her body into Deacon's as his hand made its way down to her hip, his thumb pressing into the bone, caressing her there the way he did the first time they'd ever kissed a month ago. He bit her lip gently as he slid his hand up her stomach and cupped her breast through her shirt, running his thumb across her already-erect nipple. Rayna sighed into his mouth, pressing herself further into his hand.

Two weeks ago, they'd been making out after rehearsal and Deacon had tentatively brushed his hand across her breast—it had almost felt accidental when he'd done it. At his touch, Rayna had gasped, then fervently nodded when he pulled back to look at her. He'd smiled, leaned into her, and moved to cup her fully, unable to contain the groan that escaped from him into her mouth at the weight of her full breast in his hands.

For Rayna, Deacon's hand on her breast was nothing short of a revelation, and she'd kissed him passionately, her hands digging into his back as he moved his other hand up to cup her other breast. She'd gasped again and murmured her approval, her head nodding slightly as her tongue explored his mouth. She'd been felt up once before at a party Tandy dragged her to, but the experience had stirred nothing in her.

Deacon's hands on her, even through her shirt and a bra felt electric, like every nerve in her body was at attention, like every nerve she had was learning what it was to be set on fire.

Behind the bar now, Deacon kissed her, his hand caressing her breast through her shirt, his thumbnail playing with the peak of her nipple. Rayna pressed her lower half against him, not understanding precisely what she needed but still knowing very well that she needed something. Reading her movement, Deacon dropped his hand to the waistband of her jean skirt, his fingers slipping slowly inside the fabric; he ran the pads of his fingers along the bare flesh of her lower abdomen. Rayna inhaled sharply and Deacon pulled back to look at her, his eyes searching her face. His eyebrows raised in silent question as his fingers gently tickled her flesh. Rayna bit her lip and nodded, bringing her lips back to his and sweeping her tongue inside his mouth.

Deacon's hand crept lower, his fingers trailing over her flesh as he worked his way farther and farther down. He moved slowly, the butterflies in his stomach seemingly having found their way to his hands, which were shaking, anticipation and nerves making his hand quiver; his inner voice would have laughed at him: Deacon Claybourne nervous to touch a woman, but no thoughts were in his head except for the one where he was about to touch Rayna. His hand had just reached the top of her panties, sliding over the outside, when they heard a throat clearing behind them. Deacon froze, then quickly pulled his hand from her skirt.

Turning, being very careful to keep his lower half hidden in the shadows, he saw Tandy and Sam standing there, Tandy's hands on her hips, a very deep crease in her brow.

An image of Lamar interrupting them in a similar, though admittedly much more innocent state flashed through his mind, "Wow," Deacon breathed, so only Rayna could hear him, "Bad timing runs in your family," He shook his head and stepped away from Rayna. When he looked down at her, her eyes were closed, and her lips were still puckered. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and his breath left him—it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

"Watty wants to see you." Tandy addressed Rayna, but she didn't take her eyes from Deacon.

Rayna's eyes opened and she laughed, the color rising in her cheeks. She tucked her hair behind her ears and stepped away from Deacon, smiling shyly at him. She didn't make eye contact with Tandy or Sam as she walked past them, heading back into the bar. Rayna didn't notice that only Sam, giving a meaningful look to Tandy that seemed to say be nice and a sympathetic look that seemed to say I'm sorry to Deacon, followed her.

When Sam and Rayna were back inside, Tandy stepped forward.

Deacon jammed a hand into his pocket, trying to hold himself down. He turned to face Tandy, and leaned up against the wall. When he saw the look on Tandy's face, he didn't need his hand in his pocket anymore.

"What are you doing with my sister?" She asked, her voice betraying her obvious ire.

Deacon bit back a chuckle—like father, like one daughter, apparently. "I'm, uh," He ran his fingers through his hair, shrugging; once again, he didn't know how to answer, "Playing guitar for her." And falling in…

Tandy let out a huff of air, "Oh, really?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow at him, "That's funny. Because, from where I was standing, I didn't see much guitar playing going on. In fact, from where I was, it looked like you were rounding second and getting ready to slide into third."

Deacon's eyes widened and he glanced away, focusing his gaze on a green dumpster up against the wall instead. "I…" He started, not sure what to say. Tandy had enough to say for the both of them.

Tandy sighed, "She's not like your other girls, Deacon," Tandy said, her voice suddenly serious as she spoke through gritted teeth.

Deacon looked at Tandy then, suddenly desperate to impress the fact that he absolutely knew that upon her, "I know that." He said, nodding once, and swallowing hard around the emotion in his throat; he didn't know which would be worse, at this point, letting Tandy know how much he cared for her sister or not letting her know, "Believe me, I know that." He dropped his gaze to the floor, "She's different," He nodded again, his voice suddenly so low Tandy had to lean forward to hear it, "She makes me different."

Tandy snapped her head back in shock, her face growing slightly dark. She scoffed lightly, but her voice was suddenly tender, "Well, we'll see about that." She spun on her heel and walked towards the door of the bar, "Watty wanted to see you, too," She opened the door for him. When he walked through it, she put her hand on his chest and stared at him, "If you hurt her, Deacon Claybourne," She said, her tone icy, "I swear I'll kill you myself." She tilted her head to the side, "Capisci?"

Deacon smiled at Tandy, a genuine smile; he was glad that Rayna had someone to look out for her. "I won't." He said, nodding.

Considering him with narrowed eyes, Tandy removed her hand from his chest and let him go through the door. Shaking her head, she followed him, letting the door close behind her with a slam.

. . .

Tandy and Sam had gone home; as Rayna and Tandy had hugged goodbye, Tandy had whispered a warning in Rayna's ear. Rayna laughed, then rolled her eyes as she leaned over to give Sam a hug.

Now, Rayna sat in the vinyl booth next to Deacon, the smoke from the bar still billowing around them. Across from them sat Chad, his head swiveling this way and that following leggy blondes and brunettes as they made their way across the bar.

"You," Chad said, leaning forward and pointing a long bony finger at Rayna, "Know how to handle yourself."

Rayna shook her head and laughed; since they'd been seated, several people had come up to their table to compliment them on their set, and more than a few men had complimented Rayna's ability to deal with the raunchy comments thrown her way in the middle of it.

"Thanks," Rayna said, smiling shyly and sipping on her Coke.

"Speaking of," Chad said, though they weren't really speaking of. He leaned in further across the table, "What are you doing for Halloween, Rayna?" He asked, smiling.

Rayna shook her head, "Nothing, really."

"We," Chad said, motioning between himself and Deacon.

"He," Deacon said, leaning forward to emphasize the word, his finger jutting out and pointing at Chad.

"We," Chad said, grinning, and Deacon rolled his eyes, "Are having a Halloween party. On Halloween. You," Chad pointed at her, "Should come."

Rayna smiled, "Oh…" She hadn't been to a party in a very long time; she'd only been to a few ever, in fact, and truthfully, she hadn't worked out exactly whether she enjoyed them or not.

Deacon shook his head, "You don't have to come." At her slightly crestfallen face, Deacon rushed on, realizing his mistake, "I mean… I could come over to Watty's to hand out candy with you, if you want, or we could go do something else, see a movie… We do not have to go to this party." Deacon said, turning to stare at Chad.

"Oh, come on! This party is going to be so rad!" Chad said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You can't miss it, man." Chad grinned, "Come on, I will dress up as a member of Whitesnake if you come."

"That," Deacon laughed, "Would be a tempting offer. If," He said, "You didn't already do that every single day."

Rayna laughed, "I'll come." She said. When Deacon looked at her, she smiled.

"You sure?" Deacon asked, reaching his hand over to her knee.

Rayna could feel the heat from his hand even through her jeans; she nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Just then, a man came up to their table. Rayna instantly recognized him as the man who'd been talking to Watty after one of their shows back in August. He was a tall, thin man with sandy blond hair—he wasn't wearing a suit this time, just jeans and a black button down shirt. He leaned slightly over their table, resting one hand on the edge.

"Ms. Jaymes," He said, reaching across Deacon to shake her hand, "Mr. Claybourne," He offered his hand to Deacon, "I'm David Coverdale."

Without meaning to, Deacon's eyes shot to Chad. Chad's eyes widened, and Deacon couldn't help the smile that came across his face.

David chuckled, "Obviously not that David Coverdale," He looked at Chad briefly, then back to Rayna and Deacon, "I'm head of A&R at a very small—very, very small, actually—label just getting started on music row, and I just have to tell you what a brilliant show you put on tonight, Ms. Jaymes." He smiled warmly at her, "You, too, Mr. Claybourne."

Rayna smiled, her eyes wide, "Thank you," She turned to Deacon, who echoed the sentiment.

"Anyway," He said, nodding a bit, "I just wanted to introduce myself. I've told Watty that I'll definitely be in touch." He turned and quickly walked away, heading straight for the exit despite the fact that another band was still playing on stage.

When he was gone, Rayna turned to look at Deacon, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. "Did that just happen?" She asked, smiling.

Deacon nodded, "It did." He smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Chad smiled, "Do you know what that means?"

Deacon grinned, "You might get your spot in Whitesnake after all?"

Rayna leaned her head against Deacon's shoulder and yawned, the day finally catching up with her. David Coverdale's words ran through her head on repeat; despite the long day, her tired body, and the way the smoke felt like it corroded her eyes, Rayna, with her head on Deacon's shoulder and his hand drawing concentric circles on her knee, had never before felt more awake.