Author's Note: This one came together much more quickly, so that probably means it's terrible, but it refused to leave me alone so I decided to jot it down anyway. This is set sometime in the early 90s, right as Rayna would have been hitting it big, because it's fun thinking that even the greatest ones get the jitters. Thanks for reading!
The arena is so loud she can barely hear herself think. Lingering just offstage, Rayna paces back and forth, arms wrapped tight around herself. Bucky had told her the audience would be bigger than she'd ever performed in front of before, but nothing had prepared her for this.
"Hey, I was wonderin' where you were. Are you—" Deacon stops, knowing the panicked look on her face anywhere. He darts his eyes around, checking for onlookers, before pulling her towards an empty corridor. "Breathe, okay? You got nothing to be scared of."
"Are you kidding? You saw how many people are out there. It is a sold out show. What if I forget the words? What if I trip? People have cameras, Deacon. What if I—" Rayna pauses, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She fidgets in place as tears cloud her vision. "I'm just worried I'll mess up."
Deacon fights the urge to laugh. In the years they've played music together, he's seen Rayna experience all sorts of emotions—scared, happy, sad, angry—and pretty much everything in between. It isn't often he sees the nervous side of her, but he's grateful that she lets him in to see it this time. "No, you won't. And if you start feeling like you might, you just keep singin'. Just look over at me, and I'll help you through it."
She smiles as she feels him take hold of her hand. "You're pretty wonderful sometimes, Deacon Claybourne. Have I told you that lately?"
Deacon shrugs, waiting for a few stagehands to walk by before pulling her close. "You might've, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again."
Rayna loops her arms around his neck and grins. "I guess it's worth repeating sometimes."
He kisses her, lingering for longer than he probably should while there are still people milling about. It's not exactly a secret to any of them that they're a couple, but there's still a bit of caution about it all. Pulling back, he places a final kiss against her lips before gesturing towards the direction they came from. "You'll do great out there, you hear?"
"I do. It sounds like I should probably get ready," she says, looping her arm around his waist as they start walking back towards the side of the stage.
The sounds of the opening act wrapping up their set are heard. In a few minutes the band will walk out on stage, and then she'll go out, and she'll plaster on a smile even if her insides feel like butterflies trapped within a cage. In the end, it'll be a show talked about for years among the musicians and crew on the tour, one of the best yet they'll all say.
Years from now she'll find herself at the side of another stage, looking back on this moment with Deacon's hand pressed firmly against the small of her back as they watch the opening act waving goodbye to the crowd, and she'll be thankful for the amount of comfort he's able to provide with just a simple touch. She doesn't yet know the number of ledges they'll talk each other off, but through it all she'll always find herself thinking fondly back on this one.
"You ready, Ms. Jaymes?"
The sound of a stagehand approaching breaks her from her reverie. She takes the microphone he offers with a nod. "Yes," she says, catching Deacon's eye. "I'm ready."