Author's Note: This pair intrigues me, so I wrote them as a response to a weekly ten sentence challenge on a fanfic board I write for.

~*~give me weed instead of roses, give me whiskey instead of wine~*~

(every puff, every shot, you're looking better all the time)

pairing: scarlett o'connor/liam mcguinnis

fandom: nashville

challenge: ten sentence challenge, week 31

~*~cologne~*~

The bitterness of the whiskey on his tongue and the harsh bite of the joint they just shared drowns out the smell of his cologne, heavy and musky, and through the haze of the pills, booze and drugs she smells Gunnar; warm, earthy and sweet.

~*~pithy~*~

"You gonna pout all night?" Liam grumbles, sliding up next to Scarlett at the Blue Bird where Deacon is about to record his vinyl record. "Or are you gonna admit I was right? And leaking 'Black Roses' was the best decision you could've ever made for your career? Hell of a lot better than actin' like a two cent Juliette Barnes shakin' your ass for Luke Wheeler's drunk-ass crowds."

~*~homeward~*~

Her hands tremble, and all she can do is down three more pills, the familiar rolling hills of Tennessee spreading out into the flat farmland of Mississippi, as each sign on the road goes from Natchez 20 miles to Natchez 15, then five and it isn't until she looks past Bucky and to where Liam is slumped over and rumpled, that Scarlett feels like she can breathe.

~*~demos~*~

It's strange, this warmth curling in the pit of Scarlett's stomach, from watching Liam with Rayna and her girls, from behind the glass that separates the recording booth from the soundboard; he's not all harsh lines and sharp angles, like broken glass her tender hands shouldn't touch, and there's no urge for a pill or a shot or a joint, which shakes her to the core, but she doesn't run from the sound of mother and daughters harmonizing.

~*~vintage~*~

Deacon drops the package, unceremoniously, on her bed and grits out, "Liam sent that from Arkansas where he's playin' with Rayna t'night. Since when does he know you write in leather bound journals with fountain pens?"

~*~jailbird~*

Scarlett remembers how it felt when she would write with Gunnar, how it felt when she would sing with him, she thought she was releasing everything she had inside, not keeping things hidden anymore, but she was wrong; since recording 'Black Roses' with Liam, she knew better, he had unlocked the key to her cage and set her free.

~*~beckon~*~

It's not the promise of pills, booze or joints anymore; it's the slow curl of his lips, the miles of pale soft skin his fingers play like the frets and strings of a guitar, the haunting slow soprano of her voice, the roughness of his full beard, that keeps them coming back for more.

~*~lotus~*~

"Changed your perfume," Liam mumbles one night, and Scarlett knows he's slowly succumbing to sleep, otherwise he'd never admit something like that out loud. "Don't," The arm that's slung around her waist, tightens to an almost uncomfortable level, but she doesn't squirm or wriggle. "Do it again."

~*~copacetic~*~

"At least," Scarlett pouts, batting her lashes for effect, making Deacon snort derisively. "Try to play nice with Liam, if not for me," Her tulip pink lips curl smugly. "For Rayna," and he shakes his head, chuckling low in his throat, "You don't play fair." He punctuates the statement by tapping her on the nose and she laughs brightly, making him smile.

He'll play nice with McGuinnis, not because of Rayna, but because – somehow – he managed to get his niece, the closest thing he ever had to a daughter before Maddie, to smile again and seem happier than she had been in a long damn while.