and i love her ▸ tate langdon ✓

05. asking for it

Every time that I stare into the sun
Angel dust and my dress just comes undone

-

Marceline sits in the abandoned house on fourth street, her homework in her lap as she tried to finish it up since it was due tomorrow.

Hole's album 'Pretty on the Inside' blares in her ears as she focuses on the biology worksheet in front of her. Her attention was snatched from her work as she saw two feet in front of her. "Marcy, knew you'd be here," the voice of Christian says.

With an internal groan, she takes off her headphones, looking up at the asshole before her. "What is your fascination with me?" she snaps at him. He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're the only girl in this whole place who is worth anything," he says.

"That's real charming, douchebag," Marceline insults, standing from the floor where she sat. His smile instantly drops. Christian was known for having a short and hot temper. "I'm not interested," she adds on.

"Why? Because you're dating that freak?" he snaps.

She shakes her head, looking Christian dead in the eyes, boredom on her face. "What do you two even do together? Shoot up heroin and stalk others?" he remarks. She rolls her eyes, going to walk away from him.

He grabs her wrist, the movement seeming to be his signature. "One way or another, I will get you. And when I have to put in work, it's not pretty," he says lowly, the threat making her huff heavily.

She snatches her hand back from his death grip, walking away from him quickly. He was so dramatic. Why did he want her so bad? To prove a point that he's never been rejected? It's pathetic, really.

Walking down the sidewalk, she sees Tate walking out of the front door of his house. He notices Marceline immediately, smiling at her. She pauses her walking, letting Tate catch up to her. "Where are you off to?" she questions him.

"To get something," he shrugs, his vague answer making Marceline chuckle. "What 'something'?" she asks, the both of them resuming their walking down the sidewalk. His eyes meet her, his pupils blown out more than usual.

"To get some more, uh, pills," he answers, a brief pause in his words. Marceline just nods, the feeling of his gaze on her making her skin crawl in a way she had never felt.

"Wanna come with?" he asks her. She smiles, turning her head to face him. "Sure," she replies. They continue walking down the sidewalk in silence, their hands brushing together every once in a while.

They walk to Downtown Los Angeles, stopping at a hotel with a neon sign on the side reading 'Hotel Cortez'. Tate leads Marceline inside, leading her up to room forty-one. They enter the room and a girl with crimped blonde hair greets them, a cigarette between her lips.

The woman's eyes go straight to Marceline, ignoring Tate who stands beside her. "Who's this?" the woman asks, exhaling smoke from between her cherry red painted lips. "Marceline. She's a friend," Tate responds.

Marceline nervously stands there, the burning eyes of this girl making her fidget. "I'm Sally," the blonde girl smiles. "The pills?" Tate interrupts, rushing the conversation along. Though he said that part because he knew what Sally did to pretty girls like Marceline. She had a reputation for ruining people who have potential.

She rolls her eyes, grabbing a small baggy holding multiple white capsule-style pills in it. She hands it to Tate, her eyes still flickering over to Marceline. "How much?" Tate asks, pulling a few ten-dollar bills from his pocket.

"I want her," Sally jokes, pointing at Marceline. Tate scoffs, handing Sally forty bucks which was her usual payment without the promise of sex in return. She takes it, winking at Marceline before Tate pulls her out of the room.

They leave the snake pit that is the Cortez. "Who was that?" Marceline asks as they return outside, the sun beginning to set. "My drug dealer," Tate replies, the baggy having been stashed away in his back pocket.

"Oh," Marceline says slowly with realization. They walk down the streets of Downtown Los Angeles until they reach their neighborhood, the sun now almost completely set. "What did she give you?" she questions him as they reach her house.

With a smile on his lips, he pulls the baggy out of his back pocket and shows it to her. "Are those real drugs?" she asks, her eyes studying the bag he held in his hand.

"As real as they get, yeah," Tate nods.

"Aren't they bad?"

"No. They're the type that doctors would prescribe. Why would doctors prescribe someone something dangerous?" Tate says. Of course, this wasn't true. Yes, they were prescription drugs. But if you didn't need them-- and took them incorrectly like Tate-- they were bad.

"What do they do?"

"They make you feel good for a bit," Tate grins, pushing the bag back into his pocket. He saw the confusion on her face and runs his hand through his hair. "If you come to my house tomorrow, I'll let you try some,"

Marceline wasn't sure what to say. She had heard that drugs were bad and that you shouldn't do them. But if they were just these prescriptions, it'd be fine.

Tate does these drugs and he's fine.

She ends up nodding, causing Tate to smile. "Good. See you tomorrow," he says. She nods, turning and walking up to her porch and into her house where she's immediately met with her stepmother.

"You're late. Again," Gloria says flatly, her arms crossed in front of her. Marceline huffs, walking past the woman and into the kitchen. "And who was that boy?"

"A friend," Marceline answers flatly, grabbing herself a bag of chips.

"He didn't look like just a friend," Gloria rebuttals, her voice annoying Marceline. "And you're not my mother. So I don't have to listen to you," Marceline comments, moving to leave the kitchen when her father entered.

"What's going on?" he asks the two, his eyes flickering between them. "She's late," Gloria tells him, making Marceline groan as she ate a chip. "Like five minutes," Marceline tries to argue only to be shot down.

"You know the rules. If you're staying out later than seven, you have to tell us," her dad says, trying to diffuse the situation with a calm tone. "And she's hanging out with a boy," Gloria adds.

"I didn't know it was your fucking business," Marceline mumbles.

"Language," her dad warns. "What boy, Marcy?"

"Tate," she answers quietly, her cheeks burning with a bright red blush. "Langdon?" Gloria asks to which Marceline just nods. Her dad and Gloria share a look that made Marceline nervous. "What?" she questions.

"We've heard a lot about the Langdon's. That's all," her dad shrugs, speaking casually. "What do you mean by 'a lot'?" Marceline continues asking, placing her bag of chips on the counter.

"The mother, Constance, is a drunk and adulterer. Her husband disappeared and she has those deformed children that look like little inhuman monsters," Gloria says rudely. Marceline's brows furrows, confusion riddling her mind.

"I don't want you around that boy anymore, Marcy. He's bad news," her dad says strictly, his tone sharp enough to make criminals cower.

"But--"

"No more seeing him," her dad drew out slowly, his words firmly punctuated with over-enunciation. She nods mindlessly, walking away from them and up to her bedroom to get away from them.

Maybe Marceline should ask about his family.

For better or for worse.

little crossover here because I love the idea that Sally was Tate's dealer (the timelines line up for the two)

anyways, have a good day and don't be mean

<3