Don't Be Afraid
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or America Horror Story, neither do I own the brilliant phrase Meat Eating Orchid, that brilliant loop of words was part of the lyrics to Nirvana's Heart Shape Box. The term just sounded so much like something Tate would use to describe Quinn.
Pairing: Tate Langdon & Quinn Fabray
Summary: Inspired by the beautiful Quinn & Tate – Hoping To Hold video by LadyMumblekins. This piece is about the power struggle within the Quinn-Tate relationship. Quinn always has to be in control, and Tate is emotionally drained by this. A Glee/America Horror Story crossover.
Rated T for language and adult situations.
Don't Be Afraid
Your lies leaving loveless, please don't let me go.
But I won't give up; I won't give up, not until I'm holding you.
And I won't lie down; I won't lie down, not until I'm holding you.
The year is 1994.
"So, what do you think?" Quinn asked Tate, expecting his most sincere answer.
Tate turns his eyes away from the TV screen long enough to give Quinn a quick once over. And when he does, his eyes widen shocked by what he sees. Gone were the long blond waves, replaced by short choppy pink locks instead. Random patches of blonde peeked out from under the loud fuchsia. They were the last remnants of who she use to be. Then his eyes glide down to what she was wearing, and all he sees is black, so much black. Black tank dress, black lace leggings, black boots. Even her nails were painted black.
It's not that she doesn't look good with this new look. In fact, he actually finds this "New Quinn" sexy. But it was a lot to take in. All he's ever known of Quinn has been long blonde hair, cheerleading uniforms, and pretty sundresses. This drastic change was going to take him some time to get use to.
Tate's gaze follows the hem of her oh so short dress and fights to suppress the lustful groan building in the back of his throat, "It's…different," he told her.
Quinn smiles, and playfully pokes his cheek with her index finger, "Good, different is good." Turning back to examine herself in the mirror, "Now the out side finally matches the inside. "
Tate watched Quinn fiddle with the multiple necklaces around her neck, and pushed himself up to lie on his forearms on her bed. "I think you're beautiful, Quinn. Old you new you, it doesn't matter. You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever met."
Quinn shook her head, looking down for a moment, "No I'm not, I'm disgusting," she refuted, "and shut up, don't say things like that to me."
Tate jumps off her bed and walks over to her, "Why because it's true?"
Quinn's olive-green eyes flicker up toward him, before quickly turning away. "No, just shut up." She replied dismissively.
There's a pregnant pause between the two of them and Quinn goes back to examining her new look in the mirror. Tate tries to think back to the hand full of times he tried to pay Quinn a compliment. There weren't very many. Not because he didn't think she was amazing, but because he knew she wouldn't respond well to them.
This was their routine. Every time he tried to get closer to her on a deeper level and in a less then psychical way she'd shoot him down. It was this tiresome dance that they did. He'd take one step toward her and she'd take two steps back. In the beginning it didn't phase him that Quinn seemed to only want him for his body and not much else. Really who was he to complain? A beautiful girl comes up to you asking for sex, you give her sex! That much was a given.
The problem was that it stopped being "just sex" a long time ago. At lease for him it did. He had tried to figure out how she might have felt about it. But it was hard to tell with Quinn. She is always so closed off and distant. Never letting anyone get past her armor. All he knows was that she had mentioned once before that she did not believe in love. And at the time when she had said that, it didn't really matter to him anyway. But now? He just refused to accept that as a fact.
"My mom is gonna freak when she sees me," Quinn laughs, while teasing her newly pink locks. "You know what, I think I like it. It's a bit Joan Jett meets Cyndi Lauper meets 80's Madonna, only pink. And the nose ring-"
Tate shakes his head at her little game, here we go again, "Damn it Quinn, when you gonna stop doing this?" He snaps.
Quinn's eyebrow arched as she slowly turned to face him, "Doing what?" she asked oh so innocently. Tate might have believed her, had he not already known that Quinn was a deceitful and manipulative meat eating orchid. But not this time. No, he wasn't going to let her get off with her doe-eyed routine this time. "What are you talking about?" she watches him with mild interest.
Tate walked up to her, "You're deflecting," he stated. Keeping his eyes on her and trying to catch her stubborn gaze, he continued, "Every time I try to get close to you, you shut me out. Fuck, it's like you want me to give up on you or something!"
Quinn rolled her eyes in that trademark, bitch, I'm Quinn Fabray kind of way. "Tate, you're being dramatic."
"No, I'm not!" he argued. Catching Quinn's glaring eyes for at least a millisecond before she tore them away, "I mean, seriously, what the fuck Quinn! I'm here, I'm with you, and I'm trying. But it's like you like being alone and miserable."
"Maybe I do," Quinn retorted.
Tate shook his head, "I don't believe that."
"I don't care what you believe!" The fierce girl huffed. "And you know what? It's time for you to leave now, go!" She shoves at his chest and pushes him toward the door.
Tate's jaw clenches tight and his nostrils flared in frustration. Goddamn it, Quinn! Doesn't she get it? He loves her; he's in love with her. She was the most interesting thing to ever walk the face of this dreary planet. He loved everything about her. Her bizarre outlook of the world, the way her ferocious presence could literally destroy him every time she walked into a room. He loved the dark and twisted way her mind works, and how he could never predict what psychotic genius she'd orchestrate next.
He'd be the first to admit, their relationship was not the most stable, or even healthy for that matter. He knows he's stupid. It was foolish of him to fall in love with the one person who was even more fucked up then he was. But then again, he is a self-admitted masochist, so really none of this should be shocking to him.
Tate shakes his head; he sometimes likes to think of Quinn as his own personal angel of death. Guiding him and pulling at his puppet strings to manipulate her desired outcome. And she's succeeded, because he so damn in love with her, that he's willing to kill for her. He already has, their first victim was Joey Bruner, the filthy pig who violated her.
Quinn shoves at him again, "I said go!" she commanded. Waking him out of his reflective state. "God, you're so frustrating! Why'd you have to go and ruin everything? I specifically said that this was a no strings attached thing! If you don't like the way I operate, then you should leave. No one's forcing you to stay."
Tate looked at Quinn sadly; because there was no way that he could ever leave her. Even if he wanted to. He was far too tangled up in her merciless web of intrigue to ever be free of her. "No Quinn, You need to hear this." He sighed gently.
Quinn's spiteful olive-green eye flashed ferociously, "like hell I do!" she yelled aggressively. Getting up in his face and glaring flaming daggers at his head, she continues on her war path, "You think I give a shit about you? I don't," she stabs him with her spade tongue. "I don't give a shit about anybody or anything in this miserable world! You're just some loser I fuck on occasion. I don't care about you."
Tate stood his ground against Quinn's vicious wrath. Even though he felt as if she had just finished dumping a pool of acid over his heart. He stared into her cold gaze and pushed forward, "I'm not going anywhere, Quinn. You can push and scream all you want, but I'm not leaving. Do you want to know why?"
Quinn ripped her eyes away from his and shook her head violently. "No! Shut up! Shut up! Why can't you just shut up!" she shrieked, desperately trying to pull away from him.
Tate ignores the tears he could see welling up in Quinn's black-rimmed eyes and reaches out for her hand, pressing it to his chest over his heart."Because I love you, Quinn."
Watching Quinn's face, Tate has no idea what to make of the eerie look in her eyes. It was a new look he has never seen from her before, so he decides to press on, "I'm in love with you. You can kick and scream and beat me until your knuckles are raw. But that still wont change the fact that I love you." he confesses so sincerely.
Quinn bows her head, and Tate can see the jagged black tracks her tears are making on her perfect face. "You can't love me, no one can, I'm unlovable." She whispers so brokenly.
Her response takes Tate by surprise. First, because he thinks this is the first time he's ever seen Quinn cry. He has seen her in silent moments of reflection, or even the tiny glimmer of vulnerability that surfaced the night she climbed in through his window seeking a safe haven away from her father. But full on tears? Never.
The second is that he finally realizes just how broken Quinn Fabray truly is. Her pain, her fears, her hate ran deep. Possibly deeper then his own. She was so far gone in her own personal self-loathing hell that she blinded herself to the truth. The truth was that she was actually the only good thing left in this lackluster world.
Realizing that she might not be ready to say those three words back to him, Tate sighs. All the tension finally leaves his body. It's alright if she can't say them back. He doesn't need her to, at least not yet. Today, he just needed her to listen to them, really listen to them. He didn't want there to be any doubts about his feelings for her. She is his perfect angel of death, whether she wanted to accept it or not.
Quinn yanks her hand from Tate's grasp and turns away from him, discretely wiping at the fallen tears on her face. Clearing her throat, "Okay, um…that's enough of that," she rasped. Turning back to him, her face now clear of any sign of her minor breakdown. "How about we go get something to eat? I'm in the mood for sushi."
Tate rolls his eyes, because of course she'd take his confession and sweep it under the rug. That was classic Quinn. But at least now she knew. She was the Nancy to his Sid, and yes that meant that they were probably doomed from the start. However none of that matters to him. He'd gladly ride this psychotic rollercoaster of doom if it meant that he got to be next to Quinn when they inevitably crash and burn.
What can he say, he's a masochist, and he likes it rough.
AN: Please review telling me what you guys thought. I know it's not that popular of a ship. But I just really like the idea of Tate and Quinn. I feel like if Quinn were on American Horror Story she'd have a really strong connection with Tate and vice versa. Quinn is kind of known for being unstable, and though normal people might frown at that, Tate would find it appealing. And Tate and Quinn as a couple would be dynamic and unpredictable. They'd represent the wild, crazy, and dangerous side of love.
I love reviews; they make me want to keep writing. Also who knows if you really like this one-shot maybe I might consider turning it into a multi chap. I've got a few ideas rolling around in my head.