Take Me Out

So if you're lonely

You know I'm here waiting for you

- Franz Ferdinand

Marceline doesn't like waiting for answers, but she'll put up with that for a couple weeks. At least, until Marshall Lee remembers just what he is and where he came from. She wants him around and not just to look at; intriguing things are hard to come by.

"Whoa," Marshall Lee says as they float out of the hospital and into Candy Kingdom bustle at three in the afternoon.

Marceline holds up an umbrella over the both of them. "What?"

"This place is dank."

Sure, if dank means candy houses candy streets candy everything, in all the colors of the rainbow and just as bright.

"Yeah, it's pretty chill." Marceline looks up at Marshall Lee. He's a few inches taller. "Looks familiar?"

"Nah." But he grins. "Show me around?"

Marceline doesn't really frequent Candy Kingdom. Well she used to, but that's another story entirely. Wandering around the town square with Marshall Lee is interesting; they get curious looks and every now and then she has to remind him that yes, Candy people will mind if you eat their arm off and no, that red licorice stop sign isn't a giant lollipop that no one will miss.

"My Grod," he exclaims as they sit at a fountain made entirely out of chocolate, watching crowds go by. "How do you not terrorize the hell out of this place? Everything is cute. And squishy."

"Who says I didn't?" Marceline smirks, and Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow. "But seriously, the fun wears off. And doing groceries is a pain when everyone throws garlic at you. Ugh."

"I want to touch," Marshall Lee sighs as red lollipop maids walk past, giving him the googly-eye. Silly girls.

"Wanna bounce?" Marceline nudges him. She likes that he doesn't bother asking where.

Marshall Lee's grin is not quite like hers. "Yeah."

\/\/\/\/

Taking Marshall Lee out drinking sounds perfectly logical. All the undead and the supernatural tend to congregate at Bebe's. And for reasons unknown Flambo tends a bar at that joint anyway. Everyone knows bartenders give righteous life advice.

"Amnesia huh?" the flambit says, spitting fire into a couple shot glasses for them. "Tough stuff."

"So tough," Marshall Lee agrees.

"Now Marceline, ya gotta be patient," Flambo tells her. "Marshall Lee here is gonna be real vulnerable…"

Marceline doubts that. "So vulnerable."

"So, ya know, you guys take it easy."

Sounds simple enough. But Marshall Lee catches her eye.

"Admit it. You were gonna mess with me," he says. His foot prods at her stool and she kicks it off.

"Maybe a little." Somewhere along the lines of facials and baking with a really gay apron.

"Evil woman."

"Aw, c'mon. Someday we'd laugh about that."

"I'm onto you." Marshall Lee looks at her curiously, unabashed when she stares back. Then he turns his barstool to face her. "Alright, let's do this."

"What are we doing?" Marceline leans forward like he does.

"Bonding, duh. You really think I'd let you take me home without getting to know each other?" he rebukes her.

"Right. We keep it classy."

At first they try to figure out Marshall Lee's favorite color. Which is moot point, really, because he can't decide between red and green and absolutely refuses to pick both. And then the next few hours or so is spent playing 20 Questions instead, mostly directed towards Marceline because according to Marshall Lee she's the only one who remembers shit anyway.

"I see amnesia doesn't affect your personality. At all," she observes dryly.

"Still legitly ill," Marshall Lee replies. "Now answer the question."

"I would stab him anyway, then kick bad guy ass. Then I'll clean my boots a little and revive everyone and live forever. No big deal."

"… You're the shit, man. Like, oh my Grod. How do you exist?"

"Awesomely."

They swivel their stools around to watch some obscure ghost band playing covers onstage. Marshall Lee's head bobs a little. "Hey who does this song?"

"Springsteen?"

"It's sick. I'm gonna learn it."

Marceline watches his fingers air-guitar along. They're nimble. The motions look right. "Can you even play?"

"No idea," he laughs. "But it's happenin'. There's a music-loving bass god under all this sexy. I totally feel it."

"Well then, bass-god. I got some sets at home. We'll rock out."

"Best. Roomie. Ever. Or is it 'sugar mama'?"

"To you? Psh." Marceline rubs her eyes, just a little.

"Tired?" Marshall Lee guesses, looking a little guilty that she spent most of the previous night in a hospital chair.

"Not gonna lie… yeah."

"Wanna go to your place?"

Marceline's head tilts. "I passed the Marshall Lee Stranger-Danger Test?"

"Hells yeah, girl." They make the bro-handshake. "I trust you with my vulnerable bod. Not that I had anyone else to turn to, but you know what I mean. I like you. I'll be a total bro."

"Aw, Marshall. I gotchu."

"Should I call you Mar-Mar?"

"Nope, not enough swag." And she gets up just as a hand grips her shoulder from behind.

"Mar-Mar?"

Marceline turns around, but she already knows who it is.

Ash. He stands in front of her looking as he always did, with that white Mohawk and bad-boy grin and black threads that he knows shows off his biceps. Marceline was crazy about this guy.

"Long time no see babe," Ash puts an arm around her; she pushes it away. "Aw, why you so cold?"

"Hey," Marshall Lee comes forward. "He tryna mess with you?"

"Nah. Let's go," Marceline turns away but Ash takes her shoulder again. He smells of alcohol. She knows he's with his douchebag crew tonight.

"Scram, dude," he nods at Marshall Lee.

"Dude," Marshall Lee retorts. But Marceline is not about that damsel in distress life.

"I got this," she puts a hand on his arm for a moment. Then taking Ash aside, she scowls. "Go home, Ash. You're drunk."

"Go with me," Ash smiles. He has a great smile, for a tool. Why was she ever into tools? "You got magic fingers, babe. And did I mention you look great in those boots?"

And she knows in his own jerkly Ash way, he's trying to make amends. "Whatever. We're gonna go first."

"I'm better now," he insists, black eyes staring right into hers. "I need you. Ditch that joker, who the hell is that anyway he looks like a fucking princess."

Fucking heard that, Marshall Lee says under his breath.

"Bye, Ash," Marceline says firmly but he grabs her shoulder and her ass roughly. He leans down and kisses her; he tastes of liquor and maybe a little weed. He's tried to be forceful with her before. Brotha never learns. Marceline opens her mouth; Ash is all about tongue and she bites down when he tries to shove that down her throat.

"BITH," is what he more or less curses as he shoves her away and covers his mouth. Some blood trickles down his chin.

"Ay, what's goin' on over there!" Flambo calls out from one end of the bar.

"Ash-man! What's going on!" some random guy with a frohawk shouts from the back.

"Try that shit again," Marshall Lee threatens but Marceline is serious about leaving. She takes him by the arm. "What, you don't wanna gloat?"

Marceline smiles crookedly, wiping her bottom lip. "Nah."

He does it for her. "She kicked your ass, fucking asshole-princess."

"Fuh you," Ash stumbles a little, still cradling his mouth and his homeboys approach.

"See you, Flambo!" Marceline calls out nonchalantly, and just as easily leads Marshall Lee out of Bebe's. How great would it be to watch Ash's drunk ass get thrown out the back door but right now she's feeling a few things that she shouldn't be feeling. What was a chill night has taken a stranger turn…

Marshall Lee nudges her. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

They fly out of the Spooky Forest and over the Grasslands and Marshall Lee stays quiet the whole way back to her house-in-the-cave-under-the-bridge. His presence is soothing, though.

"Sorry about that," Marceline glances at him as they float over her door. It's still on the floor, kicked off the hinges. "That was ratch."

"Psycho exes. We all got one." He assures her. "Did I..?"

"Yeah, you mentioned her. Total psycho-bitch. Fucked with your stuff. Couch or my bed?"

"Couch. Looks hard as a mofo." He's not wrong about that; Marshall Lee sprawls over the sofa anyway. "Don't worry about Ash-man. I'll shank him if he comes over."

"My hero." Marceline pulls out pillows and blankets from the hallway closet. "Hmm… want some PJ's?"

Marshall Lee scoffs. "You want me to shank ass in lady-PJ's?"

"Whatever. Raid my closet," she dumps the blankets over him. "I'll be in the bathroom, k?"

Marceline isn't sentimental, but she spends extra time in the bathroom brushing her mouth. And also rubbing her sore shoulder and right ass-cheek a little because damn Ash has a helluva vice grip. He's not worth thinking about but for a moment she imagines kicking him in that dick that he thinks is Grod's gift to women. Ash is out of sight out of mind when she's done washing her face.

Marceline comes downstairs in rubber ducky pajamas and Marshall Lee has already made himself at home in her living room. More specifically, her couch and her sheets are now a fairly large fort. The lights are dimmed She hears instrumental plucking and knows he found her banjolele. He's inside fiddling with it and watching MTV through an elaborate slit.

"Childhood called," Marceline crawls inside the couch-fort.

"It said rock on, yeah?" Marshall Lee moves over. There's space for her and she wonders if he'll cry if this structure falls apart. He eyes her knowingly. "Don't even think it. And in my defense, it's a bit chilly in here."

"Because you ragequit on my front door."

"Touché. Hey, look what MTV taught me." And he proceeds to pick along sloppily to a music video on TV, sing-rapping all the wrong words. Something about spending money and being true on Sundays.

That's kinda badass for someone who picked up a banjolele five minutes ago, and who barely remembered his own name twelve hours before that. He's not actually serenading her or anything, but Marceline is touched.

"Not bad."

He gives her a look. "Wanna… talk about it?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Good, because I did raid your closet and I found some man-plaid." Marshall Lee displays his new shirt. "Is it whatshisname's?"

"What if it is?"

"Don't care. I'd wear the hell out of it."

"Well it's mine, so be gentle." Marceline yawns. "I gotta peace out, dude."

"Peace."

"Don't break my stuff."

"Want a lullaby?"

"You know a lullaby?"

"Sure. I'll sing you that song again, real slow-like."

"Actually, yeah," Marceline says suddenly. Ash is a subject she doesn't discuss, but Marshall Lee presents her with rapt attention and that makes her want to get things off her chest. "I do wanna talk about it."

"I gotchu."

The couch-fort is excellent for late-night bitching about ex-boyfriends.

\/\/\/\/

In a space of 24 hours Marshall Lee has established himself in her life. That much is apparent when Marceline wakes up in her bed next morning, expecting him to be snoring downstairs.

"Don't talk to me," Marshall Lee grumbles when she pokes at him, a human-sized lump under what used to be the blanket fort. He says I have morning breath like it's her fault. "Sangria morning breath, mind you."

"I gave you a toothbrush."

"It was pink."

"I have a red one…"

"Gimme."

He's not quite what she expected (not that she expected him in the first place) and yet exactly how he should be (not that she would know what that is, exactly). Marshall Lee drags himself upstairs to her bathroom with the biggest cowlick on earth second only to hers and Marceline waits until he's gone to let a dumb grin slide across her face for no real reason.

She has a roommate and he's pretty dope. Amnesia and all.

\/\/\/\/

A/N: Friendship overload, unf. Marshall Lee did most of the kickassery in my last story so I'll have Marceline do summa dat in this one.

Thanks for the R&R last chapter!

lifelessgal - you're sick :D haha.

jennyxxfasho - you think I'm funny? ugh yess score.

idkdontask - yeah, I kinda like having Marceline pov too...

DragonHalf - I only update on the weekends :[ Oh well soon enough.

Marceleeregina - I always finish ifyouknowwhatimean jk(?). Hahaha. I'll def finish this fic!

And errbody else I have no words for your feedback, just appreciation. Y'all too dope.

On a sidenote, Gambino is a mastermind. If he/Marshall Lee and Olivia Olson/Marceline ever do sing together I shall drop dead that is just too much dankness for this life. Those BAMFs.