The Vulnerability of Pink

iNNeR HooKeR SoNGS

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"WHAT PART OF 'FOLLOW ME' SOUNDS appealing when we're talking about Gabriel Agreste?! Not to mention how repulsive that statement sounds from an old man," Adrien chided, as if scolding a troublesome kid.

"I refuse to believe that you have little to no faith in me as a person," Marinette rebutted, crossing her arms firmly.

Gabriel was scared that Adrien was going to commence mating with Marinette right there and then, in the middle of the small dressing room. To throw water onto a potentially passionate fire, Gabriel grabbed the fuzzy blanket from the couch and covered the girl in the consuming fabric. Adrien tried to hide the fact that he pouted, but everyone was well aware of his marginally lowered lip.

By the next day, they had yet to talk anything out. That led to him barging into Marinette's dorm room with no heads up. As luck would have it, she was planning on heading to the store and, therefore, fully dressed and ready for the day.

"No, Marinette, I trust you. It's him I'm extra wary about." Adrien said, raking a clammy hand through his gorgeous blonde locks. Marinette exhaled, sitting down next to him on her bed. The strong gravity between the two was uncharted territory. They got along swimmingly and never ran into conflict. All until yesterday. All until his father intervened. Drat that man.

"I know this will only piss you off further, but he mentioned how bad your rebellion used to be. My instincts are screaming that it's way more than just bacon loaded burgers and beer." She was nervous for his response, most likely a punch or two to a throw pillow were in order on his behalf.

Much to her surprise, he actually opened up like a blooming flower. "Just living in the same house causes so much clashing over curfews and such. Also, there might have been a scant dabbles in... dancing," Adrien spoke, wringing his hands together in dizzying patterns. "That's not even bad, what the heck."

"Marinette, I didn't finish," he swallowed, adjusting to grip his knees tightly, giving his probably sore fingers a much deserved break. "I danced while removing my clothing. I was on a dimly lit stage and may have used body oil with glitter in it. People, mostly middle aged women, would shove one dollar bills into my underwear."

His delivery of information seemed rehearsed, his equilibrium calm. Perhaps it was to soften the blunt blow that he was something of a male hooker.

"You were a stripper?" she asked with an even tone. At this point, she was just glad that he wasn't a gigolo or a drug dealer. "Uh, yeah. Only for three months or so. Father confiscated my police officer uniform with perfume all over it, and had so many questions."

Taking to burying his head into his hands, she could tell that he was embarrassed. As to why, she had no idea. Granted, the worst thing she ever did was have her card flipped to yellow one day in kindergarten, but that didn't warrant judgment on someone's past.

"Hey, it's okay. Thanks for telling me," she assured, gently rubbing his back. "I do hope you know that I do expect a performance at some point in my lifetime," she snickered, trying to air out the tense feeling. He snorted a small puff of breath.

"So, lay it all out. How would a typical night at the strip club go?"

Adrien greatly reduced the painful pinking of his cheeks, flipping into serious mode like a light switch. "I wouldn't have been able to get into character without my special song."