Hey guys! This is a new story I started the other day. I've recently been super fascinated by tattoos, and I figured it would be fun to combine two of my favorite things - FourTris and art! For those of you who haven't read my Random AU One-Shots story, you should know I'm not a huge fan of unrealistic drama being thrown onto these characters. So while this story may end up being a bit long, it will not include any plot twists that you would not have otherwise seen coming or that do not make sense. With that said, I hope you enjoy my story! :)
It was a Wednesday. Tris could usually count on that one day of the week for a break of sorts, since it was Wednesday, for Christ's sake, and she couldn't think of anyone in their right mind who would wake up and say, "It's Wednesday! Time to accomplish things." Lord knows it took three cups of coffee just to drag her to get dressed. Wednesdays were the days when she was reminded just how long a week is, and she hated it.
A part of her knew it was bad for her to work every single day, but when she'd opened the shop nearly three years ago, her father's lack of faith had pissed her off. He expected her to half-ass everything, to get by with just a couple hours a week, and she wanted, needed to prove him wrong.
"Stop scowling. It's your own fault you're here," Tori teased, stepping into Tris's office to grab some sketch paper. Her comment was rewarded with a sleepy glare, and a grumbled order to shut the hell up. Tori laughed.
"Hey," she said as she moved back to her workstation, "at least we haven't had any customers."
Tris's head shot up at her words, prepared to scold her for jinxing the process, but Tori was already gone. Tris dropped her head on her desk and groaned. She hadn't slept much this past week, since she'd been swamped with clients. She'd had to do lots of research for some of her sketches. Not to mention, she'd worked at least seven hours of overtime in the office. Tori's brother back home wasn't doing too well, and Tris understood she couldn't be here all of the time.
Briefly, Tris wondered if she should hire another artist, but her stubbornness stopped her. They could make it on their own. Of course they could. Her shop was one of the most renowned in Illinois, and that was all because of the work she and Tori had done. They were fine.
The bell rang. Tris groaned again. Tori had jinxed it, and Tori was about to leave. Even though Tris was too stubborn to leave on the quietness of Wednesdays, Tori wasn't. She always left around noon, coming in for three hours for no other reason but to humor her boss.
Tris could hear Tori's laugh as she passed by her office again, this time with her stuff in tow. "Tris will be right with you," she chirped, presumably to the client. Tris made a mental note to strangle Tori tomorrow, and then she lugged herself from her chair, straightened her black tank top, and forced a smile on her face.
When she went out to greet the customer, she didn't recognize him. Of course I don't, she reminded herself. No client of mine has balls enough to show up on a Wednesday.
"Hey, welcome to Sparks Ink," she greeted politely reaching out her hand for him to shake. He glanced at it warily before struggling through the offered handshake. He seemed very uncomfortable with the gesture and in being in the shop in general.
Tris quirked an eyebrow, but she didn't want to make him even more awkward, so she remained quiet as she led him back into her office.
She waited for him to sit before she plopped into her beloved swivel chair. He was sitting straight as a rod. She watched him Adam's apple bob and quirked her eyebrow again before smiling.
"So," she started, somewhat skeptical, "I'm Tris, and I'll probably be the artist working on you."
He watched her for a second. Something about her made him hyper-aware of everything around him. Like she was judging him for being here without showing it. But he supposed that could just be the trust issues ingrained deep in his habits.
She waited as he cleared his throat. "Tobias," he replied, nodding a bit. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.
"Well," she leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her desk and clasping her hands in front of her, "what are you looking to get?" It was rare in this shop for someone to come with an exact sketch prepared, since she was known for her interpretive designing skills, but she still wanted to get an idea of what the client was hoping for.
And for some reason, she was very interested in what this particular client had to say. Everything about him screamed discomfort, but his eyes were a peculiar shade of blue, and they held determination. She had a feeling he had never gotten a tattoo before.
Tobias met her eyes for a second before letting his gaze fall again. He'd never shown anyone what he was about to show this stranger, and he didn't want to make any kind of connections with her beforehand, not even small talk. He didn't want her to get attached enough to pity him.
To her surprise, he didn't answer. Instead, he stood, turning his back to her, and she was about to confront him for his asshole-ish-ness when he abruptly removed his black t-shirt.
Her eyes widened as she took in the white lines jagged across his skin, trying to ignore the way his muscles nervously jumped under its surface. She wondered vaguely what kind of monster would do this to such a man, and her hands involuntarily balled into fists.
She released the grip as soon as she noticed it, her shock now aimed at a different matter. People had come to her before for this same reason, covered in memories of hatred and abuse, but she'd never felt this angry before.
Tobias turned back around. She'd surely seen enough by now, and he was starting to feel sick. What was she thinking?
He finally met her eyes and was startled to see the energy there. They were blue and gray at the same time, radiating some kind of challenge towards him. The wheels turning in her head were practically visible. It was striking.
Her mind shuffled through designs she'd done before and designs she'd been wanting to try, before coming to a decision and refocusing on the man in front of her. She hadn't even noticed he'd turned around, and suddenly her eyesight was directed toward a sculpted abdomen plated with golden skin.
Jesus.
Tris shook her head a bit as he reached for his shirt, trying to clear her mind. She needed to focus, so she pulled out her notebook to start some sketches.
Tobias sat down in front of her again, nervously waiting for her to pass judgment on him. But when she looked up from the sketchbook in front of her, he was surprised and relieved to see there was no pity in her stormy eyes. Simply wonder, curiosity, like she was trying to figure out what to make of him, and he supposed she was, in a way.
"Have you ever heard of a blackout tattoo?" she asked him, smiling slightly. She'd only done dotwork and watercolor geometric work in this area of tattooing, but blackwork was something she'd been studying and practicing intensely this past couple of months.
Tobias told her he hadn't, and he was struck breathless for a second by the excited energy radiating off of her. He had been nervous coming in here today without any idea of what tattoo to get, only knowing that he wanted any trace of Marcus covered, and the added stress weighed on him after hearing warnings of coming here on Wednesdays. It was his own fault, though. He'd known before coming, and some stubborn, spiteful part of him put him in his Buick and drove him here.
But the way she was excited about doing this tattoo, the smile on her face and the eagerness of her sketching hand, she put him at ease. He had no idea what the hell a blackout tattoo was, but for some unknown reason, he wanted to trust this girl, this Tris. He wanted her to know him, for him to confide in her, and he wanted to know her, too. It seemed only right to offer her his back as a starting point.
Tris was already sketching out what she'd envisioned painted on his back the second he'd shown it to her. She was incorporating all of the symbols she'd created with Tori, when she first opened the shop, her Sparks Ink specialties. Each one represented a virtue she valued, and she often had someone come in and ask for a specific one.
She herself already had two of them drawn on her.
She'd been sketching for ten minutes straight, a grin plastered on her face, completely oblivious to her client. But when she remembered his presence, her head shot up, her eyes wide as they met his. What the hell was she doing? She hadn't even spoken to him yet, and she was drawing this out as if she had any idea of what he wanted.
Tobias couldn't help but smile at her expression. It was obvious she'd been completely absorbed in her work, and it was also obvious she didn't think that was a good thing. Her face flushed red, and Tobias bit back a laugh. She didn't know that he didn't give a damn what the tattoo was.
"I'm so sorry…" she muttered, gathering the drawings on her desk. Her mind was clouded, her focus wavering, and her hands shook a little. Perhaps the three cups of coffee hadn't been such a great idea…
But her gaze shifted back to the man in front of her when she heard him let out a shaky, harsh breath.
His shoulders were pulled tight to his body, bouncing slightly as his hands rested on his abdomen.
She glared. He was laughing at her. A part of her wanted to wipe the grin off his face, but a much larger part wanted to join in, for whatever reason. He'd seemed so serious since he stepped into the room, and this was the first time she'd seen that shell broken. His smile was contagious.
"You don't understand," he chuckled, waving his arms to stop her offered sketches. Her brow furrowed. He didn't want to see? Not even curious, after all that work she'd put into it?
What the hell?
But he leaned forward a bit so he could meet her confused, offended gaze. He shook his head a bit, the smirk still present. "I leave my skin in your capable hands."
Now she was very confused. "You…" she shook her head, sat back down. "You don't want to see it first…?"
Tobias shrugged. He didn't care what tattoo he got, but he also wanted to let Tris draw freely on him. She seemed confined in the limitations tattooing provided, and that was why she'd been so consumed in her drawing. He wanted to set her free.
"Nope. Just cover the scars, and I'll be happy." Tris eyed him warily, setting the papers back in front of her, but her mouth slowly curved into a shit-eating grin, a Tris grin.
"So I could just draw a huge dick on your back." her voice was teasing, skeptical, deadpan.
Tobias laughed, a real laugh, and Tris decided she loved the sound. His eyes gleamed with the same mirth hers did. "I'm willing to take that risk. I am your canvas."
How was it? I try to stick to the original personalities, but I enjoy enhancing some of their understated traits. Like in this story, Tris will be a bit more badass and confident than her usual self. She's still insecure, but not in the same ways. You'll see some of that later ;) And I also want to bring out Tobias's selfless side, since in the books it said he had an aptitude for Abnegation, but we didn't really see this in him. At least, his selfless acts weren't as obvious as some of Tris's. But anyway, let me know what you think! Should I continue this? Or is it too different? Thanks for reading! - Loopy