This is just a small oneshot of Tris and Tobias in an alternative universe where Tobias comes to terms with the fact that his daughter will talk to boys. I don't give his daughter a name, so it's up to all you readers to come up with one for her. Please review, and thanks for reading!
I will be updating My Little Solider and Two Idiots and a Baby soon!
Disclaimer: When Tobias understands that Dauntless chocolate cake isn't what makes the world go round, then I will own Divergent. So, naturally, never.
There's something trivial in the way his unusual blue eyes glare heatedly at the sun stained swing set, something ironic in the way the same set of eyes sit perched on a much more delicate face, staring adoringly at a pair of brown ones.
He knows it's stupid – she's only four and this means absolutely nothing. He knows rationally that the well-known feeling of anger and irritation is completely irrational – that in a day or two little 'Mister Brown Eyes' will be nothing but another face on the creaky, squeaky swings.
He hashes it up to his extended definition of what being a father really means. There's already the built in, live size makeup doll, the midnight snack escort, and the ever present human horse. And now he's adding primitive, guttural caveman to the list. It's funny – how he knows he's being stupid and how he doesn't.
It's his little girl though, and he can be a caveman if he wants.
And it's his broad shoulders and strong arms folded tightly over his chest that form a shadow over the two children, his head tilted slightly to the side in the way Tris seemed to find endearing and his baby girl seemed to find loving, but others seemed to find extremely intimidating.
"C'mon Peanut, time to go."
His words are final – she knows that. It's the voice he uses when he's had enough and wants her to go to bed, for real this time. It's the tone she hears when mommy keeps laughing at something stupid daddy did and he tries to act tough to compensate for it. But she knows how to push it, how to use those primitive feelings in Tobias to manipulate him into being a complete pushover.
"But Daddy," her small and light voice strains in annoyance as she blinks against the sun to look into her father's eyes. He's really tall and she really isn't and it's sometimes hard for Tobias to restrain against picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder just to leave Brown Eyes.
"I wanna play with Luka."
Ah. So Brown Eyes has a name. Tobias's frown deepens even farther as he takes in 'Luka.' Big brown eyes, a mess of brown hair – hell, he would've thought the kid was adorable if he was talking to anyone else but his daughter.
But he was. And he didn't like it.
"We have to go home for dinner, baby. Mommy's waiting."
He doesn't miss the way Luka frowns slightly and, as stupid as it is, he feels a small whip of triumph.
His baby girl was his, his, his and as long as the sky was blue and the night was black she would never be allowed to talk to another boy.
"Bye-bye," Luka nearly whispers, the frown still etched on his small face.
Starting now.
"Bye Luka. See you tomorrow!"
Tobias brushes aside the small flare of sympathy he feels when he looks at Luka's devastated little face, something about the way his eyes looked like a puppy's making him want to scoop him up and give him the biggest hug.
It's gone though, in a second, when he sees him flash his baby a smile.
"Bye Luka." He gruffs out, scooping his little girl into his arms and holding her tightly. He wanted everyone to see that she was a baby, his little baby that wasn't allowed to talk to boys. Ever.
Tris doesn't know quite what's up when she sees her husband push through the door with a slight frown on his face. She does, however, get a hint when her daughter starts going on and on about her bestest friend ever and his frown turns into a downright glare.
It doesn't help that they have company over and that Zeke seems to be facing a similar problem with his five year old and some rag tag green eyed kindergartener. The two sit still on the couch, all glares and angry grunts as their girls go on and on about their friends.
When they leave and it's just them and the child in question is put to bed, Tris stands behind her tense husband and massages his neck, snaking out all the tight muscles and stress that only a father can seem to have. His dress shirt is rumpled and the CIA badge that always digs into his side is thrown haphazardly onto the table without care.
"He's just a baby too, Tobias. It's just puppy love." Tris tries to reason with him, but the way he lets his head fall back and meets her peculiar blue eyes with his own lets her know that he wasn't buying it.
It didn't matter how many criminals he had chased down or how many fist fights he had gotten into – what seemed to irritate the hell out of Tobias was simply seeing his daughter with a boy.
"Luka knows what he's doing. You should see him, Tris. All googly eyed and cute and thinking he can talk to my baby."
It takes everything in Tris to hold back a snort because from the way his gaze has unfocused from hers and glares angrily at the ceiling, she knows he's dead serious.
"I hate boys."
It's a simple statement enough, but Tris can't help the snort this time and it falls like chiming bells off her lips.
Somehow – Tris reckons it can only be with all of his CIA training – she ends up flipped over the couch and straddling Tobias's lap, her hands placed firmly on either side of his chest.
She thumps him lightly in protest but can't fight the way he pulls her face towards his, one hand griping her hip – the other cupped tightly around her jaw.
"You know, if my dad kept on hating boys, we wouldn't be here right now."
Tobias rolls his eyes and pulls her in for a kiss, something they both unknowingly had been craving since the minute Tobias's grumpy face had made an entrance. He doesn't miss the way she sighs into his lips, or the way her hand digs into his dress shirt and pulls him back when he tries to pull away. He grins against her lips before obliging, knowing that if she wasn't going to stop this, then he sure as hell wasn't.
When the two are finally out of breath and Tobias is seconds from pulling one of his best known moves of throwing her over his shoulder, he pulls back firmly and gives Tris a tight lipped smile. She moans in protest and lets her head fall heavily against Tobias's chest and he laughs, the kind of laugh that rumbles out from his stomach and lets Tris know that this was right where she wanted to be.
"This," he gestures to Tris's panting frame and swollen lips, "Is exactly why I hate boys."
It's her laugh that rings out this time, echoing through the warmly lit halls.
Despite all of his protests and downright refusals, Tris had agreed to take Luka in for the night while his parents attended a business dinner.
His little girl had been ecstatic, jumping up and down on the couch around her less than amused father, trying to get him to join in. He only did so because there was no way he could refuse a miniature Tris and a wobbly lip – he hated to admit it but he was most definitely wrapped around her little finger.
Tris had taken to calling him a sucker instead of Four around their friends and it had gained quite a bit of popularity.
And, when the doorbell rings, and Tobias's baby's eyes spread wide with excitement, he can only sigh as he trudges to the door with his daughter hiding behind his leg.
Before he can open it though, Tris scoops up the rascal and takes her upstairs, trying to explain to her daughter that she can't just wear a pull up when Luka came.
There's a faint hint of a smile when he opens the door and sees a little boy in a puppy costume gripping the hand of a woman he's seen every once in a while on his trips to the park. Her eyes flash to the CIA badge resting on Tobias's hip and to the empty gun holster and he smiles in understanding.
"It's locked up."
There's nothing else to say as she nods with a smile and watches as the little boy at her feet shuffles back and forth.
"Here's my number if you need me for anything. I brought him his pajamas in case they go to bed before we come pick him up – but I doubt you'll get him to change out of that." She gestures to the costume and Luka grins shyly.
Soon enough it's just the two of them sitting quietly in the living room, waiting for the girls to come down, and Tobias watches as the little puppy before him looks around the room, his legs dangling far from the floor.
"What are your intentions with my daughter?"
The two stare at each other blankly for a minute while Tobias waits patiently for an answer to a question the four year old had no hopes of understanding. He watches as one of the ears on the costume flop down as Luka tilts his head to the side, much like the way Tobias did when he was confused.
"I don't know what in-ten-sons means sir. But I'm four years old, my favorite color is red, and I like puppies and chocolate cake." Luka rattles of the few things he does know to make up for what he doesn't and Tobias can feel his heart swell.
He snorts and shakes his head before glancing up at the confused face.
"You like chocolate cake, huh?"
Luka nods enthusiastically and Tobias find himself understanding why his daughter had found this boy interesting. He was an oddball, for sure. Then again, so were all of them.
"And puppies. I really like puppies."
A girlish shriek fills the air as Tobias's baby comes bounding down the stairs, smile so wide Tobias knows full well that Luka isn't going anywhere.
"I like puppies too Daddy. I love them."
Tobias can only nod as a burst of laughter courses through him, his head thrown back in wonder at the two children in front of him.
Tris was right. It was puppy love.
He grins at his wife from the couch, not missing the glint in her eyes or the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw her smile back.
Yup. Good old puppy love.
Thanks for reading! Please review!