This is for Preciossa! This was a challenge I was given and I hope I can do it justice. This is a Petris fic, it won't be super long. Maybe a few chapters.
I'm working on ADWAD and TLAMLY so I won't be updating this as frequently as those, but between writing for those stories, I'll work on this.
This is after Allegiant
Slightly AU/Characters may be ooc at time : phones will be used
I do not own Divergent or any related characters or situations, just my oc's
This is going to be rated M because of strong language and I might have a lemon or two in here. Haven't decided yet.
Enjoy!
A bird landed on the bench next to Tris—black feathers gleaming in the sun. It tilted it's tiny head at her—hopping closer to where she perched.
Her eyes lingered on the bird—not wanting to look down at what lay in her hands.
Instead, she focused on its feathers. How the sun brought out the purples and blues hidden beneath the black.
With a deep sigh, she shook her head. Be brave. She looked down at her lap.
Her fingers were clutching the thick envelope—her body shaking. With a sigh, she slid her finger underneath the seal to open it—the bird squawking before flapping away.
The sounds of the park go on around her as her breathing slows—vision fading in and out. This isn't real, she thought as she read the wedding invitation again.
Tobias Eaton and Hannah Davis formally invite you, Beatrice Prior, to their wedding! November 13th, 2016, save the date! Couples only, you must have a date. RSVP now!
She bit her tongue, suppressing a scoff. Beatrice. She clenched her fists. That was probably Hannah Davis' doing. She sighed, fighting back the tears that prickled her eyes.
Stuffing the invitation in her bag, she left—feet pounding on the pavement. She was rounding the corner when a gruff voice called out to her—hands reaching out.
She swung her arm back—balling her hand into a fist. "Stay back!" The man held up his hands—dirty. She squinted her eyes. He had the same orbs, brown with flecks of green—like sea-glass. His hair was the same shiny black—a dark halo on top of his head. He looked the same but then he didn't. His lips were turned down—worry lines creasing his face. His eyes were far away—probably someplace better than here. "Peter?" she asked as he turned around—holding a tin can to those who passed by.
He turned his face towards her—eyes narrowing. "Tris?" His voice cracked—eyes averting from hers. "I didn't think—I mean—"
"You thought I would leave the city after all was said and done?" She took a step towards him and he took one back, embarrassment coloring his face. "You live here?"
He nodded slowly, shrugging his shoulders. He took a deep breath. "Figured you would have booked it, the first chance you got. Seeing as Four is still here—living in the city with—"
"Hannah," Tris spat—glaring at how easily Peter's arrogance bounced back to him.
He gave a wicked smirk. "Glad to see you're doing well." He turned on his heel but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Peter, come on. We can go back to my apartment."
"Sorry, Stiff. But I don't do those kinds of favors."
Tris tilted her head to the side, confusion washing over her—Peter raising an eyebrow before shaking his head. "Let's get you cleaned up and give you some food."
"I don't need your hand-outs, okay?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you let me help you because you smell like shit? I mean, I'm really doing the people of this city a great service by letting you take a shower."
He gave her a wide grin. "Sarcasm? It suits you." He inhaled sharply before nodding his head—eyes cast down. "Lead the way."
Tris was cooking as he showered. The timer went off and she took the pot from the stove. Pouring the pasta into the bowl, she mixed the chicken in—adding various herbs and spices.
She had just finished setting the table when the shower turned off—Peter emerging from the bathroom moments later.
She eyed him—noticing how Four's shirt hung loosely around his body, pants draping on the ends. She felt her heart sputter when she saw those clothes—tears prickling beneath her skin.
Peter sat down and glanced up to her.
"Stop undressing me, Stiff."
She shook her head. "What?"
"With your eyes." He took his fork and dug in—practically scarfing it down.
She smiled tentatively—eating her food. "I have your clothes in the washer but you can keep those. I have some more of hi—clothes for you."
Peter nodded. "This is pretty good, Stiff. Who knew you knew how to cook with spices?"
"Christina taught me some stuff." Peter scoffed at this—his eyes glancing to his empty glass. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like something to drink?"
He snorted. "Yeah, some scotch please."
She narrowed her eyes. "Water it is."
She cleared her plate and watched him eat—fingers twitching. How long have you lived out on the street, Peter?
She was lost in her own world so long she hadn't noticed when he had gotten up to wash his dishes. She blinked a few times—shaking her head. "No, Peter. I can do that."
"It's the least I can do, Stiff."
She sighed before grabbing her bag and walking to her room. "I'm going to take a shower. If you need anything, let me know."
He nodded—back turned to her as he washed the dishes.
With a shaky breath, she threw her bag down—the invitation fluttering to the floor. She glared at it. Fuck you. She picked it off of the floor and stalked back to the living room—Peter giving her a small glance as he washed his last dish. Silently, she tossed it in the waste-bin before stalking back to her room.
Grabbing her night clothes, she walked to the bathroom—peering around the corner to check on Peter. He was on the couch—reading one of her books, feet propped up on the cushions. Way to make yourself at home.
She started the shower and climbed in—breathing in the hot steam that was mixed with Peter's scent. She stiffened a little. It smelled so much like him—all earth and musk. She inhaled deeply—letting the scent wash over her as the hot water trickled down her body.
Tris didn't want to think about the stupid wedding or Four or anything else. She bit her lip—stifling a sob. The shower washed away the rogue tears that slipped between her lashes.
She was finishing rinsing herself—the tears no longer flowing, when an idea struck her. He'd never do it. She sighed as she dried herself off—a war raging in her mind.
Tris stalked out of the bathroom—peeking over to Peter. He was sprawled out on her couch—arm covering his eyes and a soft snore escaping his lips. She smiled as she grabbed a spare blanket and draped it over his body. She tucked him in—her hand caressing his cheek. You're an arrogant jerk, but you're not a monster, she thought before a yawn slipped past her lips. Turning off the light, she padded to her bedroom—unaware of eyes on her.
Tris awoke to the smell of coffee filling her apartment. She slowly walked out into the living room—watching as Peter pilled pancakes on two plates. "Morning," Tris said between yawns.
He looked at her—eyes bright. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"
Terribly. "I slept okay. You?" She poured a small amount of syrup over her pancakes before digging in. "Thanks for breakfast, you didn't have to."
He eyed her for a moment before giving her a wry grin. "I wanted to. I'm not really good at thanking people—accepting hand-outs—" she opened her mouth to speak but he waved her off. "Anyway, thanks. It's good to see you're still a Stiff."
She rolled her eyes. "And you're still an ass."
He flinched mockingly. "Ouch, Stiff. Language." She laughed before throwing a piece of pancake at him. He grabbed it and popped it into his mouth. "Is that how we're going to play?"
She rolled her eyes before eating her food—a comfortable silence taking over.
Peter cleared his throat and Tris looked to him—a questioning look on her face.
"So I saw this thing in the trash." Tris stilled—eyes narrowing. "He invited you to their wedding?"
Tris nodded slowly. "Yeah. But I'm not going to go."
He nodded. "It would be kind of weird. To go. After everything."
"Besides, it's couples only. I wouldn't have anyone to go with." She cleared her plate and got up to wash it.
She heard Peter sigh softly. "But why did he invite you? Seems like an asshole thing to do."
She dropped her plate—the porcelain clattering to the floor, breaking. "Oh." Tris shook her head and got a broom and dust-pan. She stalked over to the mess before Peter grabbed the tools from her hand. She gave him a look but he shrugged and got on the floor—sweeping the broken shards.
He was dumping the mess into the trash-can when Tris cleared her throat. "Would you like to go?"
Peter turned to face her—eyes wide. "Go where?"
She inhaled sharply. "To the wedding. With me." She sighed. "As my date."
Time seemed to be frozen—Peter standing there, eyes not blinking. Moments after, he shook his head—blinking rapidly.
"Did you just ask me to be your date?"
She took a step towards him. "Not as a date-date. Just, so I can go to the wedding."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you even want to go? The prick dumped you after you almost died saving us." His words sounded like they should have been loud—sceaming at her. Instead, he was calm—eerily so.
She let out a deep sigh. "I still care about him and I want to support him."
"Bullshit."
"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes at him—fists clenching.
"You threw that invitation away. You didn't really plan on going—something changed your mind. Tell me, and I'll think about it."
"You're an asshole."
"You're a terrible liar."
She huffed—heat coloring her cheeks. "I want to show up and show him that I'm strong on my own—that I can move on."
"With me?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't really have any other options."
He snorted. "So, you want to make him jealous?"
She bit her lip. "In a way. I guess."
He nodded slowly. "Sorry. I have plans."
"What do you have to do in three days?"
Peter shrugged, a smirk on his lips.
She clenched her fists—eyes narrowing. I made a mistake helping you, you arrogant prick! She opened her mouth to tell him off but then sealed her lips quickly. She tilted her head—remembering distant memories she wished she could forget. Her lips tugged up at the ends and Peter narrowed his eyes. "You're going to be my date."
"Excuse me?"
She grabbed his plate and dropped in the sink—brushing past him, bumping into his shoulder. "I helped you and now you're going to help me."
He snorted. "The fuck I am."
"Yeah. You are."
He widened his eyes. "I—"
She cut him off, a smile on her lips. "You owe me, Peter. I helped you. You have to square your debts away, Big Guy. Dishes and breakfast aren't going to cut it."
He glared at her—eyes gleaming. Moments passed before a smile slithered onto his face. "You're a clever bitch, you know that?"
She raised an eyebrow. "We need to go shopping." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I have to make a call."
She stalked into her room to grab her phone from her purse. His booming voice carried over to her. "You better not be calling Christina!"
She shut her eyes tightly—ignoring Peter. The phone was answered after the second ring. "Christina? I need your help."
I hope you liked this! I haven't written as Peter yet, just a little in my one-shot(s) and ADWAD; but nothing central. I hope I set this up okay.
Lemme know what ya think!
Review/favorite/follow; do all the lovely things you do! Thanks!
Until next time, bye-bye! :)