To Erica, who asked for this to be written. I hope it lives up to your expectations!
Four's hair looks stupid.
Well, it always looks stupid, but today it looks a whole different kind of stupid. Eric tries to pretend he doesn't notice it, because he prefers it when he doesn't ever notice Four. But he can't help it. Someone has cut the sides way too short, and shoved the middle of it up like some sort of deranged fin.
Four strides past him, oozing an air of coolness that he doesn't really have.
"Hey Eric." He throws out, picking up the list of initiates that are currently shouting and punching each other in a display of manliness.
Eric rolls his eyes, and focuses on the class in front of him. He hates them already; each one nothing more than an annoying pest he'll have to help mold into some semblance of a soldier. This group seems especially exasperating.
"Four." His voice is monotone, and he hopes it conveys his rapidly lessening tolerance of the other trainer.
"Thought I'd try something new." Four comes to a halt beside him, standing with a wide stance. "New class, new look, right?" He throws Eric a look as if they have the sort of comradery between them in which they discuss their hair.
Eric's eyes flick upwards for the barest of seconds before he returns to glaring at the class. He sighs, hoping Four will wander away soon. He can't even be sure that Four is talking about his stupid hair.
So he merely huffs in response.
"Ellie cut it." Four tells him, and Eric wonders at what point in their Leader and Trainer working relationship was he required to listen to Four talk about his hair. He wasn't even supposed to be training this damn class. Max had sent him down here, with the threat of demoting Eric to his own personal assistant if Four's class did not produce an extraordinary group this session. Four had gotten the reputation of being too nice, and everyone knew Eric was incapable of being any sort of nice.
"Who's Ellie?" He snaps. He watches the class mill around, one of the taller initiates stumbling awkwardly towards the punching bags. He can feel the scowl forming on his lips and he's only been in the training room for a few minutes.
Four wrinkles his brow at Eric, surprise crossing his face. "How do you not know? She cuts your hair, too." He informs him. Eric shrugs, completely unaware of who cuts his hair. He's gone to the same girl for the past two years. She seemed to always be there when he went in, and she knew what he wanted and she didn't ask him a million questions. In fact, most of the times they barely spoke and he felt it worked out rather well.
"Are you ready to get started?" He turns to Four, his expression sliding from bored to more bored. "I don't want to be here all day."
"Well you have to." Four answers, a hint of cheerfulness behind his voice. Eric briefly wonders if Ellie happened to stab Four in the head with her shears during his latest haircut. He seems to be having some sort of mental lapse this morning.
They walk towards the class, Eric's boots stomping over the mats with little enthusiasm.
"You know, Tris hates it."
Eric glares at him from the corner of his eyes.
"I off handed mentioned that Ellie liked it, and then it got started on this whole tangent about did I think Ellie was pretty and maybe I should date her if she likes my hair so much…" Eric can feel the irritation creeping up his spine. It's too early in the day for Four to try to bond with him like they're at some sleepaway camp.
"I don't really care." Eric tells him, his eyes blazing at the class. They seem inept, and for a quick moment he can see himself, filing Max's paperwork for the rest of his days in Dauntless.
Four shrugs. "I didn't think it was a big deal. And she has a boyfriend…"
Eric turns to him, his grey eyes flashing cold. "Stop talking. I'm not here to fill in for Tris as the one who gets the pleasure of listening to you yap all day long. Start your class, so we can wrap this day up quickly."
Four gets the message, or he doesn't. He just raises an eyebrow, and it only exaggerates his stupid haircut.
She is pretty.
Eric sits in the chair, watching her shave the sides of his head. He's never really noticed before, probably because his standards of pretty were impossibly high. No one in Dauntless really met them. It was easier for him to have his fun and kick them out before the morning came. No use in finding out what they really looked like without their perfectly done eyeliner and their overly styled hair.
She's not what he would typically think is pretty. She's got this reddish brown hair that looks kind of like his before he forces it back and in place. She's kind of scrawny for Dauntless, but she's obviously passed the initiation. She looks a few years younger than him, but he can't remember her being in his class.
He stares at her, eyes narrowing at she steps in front of him to comb the front down. There's a tattoo on her wrist that peeks out from beneath her sleeve, and he can see the tiniest bit of one from underneath the collar of her shirt. She's got a few piercings here and there, but nothing extraordinary. She meets his gaze through his hair, and he realizes she has very pretty blue eyes.
He averts his stare immediately.
She finishes quickly, applying the same sort of paste that he uses every morning, and he wonders if she can pick up on his discomfort.
"Good?" She asks, showing him the back. It looks the same as it always does, but he nods and holds her stare.
"Four's hair looks stupid." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he clamps his mouth shut. For a moment he thinks she will be insulted, after all, she's the one that cut it. But her face breaks out in a smile and she laughs quietly.
"I thought so, too. But I have to do what people ask for." Eric snorts. He knew Four picked out that stupid haircut himself. She undoes the cape for him, and before he can say anything else, a stylist in training trots over and leads him to rinse out his hair, and Ellie slips away.
He leaves without saying goodbye.
But he transfers her few extra points, feeling hot when he signs his name across the line.
Four's class loses two initiates in the first week.
It's not surprising to Eric. One of them was a boy from Amity; willowy limbs and a wobbly smile. He'd looked a little horrified by the punching bags, and he been knocked unconscious the first few minutes of his first fight. He'd graciously left, claiming he'd prefer to be factionless than to be a part of such a violent community.
Four had nodded seriously, and Eric had sneered after him, wondering what possessed the kid to choose Dauntless.
He knew he'd run back to Amity. There was a delightful rumor that they usually allowed their failed transfers to come crawling back to them. It took a lot of man power to run their fields, and they weren't likely to turn down the help. No one protested. All the factions depended on them for food, and the other factions weren't exactly fighting to take over for them.
The second had surprised him. He was from Candor, mouthy as shit, and he'd cracked a few ribs after he fell during one of their runs. Eric couldn't even be sure how it happened, but he'd listened to Four and crossed the boy's name off the list with an exasperated sigh.
Today he watched them scramble to assemble their guns. He'd prepared for the worst; just waiting for someone's to go off in their face. Four stopped in front of him, his hair flattened in an attempt at normalcy.
"Tris is still mad at me." He crosses his arms and shifts beside Eric. "I think this might be our first real fight."
Eric merely grunts. Four and Tris had been together since her class a few years ago. She wasn't the worst person Eric had ever met, but combined with Four, they were intolerable. And he certainly didn't give two shits about their relationship.
"Fascinating." Eric responds dryly.
The class finishes assembling the guns. There are a few that Eric can see potential in, but just a few.
He runs into Ellie in the mess hall.
He's never noticed her in here before. Or anywhere around the compound really. And he was pretty observant.
She's standing a few people ahead of him in line, surrounded by a group of friends who are all staring at her sympathetically. He watches her tilt her head and shrug her shoulders. Her friends scatter as he takes a step closer, their dinners in their hands.
He clears his throat, having no one real reason to talk to her.
She looks up at him, surprise crossing her face. "Oh, hi Eric."
He towers over her. He never really realized how short she really is. She barely comes up to his chest, and he squints at the flat shoes on her feet. Maybe his perception was skewed because he'd always been sitting down anytime he'd seen her. He looks to the side for a moment, making sure no one is really paying attention to them.
They aren't.
"Why are you so short?" The words come out and he feels a burning rush of mortification. This is the second time he's said something to her that he hadn't planned on saying. He's much smarter than this; he's got an excellent vocabulary and he's not sure what's rendered him so stupid in this moment. It's not like she holds any high position over him, there should be no intimidation on her part.
But all she does is smile, her lips turning upwards and she kind of laughs. "Couldn't tell you." She answers him shrugging. Her eyes suddenly light up. "Oh! I won't be there next Monday. I know you always come in to get the sides cleaned up, but I'm going to be in a class that day. I can tell Staci how to cut it if you want."
A spark of self-importance runs through him. He finds himself pleased she remembers when he comes in. "I'll wait for you. I think I can last an extra week."
Ellie nods, smiling as she steps away, clutching her plate in her hands. "I'll see you then."
He watches her walk away, jaw tensing when he sees Four watching him from across the hall.
On Friday Four's hair is parted to the side, and he couldn't look any dorkier if he tried.
Eric watches as Four's class awkwardly throws knives, some actually hitting the target but most falling to the floor with a loud clank. He wanders behind them, occasionally snapping at them to aim better, until Four comes up beside him.
"I think we should split up and each work with half. We might get better results that way." He's staring at Eric, with the sort of hopeful optimism that Eric despises. Eric sighs, and shrugs noncommittally.
"Fine."
Half an hour later, Eric's half can mostly hit the targets, and Four's half can somewhat hit the targets. Eric gloats a bit, dismissing his team and making his way towards the table where his tablet sits. Beside him, Four sighs heavily.
"I think Tris is going to break up with me."
Eric glares from the corner of his eyes, clicking on the message from Max. He finds himself scowling even deeper at the questioning e-mail.
"She said she needs some space."
For once, Eric can sympathize with Tris's feelings.
His hair touches the collar of his jacket, and he feels like some unkempt creature.
Eric shoves the collar up angrily, hoping to cover the offense length in the back. Ellie, was not there on the following Monday, and he'd tensed at the idea of letting someone named Bubbles near his head.
"I'll come back." He snarled. The lady at the front desk seemed a bit terrified, and she shrunk back after he rebuked her offer of a substitute stylist.
"Sorry, she called out." She tells him, her eyes widening as he glared.
He doesn't care.
Or he shouldn't care. He tried to ignore the angry burning in his stomach. She could have at the very least told him...
He stops in his tracks. Why would she have told him? She wouldn't even know how to get a hold of him. She's nothing more than the stylist that cuts his hair, and she has every right to call out of work. By the time he reaches the Pit his anger has mostly dissipated. He'll find someone to take his mind off this annoyance; hopefully someone who won't notice his suspiciously longer hair.
Eric nearly groans when Four slides up next to him, flanked by Peter. Four looks miserable and Peter looks slightly elated.
"Tris dumped him." Peter announces, jerking his thumb at Four as though Eric were too stupid to realize who Tris was dating. "Without so much as a warning."
"Congratulations." Eric snaps, shoving past them. He can hear Peter snort behind him.
"Let's go find someone to help cheer you up." Peter's voice carries through the Pit, and Four's weak protests come shortly after. Eric ignores them both, and continues stomping through until he's almost through to the other side.
He needs a drink. These past few weeks have been absolute shit. He doesn't know what's worse; being assigned to babysit Four's class or that fact that he's found himself whole heartedly disappointed that Ellie wasn't there to cut his hair.
The last thought nags unpleasantly in his mind.
He straightens his spine.
He'll focus only on the first one.
She's finally back, and Eric's jaw is clenched so tightly it's becoming painful.
He's been waiting for her to return, like some sort of obsessive stalker. Meanwhile his hair has looked like utter shit. He didn't feel like tying Four in some unofficial hideous hair contest. So when he saw her, standing beside her chair, wiping off a pair of shears, he jumped at the chance to get his hair cut.
He'd found himself with a free afternoon. Four's class had taken a field trip to the fence, and because Lauren would also be there, Eric gleefully excused himself from going. Sure, he would miss out on potentially shoving Four onto the other side of the fence, but the lure of short hair was much more appealing.
So he'd signed in, reading his messages while he waited for her.
Most were from Max, including several expressing his gratitude for Eric helping him out. That threw him off. He hadn't really been given a choice. He narrowed his eyes as he clicked out of that one. He was almost done when an alert popped up on the bottom.
He sneered at the name next to the icon.
Four- Are you getting a haircut?
He was tempted to not respond. The messaging system was new; Max wanted a way to easily communicate with his leaders, and it just so happened anyone with a tablet had the new messenger system. Including Four.
He angrily typed back YES, in all capitals, hoping his annoyance would read through.
Four- I thought your hair looked weird.
Eric grits his teeth.
Four- Her boyfriend dumped her. I tried to get mine cut a few days ago and she wasn't there.
His fingers freeze, and he feels warm humiliation shoot through him. Why was Four telling him this. He didn't think Eric actually cared about the girl, did he? The icon shows Four's continued typing, and Eric is tempted to close the chat before the next message comes.
Four- Ask her if she'll be there tomorrow.
Eric types back FINE and closes the window. Someone calls his name, and he stands up, his eyes fixed ahead.
She looks sad and he tries not to notice.
Ellie cuts his hair after a quiet apology about missing his appointment. He shrugs at her. She doesn't owe him anything, and where she was is not his business. He feels delighted when she finishes the sides. His head feels lighter, and it already looks better. She holds up the first section on top and he nods.
"Just a little off the top." His tone makes him sound like a dick, but he can't help it.
She snips away, her eyes never meeting his.
He can feel his shoulders tensing up, and he's overcome by the urge to shake her. She's never been overly cheery to him, but he doesn't like her like this. Like someone had kicked her in the stomach and then forced her right back into work.
"Sorry about your boyfriend." He finds himself muttering. She freezes, her fingers in his hair. She takes a second and looks down, and he realizes she looks embarrassed.
"Thanks." She finally says, soft enough that only he can hear it. She doesn't meet his eyes again. Ellie finishes quickly, and he nods in satisfaction.
"Thanks for waiting for me." She's looking somewhere behind him, her eyes slightly wet looking.
No one has ever cried over him, so presses his lips into a fine line, and nods before he walks away.
He can't sleep worth shit anymore.
His bed is too uncomfortable; he's too hot then too cold. The blankets too heavy, the sheets too irritating. He shoves the covers back, throwing himself out of the bed. It's early in the morning, sometime right before five, and he might as well get up.
He makes his way down to the training center.
It's deserted in the early morning, and he uses it to his advantage. He takes out all his pent up aggression on the punching bags, then quickly works through his weight training. His arms burn by the time he is done, he's pushed himself even harder than normal, but he feels slightly more like himself.
Eric dresses quickly after his shower; the uniform is familiar, the dark shirt and even darker jacket are sharp and crisp as ever. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he stares his own reflection down. Pale skin and slick hair, grey eyes and a sneer.
He's not anyone to lose sleep over, and he can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he was.
He goes back for a clean-up earlier than normal.
He blames it on the fact that he has a leaders meeting this Friday, but he knows that's not the real reason. He wants to know how she's doing, but it feels reprehensible to admit that, even to himself. Only the weak ones find themselves actually caring about the wellbeing of other's. His parents showed him that. They raised him to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, the greatest at everything. Never once did they tell him to stop and make sure complete strangers are doing a-okay.
But Ellie isn't a complete stranger.
Not entirely.
He doesn't quite know what he would classify her as.
She stands to the side of him, taking the edgers around his ears and around his neck. Her fingers hold his head in place, and he watches her carefully.
She looks pretty today.
He shifts in his seat, and meets her stare in the mirror. Her dress is a dark blue, almost black and it falls off one shoulder. His gaze fixes there, his fingers curling beneath the cape. He finds himself wondering what it would feel like to touch her, to run his fingers along her exposed skin.
The urge is almost overwhelming, and it makes him feel ill. He needs to stop. He doesn't have time for this, and she doesn't need him becoming creeped out by him. And he doesn't to find himself being forced to find another stylist because he's made an ass out of himself with his current one.
But she merely smiles, her cheeks slightly pink and she hangs up the edgers and leans back against the station. "Anything else you want me to do?" Her eyes are large and bright.
There are a lot of thing he'd like her to do, but he shakes his head and tries to ignore those thoughts.
"Have fun at your meeting." She tells him as he stands up. She comes up behind him, pushing herself up on her toes so she can unsnap the cape. He turns suddenly, and they are face to face. Well, he's facing her and she's facing his chest. He feels exposed without the cape, and even more without his jacket on.
He stares at her for a long moment, allowing himself to wonder what it would feel like to press himself against her.
"He's an idiot." Eric says. His voice sounds rough even to his own ears. She looks up at him, and smiles, pleasant surprise across her face.
"I agree."
Its more words than they've ever spoken.
He reluctantly steps away from her, wondering if he will ever be able to keep his mouth shut. He's obviously hung around his candor initiates too much. He's been reduced to blurting out whatever pops into his head.
He catches her stare as he goes to check himself out. It is friendly and sweet, obviously not for him. He leaves way too many points this time, signing his name with a heavy hand.
"More to the left." Eric tells the kid.
Four's class is getting better, at least Eric's half is. For some unknown reason, they seem to respond to him, and they have improved tenfold. He gets a small thrill of satisfaction when they hit all their targets, but he doesn't show it. He simply nods in approval, pacing behind them. Teaching isn't his thing, but he just needs to make it through this class and then he'll make Max promise to never assign him to this again.
Beside him Four sulks, his hair spiked up as though someone's electrocuted him.
Her ex-boyfriend is there the next time Eric gets his haircut.
He watches Ellie carefully; her whole body is tensed up, her eyes worried and her attention distracted. They can both hear him, making a fuss at the front desk, all because, he just wants to talk to her.
Ellie bites her lip and catches Eric's stare, shaking her head. Her eyes are almost pleading and Eric finds himself nodding at her. She's just finished his hair, and she was asking him about how to connect some sort of monitor when they heard him.
Her posture had changed immediately, her fingers twisting together. Her nails are painted some dark color, and her knuckles turn a ghostly white from the pressure of her grip.
"I don't want to talk to him." She says it very quietly. Eric stands up, and stands close to her, bending his head down.
"Then you won't."
He can smell her shampoo, something sweetly floral and he resists the urge to nuzzle closer to her. It's not exactly intimidating if he's full on smelling her hair. He pulls himself to his full height, and he saunters over the desk. The woman behind it looks relieved as he approaches, and he takes in the sight of the disturbance.
He's disappointingly boring.
Eric smirks at him; the exboyfriend is average, tall and fit with dark brown hair. There is not one remarkable thing about him, and Eric finds himself glowering with delight.
"Here you go Eric." The girl nervously slides him the ticket, with Ellie's name atop of it. He writes an exuberant amount of points on it, and sneers at the man next to him.
"Can I help you?" The man asks him. His eyes are fixed on the ticket, and he grimaces. "I see you and Ellie are obviously good friends. Her haircuts aren't that great."
Eric cocks his head and steps closer to him, until they are almost touching. He smiles at the guy, baring his teeth at him.
"Don't come near her again. Or I'll make sure you don't."
His words are a hiss and a threat, and the idiot stumbles back a second. It looks like he's just realized who Eric is, and he takes off without another word.
He turns and finds Ellie beside him, and he nearly jumps when her fingers find his.
"Thank you."
She doesn't let go for a minute, and his stomach knots up when she finally does.
The knock on his door is unsurprising.
He's stepped out of his shower, and he dresses quickly in a worn t-shirt and a pair of boxers. The past few nights it's been Four, stumbling back from wherever he's downed his sorrows in cheap liquor, and mistaking Eric's apartment for his own. The last night he managed to make his way all the way in, passing out on Eric's couch before Eric could shoo him out.
He flings the door open, barking, "What?", in utter annoyance. He's taken back to find Ellie standing there, a plate of cupcakes in her hands. Her lips part in surprise at his agitation, and he immediately stiffens.
"Sorry." He mutters. "I thought you were Four."
"Four?" She asks, looking confused.
"Yeah." He sighs. "He's been recovering from his split with Tris and he'd ended up here the past few nights."
"How nice for you." She laughs. He likes the way she looks when she smiles, and he catches himself staring at her longer than necessary.
"Very. Do you, ah, want to come in?" He fumbles for a minute, feeling hot and awkward. He hasn't felt like this since he was young, and the girl in his class told him she liked his glasses.
Ellie nods, and carefully steps through his doorway. She glances around curiously, and he finds himself smirking.
"I don't want to bother you. I just wanted to drop these off as a thank you. For handling Mathew. I don't even know if you like cupcakes, but…" she trails off, setting the plate on his counter.
So the fucker has a name.
"I do like cupcakes." Eric tells her, watching her stand in his kitchen.
She seems pleased, and Eric can't help the small burst of warmth that runs through him. He actually loves cupcakes, but admitting that out loud seems a tad bit emasculating. She looks around, her eyes taking in the large apartment. He finds himself wanting her to stay, badly. He finds the feeling downright embarrassing.
"This is so much bigger than mine." She tells him, and he bites back the retort that comes to his mind. He has lots of bigger things he could show her.
Her eyes fall upon his bedroom door, and she opens her mouth to say something, when the sloppy knocking starts.
Eric closes his eyes, and wishes a very sudden death for the man on the other side of it.
"Is that Four?" Ellie asks him, her eyes amused.
He can merely roll his eyes, and storm back towards the door.
Tomorrow he will find Tris, and he will give her all his points if she will just get back together with Four already.
Her apartment is half the size of his, and it is warm and inviting.
While his is a constant state of cold perfection, hers looks like someone lives here. Her living room is brightly lit up, a rich brown sofa in the middle of it, complete with too many pillows and a soft looking blanket. There's a coffee table with a few books and glossy magazines, and several dozen slightly creepy mannequin heads with varying haircuts spread throughout the room. He almost kicks one over, stumbling back a bit as the sight of one with bright green dreadlocks.
"Interesting." He steps aside, setting the large monitor on the desk to the side of the wall.
"Sorry." She tells him, setting down the large brown paper bag that the cooks had given her. He'd offered to help her set up her monitor. It was fairly large, and she quietly confessed to him that she'd found it in crate at the latest trade shipment. He's found himself proposing to help her, and she'd looked ecstatic.
She unloaded their dinner while he worked, quickly setting up the monitor and connecting everything together. She set it down on the small table off of her kitchen. When he was done, he sat down across from her, enjoying the dinner she'd brought up.
He wondered if she and Matthew had always done this. Shared their meals together on a daily basis, living in such a state of normalcy. It makes his own life seem starkly solitary.
She smiles at him between bites of noodles, and he tries to ignore the flip in his stomach, as though he's just dropped off a very large building.
Tris narrows her eyes at him.
"No." She tells him, almost definitely. Her shoulders are squared and she holds her head high, daring him to say it again.
"It's an order." He snarls.
She shakes her head and purses her lips. "No Eric. I'm not getting back together with Four. And I don't want your points."
The frustration boils up in him, threating to burst. He clenches his fists and his jaw, anything to keep his emotions in check.
"He keeps showing up at my apartment, drunk off his ass."
Tris laughs loudly. Her shoulders shake as she continues on. "I guess he's your problem now." She shakes her head, taking a step back from his, still snorting with laughter.
Eric growls in frustration.
His half of the class takes the top fifteen spots on the ranking.
He's proud of them, he supposes. They've listened well, and they are definitely much better than Four's group. It doesn't help that Four has been a hot mess ever since he heard Tris had zero intentions of getting back together with him.
Eric glowers at Four as he runs a hand through his hair. It's longer now, his obsession with trying new styles coming to a halt as he apparently has nothing left to live for. It hangs in his eyes, and looks like he hasn't even attempted to comb it.
"Everybody take a break." Eric barks out, and he storms over to Four.
"What is your problem." He hisses, staring at the disheartened stance of the trainer. "You have a class to lead." Motivation is not his job, but he can't fathom Max discovering that Four's lovelorn attitude means half the class is about to fail. "Get your shit together." He glares down at him, and Four looks up, his eyes dull.
"What does Ellie see in you? You're not even a nice person." Four spits, and stomps off like a petulant child.
Four's words have never bothered him before, but this time he feels like someone has sliced him open and pulled his guts out for the world to see.
Her face pops into his head.
It always happens at the worst times.
In the middle of one of Max's meetings, in the middle of trying to rank his stupid class, or like now, in the shower as he tightens his grip around his throbbing erection. He doesn't mean to think of her like this; but he finds it happening more and more.
Ellie has been nothing but sweet and friendly, and he hasn't even seen her since he ate dinner with her.
Between taking over Four's class completely and trying to keep Four from drowning in whiskey, he hasn't had time to even get his haircut. He's missed his last two appointments, and he finally stopped by to apologize, only to find her backed up with five clients waiting for her. He'd tried to catch her gaze, like some desperate stalker, but she hadn't seen him.
He slunk away, telling the receptionist to tell her he was sorry, and he'd be by soon. She'd looked mildly amused, but had nodded and written his name down.
But now, now he thought of her. The way her eyes had stared up at him, the way she smelled like something sugary and sweet, and the way he had flat out oogled her bare shoulder. He could almost feel her, below him, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her.
He came embarrassingly fast.
He stumbled forward for a second, catching himself against the shower tiles with one hand. His breathing was ragged, her face still flashing in his mind.
He couldn't let it happen again.
He wouldn't.
He shows up at her apartment, with every intent of telling her thank you, but he will be finding someone else to cut his hair, but he'll still help her keep Matthew away if need be. In his mind, it sounds fine. He'll make up some lie, like he's growing it out to try a new style, or that he's decided to just cut the damn thing himself every week. He starts thinking off all the things he can spend his extra points on.
More boots.
A new vest.
A pair deadbolt for his door and an electric fence that Four won't be able to get through.
No one answers the door. He waits several minutes, growing impatient. He raises his hand to knock again, when she finally opens the door. Her eyes are squinty and wet, her head down. It doesn't take anyone from Erudite to figure out she's been crying.
He clenches his jaw at the sight, not even wondering who made her cry.
"I'll kill him." He says it out loud, without thinking. Ellie's eyes widen, and she starts crying, really crying. She presses her palms to her eyes, and her shoulders shake.
"No!" She protests, and Eric feels a white hot flash of something rush through him. He feels nauseous when he realizes its jealousy. She can't actually want that asshole alive. His mind races; maybe she's back together with him. Maybe she's crying tears of happiness at her picture fucking perfect life with Matthew.
She takes a step towards him, her shirt exposing the same shoulder as before. He grits his teeth together, the sensation unpleasant. He tenses when she finds his fingers again, hers warm against his cold hands.
"He came by to drop some of my stuff off. He then proceeded to tell me what a terrible person I am, and went over every single thing he's ever hated about me. I just…I don't know, this has been a really bad week."
She looks lost and disheartened. He stares somewhere above her, wishing he knew what to do.
"I'm sorry to dump all that on you. You've done enough to help me." She's staring up at him, and he feels like someone has cracked open his chest. It aches for a second, his heart beating a pattern unfamiliar to him. His hands break free from hers, and one slides into her hair, his thumb touching her cheek softly. She's hardly a terrible person. She smiles at him, but it's halfhearted.
"Come with me." He hears himself say.
For a second, Eric panics at his own words. He was on his way here to unofficially dump her as his stylist, but not because she's a terrible person. The exact opposite. Because she's a good person, and he's simply losing his mind thinking about her.
"Ok." She looks up at him, her eyes still wet but a little bit brighter.
Eric swallows. His new path in life must be one where his mouth isn't connected to his brain.
She sleeps curled against him; her head buried in his neck. He wonders how she can breathe like that, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. Her body flush with his, one of her legs pressed between his, her hand on his chest.
It didn't take much coaxing to get her into his bedroom.
He had rare good intentions. He'd let her stay here for a few days, he'd try to keep her away from Matthew, and then he'd figure out what to do with the rest. He'd also work on training Four's class, attempt to fix Four's shit attitude, and convince Max he'd done a good enough job to not be demoted.
Christ, he needed a drink. Multiple drinks.
Instead he let himself lie beneath her, mildly uncomfortable.
In theory, this should have been some sort of fantasy come true. Guy gets the girl at her most vulnerable point, and they fall into a warm bed, seeking comfort in each other. No one has ever slept in Eric's bed other than Eric. And if anyone else was in it, there wasn't a whole lot of sleeping going on.
But Ellie had merely curled into him as if they'd done this before.
She fit nicely against him, her feet grazing his shins and her body deliciously warm against his. She smelled good, like the vanilla cupcakes she'd brought him. He swallowed thickly, trying to will himself to sleep. She'd drifted off easily, her fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt until she'd relaxed completely against him.
He shifts slightly, and she curls impossibly closer to him, sighing against his neck.
His heart beats loudly, and he wonders if she will wake up from the noise. What would she think if she found out that he's never actually shared a bed like this before? That he's never allowed anyone to be just quite so close to him.
The reality is, she probably wouldn't care. She'd just smile at him, and go back to sleep.
He relaxes the tiniest bit, his panic subsiding.
She feels good against him. He tries not to think if she slept with Mathew like this. His grip tightens on her, an unconscious reflex, and he finally starts to drift off when he realizes she's not going anywhere.
Four does not appreciate his wake up call, but neither does Eric.
He'd dragged himself out of his warm bed, away from a warm Ellie who'd almost mewled in protest when he'd slid out from beneath her. The sound headed straight for his dick, and he tried to ignore the stirring sensation. He had no time for it. At least now right now.
He'd come back to her later.
He'd come back to that later.
He told her where he was going even though she was half asleep, and placed a neatly written note next to the bed. He'd left a key, and even though that felt strange, he wanted her to come back. He didn't know her work schedule, but he didn't want her stuck wandering around until he was done; or worse, finding Matthew and opening herself up for a second round of insults.
So there he was, kicking on Four's door and yelling that the imbecile get up and get ready. Four had opened the door looking like some sort of vampire, pale skin and hair both sticking up and stuck flat to his head.
"Get ready. You have class in an hour. We can grab breakfast on the way." Eric found himself coolly informing him. Four blinked a few times, before nodding sheepishly.
Relief washes over Eric, surprising and satisfying.
The first time he kisses Ellie he doesn't entirely mean to. It had been a few weeks since she first stayed with him, and he's found he rather enjoyed her company.
She was quiet, but quiet in a way that felt good. She'd been happy to curl up on the couch with him, or simply sit with him while he worked away. He discovered she was smart, really smart, and she helped him organize the rest of the training plans, and she liked helping him rank the initiates.
He'd turned to tell her thank you, unaware that she was so close to him, her head cocked at him. His lips brushed her cheek first, then her lips.
She didn't jerk away from him; rather she pressed her lips back against his, almost shyly. He'd broken apart first, his eyes finding hers. His heart felt like someone was squeezing it, as the blood couldn't properly surge through his veins. She'd tilted her head closer to his, her nose brushing his, and her mouth found his again.
He kisses her for a long time, over and over until neither of them can breathe properly and he definitely can't stand up any time soon.
The realization that he actually cares about Ellie, in a way other than lustfully wanting her, hits him hard, in the middle of a meeting with Max and some random assistants from other factions. They are going on and on about fence maintenance and he finds a small part of him well up with panic at the thought of the sensors malfunctioning while Ellie was out there.
It was stupid really.
She probably couldn't tell you how to get to the fence, let alone how to climb up there. He knew her routine, and it certainly didn't involve cutting hair outside of the salon.
He swallows his panic down, trying to cure the blind horror that's rushing through him. He's not sure when started to feel like this, so utterly caught up in his own excruciating feelings, but it's caught him off guard. Max is looking at him curiously, and he ignores it.
"I think that about wraps it up." Max announces. The group disperses quickly, but Eric stays sitting at the table. Max shuts the door after the last person leaves, and slides back into his original seat. He stares at Eric for a long time before he speaks.
"I hear Four is doing better."
Eric's head snaps up, and for a minute he wants to rat him out. He wants to tell him that while Four is there, he's not actually there. He's still sulking about Tris, and he spends a lot of his time in the class staring at the wall while Eric critiqued the classes fighting.
It was starting to piss him off, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't dare risk Max thinking he couldn't handle it.
So he nods at Max, and wonders when the fuck he became such an exuberantly kind person.
"He's doing much better. The class is going well. I think they'll do much better than last sessions." He informs him, staring down at his cuticles.
Max nods, and Eric can tell he believes him. It's halfway true.
"I hear you've got a girlfriend."
Eric stiffens, his whole body tensing as though someone has outed his darkest secrets. He narrows his eyes, and raises an eyebrow at Max, opening his mouth to answer him.
He finds that he can't.
He swallows thickly, grabbing the papers in front of him.
"I need to get back to the class." It's all he manages to make out, and he's out the door before Max can say anything else.
She's warm beneath him, and her bare skin against his is close to making him lose his shit much sooner than he'd like to.
He grits his teeth as his hips work against her, trying to focus on something other than Ellie. This was entirely her fault. She'd whispered to him, well- more into his neck than actually to him, that she'd been on birth control for a year now, and it was okay that he was out of condoms.
In hindsight, he should have told her no. He should have ignored the way his body was practically buzzing with the need to be close to her, and told her that he didn't quite do it this way. But he'd found himself drowning into her, muttering a strangled raspy "Okay."
It was too much.
She was too tight, too hot and slick, too deliriously everything underneath him. He didn't know what to think, because he couldn't form a coherent thought at the moment. She'd been sleeping in his bed for almost three months now, but he'd never pushed her for more than a goodnight kiss. You would have thought he was some damn Stiff at the way he was acting.
She arches closer to him, her nails scraping his back and he bites down on her neck and tries to picture Max, naked and making him organize his office. He tries to picture Four, with his hair slicked back like some sort of weird mafia member standing naked in front of the class. He tries to picture anyone and everyone but Ellie, and it works. For a minute.
She shifts beneath him, until she pulls his head towards her, kissing him tenderly. Her legs wrap around him, keeping him close, and before long he realizes she's tensing up around him.
He says a quick prayer of thanks, because he comes shortly after her, gasping her name and gracelessly collapsing onto her. She curls back into him, her body fitting perfectly against his, and they both fall asleep before he can remember the last time he ever had sex like this.
There are six lines shaved into the side of Four's hair.
Eric chooses not to pay any attention to them and instead shoves Four the list of initiates who need to practice their final simulations today.
"You need to finish all ten of them. By yourself. I'll be back in an hour and I hope you'll be done with at least one of them."
Four scowls, his eyebrows furrowing in, but he doesn't protest.
"Where are you going?" He finally asks, looking at Eric's retreating form. Eric doesn't answer. His half of the class is done, and he's given them the day off. Four can handle his own, he hopes. He makes his way out of the training room, and through the cavernous halls.
He's almost to Max's office when he spies Matthew leaving stalking down the hallway. Matthew comes to a half when he sees Eric, his face breaking into a smug grin.
"How's it going Eric?" He throws it out easily, as though he and Eric are longtime friends. Eric ignores him and keeps going, until Matthew stupidly steps in front of him. "I heard a funny rumor a few days ago. One that tells me you're now the lucky recipient of Ellie's subpar blowjobs."
Eric's fist connects with Matthews jaw with a satisfying crack.
His hand stings for a few hours after, but it doesn't bother him.
Ellie's are half closed, and she tries to shove him away from her as he kisses his way back up to her lips. Her thighs are parted for him, and he presses his lips to her throat as she squirms beneath him.
"Eric! It tickles! Stop!" Her words have a giggle to them, and he grins against her.
"No." He tells her, his fingers curling around one of her wrists. He holds it above her head, sliding inside of her. He sighs against her, her free hand making its way into his hair.
He's going to be late for the final fear landscapes. He was supposed to be back from his lunch fifteen minutes ago, but this is a much better way to spend his break than eating turkey warps and staring at the letter "D" that's been etched into the side of Four's hair.
Eric wanted badly to inform Four that people might think it stood for dick, or dumbass, or delusional. But he was a whole new kinder person now. He'd merely whispered it to Ellie who'd starting giggling the minute he brought it up.
"He made me do it. It's supposed to stand for Dauntless." She whispered, arching as he thrust harder.
Eric rolled his eyes and kissed her lips to quiet her. The only thing Dauntless about Four's new hair was that he was brave enough to walk around looking so stupid.
Max is pleased.
The class does really well, almost all of them passing their landscapes without too much trouble. Four stands beside him, hands clasped in front of him, and they watch the class file out through the building.
"Thank you, gentlemen." Max tells them. Eric watches as a few assistants power down the computers, and he sighs with relief as he realizes the training is done. Hopefully Max will be pleased enough that he will leave Eric alone and let him go back to his normal leadership duties.
"I need to thank you, Eric." Four's voice is quiet and serious. Eric tries hard to keep a neutral expression. He's managed to make it through the entire training session without murdering him, and he hopes whatever Four is about to tell him doesn't make him reconsider. "I uh, owe you one for helping me out. I don't know if I would have been able to finish the training without your encouragement."
Eric tries hard not to roll his eyes. "You can thank me by getting a normal haircut and not ever changing it again."
He can see Four nod out of the corner of his eyes, and Eric decides he will make Ellie promise to never listen to Four's requests again.
Eric falls asleep with his head on Ellie's chest, her fingers gently stroking through his hair.
Today was a good day.
Four had shown up in the Pit with his usual slightly broody expression, and his hair looked practically normal. He'd nodded at Eric, and made a beeline for the group that Peter was standing with. One of the girls, small and red haired had reached over, and found Four's hand. They stood together, smiling shyly at each other. Eric could only watch for a few moments before he started to feel ill at their obvious display of newfound affection.
So he'd headed home.
His apartment had never really felt like a home. It had always been a place to sleep, passing the night hours with little fanfare. But having Ellie there made it different. It was warmer, the space more lively with her and her possessions in it. The decision to have her move her stuff in should have unnerved him; his apartment may not have been a home, but it was his own space.
But Eric found that he got a small embarrassing amount of pleasure at seeing her stuff next to his. Her dresses hung up in his closet next to his jackets, her shoes- too many pairs of ballet flats and a few scattered pair of heels sat next to his, and her leggings were mixed in with his dark work pants.
He found that he liked her stuff there.
It gave her less chance to run away.
He thought for sure she'd split as soon as she realized how he was. He wasn't overly affectionate and overly sentimental. He didn't enjoy grand public displays of affection, and he didn't know how to be soft and romantic. She would leave, he knew. After she grew tired of him.
To his surprise, she hadn't. And she didn't show any signs of leaving.
She seemed to have infinite patience for him; she dealt with his crankiness with ease, and she curled next to him on the couch, slipping her head against his chest and sighing happily. She held his hand when they walked through the halls, and she whispered how much she had missed him when she saw him after work.
He'd never had anyone openly admit they missed him before, and it felt surprisingly nice to hear her say those words.
She softened his sharpness, but only around her. He still glared at the newest training class, even though he'd found himself volunteering to help make sure Four didn't fuck up this one. He still despised talking to most people, but it seemed to bother him just a little bit less now. And he still hated Four's hair with a burning passion.
But today, Ellie had made him spaghetti, and then pulled him into their bed, sleepily informing him that she couldn't wait until they both had a whole day off together. He'd nodded, laying his head down, listening to her heart below him.
She was pretty.
The prettiest person he'd ever met.
Her fingers brushed over his temples, and she held him close to her, sighing happily. She was falling asleep with him, just like she had for the past year.
Eric closed his eyes, silently thanking Four for getting that stupid haircut.