Author's Note: So, first Divergent fic. And first time posting here in...an embarrassing amount of time. So I had this idea bloom while at a steampunk convention in May, and ran with it. This is the result. Although it might take a little while to get to anything super sexy, I am going to keep this rated M, that way someone doesn't stumble upon it, like it, but not be okay with future content. In the meantime, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent Trilogy or anything from that universe. However, I did think of this plot.

1. Four

The music was soft as it filled the room, the sensual beats vibrating in the air. I had stopped paying attention to it a long time ago, though, paying more attention instead to the hands that were slowly making their way down my body. Fingers trailed lightly against the fabric of my shirt before pressing into my waist, pulling me closer. I gasped a little at the feeling of my curves against his firm chest.

I almost had to pinch myself to make sure this wasn't a dream; it wasn't the first time I had imagined this moment. I was definitely awake, though; there was no way I could dream this vividly. His lips were too soft against mine, his fingers rough against the exposed skin above my waistline. Even in my most detailed dreams it had never been like this; it had never felt so good.

He murmured something against my lips before kissing me again, deeply. His other hand cupped the back of my head, guiding it back just slightly. I shivered when I felt his tongue flick against my lips once, then again, as if begging for entry. My cheeks felt warm as I parted my lips for him; a small moan escaped me as his tongue pressed against mine. How had we gotten to this point?

Before this glorious encounter, we had just been sitting on the couch, drinking and laughing, talking about something that seemed so inconsequential now. Then, suddenly he'd leaned forward to kiss me, soft at first like he wasn't sure how he'd be received. I wasn't sure if it was something I had done or not done that had encouraged him, but he'd kissed me again. Now we were reclined on the couch, his body pressing mine into the pillows.

"Tris," he whispered, lips near my ear. His exhale tickled the sensitive skin there, making me shiver. "You have no idea..." He trailed off, then pressed his lips against my jaw, nipping gently. His hand slowly moved from my waist up my body until brushing the underside of my breast. My body responded for me, pressing against his; a moan escaped him and vibrated against my skin. His palm gently cupped my breast; I pursed my lips, trying to hold back another moan.

Part of me wondered how far we were going to go with this, if he wanted to go any further with me, or if this was just a kiss to him. I really wanted to assume that it wasn't, based on how his lips were trailing down the line of my throat, but he was so unpredictable.

I pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the feelings he was giving me. My body felt warm everywhere, tingling wherever his lips and hands had touched. I could feel my heart beating faster than normal in my chest, but it felt light and fluttery. I felt like I was floating.

When he shifted, I felt something hard pressing against my leg; a blush burned my cheeks and I tried not to think more than thirty seconds ahead. That didn't stop the thoughts from rushing in my mind, reminding me that I had wanted this for so long. I couldn't stop the moan that escaped from me as I felt his hips roll against me.

Then there was laughter outside the door. My eyes flew open instantly. He sat back immediately, leaving me feeling cold in his absence against my body. The door opened, and in walked the worst distraction ever.

Laughter filled the room, drunken people stumbling in, unaware of what they had just interrupted. Dammit. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heart, then looked at him. His lips were clamped together, but he wasn't looking at me, at least not right now.

"Four!" Someone shouted, falling onto the couch between us. It was Zeke, Four's best friend. "We've been wondering where you ended up!"

"I've been here," Four said, seeming entirely too calm for having just been interrupted mid-grope. "Tris and I were chatting about the show earlier." A beer was thrust into his hands and he sipped it immediately; our other drinks were probably warm by now.

My cheeks suddenly felt hot like I'd been slapped, even more than they had before everyone interrupted us. Was he ashamed of having made out with me? I'd heard him tell stories before about girls he'd made out with, rating them on a scale of awful to some risque metaphor, so he wasn't normally shy. Doubt and rejection filled my head. Was he grateful for the interruption? I couldn't help but wonder, judging by how smoothly he slipped into the conversation going on around us.

"What'd you think of the show, Tris?" Zeke asked, throwing his arm around my shoulders and yanking me close. He smelled like a bar and I knew he would be passed out in about forty-five minutes...or puking up all the liquor he'd drunk.

I forced my lips into a smile. "It was great, obviously. You guys are always great." It was a cop-out answer, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was too preoccupied with the thoughts swirling in my head while trying to push away the feelings from earlier.

The lameness of my response washed right over Zeke's head as he just laughed and nodded, seemingly pleased by my response. He let go of me after a minute and I took a deep breath to clear the smell of liquor out of my nostrils. "After those technical difficulties, we were golden," he said, then took a long pull from the drink in his hands.

I pressed my lips together in a thin line and frowned a little. There was an empty feeling in me now; after wanting Four for so long and getting just a taste - literally - I wanted more. He wouldn't even look at me now. What else was I supposed to think, except that he might be regretting it?

It took some effort, but I pushed up to my feet and smoothed out my top; it had gotten a little rumpled around my waistline. I almost made it to the door before someone grabbed my arm. "Leaving already, Tris?" Shauna asked, smiling at me. She didn't seem too drunk, but she was definitely a little glassy-eyed.

I nodded a little. "Yeah, I'm tired," I lied. Really, I just wanted to go cry in my own hotel room, and if I didn't get out of here soon the tears would start before I could safely make it there.

"Everyone tell Tris goodnight!" Shauna yelled, pulling me into a hug. Her breasts squished against me, trapping one arm against my side.

Everyone stopped mid-sentence to wave at me, joining in a chorus of "Good nights!" in various drunken states. I managed to smile at them a little; I did not look at Four, even though I could feel his eyes on me.

When I finally extricated myself from Shauna's grasp, I stepped out into the hallway, taking a deep breath. It was nearly two in the morning, but there were parties still going on in full force on every floor. Laughter floated up from the bar in the open atrium, mixing with the sounds from the hotel rooms and the fountain in the center. Focusing on those noises helped me make the trip to my hotel room on the opposite end of the floor without incident. The trek there seemed to take much longer than it had earlier when I was walking with Four to his room, but I made it eventually. My eyes were just beginning to well up and I prayed that my roommate, Christina, was not there. I didn't think I could explain this quite yet.

Thankfully, the hotel room was empty when I let myself in. The television was on a random comedy channel; some raunchy act was up, telling sex jokes. I frowned to myself and hurried into the bedroom, tears already streaming down my face.

It wasn't fair. As childish as that sounded, it was the truth, and it had me feeling like someone was squeezing my heart over and over again.

I fell asleep on my tear-soaked pillow, the shudders from my body almost rocking me to sleep.

I've known Tobias "Four" Eaton for a little over two years. I met him at a convention when I was seventeen after seeing one of his shows for the first time. I'd instantly fallen in love with his music and the passion with which he sang on the stage. After the show, he'd been at the merchandise table signing CDs and laughing with his fans. Christina, who had already turned 18, had planned to ask him to sign her boobs.

Four was just that type of guy: the kind who could make someone want to utilize any excuse they could come up with for him to touch them...anywhere. Back then he'd had short hair, cropped close to his scalp. He was a typical twenty year old, enjoying the attention from all the girls flocking to the booth. When we'd reached the front of the line, I'd been immediately amazed at how blue his eyes were as he looked at us.

"Enjoy the show?" he'd asked, smiling.

"This was her first time!" Christina had never been good at setting her volume to "inside voice".

A wry smile had crossed his face as he eyed me up and down. "What'd you think? Enjoy your first time?"

I had just nodded, feeling myself blushing at the way his eyes had perused my body. "It was awesome."

After some brief conversation, during which Christina had obviously adjusted her cleavage at least twelve times beside me and I purchased all of his CDs - he signed them all - he had leaned forward over the table a little. We had automatically leaned in closer to hear him.

"Tell you what," he had murmured, looking at us, though it felt like his eyes stayed on me longer than on Christina's breasts, "I'd love to hear your opinion in greater detail since you're a new listener and find out what you thought of the show; come back in like thirty minutes, will you?"

Of course we had agreed, returning five minutes early. We'd chatted there for a few minutes before being invited back to the hotel party. It had been a crazy party, but Four had ensured that we weren't bothered too much by his rowdy friends and bandmates.

From then on, I'd regularly corresponded with him via social media, keeping in touch and eventually becoming friends. When I'd turned eighteen a few weeks later, he'd sent me a song to commemorate the milestone and invited me and Christina out to tour with his band for the summer.

Then, Christina slept with him one drunken night. I'd felt betrayed at first, but then thought that maybe he'd invited us out because of her. I didn't know what kind of conversations they had, if they even talked.

He'd offered us jobs at the end of the summer, after traveling to a few conventions with him; Christina had stayed with him in the bedroom while I slept on the sofa bed. We'd accepted the jobs and started traveling with him full time, working the booth and sales, keeping things managed and organized. We both started online classes that fall, a peace offering to our parents to try and appease them over the upset our change in lifestyles had caused.

Two years and a stupid amount of conventions later, we were all best friends and I had a degree in graphic design. Four had stopped sleeping with Christina shortly after we'd started traveling, but he never seemed to lack for a short-term girlfriend for very long. I tried to ignore the twisting feeling in my gut for the first few months, until it didn't hurt quite as much anymore.

There was no denying my attraction to him. Despite his string of relationships that never seemed to last long, he was a wonderful guy who made everyone around him laugh, and he sang the most beautiful music from his soul. It became easy to overlook the numerous girls I saw over the course of the time we traveled together and simply be his friend.

It still didn't change the longing I felt toward him, fueled by the meaningful looks he would give me and the time we spent together, just us, before shows or between conventions.

I was twenty the night the kiss happened. We had been alone in the hotel room for an hour or two after the show, talking and laughing. The feelings that had flared up in me, the ones that had been burning inside me like embers for so long, were suddenly in full flame and consuming me from within.

His rejection had stung.

It was now the next morning. My head hurt from crying and I was sure I looked like hell. Christina was passed out on the other bed, one arm covering her eyes, her mouth slightly open. I didn't waste time getting into the shower, hoping to at least make myself look like I hadn't been crying.

When I checked my phone for the first time since the previous night, there were numerous text messages from some of the acquaintances I'd made over the last two years, inviting me to hotel parties or sharing moments with me. Then there was a text from Four. It was just an emoticon.

":/"

I pursed my lips and set the phone down on the slick marble counter. What did that even mean? Had he sent that in hopes that I would reply and he could tell me it was a mistake to have kissed me? Had he been going to say something like, "I like you too much as a friend," which I'd heard was one of his lines?

I ignored the message and wondered how I was going to face him today. I didn't think I could; how would I handle it if he looked at me in pity for last night?

The background of me and Christina greeted me on my laptop as I opened the screen. It had been taken a few months ago in California when we'd managed to sneak off to Monterey and hang at the beach for most of the day. I couldn't help the smile that curled up my lips at that memory. It had been a good day.

When I opened my inbox, I was actually happy to see numerous emails in my "work" folder. There were at least ten commission requests there, asking me to design websites and logos. Maybe this could be my excuse to not see him today? 'Sorry, Four, I have too much work to do to hang out, but I can sell your shit at your booth later, okay'? That would work, right?

Christina came out a few minutes later, rubbing her eyes as she peered at me through a squinted gaze. "Why is it morning already?" she asked, her voice rough from sleep and probably from drinking, too.

It was a rhetorical question, one I would usually answer anyway just to irritate her. When I remained silent, pretending to read my emails, Christina turned to me after getting the coffee pot ready.

"What's wrong?" she asked, fixing me with a surprisingly alert gaze.

I pursed my lips and didn't look up at her. I didn't really want to tell her that I'd kissed Four last night and that it had been the best kiss I'd ever had. Christina made it difficult to keep secrets from her, though. She had a way of getting the truth out of me, somehow, without me realizing what she was doing. I prayed now that she wouldn't use whatever magical tactics she had.

"Nothing," I lied. "I just have a ton of commission requests is all." I tried to sound nonchalant and clicked my mouse a few times for show, though I wasn't actually doing anything but staring at the screen.

Christina grabbed her cup of coffee and sat on the couch beside me. "Liar. You know better," she grumbled and blew on the cup between her palms. "You should just tell me now; it'll be easier for both of us in the end."

I ignored her comment and opened up Photoshop to work on one of the logo designs for a steampunk client who wanted something with a phoenix. It wouldn't take me long to digitize their scanned drawing, but it was something that required my focused attention. Hopefully, she'd drop it for now.

Surprisingly, Christina was quiet for a few minutes, just sipping her coffee. She turned on the television and immediately tuned in to the Saturday morning cartoons. I was just beginning to think she'd forgotten about it, or was at least not asking at the moment, when she put the show on mute. "Tris," she murmured; she wasn't looking up at me. "I know when something is bothering you, and this seems serious. What is it?"

I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep this from her at all. Then I realized I didn't even really want to try, I wanted to tell her. I set my laptop aside and bit my lip, looking up at her. Heat pricked at my eyes and I hoped I wouldn't cry; I'd cried so much last night that I didn't think I'd have any tears left.

"So," I murmured, looking down. Christina angled her body toward me, cartoons forgotten. "How do I start this? I don't even know what to say." I leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling, hoping the moisture already pooling in my eyes would dry up quickly.

"Just tell me," Christina insisted. "If I need it, you can give me back story. I just need to know what's wrong right now."

I deliberated for a moment. What would she say? Would she be happy for me? Or would she frown in disapproval? Because she'd slept with him for a little while, would she say he was no good for me? Would she encourage me to figure out what the hell his simple text message meant? Or would she think the same thing I did?

Finally, I just blurted it out. "I made out with Four last night." The words were just suddenly there on my tongue and spilled out, unable to be taken back.

Christina was silent at first, not something that generally happened very often. She almost always had a response for everything, sarcastic or serious. Right now, she was just looking at me, her expression inscrutable. Then she blinked a little bit and looked confused. "And why are you upset about this?" She wanted to know. "I mean, he's an amazing kisser."

I sighed. "Yeah, he is. But..."

"But?" She pressed, scooting forward. The coffee in her cup nearly sloshed over the edge as she bounced closer.

"But we were interrupted."

She winced. "Ooh. Who's the asshole who barged in? Did they catch you guys?" It was common for Four to have a girl in his room, whether she was the official flavor of the month or not.

I shook my head. "No, that's the thing. I would have preferred to be caught kissing him," I explained. As crazy as it was, that was the truth. "Much better than what actually happened."

Christina quirked an eyebrow at me. "What actually happened?"

"It was Zeke, Shauna, and a bunch of others. As soon as they were in the room, he was suddenly on the other side of the couch and wouldn't look at me for the rest of the night!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of anger well up in me. "Then he sent me this stupid text message that just had a face-" I showed her the message "-like what the hell is that even supposed to mean?" I was on a roll now, the words flying out of my mouth like word vomit. "The only thing I can think of is that he was embarrassed to kiss me and didn't want to get caught doing it, and he wanted to say it was stupid to have done it." I frowned at my phone, contemplating turning it off so I couldn't look at the stupid message. Or maybe I'd just delete it.

Again, Christina was quiet for a moment. "Want me to ask him?" she offered.

Immediately, I paled. "Hell no," I replied, quickly. "Absolutely not. The last thing I want is for him to feel bad for me." I took a deep breath, looking down at my lap.

"You don't want to know what he thought about it?" Christina murmured, leaning in closely. She put her hand on my knee, squeezing gently. "You wouldn't want to know if it wasn't a mistake?"

Then I looked up at her. It had crossed my mind once or twice that maybe he had liked it, and he had reacted that way for a reason other than embarrassment over being seen with me. Still, there was just too much pointing to him not wanting to be caught kissing me.

Slowly, I shook my head. "No. I don't want to know," I said quietly.

Christina just nodded at me, pursing her lips. I knew she was disappointed, that she wanted to know for my sake, but also knew she would respect my wishes. After all, she knew how I felt about him, and how long I'd had feelings for him.

"Did you guys just kiss?" she asked after a moment, obviously wanting details.

I bit my lip, wondering if I could actually talk about it and not start crying again. "Mostly," I murmured. "There was some groping going on." I tried not to think about the way his hands felt on my skin or how he had gently squeezed my breast.

"Would you kiss him again?" she asked. Then she quickly added, "I mean, given the chance and all."

There was the rub. Would I? If he had actually enjoyed the kiss and wasn't embarrassed about it, would he want to kiss me again? Would I let him?

"I think so," I murmured, and it was the truth.