Here is a slightly longer one! This is mostly story with a lemon at the end-some flirting throughout. Trying to set the foundations for where this is going to go. Anyway, I love the reviews and love this is getting! Of course I'm going to update whenever I can for you guys; Scrubs or no Scubs.

Remember this is rated M for a reason; sexual content, language, things of that nature.

I don't own Divergent or anything related to it. Characters may be ooc at times! Enjoy :)

Her eyes were staring straight ahead, not really focusing on anything as she popped bits of crumbled muffin into her mouth. Her mind raced back to last night and her heart hitched up in her throat.

"I can't believe you. I asked you to not become a leader. I even offered to take the stupid position!" his voice wasn't loud, but it was laced with anger.

Tris stood still, shock filling her veins. "I wanted to do this. I want to be a leader."

Her nimble fingers pushed the baked good into her mouth—crumbs falling to the tray below her. She chewed softly as the memory played out in her mind.

Four's face darkened in the dim lighting of her apartment. "You're going to get hurt. It's a trick. Eric is going to find you out and kill you. Or hand you over to Jeanine."

Bite.

Anger slowly rolled over her—clenching her fists and jutting out her chin. "You don't believe in me, do you? You think I'm some petulant child." His face fell for a moment before he set his jaw.

Chew.

He looked like a war was going on in his mind as he considered her. Rolling his eyes, he snickered. Tris froze. He had snickered at her. "Are you too stupid to see when something is a trick? He's going to know what you really are—if he doesn't know already. How can you not see that I'm trying to protect you?!"

Her heart drummed against her chest—heat skirting up her neck. "How dare you? I don't need your protection! I'm not a child, Tobias!"

Swallow.

Something close to a sneer crossed over his face before he put it back into a neutral expression. "Then stop acting like one," he countered before moving past her and slamming the door behind him.

Somewhere in the distance she thought she heard a voice. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she glanced around. Her eyes settled on Christina. Her friend was mouthing words—her normally shrill voice masked by a thick fog of silence. A worried expression crossed her features—eyes widening and mouth turned down. A tiny thud sounded next to her and a soft nudge was suddenly shaking her world—violently.

"Stiff!" His voice was strong and deep and she wanted to curl herself in it. Her eyes turned to him and he looked pale. His clear eyes looked stormy and his mouth was set into a thin line. His fingers grasped her chin, pulling her closer to him as he looked her over.

Her world cleared then—becoming acutely aware of his calloused fingertips rubbing small circles on her jawline. She bit back her blush and pulled her chin away—believing the small frown that flashed his face to be of her own imagination.

Christina sat down in front of her, eyes still full of worry. "You okay, Tris? I've been trying to get your attention for ten minutes."

Tris widened her eyes slightly but then forced a smile upon her face. "I'm fine, Chris. Just thinking—guess I was lost in my own world." She let out a nervous laugh.

Christina didn't buy it. Her mouth opened quickly but Eric wasn't going to let anything come out of her. He held up his hand—causing the girl to glare at him. "Enough. Tris, come on. We have training." He stood up, offering his hand to Tris. She sipped her hand into his and saw Christina's skeptical gaze from the corner of her eye.

"You're doing more training?" She asked, voice slightly saddened. "We never see you anymore." Will had popped down next to her then, pecking her on the cheek. Tris averted her eyes but returned a smile to Will.

"Yeah, new leader. Sit with us and eat breakfast—or if you already ate, sit and watch us eat," Will added with a wink.

Tris' shoulders drooped. She missed her friends. Her face glanced back to Eric who was already a few paces ahead—arms crossed and face neutral. Her hands fidgeted as she turned back around to her friends. "Sorry, guys. Leader stuff. I'll catch you around and you can tell me all about your new jobs." She started to walk back to Eric.

"Bet you don't even know what jobs we have," Christina muttered under her breath. Will gave Tris a silent apology before whispering to Christina urgently. The girl rolled her eyes before nodding back to Tris. "Zeke and Uriah are having this party tonight. In the pit. For the new members and I, we, were hoping to see you there?"

Tris considered her for a moment, her anger at the previous comment dying down. She sighed. "Yeah, I can make it if I don't have a lot to do. Would you help me find an outfit?" She asked meekly—not really caring to wear what Christina would pick out for her. The look of mischievous happiness that donned the girl's face, however, made it worth it.

Tris turned on her heel and followed Eric out of the cafeteria. They walked in silence to the training room—Tris a pace behind Eric. He opened the doors and let her pass him through. "We're going to be doing target practice right now."

She eyed him for a moment. "Knife practice?" she asked as she followed him to the weapons table. Her throat ran dry as she brushed past the leg of the table. Seriously. Why Eric? "You know this was one of the things I was actually really good at."

He grinned at her. "Getting cocky, are we?"

"Oh, no. Never." Her voice held a little sarcasm and his eyebrow raised in response.

"Pick up the knives and throw. Prove to me your skills, Stiff."

She growled low in her throat at the nickname. Her fingers grasped the hilt of the blade—turning it over lightly as she pushed memories to the side. Taking a deep breath and getting into position, she let the knife fly. It stuck to the board with a thud. She looked back over to him, smiling smugly. "Dead center."

His eyes flashed as he grinned wider. "There are more knives, Stiff. I'm not impressed yet."

She threw on, hitting the center or just off center each time. She would go to collect the knives after a few throws and repeat the process. Eric remained silent, nodding every so often—face unreadable. It wasn't until her third trip back from collecting her knives that he finally spoke again.

She raised her arm to throw when he opened his mouth to speak. "So what happened?" She let go as his words hit her—the knife going off-kilter and flitting to the floor. The loud clanging echoed in the room.

She sucked in a breath sharply and turned to him. "I was in my own little world this morning. I—"

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that shit. What happened?" He sighed when she made no motion to speak. "I remember a dull banging coming from your door. Then some muffled voices—some yelling." He quirked an eyebrow. "Did Four show up?"

Tris had sauntered over to the fallen knife. She twisted it in her hands as she walked back—watching the light gleam off of the metal. "Yeah, Four showed up. I guess I avoided him all day yesterday and he wasn't happy."

Eric scoffed. "I'm sure that's enough reason for the Golden Boy to scream at his girlfriend at three in the fucking morning."

She looked at him pointedly—resisting the urge to punch him. "I think we broke up."

Eric's face fell slightly—shock clearly evident before he covered up and went back into a neutral expression. "You think?" He snorted. "Did he actually end it? Or just storm out?"

Tris considered him carefully. This whole conversation is weird, she thought. Why do you care? "I guess, he just stormed out. He never said we were over."

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing deeply. "Look, Tris. He probably just needs some time to cool off. I'm sure he wasn't too happy with you becoming a leader—especially if you have to work with me. I saw him storm out the other day when I announced that you would be joining leadership." He scratched the back of his neck—averting his eyes. "Hell, he even came by to see me later that day—asking to take the position instead. When I declined, he insisted you were not going to become a leader or work with me. Fucking twit." He gave her a sharp look. "Just give him some time and he should come around. I don't know. I'm not good at this shit."

Tris laughed a little. "Thanks, Eric. It really means a lot."

He looked her over before a sly grin slithered across his face. "You know, if you want a rebound—I'm available."

Tris couldn't help the blush that crept up her neck—her cheeks were warm and her eyes were wide. She pushed his shoulder back—a small laugh escaping her. "Ass. You can't do something nice without being an ass to make up for it, can you?"

He looked up to the ceiling, fingers rubbing his chin as he stood in mock thought. "No, I can't." She nudged him with her hip and he caught her—spinning them around until they were both on the floor panting between soft laughs. He looked over to her—face becoming serious again. "But honestly, Tris, if he can't understand why you want to do this and respect it—it's not healthy to hold on." She stared at the ceiling as his words sank in—nodding slightly. "Then again, I'd say he wasn't worth it no matter what. I honestly don't see what you see in him. Is it the brooding?"

She slapped his arm and he grabbed the spot—feigning pain. "Thanks again."

He rolled his eyes as he stood up—once more hoisting her up to join him. "Don't thank me just yet. I have a lovely stack of paperwork for you back at your new office."

She groaned. "Lead the way."

Their offices were across the hall from one another. Her office was set up much like his: a wooden desk with a padded chair behind it, another chair in the corner of the room, two silver filing cabinets, and a bookcase. Her bookcase had copies on the rules and regulations for Dauntless and her filing cabinets had copies of all of the members' personal files. She stuck the filing cabinet key onto the ring with her apartment and new office key as she sat down at her desk. A small computer sat on the corner—black and shiny. There were two drawers to the desk—one filled with blank paper and a smaller one filled with pens and paperclips and other various supplies.

Eric leaned onto the door frame after leaving a small stack of paperwork in her hands. "See the blue tab on the corner of each file?" She looked to the top right corner and there was a deep blue sticker on each one. She nodded. "That means these documents are from Erudite. Now, unless you get specific instructions, you mostly just look them over, check for mistakes, and then write a response if need be."

"On the computer?"

He nodded. "I can give you a refresher on how computers work later. I had already written the responses to those letters. I want you to hand-write out how you think a proper response should go and then compare it to mine. I'm not going to give you an example—I'm not here to hold your hand. Review the request and respond. Most of the documents from Erudite are about new serums and changes to the fear serum—things of that nature." Tris nodded along as he spoke—putting her distaste of Jeanine aside as she began working.

Her wrist had started to cramp halfway through the pile. She was rubbing it idly when something smacked her face. Glancing around, she saw a crumpled piece of paper on her floor. She picked it up and opened it. It read: How's the paperwork coming along, Stiff?

She grinned widely before glancing up to Eric's office across the hall. He reclined in his chair—feet propped up on the desk and his pierced eyebrow raised. Tris took a blank sheet of paper and scribbled on it: It's coming along nicely, Ass.

She crumpled it up, much like he had, and tossed it to him. It didn't smack his face—instead bouncing down his chest until his hands caught it. She returned to her paperwork—glancing up every now and then to watch his face as he read it. His mouth twitched up and he turned to her—eyes dark and full of mischief.

She was three-fourths of the way done when something skimmed her shoulder. Picking up the note, she unfolded it. Is that my new pet name? She blinked a few times, biting her lip and shaking her head. Her eyes landed on him and he wore an innocent look—eyes wide and shoulders raised. She shook her head at him and mouthed the word: no. He stuck his lower lip out and cocked his head to the side. Tris' stomach flipped and she rubbed her thighs together—trying to ignore the feelings surging within her belly. Grasping the last document, she waved it in front of her and went back to work—hearing his faint chuckle carry over to her.

She finished writing the responses with no more interruptions when he made his way to her. She handed him her responses and he looked them over—nodding a few times and cocking his head to the side. He took a few of her responses and put them side-by-side with a few of his. He pointed out the similarities and differences—recommended where she would need to be more thorough and where she would need to be blunt and to the point. "All in all, I say you did good, Stiff. My responses are going to be more detailed because of my faction of origin. But, these are good." She stared at him in shock, lips slightly parting. "What?"

"Did you just compliment me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

She laughed as she stood up and stretched. Stifling a yawn, she cleared her throat. "So, dinner and then training room before bed?"

His orbs looked her over, considering her words. "Lets get something to eat. No training today, you're off the hook."

"But—"

He held up his hand—cutting her off. "No. You're going to let your Candor friend play dress-up and have fun at that party. You need it." She couldn't mask the shock that crossed her face but he didn't seem to notice or care. "I need a break, too. All this damn paperwork. Fuck paperwork," he grumbled as he led her out into the hallway.

"Are you going to go to the party?"

"Maybe. I'll probably be by the bar," he said with a wink. "Why? Wanna ask me to save you a dance?"

She rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully on the shoulder before they locked up their offices and headed to the cafeteria.

Tris looked at herself in the mirror. She looked striking—her blue eyes were bright against the dark make-up that lined her eyes. Her cheeks were dusted with a soft rose color—as were her lips. Her sandy-blonde hair was styled down—small waves cascading down her shoulders.

The dress was gorgeous—a red bodice with black lace over it. It was cut out around her shoulders but came down her arms. There was a little bit of cleavage showing—the push-up bra Christina insisted she'd wear pushing up what little she had. The dress wasn't terribly short—teetering off just above her knees.

Stepping out of her apartment, her wedges clicking on the floor, she looked to Eric's door. She considered knocking for him but decided against it. If he goes, she'll see him there.

The walk wasn't terribly long and she soon found herself in the middle of the pit—bodies dancing and moving to the music. It was dark save for the multicolored lights that flitted across the pit in a maddening rhythm. Her eyes landed on a dark-skinned girl with a bright-red dress hugging her curves. She made her way over to Christina just as Will returned with some drinks. He smiled at her. "Sorry, Tris. Didn't know you were here yet. Want a drink?"

"I'm fine, Will. I can get one myself if I want one." Tris smiled at her friends. "So how's work?"

Christina launched into a discussion on how working in the tattoo parlor is. Will jutted in a few times about how working in the control room—eyeing Tris' reaction as he mentioned Four. Soon, though, the couple was making out and Tris shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm heading to the bar," she said as she brushed past them—earning a mumbled response from Christina.

Tris squeezed past the bodies—a few hands holding onto her, trying to dance. A strong arm snaked around her waist and hot breath tickled her ear. "So, you're a leader now?" His voice wasn't husky or deep or satisfying. It was menacing and dark.

"Hello, Peter." She felt him grin into her hair as he danced behind her—Tris keeping a decent distance between the two. "You're on the fence, right? How is that?"

His fingernails dug into her waist and she stifled a yelp. "I'll get you back, Bitch." With that, he let her go. She walked away quickly—slipping past people as fast as she could manage.

She reached the bar and took a deep breath before warm arms wrapped around her. "I'm so proud of you, Trissy-Poo!" Uriah cooed into her hair—alcohol evident on his breath.

I'm going to have a heart attack one of these days. "Thanks, Uriah!" she cooed back, mimicking his tone. Zeke came over and shook his head at his little brother, giving Tris an apologetic look.

"Little Uriah had one too many."

"You're a panseycake!" Uriah yelled as Zeke led him away from the bar. "Bye Trissy!"

Tris sighed as she sat down—a gush of air flowing past her as someone took the seat next to her. "Having fun?"

Tris smiled before looking over at Eric. He was nursing a glass filled with a golden liquid in it—eyes on her. "Tons. You?"

His lips turned up. "Now? Tons." She glared at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You look lovely, Tris." She quirked her eyebrow and he rubbed his neck absentmindedly. "Shit. Not to say that you don't always—I mean—what I was trying—fuck."

Tris let out a hearty laugh. "Thanks, Eric." He gave her a genuine smile. "What are you drinking?"

It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be able to handle this. It's Scotch—the best kind."

"I wouldn't be able to handle it?" She narrowed her eyes and his widened in response.

"That's not what I meant. It's strong and—have you ever had a drink before?"

Her face relaxed as she considered him. She shook her head. "No."

He snorted. "This would not be my first choice of drink for you."

She rested her head on her palm—the smooth table cold against her elbow, even through fabric. "Oh? What would be, then?"

He swirled his drink around as he thought. He opened his mouth to speak and looked back over to her—then closed his lips. A scowl contorting his features. Tris cocked her head to the side before following his line of sight. Behind her, Four stood—eyeing them with clenched fists.

Tris sighed and gave Eric a small smile before getting up and following Four to a deserted corner. Tris felt small as he towered over her—keeping his voice low but strong. He said the same things over and over again—belittling Eric and making her feel stupid.

Tris glanced to Eric who had his eyes on her—intense and deadly. He gave her a small nod before she turned back to Four and held her hand up. Four stopped mid-sentence—eyes going wide.

"I'm not going to take this anymore. You want to be with me? Fine. Then act like it. A relationship is about trust, Four. Trust me to make my own decisions. I'm not your puppet. You don't control me. You don't own me." He opened his mouth to speak but she hurried on. "You don't think I noticed you following me around? I know you watched Eric walk me to my apartment—showed me my new office. I know you watched me like a hawk when I sat at Eric's table for dinner—instead of with you. I bet you watched me whenever you could when you were in the control rooms." She took a deep breath. "You need to knock it off. Either trust me or don't. But if you don't—then we're done. I can't be with you right now if this is how it's going to be."

She could see the hurt in his eyes before he clenched his jaw. "So we're done, then?"

She stepped back a little, hoping he'd be able to say he could trust her. "Goodbye, Four." She spun around and started to make her way back through the crowd when he called out to her.

"He's going to hurt you. You're making a mistake." Four's voice was deadly calm but Tris was not. Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach and she glared at him hard before making her way over to Eric.

Eric, who had been watching the whole exchange, eyes Tris carefully. "You okay?" He asked as she approached him.

She ignored him and instead grabbed his glass and downed it. Eric widened his eyes before glaring at Four. "Never better," she said as she grasped his hand and led him out of the pit—Four's eyes burning holes into her retreating figure.

They reached her apartment when Eric pulled away. "Tris—" he began but she cut him off.

"He broke up with me. I asked him to trust me or we're done and he said that we were done."

Eric sighed deeply. "Tris, I—"

Tris wiped at her eyes and smiled stiffly. "It's okay. I'll be okay. I just needed to walk out with someone—you seemed like the best bet. Sorry I drank your drink and dragged you from the party."

"It's fine. I just don't want you doing something you'll regret." Tris stared at him blankly before his meaning dawned on her.

"Oh. I'm sorry—I didn't—I mean, it's not—shit."

Eric laughed heartily then, Tris' nervous laugh joining soon after. "Good. Get some sleep and we can train tomorrow."

"Night, Eric," she said as she entered her apartment—mind racing as fast as her heart was beating.

Tris was sitting in Eric's office. He sat across from her, at his desk—eyes scanning paperwork. She watched his hands flip the pages, how his brow furrowed in thought. She bit her lip as she stood up silently—making her way over to him.

She stood behind him, letting her hands rub his shoulders. He jumped slightly at her touch—but soon relaxed into her fingers as they worked his acing muscles. "It'll be easier if you weren't wearing this shirt," she mused into his ear, smirking at the shiver than ran over him. He made quick work of taking it off and revealing his naked torso to her. She massaged his neck and shoulders softly—reveling in his gentle moans. She then raked her nails down his back—earning a guttural growl.

"You're playing with fire, baby." His voice was low and deep and she felt a gush of wetness pool down below.

Rubbing her thighs together, she moaned in his ear. "I'm in control now, baby. Relax and enjoy."

He shivered at her words as she scooted him away from the desk. She sauntered ahead of him and kissed him—lips molding together and tongues fighting for dominance. Her nimble fingers worked his pants and boxers down as she kissed down his neck—nipping and biting all the way down. Her hand grasped him and stroked gently—a low hiss escaping his lips.

She slapped his hand away when he tried to quicken the pace. "Nu-uh, baby. Who's in control?"

He whimpered in her mouth. "Baby, I don't beg often. Please."

"Who's in control?" She asked as she stepped back a little, slowing her pace down even more.

"You, baby, you're in control." His eyes were dark with lust and his breaths were shallow.

Grinning, she started to stroke him faster—his head falling back as she licked down his chest, grazing his nipples. He moaned as she went lower, glossing over his toned abs. She lowered herself onto her knees and looked up at him.

"I love you, baby," he spoke between breaths—eyes fluttering closed as she took him in her mouth.

Her tongue swirled around the head—lips ghosting over him as she teased him. He restrained himself—trying to not put his hands into her hair and work her down. She took him in more—tongue licking around the shaft and her hand going to massage his balls.

He was moaning her name as she relaxed her throat to take him in deeper—bobbing her head up and down as he bucked his hips up to meet her. She would suck on the head and then take him in completely—tongue dancing around his hard member.

His hands twisted into her hair, then—pushing himself into her. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop. You're fucking amazing." Her other hand had snaked down her pants and started to rub herself—circling her clit and teasing herself as she sucked him. She moaned with him in her mouth and licked him up and down as her name fell from his lips. "Baby, I'm close—I'm gonna—" His breathing became rapid as he bucked his hips to her. She grabbed his hips and relaxed her throat as he spilled into her.

She swallowed him up and licked him before he pulled her up and kissed her on the lips. "You like that?" she purred as his hand started to rub her—flicking her clit and making her head fall back.

"I love what you do to me, baby. Gods, you destroy me," he whispered as her walls tightened around his fingers.

Tris woke up splayed across her bed, hand repeating what Eric's hand had done in her dream. Instead of stopping, though, her eyes fluttered closed as she continued—fingers going in deeper and fingertips rubbing her clit. She felt her walls shake and a moan on her lips when a rough voice was calling out from her living room.

"I'm going to shower here because the maintenance assholes are fixing my shower. I brought my own stuff. Remember, I'm going to be naked—peek at your own risk, Stiff." Eric's voice lulled her away from the edge—her other hand covering her mouth as she moaned into it.

"Okay, that's fine!" She yelled. Why me?

There ya gooooo. And yes, soon Eris will happen in their real world. It's gonna be a slow one thought because Eric, from what little we know about him, doesn't seem like the type of guy to dive right in. To me, anyway, he seems like the type to fight and deny his feelings-maybe even toss it up to wanting good sex. But, it'll happen. Promise :)

Someone suggested maybe having an Eric POV about that, him denying his feelings and working through it and all. I'm game if you all are? Idk I might still do it anyway cause I'm a rebel. But it wouldn't be for a few more chapters-they need to establish something more than just inuendos and shameless flirting.

Also, I might start a one-shot smut thing for Eris; either one about an amusement park-slightly AU; or one where he's a POW-still slightly AU. Might do both. What do y'all think?

Please review, follow, favorite, and all that goodniess. Keeps me encouraged to continue. :) Bye-bye for now!