A/N: I just wanted to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed this. This week has been crazy for me and I haven't had time to respond to reviews, but trust me, I read them all. Please, keep them coming :) Also I am absolutely floored and flattered by all the hits this is getting; I've never had so many in such a short amount of time. And it's my first story added to a community so yay for that!
So, now that that's out of the way... there is some angst in upcoming chapters, and not everything is going to be smooth sailing for Tris and Tobias, but this chapter is, so enjoy it :)
"You don't have to kill someone, just disable them," Tobias says patiently from beside me. "Wrist is your best option, but it's hard to hit, so try to hit the shoulder; only aim for the legs if you can't hit anything else."
I feel like I should call him Four because once again he's my instructor, not my boyfriend.
"Remember breathe in - one, two, three - breathe out - one, two, three. Never be in a rush; rushing makes you sloppy."
I tuck the rifle more firmly into the nook of my shoulder and draw in a long, slow breath.
"Good. Breathe around the fear. Take your time, wait for it to subside."
I breath in, I breath out. I try to block out the fact I'm holding a gun, even though it isn't a handgun like I used to shoot Will. I try to block out the nervousness I feel that Tobias' might be getting impatient, I've been waiting so long to pull the trigger. Instead I focus on my breaths, focus on the red dot at the other end of the room from us. I let it blur in my vision, and after the seconds drag to minutes I feel my heart calm.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain an alarm goes off, and before I can let the panic overtake me I pull the trigger. The butt of the rifle jolts into my shoulder, and the gunshot wound in it twinges a little - it's not fully healed yet -, but I barely notice.
I wipe at my eyes with the heel of my hand, only realizing now that they were leaking fat tears down my face. I don't even know if I've hit the target.
"Again."
I reposition and start breathing all over again.
"You know, I know he's not our instructor anymore, but Four is still intimidating," Christina says next to me, both of us trying to catch our breath. I've got a hand clamped around my side, certain the blow she landed while we were sparring was forming a livid bruise.
I look up, my eyes watching Tobias and Zeke laughing as they dance around each other, their boxing match quickly devolving into a wrestling match as they each duck fists and dodge feet expertly. Neither are trying to hurt the other; it's just the Dauntless form of goofing off.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean after watching him go after Marcus," she scoffs, "and I'm guessing he's the one who beat Drew to a pulp?"
"Yes." My voice comes out a defensive hiss.
"You really love him, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do." I say flatly, leaving no room for argument.
She leans back against the wall next to me and nudges my shoulder with hers. "Oh, calm down. I don't think he's a monster like Eric, Tris. I'm just saying he's intimidating sometimes, even now," she laughs light and carefree.
The floor beneath us shivers as Tobias and Zeke land with a crash, each trying to pin the other, but mostly just succeeding in flailing around wildly.
"You were never afraid of him," Christina says suddenly, "even when he was our instructor."
It's not strictly true, but I don't correct her either because even if he doesn't need me to, I do protect and defend him; I love him. He used to scare me though sometimes, the way his moods would shift without warning, but it was never because I thought he'd hurt me. I didn't understand why he did the things he did, and I didn't know how to react to it and it left me feeling powerless; that was what I was afraid of.
"Why?" She continues, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Was it just because you guys were together already and he's like a big fluffy bunny in private, or what?" Her words come out in a rush, and when she finishes she smiles at me. "Just ignore me if I'm being obnoxious."
I sigh deeply, blowing out all the tension I feel at her probing questions. I don't know if I'll ever be as comfortable as she is needling people for information. "I don't know, Christina, he just didn't. And he's not a 'fluffy bunny' in private. Honestly, he doesn't treat me any different when we're alone than when we're around people."
There's voices floating down the hall through the open door, and soon we're joined by a group of trainees - we can't really call them initiates anymore - on their way to dinner. They watch avidly as Tobias finally succeeds in pinning Zeke to the floor.
As soon as they're on their feet again the trainees crowd around them, curious and inquisitive; yesterday we started hand-to-hand combat training, and all of the boys are sporting black eyes and bruises. Before long Tobias is demonstrating different moves, his eyes alight in a way they only ever are when he's teaching.
Eventually he calls me over, and the tension rippling through small crowd of trainees as I push my way through is palpable; I'm their instructor after all.
"You don't need to be big to win a fight," he's saying to a slight Erudite boy clad in blue pants and a black t-shirt, "you just need to know what your strengths are." He motions Zeke into the ring with me. "Don't go easy on her," he smirks.
"Don't worry," Zeke smiles at me, "I won't."
I smile back. This is why I love Tobias. He never doubts my strength or courage or toughness, even when I do. And he makes me stronger by never letting me give into that weakness. He put enormous demands on me and expected - not hoped - I'd meet them. I never would have loved Al or someone like him; someone who coddled me, who never believed in me, who treated me like I was too innocent or incapable.
By the time Zeke and I finish he's nursing a bloody nose and I've got a smattering of fresh bruises, but it's him who limps out of the training room as we all walk to dinner.
I hover nervously next to the dresser, watching as Tobias sits on the bed and pulls the knots out of the laces in his shoes. "How," I croak out and then cough, clearing my throat. "How do you want to do this?"
"Like we normally do," he says off-hand, but stops once he catches sight of me standing so awkwardly in a place I'm usually relaxed. His shoes are floppy and unlaced as he walks over and stands in front of me. "I don't want you to feel afraid here."
His hands slide up my arms, over my shoulders, to my neck; fingers sliding into my hair, thumbs hooking under my jaw to tilt my face up. "This is our home. You should always feel safe in your home." I don't have to ask why his voice is so serious. I know he spent sixteen years fearing his 'home'.
"I always felt safe here, even when it wasn't ours, just yours." I push up on my toes, brushing my lips against his. "But I like that it's ours now."
"Me too." He leans his forehead against mine. "What can I do to make this easier for you?"
It takes me a minute to come up with something, and I'm not sure it's the right solution, but for now it does make me feel better. My fingers find the hem of his shirt and I pull it off. "I don't want to be the only one partially dressed." I say, my voice sounding braver than I feel as I scurry into the bathroom to change.
I don't look at myself in the mirror as I undress and pull Tobias' shirt on. It's big enough to almost hit the middle of my thighs, but I still feel exposed. It takes all my courage to open the bathroom door.
Tobias is flat on his back, head at the foot of the bed, one leg hanging off the side, bare from the waist up. He looks as nervous as I feel as I sit next to him, hyper-aware of the fact that he can see my underwear from his position.
For a moment the silence is heavy between us, and I almost beg him to let me turn the lights off, but then his gaze shifts to studying the ceiling, and he starts talking.
He tells me about his day, about everything he had to do around the Pit, and the meeting he had with Tori and Harrison; about Zeke badgering him about a party he wants to throw this weekend; about anything and everything. He's trying to distract me - and maybe himself too -, and I let him.
Eventually I relax enough to lean back against the pillows behind me, and when he quiets I fill the silence by telling him about my day with the trainees. My stomach flutters nervously when Tobias reaches out and starts smoothing his hand up and down my bare calf as I talk, but it's gone as quickly as it comes, and then it's nice. Better than nice, actually.
When I run out of things to talk about it's quiet again, but this time it isn't tense, it's comfortable. After a while a small smile turns up the corners of Tobias' lips.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Chasing you up that ridiculous Ferris Wheel," he murmurs.
"You didn't have to follow me."
"I know."
"So why did you?"
He rolls over and plants his lips on my ankle. They're warm and plush and damp as they press around the bone. "I didn't really think about it at the time." He kisses a few inches higher, "but I liked you," a few inches higher, "and I wanted to be alone with you."
His lips are cautious and he moves slow, not wanting to scare me, and even if I'd never admit to it to him, it does, a little bit. By the time he makes it up to my knee my heart is in my throat, but he doesn't stop there.
"And it seemed perfect; no one would question why I was following you, or what we were doing up there. But - like I said - I don't think I thought about it at the time, not like that anyway. I just wanted to be with you; that was all I was really aware of." By the time he kisses just below the hem of my stolen shirt I can barely breath. But it's not all fear. There's a thrum, a tingling tightness radiating out from the apex of my thighs that he's so close to, that I want him closer to, behind the fear.
His fingers tangle into the fabric covering me, starkly pale against the black of the shirt, but before he can push it up, I'm pushing him off, pressing him back down into the mattress and crawling on top of him. He doesn't protest, just traces small circles with his thumbs on the top of my thigh. His eyes are deep blue and burn into mine, and I wonder if mine are bright and awake the way he likes.
"Knew you'd do this." He smiles up at me smugly.
"Do what?"
"Take control. It's how you got out the simulation, right?" He asks curiously. "You always do this when you're nervous."
I trace the planes of his chest, fingers bumping over the shallow ridges of muscle. "Is that what I'm doing?"
He sits up quick, holding on to my waist to keep me steady as he kisses me. "I like it when you do." He lays back down, but keeps both his hands under my shirt, cuffed around my hips. "Sometimes too much," he adds, cryptically.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
And for once he looks sheepish. "Think about where you're sitting. It can get... problematic."
It takes a minute for my brain to catch up to what he's saying. "Oh... Oh... do you want me to move?" I hastily offer.
"Stay. It's fine for now." His tone is pleading. I stare down at my hands where they're tracing patterns on his stomach, thinking this new revelation over.
"I didn't mean to freak you out, Tris."
My eyes snap up to find him watching me apologetically. "You didn't. I just," I shake my head and look back down, "I never thought about it before, and I like that I could do that to you."
"Really?"
"I used to think you saw me like a little sister or something; someone who needed to be protected. I thought that was why you followed me up that Ferris Wheel. I didn't want you to see me that way, so yes, I like it." By the time I finish my voice is an embarrassed mutter.
I feel his fingers stir against me, see the fabric rustle as he moves them slowly up my sides. And somehow it's better not having to see his skin against mine, just feeling the sharp snag of a callous, and the warmth of his palm and the cool of his fingers.
His touch is gentle, curious and questioning as his hands slide higher and higher, thumbs brushing against the sides of my breasts. They still there, and while I should probably be feeling exposed because the shirt has been rucked up enough to expose my underwear to him, all I can think about is how small I am... and how he must be wishing that I wasn't.
"Breathe, Tris." I didn't even realize I'm holding my breath. He waits like that until I do. "Is this okay?"
"Yes."
He shifts, his thumbs stretching closer and closer to the sharp points jutting against the thin fabric covering my chest. When they do I shudder at the new sensations coursing through me, even through the fear knotting my stomach.
"Look at me, Tris." Tobias' voice is thick with some emotion I haven't heard in it before. I peel my eyes open slowly, looking up at him through my lashes, afraid of what I might find.
His eyes are blown black, filled with heat and want. And when I can lose myself in the lust I feel, reflected in his eyes, I can forget my worries for a while. I feel the tension cinched around my lungs fade, the last vestiges of it releasing me.
"Does it feel," he stutters searching for the right word, "okay?"
"Yeah." My voice is quiet, but certain.
He smiles up at me, pleased that even though he's never touched a girl like this before, he's making me feel good. I let my eyes shutter closed again, focusing on the way his fingers feel on my sensitive flesh. I feel him shift under me, reaching for a better angle to cup my breasts, one in each hand.
"Like this?" He asks fingers brushing across my nipples. I nod, because I can't speak. I don't know how anymore. "Or this?" he continues, trapping them between his fingers and squeezing lightly.
A shudder rolls through me, and somewhere in my brain I know I should be embarrassed by it, but I just don't care. All I care about is his hands on me and the warmth spreading out from my core, snaking through my veins until my toes curl in towards the soles of my feet and my fingers bite into the flesh of Tobias' biceps.
One hand slides back down to wrap around my hips, but before I can regret it's loss he's sitting up, kissing me again. Our lips are timid at first, just little pecks that would be chaste except for the intentions behind them. I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer still, my free hand holding his cheek to keep his lips on mine. And like it always does the kiss deepens, each of us trying to take control, but not with any real threat.
He tastes like honey and mint, and it's too much. The pressure of his arm around me, his fingers attentively teasing me, and his mouth warm and demanding. I feel like my bones are melting, like I'm slowly dissolving into him.
Both his hands retreat to the safety of my hips and this time I can't stop a petulant whine edging up my throat. But it's followed almost immediately by the retreat of his lips and all I can think is that I must have done something wrong.
"Sorry," he says through a bursting breath, head tilted against my shoulder, "I just... we have to slow down for a minute." I start to slump, defeated, but his grip tightens. "Don't," he sounds tortured, "don't move."
I pull back for a second, taking in the way his eyes are pinched closed, his expression pained. "Did I do something wrong?" He shakes his head, but doesn't open his eyes. "What are you thinking about then?"
"Anything and everything not you," he bites out. When everything clicks into place I can't stop a little hysterical laugh slipping past my lips. "stop laughing," he groans.
I frame his face in my hands and press my lips to his. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at me."
He smiles at me weakly for a moment, and then buries his face against my neck. He stays there for a long time, letting me run my fingers through his hair, letting the energy between us slowly settle into to something sleepy and contented, even though I'd like to keep going.