Here's the context of this unused scene...

Point in story: Tris restarts initiation and they have a decent time at Amar's Sunday dinner. They're both a little drunk and she misses the train. She decides to stay with Tobias, probably at someone else's suggestion. This is MUCH earlier in the story than where the dinner scene ended up, when Four's still very thin, and not very confident about himself. Tris still has condoms in her bag.

Why it didn't get used: It ignored the complexities of Tris's rape, and Harrison's pestering. Also, I wrote the Amity scene which I liked much better as a way of setting Harrison off and letting them get innocently physical. And, honestly, it's much more mature of an interaction than these two are capable of. And the following thoughts about Tris and Christina's relationship didn't really match well with what I wanted.

What came after: They sleep together, like just sleep, and everyone assumes more happened, which they find embarrassing, and gets Four in further trouble with Harrison as the rumors swirl. When Christina pesters Tris into admitting nothing happens, she also inadvertently makes Tris feel like Four must not be attracted to her.

Please forgive the typos, it's pretty much unedited and requires some flexibility and forgiveness, especially for the timeline disconnect.

Delay tactics over, Tobias and Tris walked side by side silently in the hallway. He could tell she was tired, maybe a little tipsy, matching his own feelings of exhaustion. It had been months since that night on the couch, months since he'd fell asleep with her cuddled up against him. Even though it had only been weeks since the shop girl, he was struggling to keep those urges in the periphery.

He glanced at her, short and small, a healthy flush from the alcohol coloring her cheeks, and it only encouraged those thoughts to come forward. His hand went out and he clumsily pushed his fingers through hers and smiled with a blush when she looked up at him. Then it occurred to him, sex meant getting naked which in turn would put him on display. While he'd put on the first ten pounds quickly, the last ten to get into a healthy status was proving more difficult. Tris had fallen for her instructor: big, brave, strong. Four knew she'd see right through any bravado, see how he'd become a ghost: thin, weak, cowardly. It was exactly the right set of thoughts to smash any sense of urgency in getting intimate.

He dropped her hand at the door and turned the key, allowing her to step in first. He took her coat and bag, stepped out of his shoes and left her to deal with her own determined to busy himself.

"Want some tea? Water?"

"No, I'm okay." He put the kettle on, she wiped her palms on her thighs, and he wondered if she was as nervous as he was. She eyed his small stack of books, mainly manuals and technical guides, it struck him that she was avoiding sitting down.

"Are you sore?"

"What?"

"Your legs, are you sore?" He himself was feeling like he had bone bruises in the balls of each foot and pure acid in his triceps and forearms. He masochistically liked the sting in his palm as he pinched the heel of his right hand.

"Yeah, a bit." She stretched a little. "I'm sure it'll be worse tomorrow." She flipped open a little blue book, skimming through the introduction to electrical circuits and wiring. "Do you mind if I read this?" She asked as she sat down at the table and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged.

"Sure, go ahead." He found it surprisingly hard not to let the annoyance come out. She had no reason to read it. She wasn't going to be installing lighting or switches, in a different life, she could have been wearing blue.

"Here." He pulled out the little pot of ointment from the refrigerator. "It can really help." He moved behind her and pulled her hair to the side, dabbing a little bit of the mint paste onto her neck and shoulder, pressing into the soft tissues made hard by the strain of training. She let out a little gasp that took his mind to a completely different place.

He let his thumbs shift under the collar of her shirt, pressing down between her right shoulder blade until a definitive knot caught his attention. He pressed around the edges, letting the oils of the paste lubricate while he deepened his press. She rolled her neck to the side, set the book onto the table, her arms dropped loose. He could see her eyes barely open, mouth parted, her jaw sliding back so her teeth folded her lower lip— he stopped, stepping away to tend to the whistling of the kettle and thinking of the first time he watched a domestic go down on the monitors, an effective control, for a moment.

"Sit, let me." She smiled, patting the table next to her. He clutched the mug, the heat almost enough to burn him, enough to distract him, and sat on the chair next to her, facing her. She took the ointment, dabbed her fingers and grabbed his right hand. He swallowed hard, watching her look at the scar, obviously trying not to stare, not to focus on it, but failing to conceal her curiosity. Her fingers pressed into the muscles of his forearm, pulling along the tendons and rocking the muscles back and forth over each other. It felt like heaven caught on fire with the ebbing of pain and pleasure.

Tris ached from the center of her spine through the edges of her hips when he licked his lips, staring at her with a touch of agony in the corners of his eyes. Smoothly transitioning to straddle his legs, her hands found their way up to his biceps and circled his arm around her waist, turning him into a panting statue, too focused on controlling himself to move.

The drag of her ear on the side of his neck when she pecked his collarbone broke what little resolve had held him still. Tobias' hands clamped onto her hips to hold her when his mouth sucked the skin of her neck and pinched into kisses. He pulled her tight against him, hip to hip. It was the start of a trail that swiftly landed her pinned under him on his bed, her legs gripping him and his hands exploring the layers of her shirts.

Tris is the first to start pulling clothing, arresting Tobias in mid grasp of her breast. Had he been paying attention, he could have at least hit the lights on the way over, something to keep a little dignity, but he hadn't. She stared back at him, concerned. He was staring back at her dumbly, dazed and hesitant.

"What?" She brushes his hand off her chest, pulling away from him, examining herself the best she could see. "What I do?" She asked.

"Um, nothing." He couldn't think straight, "I just, got, um distracted." When an opportunity presents itself, "I don't have any condoms." He said, faking as bashful a face as he could.

"Oh, um, you want to?"

"Yeah, well. Of course." He grinned, crisis avoided, "I mean, if you do. But, not like taking risks or anything." He measured his tone, to sound as adult as he could about it.

"Oh, I have some, in my bag." She smiled, scooting to the edge and then tip-toeing across the room to retrieve them. His heart fluttered a little in his chest, it seemed unavoidable, all that was left was deciding what reaction would be worse: laughing, being disgusted, disappointed.

"What's wrong?" She approached slowly, her arms carefully coming together to hold herself. All of her doubts racing through her own mind at how vast the distance felt between two moments so close together. "I mean, you don't have to be nice. If you don't want to, that's fine." She said it even though it was anything but, "I can stay with Amar, probably." She even started to turn, Tobias unresponsive, frozen in indecision.

"Wait, it's not…" He'd successfully stopped her, turned her towards him, but saying what he needed to say wouldn't happen with her eyes on him. So he took a breath, sat on the edge, closed his eyes and leaned his forehead onto his hands. If he opened his eyes, all he'd see was the floor boards. "It's not you." She sighed with disbelief, "I mean, it is you, but not you." He heard a choked sniffle, "I don't want to disappoint you." He rushed out, not wanting to make her cry.

Silence. He wasn't brave enough to look up, but he couldn't think of what else to say. Then footsteps, careful and slow, drawing up next to him, the weight of her body sinking the mattress beside him.

"How could you ever disappoint me?" She laid her head on his back, her arm around his waist and playing with the pocket on his pants.

"I'm not who you met. I'm different, weak." He didn't add the rest.

"Rough around the edges, maybe, but definitely not weak." She corrected, he sighed, unbelieving, "You're the strongest person I know. I'm definitely dating up." She nudged him, warming him up a little, "But if you want to wait, to… you know, do that, until we have some time between us, I get that."

"We shouldn't rush." He stated slowly letting his head come up, feeling her tighten her grip around him.