So a while back I saw this headcannon that although Four was born Abnegation he had to have picked some Dauntless traits when he transferred there, even though he hated it there before Tris came along.
Yes, and I shall write about it, not because I have nothing to do, but because I have nothing to do.
I wanted to give them a chance to be a normal couple before Divergent’s Armageddon at the end of the first book, so this takes place three-four months after Tris completes her final test and they were a normal couple for a while.
Headcanon credits to @fouriis and I hope this is the correct account?
*mini-drabble of app. 500 words*
There are some times when you know you’ve fucked up.
There’s always this inner feeling, but it takes a while sometimes to really get that gut feeling.
Tris and I stand here in my room, me staring at her hands as she waves them around because I have nothing else to do while Tris yells at me.
“—therefore you should have told me, because I am also a part of this faction—”
“You were injured, what the hell was I supposed to do—”
“I got better two days ago!” she screeches. “It was a cut on my shoulder! I’m fine!”
“You're clearly not fine, because I still see you wincing when you move it. And Tori said you were supposed to stay in bed for a week so that she could make sure it didn’t get infected.”
“I need to practice, we know that Eric and Max are up to something. Even Christina noticed that my knife throwing skills were a bit off lately, I need to practice, Tobias, why can't you see that—”
“They’re knives, baby, you need an incredible amount of precision in your back muscles to hit the target, and you're clearly not doing well on that front.”
“That’s not the damn point, Tobias, I could have just watched—did you just call me baby?”
I freeze. I try to open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
I came first in my rankings during Initiation and I cannot respond to a simple question.
Tris is still staring at me with the same furious expression on her face, but some of it has been diluted with amusement.
She cocks a brow, gives me a once-over and nods. “Keep calling me that,” she says, then walks out, not before sticking her head back into my room. “We’re still not done discussing this.”
I accidentally walk into a wall when she leaves.
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