Waiting

Chapter 1: Waiting

A/N: This story was inspired by Milner's new "The First Time" story, which is a "bunch of one shots done for fun on the different ways Tris and Tobias could possibly meet in the modern day." Thank you very much, Milner, for the idea and for giving me permission to borrow it for this short story! To everyone else, if you haven't read Milner's story yet, please check it out, along with her other stories – they're wonderful!

Thank you also to BarbaraK2U, who kindly beta-read this story for me!

Disclaimer: I do not own the "Divergent" series or the characters that came from it. Those belong to Veronica Roth.

Waiting

Tobias curses silently when he enters the Department of Motor Vehicles and sees the crowd of people packed into the waiting area. He swore to himself that he wouldn't leave his license renewal until the last minute this time, but here he is on the final business day of the month, in the same boat as everyone else whose right to drive expires at midnight. Judging by the number of people here, half the city falls into that category.

It takes a solid ten minutes for him to navigate through the mass of people to the giant sign that reads, "Start here." It's only that fast because he turns on his self-defense-instructor body language, giving him an intimidating presence that most people scramble to avoid. He almost never takes advantage of being tall and well-muscled this way, but if he doesn't get his license renewed today, he's going to have a problem getting to work tomorrow.

He finally reaches the machine that dispenses numbers, tugging the next strip of paper from it and glancing at his number. Nine hundred and five. His eyes shift to the nearest announcement board, seeing what numbers are currently being served, and something sinks inside him when he sees that they all start with three. This is going to be a long day.

"Hey, that one's mine," an insistent voice says right beside him, and he looks down, startled to realize that a young woman is glaring at him. He didn't notice her earlier, but judging by the expression on her face, and the way she's pointing at the paper in his hand, she must have been reaching for a number at the same time he was – and is annoyed that he beat her to the machine.

"I'm sorry," he says, a little taken aback by the ferocity in her gray-blue eyes. "I didn't see you there."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not that short."

He can feel the red going up his cheeks in response, and suddenly he's all too aware of how he just pushed his way through the crowd. It probably took this five-foot-nothing blond a whole lot longer to get here.

"I don't know how I missed you," he mutters apologetically, "but here." He extends his slip of paper toward her. "Let's just trade tickets." Glancing at the boards again, he adds, "It's not like either of us will be getting out of here soon anyway."

She considers that for a moment before taking the paper that he's offering and handing him hers instead. "You have a point," she sighs.

He gives a wry smile. "Yeah, we'll be lucky to be called by the end of the day. And there's probably nowhere to sit, either."

Her gaze wanders up his six-foot-two-inch frame for a moment, and the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. "You tell me. If there are any empty seats, you'll see them long before I do. You know, from Mount Olympus."

He looks down at her, chuckling a little at the comment as his deep blue eyes meet her lighter ones. He can't remember ever being in a crowd like this when he was her height, surrounded by people who block her view. He was always the tallest in his class growing up, and he was probably twelve when he reached this woman's height. That time isn't pleasant to think about, though, when he was still raw from losing his mother and still living in terror of his father, so he pushes the memory away.