Divergent One Shots (Eric & Tris)

Twenty-Five-I'm Sorry 7.1

Tris

I sit on a stool against the counter at the tattoo parlor waiting for a customer to walk in completely bored out of my mind. I know why nobody wants these day shifts and I don't really mind so much. It gives me time to come up with new ideas.
I have my left elbow on the counter with my hand propping up my cheek. I sit here and draw a new design I've had in my head for a while. It's a dragon-like wyvern made out of flames. It's mostly black with red, orange, and yellow on the tips. I smirk as I draw on the forked tongue and sit back a moment admiring my work.
"That's pretty good," a voice says at close range.
I jump up startled. I didn't even hear anybody come in.
"Thanks, Eric," I say surprised at him complimenting me. He's been coming in for a while lately examining the tattoos but he hasn't chosen one yet. He usually looks around and talks to me a bit before he leaves.
"Is that something someone requested?" he inquires.
"No, it's something I just came up with," I shrug.
"I want that," he says.
"Okay," I laugh lightly, surprised that I'm going to tattoo Eric. "Where?"
"Wrapping around my bicep," he motions to his arm.
I nod in understanding.
"Can you... make it a black and blue flame gradient?" he inquires.
I smile at him and select some blue pencils. I draw a section for him to give the idea of it—the blue fading from light to dark around the tips of the flames.
"Yeah, that," he nods.
"Alright," I say walking him over to my station.
He removes his shirt and takes a seat in the reclining chair. I focus on getting my supplies out and line them up on the tray. I take his arm in my hand and begin to draw a basic outline of the design on him with a washable ink—to work out the details. I confirm that he likes it. He rises and looks the design over in the mirror. He lifts his arm and nods pursing his lips.
"You don't like it?" I question.
"No, that's not it at all. I think it's my favorite and I can't wait until it's done," he tells me walking back and taking a seat in the chair.
I'm completely flattered as I prepare the supplies again, putting the ink in the needle. I can't hide the blush on my cheeks. I begin to tattoo him and I notice him watching me work, looking the tattoo over.
"How's initiation going this year?" I inquire.
"Good. My sister transferred here," he tells me.
I stop what I'm doing and look up at him in shock.
"That's wonderful. I didn't even know you had siblings," I say.
"Yeah, just her. She's been living with an adopted family since Jeanine..." he says trailing off.
I nod in understanding focusing on my work. I trace over the outline I made and it takes some time. I think about what happened several years ago—my first year of membership. Eric led a team to stop Jeanine from harming the Divergent. They watched for her to leave the headquarters and arrested her, taking her to Candor. They administered truth serum on her and found out so much... I couldn't even believe all that was published in the newspaper. I stopped reading after the initial arrests. I couldn't stomach any more truth. Four and I actually had a big fight about it. He insisted that Eric was a conspirator and I said he couldn't have been if he stopped her. Divergents are now free to live their lives however they want... but I still have felt like I needed to hide all these years.  I think I made a stupid choice, though—I listened to Four's bad advice and took a low level job to avoid detection. The pay here is terrible and I'm barely making ends meet.
"That's looking good," Eric tells me.
I stop what I'm doing and glance to him. His eyes are on mine and we're really close. "Thanks," I say softly as I go back to work.
I focus on the lines of the design, continuing on them as well as I can, turning his arm. At times, I feel like I'm cuddling with Eric and it gives me a strange feeling to be this close with him. It's odd—I've never felt quite like this with anyone else. Plus, I kind of refuse certain types of tattoos and piercings—nothing crude and nowhere private. I honestly get less work than the others who are willing to do anything. I didn't know when I took this job that such things existed. If I'd known, I would have picked cafeteria worker. I lose half of my customers this way. They want tattoos of demons, witchcraft symbols, or genital piercings. I tell them to come back when anyone else is here.
I sigh as I finish tracing the lines. I wash the temporary ink off with a damp rag and stretch for a minute before I begin filling in the design. I continue with the black first.
As I fill in the dragon's head, I think about how I was offered a leadership position. I declined it in fear of my Divergence being discovered. Four had me so afraid that I listened to his advice. I asked Uriah what he chose that day and he said he picked the best job—weapons design. He couldn't get over that I didn't choose that. I know they didn't offer it to him or Lynn—just me. I even overheard new members the last few years talking about job selection and they haven't offered anyone else that I'm aware.
"So... how are things going with you and Four?" Eric asks.
I stop what I'm doing and blink in surprise before I meet his eyes. "We're still friends as always," I shrug. "Nothing new going on."
He looks shocked... and confused. "I was under the impression that you two have been together," he says.
"No," I shake my head. I go back to inking him.
"When did that end?" he asks.
"Umm... I'm sorry. I'd have to think about it. It's been so long. It barely lasted actually," I say pausing. I go back to inking his skin, filling in around a wing.
He asks me another question about me dating anyone and I admit I can't focus on his tattoo and chat about personal things.
"Can't chew gum and read at the same time?" he jokes.
"I've never had gum before," I admit. "But probably not. I really don't want to mess this up on a leader."
"Am I making you nervous?" he teases.
"No, it's just I take my work seriously," I shrug.
"How about we go out for a cup of coffee after this?" he offers.
I think about how the coffee in the Pit costs five points at least and I don't have it. I don't even have enough for food this week and I've been eating dry ramen and whatever I can find around my apartment.
"My treat?" he presses.
"Okay," I nod. Nobody ever takes me out and the few that have offered, I'm not interested in.
He smirks at me and I continue my work in silence. I can actually feel Eric's eyes on me now as I carry on but I do my best to focus on the task at hand. I switch to the darkest blue shade and add it throughout each tip, touching the black and leaving space for the lighter colors. I finish and I switch to a shade lighter. I blend it with the color I just added and move onto a bit of bare skin. I start with the last shade—the lightest blue, almost white. I color in the bare space and then mix it with each spot before it. I finish and put a new product from Erudite to help it heal more quickly on his skin before bandaging his arm up.
"I'm not looking forward to the healing time," Eric mumbles pulling on his shirt.
"That ointment I put on it should more than cut the time in half," I inform him writing up an invoice. "You can use it once more but I wouldn't recommend more than that, plus I doubt you'll need more."
"Alright," he laughs. "It's been a while since I've had one done."
I nod in understanding. I honestly assumed he had more work on him than he does. He only has the forearm tattoos, the leadership ones on his neck, and the two pair of piercings that I can see.
I rise and take him to the register to checkout. He swipes his point card and I see him writing something in. As I observe him, I think he's giving me a tip. Nobody ever does that and I've been here for years. Everyone loves the work I do but never gives me more than cost. As he enters the amount, I'm completely floored when I see it. I blink in surprise and I'm thinking he made a mistake. I tell him as much.
He shakes his head at me and tells me that he's aware. I thank him... stumbling over my words.
"So... when do you get off?" he asks.
"Now," I say seeing Tori coming in.
"Perfect," he smirks at me.