Divergent Short Stories (Eric & Tris Fanfics)

Chapter 2

I hear Tris unzipping her winter coat and almost fanning herself with it as we climb down the stairs.  It is substantially warmer down here than upstairs—which is comforting. I find myself doing the same, although moving all that furniture in a winter coat has made me sweat a bit.
We arrive at the bottom of the stairs and open the door.  It's actually comfortable down here and I begin stripping off my winter gear and tossing them down in a heap.  Everything is kind of damp and that's actually pretty dangerous in these temperatures—we could've frozen outside.  I see the Stiff doing the same as I take in our surroundings. There is—in fact—an ancient looking wood burning stove. It actually reminds me of pictures I've seen where people cooked from them. It's a completely enclosed unit with a guard just beyond it to let the heat out but protect against any sparks that may fly out on occasion.  It has a door as well, so we should be good.  Unless he didn't sweep the chimney, nothing should catch fire—but he mentioned that he did. I see a teakettle set on top of the surface and it begins to whistle.
"I've got it," the Stiff says grabbing a nearby hot pad and removing it. I smirk at that.
There are cast iron skillets and other cookware hanging off to the side. There's a large pile of wood beside the fireplace but that's absolutely not enough for a week down here. I mentally make a note of that since it's probably enough for tonight.
The whole area around the fireplace is surrounded by brick and stone so we definitely don't need to worry about it catching fire. With the chimney setup the way it is, we shouldn't have to worry about the cold getting in either. It's small enough to let the smoke escape but probably too small to really let much cold in—plus, it'd have to get in through the house. I bet that pipe leads to the roof... or another chimney.
The room has a sort of living room vibe with a couch, a loveseat, and a rocking chair. There's a small table off to the side with two wooden chairs.
"I'm going to hang my wet clothes by the fire to dry," she announces.
She glances back at me and I nod doing the same.  We both set them in the area around the fire. I see her wearing her full uniform. She's Jax's assistant—a rather high ranking job. I was honestly pleased that she chose that position. I figured her boyfriend would've talked her out of it since he doesn't seem to care for responsibility and authority. I think he's a pansy and a pushover. I'm honestly grateful Four never took us up on the leadership offer—Max's idea, not mine. We're still contemplating on who would make the cut. Her name has actually come up a few times—by far one of the most promising members for the position.
"I'm going to see what supplies there are," she announces shaking me out of my own thoughts—metaphorically speaking. She's never touched me... and that's a shame. I sigh shakily that I'm here with her. I've honestly wanted her from day one in Dauntless. By the time she became a member, she completely avoided me and was already interested in the other Stiff. I sigh again and slip off my boots setting them beside her smaller pair. I remove my snow pants and lay them next to hers.
She comes back and places down a set of underclothes—like heat preserving gear or thermals. She must've had that beneath her uniform. She's also removed her uniform jacket wearing a t-shirt. As she bends over to set them down, I see her dog tags hanging from her neck—Prior, Beatrice. It's honestly strange seeing her real name. It doesn't suit her at all. I'm actually glad she changed it.
"There's a bathroom, a kitchen, a pantry, and two storage rooms," she announces. "Eustace left little notes everywhere. I'm not sure if they were just reminders or for anyone else in the future... but they're helpful. They're like checklists. If the pipes freeze, we'll have to use a bucket... but it looks like he shut off the water to the rest of the house according to his checklist, so hopefully it'll be fine. The pipes are all underground."
I nod in understanding.  I remove my leadership vest, sweater, and t-shirt but leave my tank top on.  My pants are fine.  I set those out, too, and go exploring myself.  Once I turn around, I notice a bookshelf full of bound volumes that I'll have to check out later after the survival and necessities are handled.  I open a door to a separate room.  It has bins of shelving.  I open up one to find some miscellaneous clothes.  Another has blankets.  Yet another is filled with flashlights, lanterns—oil and battery powered.  This prepper guy is pretty impressive.  I'm seriously thinking that I like his style.  I leave the room and figure I'll come back later.  The next room is loaded with rows upon rows of chopped, dried wood—problem solved. Next, I find the bathroom.  It does have the basics—toilet, sink, and a very small walk in shower.  I leave the door open just in case—so the heat down here will help maintain the pipes functioning properly.  The next section is the kitchen—currently where the Stiff is.  There's a sink, cabinets, a countertop... I open up a cabinet to see it fully stocked with dry goods—rice, flour, dried fruits and vegetables, jerky, powdered milk, egg crystals—which are like dehydrated scrambled eggs.  I'll take it without complaint. 
"The sink works but he has jugs of water in the pantry," Tris tells me. 
I nod and head in that direction.  I open up the pantry to see that it's more like a root cellar—more than double the size of the other storage rooms.  There are fresh foods in crates—carrots, cabbages, apples, fresh garlic and onions, potatoes... the list is endless.  There are wooden shelves holding glass jars and canned goods—some from Factionless, some appear homemade or possibly from Amity.  I see what appears to be several deep chest freezers.  I open one to find it full of frozen produce.  Another is full of meat.  I chuckle at that.  This may be more like a vacation with the girl of my dreams rather than a survival situation.  I close the door to the latter and notice row upon row of large blue plastic drums.  They're laying sideways in a wooden constructed series of shelves.  There's a tap on one with a list of instructions.  This is our water if the pipes freeze.  I smirk in that we really are all set here. 
"Eric?  Do you want some tea?" the Stiff offers from the door. 
"Sure," I say surprised. 
I leave the pantry.  She has the tea kettle set on a trivet at that small table along with two mugs.  I see a container with tea and another with sugar. 
"Geez, we lucked out," I laugh lightly. 
"I guess so," she says softly sitting down. 
I join her and make a cup of tea. She does so as well. I let it immerse in the steaming water for a couple minutes observing the Stiff. God, she's gorgeous. She's been with us for about two and a half years. She's grown taller and even more desirable over her time in my chosen faction. She has a willowy frame, entrancing light blue eyes, a long thin nose, full lips, sunken cheeks, sparkling golden—almost white—hair, a small toned and muscular figure with enough curves to satisfy my desires... but she's with Four. I sigh before I remove my tea. She offers me a bowl to throw the tea leaves in.
"There's a compost bin," she informs me.
I nod. I sip my tea feeling much warmer. That chill up my spine that wouldn't disappear—even after physical exertion—is now dissipating. I sigh shakily—feeling better in body... but not in spirit... so I broach the subject with her.
"So... who'll be worried at your absence?" I inquire.
"Probably Christina," she frowns. "We were supposed to stay together in the Dauntless born dorm. Nobody wanted the dorms oddly," she mentions.
"Leadership is taking the transfer dorms," I admit sipping my tea again.
She laughs lightly. "Well, I guess we were destined to be neighbors no matter what."
I smirk at that.
"I feel bad for taking Mr Edwards' food," she mentions.
"Eh, I'll replace it when this is all over," I shrug dismissively.
"You have that many points?" she asks teasingly.
"I've got nothing else to spend it on," I reply seriously.
"Oh, really?" she laughs lightly. "According to your faction, that's not true."
"Eh, well they like to gossip. Most of it isn't," I point out.
"I've noticed," she nods. "I feel like I have to correct the Pedrads on their false claims at least once a week," she grins.
"Yeah, but at least they're not mean about it. They just like sharing good news... with everyone," I mention.
"You're right," she agrees and appears pensive. "Uriah will be worried about me... Will, Lynn, Marlene, and my office staff will, too... my team. Dana and Daisy... shoot, everyone will be freaking out," she deduces frowning again.
"No Four?" I question nonchalantly.
She raises an eyebrow and nods. "Probably," she admits as if he's an afterthought, oddly enough.
"You don't sound so concerned," I say but I'm absolutely curious about this subject.
"Eh, he annoys me more than anything," she says softly.
"I was under the impression that you two were an item," I divulge feigning disinterest but I'm dying to know why he is suddenly annoying her.
"Who told you that?" she laughs in surprise.
"It was an assumption initially," I shrug. "But Four confirmed it."
She snorts in response. "Of course he did—the liar," she says irritated. "He's not a very honest person."
I raise my eyebrow in surprise. This is news to me.
She sighs and explains that they were briefly together—never official—right after initiation. But it ended quickly.
I rein in the smile that so badly wants to surface at that news as I nod.
"You guys sit together though," I point out.
"I sit with my friends. We have some of the same friends," she shrugs. "I try to be civil with him even though we don't get along... or rather, I want nothing to do with him."
"I've seen him kiss you—recently," I disagree.
She laughs. "You must've missed the slap then."
"Must've," I shrug smirking. "I would've liked to see that."
She chuckles in reply. "It's a frequent occurrence," she nods.
I laugh lightly, too.
"So, how about you?" she asks sipping her tea.
"What about me?" I question.
"Who's going to be missing you?" she clarifies.
"Leadership," I shrug. "A few people on the staff from my office maybe, a couple of my friends... Jax..."
"Shoot. He's going to go ballistic," she mentions.
"Probably," I agree nodding. He will be overly concerned—about both of us. He's referred to her like his own daughter before. He deeply cares for her... and me—he's like a father figure. I sigh. I hope he doesn't blame himself. This is no one's fault. These things just happen. I'm grateful for this space. It's better than anything else we could've found here... definitely superior to being crammed into the dorms. Lydia was bringing her boyfriend. I didn't want to share a room with those two nymphomaniacs.
There's a moment of silence between us as we sip our tea.
"I don't think I know any of your friends," she mentions.
"Tyler works in your office. The rest you probably don't know... Teagan works with Uriah in weapons design, though. You may have heard of him," I shrug.
"I know them both actually," she nods.
"Oh?" I ask curiously grinning.
"Alright. They both have asked me out," she admits.
I snort at that. "They're good guys though. Why didn't you date them?" I question curiously. I want to know what she doesn't like since she's been single all this time apparently.
"You're joking, right?" she says mortified.
I shrug in reply. They're attractive males, fairly strong, capable, intelligent...
"Teagan wanted to fornicate in the hallway," she says deadpan.
"No way," I disagree.
"It's true," she nods. "I'm frequently sent to deliver some orders from my office down there. He's constantly asking me out.  I always reject him.  Recently, he said he'd settle for doing... you know, that in the hallway during work hours. He said he never gets watched."
"He will be now," I tell her seriously. I'm beating the crap out of him, too. "What about Tyler?" I inquire wondering if I'm losing all of my friends now.
"He's at least nice... but persistent. I don't know," she shrugs. "We have nothing in common."
I nod being grateful that he's at least a gentleman. I hadn't realized Teagan was such a pervert and a sexual deviant.
"Who are your other friends?" she asks curiously. So I talk about my handful of close friends. She knows Zeke well, and she's familiar with Ryan—another leader. I speak about Mike. He's the gate guard at the fence. She knows of him and says he's friendly and hardworking. I tell her about Riley in one of the Pit gun shops. She's not familiar with him. Ellis is employed in a tattoo parlor but she doesn't know him either. Vince is a Pit guard and she knows him.
"Really? What do you think of him?" I ask curiously.
"He's a womanizer," she tells me.
"Oh?" I question raising an eyebrow. "He hasn't bothered you has he?"
"I'm not his type," she shakes her head.
"And what type is that?" I inquire.
"Curvy, promiscuous, pretty girls," she says not meeting my eyes.
I nod. He does like that type. But I thought he stayed with them for a while. I ask her what she means by what she said.
"He's with a different girl every day. He had to split up a catfight in the Pit during work once because one of them found out about the others," she tells me.
"Man, I need to check the company I keep better," I admit.
"Why?" she asks cocking her head slightly to the side in curiosity.
"Because I'm not like that," I divulge meeting her eyes.
She looks surprised at my admission but she nods.
We finish our tea and figure that we need to make something for dinner since it's getting late. I add a few more logs and stoke the fire while she chooses. Apparently she's already thawed some meat in the kitchen. When the fire is burning well, I step into the kitchen and help her.  She decided on a beef stew and that actually sounds incredible.  I help her cut up the vegetables.  She insists that I handle the onion.  I take it and chop it up—no big deal. 
"They don't make you cry?" she asks surprised. 
"Not really," I shrug.  "You?"
"I'm a sniveling, blubbering mess usually," she laughs lightly. 
I grin at that. 
We cut up the carrots, potatoes, celery, garlic, and meat before adding them into the Dutch oven.  She puts in some water—just enough to cover everything—and a few spices.  I've never done this before—only on a campfire or cooktop—and nothing this complex.  She actually does put it on top of the stove like the kettle earlier. 
"We just have to wait a while," she shrugs.  "Maybe an hour or two."
"Have you done this before?" I ask her. 
"Only on the range at home," she says.  "Christina and I usually have Sunday dinner parties.  She's taught me to cook seasoned food—or rather, we've kind of learned together."
I nod at that.  They must be roommates. 
"I think I'm going to explore that storage room," she announces and just walks over there. 
I grab a few armfuls of wood for the night and add it to the pile before I join her.  I step into the storage room to see her with a bundle of bedding.  "We should probably be prepared for tonight," she tells me handing it to me. 
I take it from her while she grabs another.  I hold the door open for her.  We set the bedding down and go back in. 
"Do you think the power might go out?" she asks me biting her lip. 
"It's a very serious possibility," I nod. 
"What makes you so sure?" she inquires. 
"The phone tower has already been knocked down from the wind.  Something happened to the radio connection.  It's likely the electrical grid could suffer from this or even the water supply.  Leadership strategically put everyone together for a reason," I explain. 
"Body heat," she nods.
I nod in agreement.  The city leaders got together and thought this through.  She looks to be mulling it over.  I noticed there's an electrical thermostat down here on the wall of the main room.  The heat is on.  If it goes out, we may have to do the same.  At least we have the fire and we're underground so those factors will help substantially. 
"We should probably get these flashlights out and a lantern or two," she suggests stepping back into the storage room. 
I agree.  I was actually thinking the same thing. 
We take those out and continue searching.  I find some black clothing in a bin while she's stirring the stew.  There's clothes in here from every faction but there are a few Dauntless articles that I sort through in various sizes.  She comes back in and I hand her a patched up black sweatshirt that might fit her.  It looks too small for me, like a child's size.  She smiles and takes it from me putting it on.  I smirk.  She looks incredible.  It's fitted but nice on her. 
"How's it look?" I ask motioning toward dinner. 
"Maybe a half an hour," she replies.  "I mixed up some simple biscuits."
"That sounds good," I admit.  I'm glad she's here.  I'd be making the most plain things if not for her. 
We grab a few clothing items for both of us.  Sadly the Dauntless colors are exceedingly worn but they've been patched up decently.  We step out and I help pick up our scattered clothes that are now dry.  I fold a few things and hang our coats up on a rack.  I set our boots and everything together.  I put my sweater back on since I actually am a little cooler now.  I'm honestly hoping it doesn't get too cold down here. 
I notice that the meal smells incredible and after three days working out in the cold, this sounds like the best thing I've had in days.  Besides breakfast and a very late cold dinner, I've mostly just had rations—which consist of meal replacement bars and are seriously nothing special.  I get out some bowls as she places those biscuits she made onto a platter.  She dishes out the stew and I'm dying to try this.  I fill up two glasses of water and we sit together.  I try her meal and it's even better than I expected.  It definitely beats anything like this that they make in the cafeteria and it's completely warming me up.  The biscuits are excellent too, and I compliment her on the meal.  She chuckles but insists I helped, too.
"You're too modest, Stiff," I tease.
She laughs lightly and smiles, thanking me for the compliment.
We eat and chat.  It's fabulous—the meal but especially to be in her company.  I've been desiring this for so long.  I eventually decide to broach the subject of the homeowner. 
"So... how is it that a Factionless attends church with you?" I ask her. 
She looks up to me in surprise at my question. 
"Isn't religion the freest place in our society?" she asks. 
"It is," I nod. 
"Then why wouldn't they be allowed to attend?" she inquires almost rhetorically. 
"I suppose... but the logistics of it doesn't make any sense.  Where do you attend in the city?" I ask. 
"Erudite," she tells me softly. 
"How would he even get there?" I quiz.  "That's far for a Factionless."
"I don't know," she shrugs.  "But he frequently attends."
I nod at that.  I am grateful for this place of his to hunker down in so I mention it. 
"Me, too," she agrees forcing a smile. 
After we finish off the meal she's prepared, we clean up and lounge around on the furniture in front of the fire.  We both read from his book collection.  His choices are quite interesting. 
"Did he have a former faction?" I inquire. 
"He left Erudite.  It was his choice according to my father," she replies. 
I raise my brow in surprise but nod.  Yeah, this place is meticulous and methodical so that makes sense.  We talk a bit more and get ready for bed.  I'm still kind of in shock that I'm here with the Stiff.  Once I'm changed into something more comfortable, I come out to see her setting some cushions from the loveseat on the ground before the fire. 
"Are you that cold?" I ask her. 
"Don't you feel it?" she asks in reply and it hits me. 
"It is colder," I agree. 
I decide to start laying the sofa cushions on the ground beside her.  I was planning on taking that but I think this is better.  She sees me and closes her eyes and nods.  Yeah, she doesn't want me here—but want and need are two very different things in this situation. We each make our own separate beds side by side. I switch off the light but have a flashlight and an oil lantern with matches within reach if needed. I climb into bed and this isn't bad—comfortable even. Having her so close is intoxicating but I don't do anything foolish.
"Eric?" she asks me softly.
I hum a reply.
"Do you think we're safe down here?" she inquires.
I hear the wind whistling in the quiet aboveground and the creaking of the house in response.
"As safe as we can get in the circumstances," I admit.
"Yeah," she whispers. "I'm grateful."
"Me, too, Stiff," I mumble. I drift off easily.