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Archetype Glitch >> Eric Coulter X Reader

Title: Archetype Glitch

Paring: Eric Coulter X Reader

Warnings: overthinking, fluff, angst, ooc Eric (but honest he could have been cute behind closed doors) and more fluff

Spoilers: none! Set before Divergent.

Dedicated to: anonymous on tumblr

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Even if it is the faction dedicated to courage, and bravery, strength, fearlessness - intimidation - you're not the perfect Dauntless. You're not sure anyone is, really. Except Eric. It was almost laughable that the two of you ended up together, after all that your initiation year went through, what, with the usual intimidation tricks and antics that eliminated more than its fair share of competition. While Eric had been an Erudite, you came from Amity, from a long line of red-and-yellow wearing people who had never strayed from their heavenly fields.

While he's the leader that everyone respects, acknowledges, and works under for fear of punishment, you have kept your Amity roots, and wrapped them in Dauntless colours, and work in the infirmary. It's not the caring that keeps you content (or perhaps it is) but the fact that you integrate your Dauntless spirit into healing the warrior faction when they're inevitably checked into your area. You still wear black, like everyone else, and have your share of body art like the rest of them. It's just...your strength is rooted in returning your patients' back to them.

This wasn't a problem until Max brought it up. It was more of a passing comment, than a cruel remark, but when at a meeting, spoke about the 'match the two of you made'. Eric had mentioned it over dinner that, almost like an afterthought, but it stuck with you. What did Max mean, the match? Did he mean that the roots you two came from, or your occupation, disposition, level of seniority in the faction? Either way, the words were repeating over, and over, and over in your brain, keeping you awake beside Eric in the sheets.

When the glowing clock on the wall flicked to the other side of midnight, slowly, you slipped the sheets from your body, and crept into the other room. You shared an apartment in the higher levels of the faction, but the rooms were under his name, the allowance deducted from his pay. Eric had insisted on paying for it – saying that his salary was slightly larger than your own, and because of that, took charge. As always.

Your feet pad over the hardwood floors to the living area, where there is an assortment of minimalist furniture and a small bookcase. You slowly migrate to the chair that faces the other, tucking your legs under your body, and take in the room. Once again, the contents are filled with Eric's things, remnants of his well-educated roots, bound and smelling sweet. In the moonlight that streams through the windows, you see your small collection of potted arid-climate cacti, your photograph you'd hung beside the bedroom entrance, of yourself and Eric. It had been taken the week after you'd both gotten the place, after a successful patrol.

There was a balance in the apartment. But in your mind, there was not. There was a weight in your head. Not cowardice, or fear. Just...a niggling. A thought.

You stay there, silent, counting your heartbeat as the passing minutes drift by, listening to the noises of the night that lie beyond the walls of the place you call home in Dauntless. In Amity, there was never a curfew, and affection was never frowned upon. Maybe you were upset that Eric withheld his emotions from you. Maybe you were restless with your lack of importance beside Eric. Maybe it was just simply what Max had said. Either way, you lost track of time, deliberating over these impunities in your head until Eric's form could be seen from the entrance to the bedroom.