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 BK2U, 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.

Instead, he makes a point of standing on tiptoes and looking around the room in an exaggerated fashion, even going so far as to place his hand over his eyes like he's trying to shade them from the sun and see far into the distance. Beside him, he hears the young woman laugh.

"Spot anything, matey?" she asks, donning a decent pirate accent.

"Now you're just mixing your metaphors," he quips in response, still looking around the room, though he has to admit that his focus is definitely more on the slight figure in the corner of his eye. "Make up your mind. Am I in ancient Greece or a seventeenth century ocean?"

"Definitely a Greek god," he hears her mutter, and he can't quite stop the smirk that tugs his lips upwards, even if he decides it's better to pretend he didn't catch that particular remark.

"Well, either way," he tells her as he finishes his attempt to scan the room, "I can't see nearly as well from up here as you think I can. I'm not that tall." And it's true; there are simply too many people in the way for him to see if there are any unoccupied seats.

Dropping to the balls of his feet again, he returns his gaze to the petite blond beside him, adding, "But it's a safe bet that we'll have to stand for a while." Something about her intrigues him. Perhaps it's the energy and intelligence flashing in her eyes, or the spirited way she stood up for herself when he took her number, but he has no desire to move away from her to wait anywhere else.

"I'm Tobias, by the way." He extends his hand, figuring he may as well do this right.

She cocks her head, evaluating him for a moment before giving him a firm handshake. "I know."

It's definitely not the response he expected, and he narrows his eyes, thinking hard about where he might have seen her – and how he could possibly have not noticed her. There's a confidence in her body language that hints at martial arts training, though she certainly was never a student of his.

She grins at his confusion. "I take classes with Amar, right before your session. He's mentioned you a few times." There's a hint of red on her face that tells him there was probably a reason that his former instructor mentioned him. Amar has tried several times to set him up on dates. They've never worked out, but he wouldn't object to this particular effort….

"Though he called you Four." She looks at him questioningly, and he nods in confirmation. No one outside of the gym calls him that, but it's become his standard name there.

"He gave me that nickname." He doesn't add the reason why, since it would sound too much like bragging, but as far as he knows, he's still the only student Amar has ever had break through four boards at once with a hand strike. Instead, he says, "He's a good guy. How long have you been taking his classes?"

"Just over six months. I'm finally a yellow belt." She gives a wry smile that indicates she knows full well he's ranked considerably above that, before she adds, "I'm Tris."

"It's nice to meet you, Tris." For a change, he means those words.

They spend the next two hours chatting amiably as the crowd slowly thins and the numbers on the boards creep into the six-hundreds. She learns that he works as a computer programmer in addition to teaching self-defense, and he discovers that she's an advocate with a non-profit that helps the homeless, approaching businesses to seek out donations and organizing outreach programs.

And they subtly navigate the topic of significant others, neither hiding their relief well at learning that the other is single.

Eventually, they take to practicing some of the blocks and self-defense techniques that Tris has been struggling to learn – an approach that causes people to clear nicely out of their way, leaving the two of them with a semi-private patch of wall to lean on and a few feet of space in front of it for movement.

But gradually the desire to sit becomes dominant, after spending this long standing on a concrete floor.

"You really can't see well from that height?" Tris asks somewhat doubtfully. "I always thought that people like you could see anything, whereas all I ever get to do is stare at everyone's back."

He crouches down to her height, looking around and trying to see her perspective.

"Yeah, that kind of sucks," he admits after a moment, laughing when she smacks his arm in reaction. "But no, I mostly see the tops of people's heads, not what's beyond them."

She looks vaguely disappointed, and he finds himself evaluating her again, as he's done so many times today, wanting to come up with a way to remove that disappointment. A sly smile creeps over his face when an idea occurs to him.

"On the other hand," he says a bit suggestively, "if I were to boost you up, I bet you could see the whole room…."

She stares, clearly more than a little uncertain about the idea, and for a long moment he's sure he's gone too far. But then she grins. "Oh, what the hell. I've always wanted to climb Mount Olympus."

It's a great line, and he laughs again as he crouches down in front of her, not quite able to believe that he's doing this. "Climb onto my shoulders."

She does, struggling to get into position – and then to stay balanced – her hands grasping at his short, dark hair in a desperate attempt to avoid falling. "Not the hair," he says quickly, wincing in pain. There's a reason he always teaches his students to go for that particular weakness if someone is attacking them. It hurts.

"Here," he tells her, holding his hands up so she can clasp them. It's not the first time they've touched today, with all the karate practice, but this feels much more intimate, with her legs wrapped around his neck, and her scent wafting to him, and he feels an unusual sort of nervous energy going through him as their fingers twine together. Amar was definitely right if he was getting ready to set them up.

He rises carefully to his feet, smiling as he realizes how far above the crowd Tris now towers. Looking up, he can see her grinning. Clearly, she's enjoying the height.

The people nearest them stare, startled at this latest antic, as they back away even farther. The two of them certainly seem to be good at making space in a crowd.

"Wow, this is a great view," Tris calls down to him, shifting her position as she gazes around the room. "I could get used to this." Her scent fills the air more strongly with the movement, and he privately admits that he could handle this on a regular basis, too. She smells good.

"All right," she adds, leaning down so he can hear her better over the noise of the crowd. Her breath tickles his ear, and his own catches in response. "There is a large group of seats that way." She points. "They're all taken right now, but we can wait over there if you want."

He likes that she uses that particular pronoun, and he doesn't hesitate to start walking in that direction, still carrying her on his shoulders. It proves to be a very effective way to part the crowd, and they reach the area in what must be record time.

More people scatter as he swings her down right in front of the group of seats. She laughs at the motion, her hair a bit wild as she lands, his hands steadying her while she regains her balance. It takes a moment longer for him to let go, lost in the energy emanating from her suddenly-blue eyes. They are definitely going on a date after this.

By the time four o'clock rolls around, Tobias is starting to wonder if their numbers will be called before the place closes for the day. The boards are now into the eight-hundreds, but they're not exactly climbing at the speed of light.

Not that it would be bad to spend another day here with Tris…. The two of them are finally sitting, and she's currently leaning against his shoulder with her eyes closed. He can't help watching her, enjoying the way her dirty blond hair reflects different colors in the light, the strands falling over her narrow face in a way that makes him want to push them back to see her better. He can't remember the last time he was this drawn to someone.

Idly, he takes his driver's license out, flipping it edge-to-edge as he debates how to get another day off tomorrow if he can't renew this today. "Tobias Eaton," he hears Tris say softly beside him, and he realizes that she's reading the card as he flips it around. "861 Dauntless Place, Apartment 10." She smiles. "I'll remember that."

"Good." He meets her gaze evenly. "You're welcome to visit." There's no way to miss the flush that rises up her face at that, or the way she shifts slightly away from him – nervously. He decides to change the subject. "I just hope my photo is better this time."

She sits up straighter, taking the license from him and examining it. "Oh, that's terrible." She giggles. "Seriously, how did someone like you manage to look that bad?"

He grins, more at her comment about his real appearance than the one about the photo. But he answers her question anyway. "I might or might not have pissed off the person taking the picture."

She nods solemnly. "Rarely a good idea." With that, she reaches into her small purse, pulling out a wallet and handing Tobias her own license. "As I can attest to."

He takes in the image silently for a moment, looking at Tris' head cocked unevenly and one eye looking wild as the light reflects off it. Add in the way her hair is tugged out of its ponytail in only one particular spot, and it has to be the single worst driver's license picture he's ever seen.

"Gorgeous," he says, straight-faced, as he hands it back to her. "Beatrice Prior, 406 Abnegation Way, Apartment 46." He holds her gaze again as he adds, "I'll remember that."

He can actually see the nerves giving way as she answers. "Good. You're welcome to visit."

By some miracle, they both get their licenses renewed just before the place closes for the day. Tobias adjusts Tris' hair for her before she gets her photo, and she makes a point of smoothing his out, though they both know it's too short to need the help.

They grin at each other's photos as they walk out, side-by-side. "I used to have a hard time figuring out how to list my eye color," Tris comments, "because it changes with my mood. But now I always put it down as gray."

"Why is that?" Tobias asks, knowing full well that he's biting at the bait she's dangling but having no objection to doing so.

"Well, I explained my predicament to one of the workers here one time. I said that my eyes tend to be blue when I'm happy and gray when I'm sad, and she told me to put down gray." Her lips tug up as she adds, "Because if I'm ever pulled over, they'll be gray."

He laughs, putting his license away and holding the door of the building open for her. It's surprisingly dark out, and he looks up at the storm clouds that are building overhead, vaguely wishing he'd brought an umbrella. At least it's warm, so if he does get rained on, it won't be the end of the world.

"So, since I happen to live near here," he begins, feeling a bit nervous now that it's time to transition to what he hopes will come next, "I'm familiar with the restaurants in the area." He clears his throat. "If you'd maybe…like to have dinner with me?"

She swallows, seeming to have trouble with words. Finally, she murmurs, "I could eat."

There's no fighting the enormous grin that spreads across his face. "Chinese, Italian, Mexican?" He assesses her reaction to each by her facial expression before suggesting, "There's also a great diner a few blocks away. We could walk there."

"Now that we just got our licenses?" But she nods in agreement anyway. "That sounds great."

He's still smiling as he leads the way, his hand slipping comfortably around hers.

It's probably the most interesting dinner Tobias has ever had. Despite the fact that they've just spent hours talking, they have no trouble keeping up a lively discussion, and he finds himself getting more and more intrigued by this young woman the longer they spend together.

They're so wrapped up in each other that the waitress has to ask them five times if they'd like anything else before they get the hint and leave – well after finishing their meal.

"I'll walk you back to your car," Tobias says as they finally head out into the still-overcast evening.

"I actually don't have one," Tris answers, looking a touch awkward at the admission. "I only need the license for identification, and for when I visit my family. I take public transit the rest of the time."

"Oh." For a second he's confused, wondering why she spent all day at the DMV when she could easily have come back at a less-busy time. He grins when he figures it out. She chose to wait with him. "Well, I don't have my car with me, since I live close enough to the DMV to walk. But if you want to come to my place, I can get my car and give you a ride?"

"You don't have to do that," she says. "I'm used to navigating on my own."

He frowns, looking up at the sky. "It's about to rain, Tris." He meets her gaze again. "And as a self-defense instructor, I have to say that I'd much prefer to take you home. Please let me do that."

There's an odd hesitation on her face before she nods. "Okay."

It's not until they're a block closer to his apartment that he realizes why she was hesitant. She thinks that he expects to come up to her place when they get there. That honestly hadn't occurred to him, though he can't deny that the idea is extremely appealing. Particularly since she said yes when she thought that's what he was asking….

The idea disappears when the skies open up, rain suddenly pouring down hard and fast enough to soak them both almost instantly.

"Shit!" Tris squeaks, trying to shield her eyes as she glances up edgily. It's easy to see why when the lightning starts. They aren't in any real danger on the ground, of course, not when they're surrounded by tall buildings, but there's nothing like being outside in a raging thunderstorm to make you want to get indoors quickly.

"Come on," Tobias calls, grabbing Tris' hand again and pulling her in a run toward his apartment. By the time they get there, there is so much water dripping off them, they could probably be declared their own wetlands. They huddle together in the lobby, wringing their clothing out and shivering because even though the rain is warm, it's still colder than body temperature.

"Let's go upstairs," Tobias suggests. "I don't have anything that will fit you well, but I can at least give you something dry to wear, and I can throw your clothes into the laundry." She nods, too cold and wet to have any objections to going to the apartment of someone she just met today.

She follows him wordlessly up the stairs, their wet shoes slipping occasionally, and down the hallway. As he holds his door open for her, he's glad for once that he keeps his place clean. It's an old habit that his father literally beat into him, and part of him usually hates it for that reason. But today, as Tris looks around curiously, he's relieved that she's not facing the kind of messy bachelor pad that his friends have.

"I'll get you something to wear," he tells her, heading into his room and searching for the very smallest items he can find. But everything is his size. He hasn't had a girlfriend in a long time, at least not one who stayed here often enough to leave anything behind, and he's been working out for years, which has kept his size stable. There's nothing small to offer the woman waiting in his living room.

Sighing, he grabs a T-shirt and a pair of shorts with the tightest waistband he can find, and he takes them to Tris with a clean towel. "You can change in the bathroom," he offers.

He changes quickly himself, replacing his outfit with one that is substantially similar – another T-shirt and jeans – before he returns to the living room. She's gone long enough that he's starting to wonder if he offended her, but when she emerges again, he understands why.

"I couldn't make the shorts work," she mutters uncomfortably, holding them out to him as she stands there in nothing but his T-shirt. It's long enough on her to act like a short dress, coming to just above her knees. "They're too big. And everything else is sopping wet."

He tries to keep his eyes on her face. He really does. But he doesn't think he's ever seen a sexier sight than Tris in nothing but his shirt. His gaze drops down her body despite his best efforts, before moving slowly up her bare legs, and he can't help the reaction he has when he reaches the hem of the shirt, knowing what is and isn't just above it. Her underpants are undoubtedly with the rest of her wet outfit.

"You don't happen to have a hair dryer, do you?" Tris asks, and he manages to drag his attention back to her face. His breathing is hard, as are other parts of him that he knows he isn't doing a good job of hiding right now.

"Um, no…." It's almost impossible to stay focused. "Sorry. My hair is too short to need one." He steps closer, taking the shorts that she's still holding out to him and letting them hang in front of him, where they block her view of what his pants don't. But it proves to be a mistake to get that close; her scent is even stronger when she's wet.

"I…um, I can throw your clothes in the dryer," he offers, his words almost shaking with his breaths as he inches a little nearer. "Or, you can hang them to dry in the bathroom, if you want to stay for a while." He can't seem to stop his free hand from reaching out and running lightly up her arm.

"God, you look good, Tris."

The corners of her mouth tug upwards. "Are you saying you're attracted to your own clothes?"

"Yes," he says, fighting his answering grin. "I have such trouble getting dressed every day. I just sit there for hours, staring at my T-shirts." His hand moves up to her face, brushing the wet hair away from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. "But I much prefer them on you." His voice is deep, and he practically growls the word much.

She leans up at the same time he leans down, and their lips meet in the middle. It starts out gentle and a little timid, making certain of each other, but it doesn't take long before it's the most intense kiss of his life. He drops the shorts that he's been holding in favor of wrapping that arm around her and splaying his fingers across her back. His other hand finds its way into her hair, holding her to him as her own hands work their way between the back of his neck and his head.

And their lips are everywhere, pressing against necks and ears and jawlines and lingering most heavily on each other's mouths as they explore every inch of exposed skin above the collar.

"I can stay while they dry," Tris finally manages to gasp, her fingernails scraping down Tobias' back before fumbling with the hem of his shirt, pushing it up in a desperate attempt to reach more of him. He yanks it off in a single, smooth motion, tossing it who-knows-where while she runs her hands up his stomach and over his chest. "You really are a Greek god," she whispers.

"I like you better," he pants, his fingers running up her thighs and slowly lifting the only clothing that she's wearing. "Much, much better."

A mischievous smirk plays across her lips as she runs a finger over the zipper of his pants, feeling the pressure on them from inside. "So it seems."

His answer is a groan of longing, his hands finding the underside of her thighs as he lifts her up, the T-shirt riding up to her waist when he presses her back against the wall, standing between her legs. She wraps them tightly around him, her lips finding his again while her fingertips scrape up his back. She pauses only slightly at the scars that he knows she must feel, but they obviously don't bother her enough to stop, because she continues to his shoulders, pulling herself even closer to him as she moans against his mouth.

It dissolves any last remnant of self-restraint he may have had left. He's not even sure how they get into his room, only that he's never been happier to be lying on his bed, his eyes and his lips taking in every part of a woman he finds wildly attractive. And that she's doing the same thing in return is beyond amazing.

It's not until he's inside her that he realizes his mistake. Every single aspect of his mind and his heart and his body are screaming that this shouldn't be a one-time thing. That he wants to repeat this over and over, quite possibly forever, with this particular woman. But how often does that happen when a couple jumps into bed this quickly?

The thought sends a spurt of pure, raw panic through him, and for a brief moment he wishes he had more blood flowing to his brain so he could come up with options. But as his friend, Zeke, always says, a hard dick has no conscience – and his is exactly where it wants to be right now. He couldn't pull out if his life depended on it.

So, he does the only thing he can think of instead. He focuses on her. He repeats her name again and again, in murmurs and groans and moans as he kisses her, and as his fingers trace her most sensitive spots, and as he moves inside her. And he watches her, making it clear that she is who he wants, not some fantasy or memory of a past girlfriend.

But most especially, he pays attention to the way she responds, listening to every gasp and pant and moan to find the right spots to meet her needs – three times – before he finally lets himself work on his own.

She's a shuddering, quivering mess of limbs and sweat and tangled hair by the time she spasms around him for the fourth time, calling out his name as her fingernails dig into his back. He can't help but respond the same way, exploding with a level of pleasure he didn't even know was possible as he grunts "Tris" like it's a holy word. She wraps her legs around him, holding on as they both ride out their highs, every part of their bodies pressing together as if they're fused into one being.

Truth be told, he was always a little jealous of women's orgasms before today. From what he's been told, they radiate through the entire body in a way that men's rarely do, and he wanted to know what that was like. Today, though, that wish is granted with an intensity he never could have imagined.

It's all he can do afterwards to flip them both onto their sides, and to carefully withdraw, holding the condom so its contents don't spill. If he's honest, some small, primitive part of him wants to let it go, to get this particular woman pregnant with his seed. But he resists the impulse, knowing that he wouldn't really do that to either of them.

They lie there together, face-to-face, trying to breathe as they stare at each other, unable to put words to the experience they just shared. Tris is the first to try.

"That was…." She stops, shaking her head. "It was…. There needs to be a new word for that."

His voice is deep when he answers. "There already is one." But he doesn't say what he knows it is, because it's far too early to use that particular L word. Instead, he smiles a bit as he says, "It's Tris."

Her lips lift in response, but she shakes her head. "Well, I know I've never had anything remotely that good before, so I'd have to say it's called Tobias instead."

There's no way to answer that aloud. But the wide grin that forms across his entire face is the only reply either of them needs. His fingers caress her cheek lightly, moving some of the hair that's plastered to her skin out of the way before he pulls her to him for a long, loving kiss.

"Tris," he says a bit hesitantly as she snuggles up to his side. "I know that this kind of thing…sleeping together on the first date…is usually associated with a one-night stand. But that's not what I want." His hand rubs up and down her arm. "I think we have a real connection, and I want to explore that. I'm…hoping that you do, too?"

Her entire body reacts, something like a wave of tension leaving her as she breathes out, "God, yes." She bites her lip quickly, apparently afraid of the intensity of what she just let slip, but Tobias smiles again, pulling her even closer.

"So," he murmurs, "if I go to sleep, you'll still be here in the morning?"

He feels her grin against his chest. "Tobias, whether or not you sleep, I'll be here in the morning. I'm not going anywhere."

The words relax something deep inside him, and he doesn't think he's ever felt happier than in this moment, with this woman snuggled up to him in his bed. Once again, the L word flits through his mind, and for the first time he understands something that he never truly believed in before today. This connection that he has with Tris, this attraction and passion and playfulness – that's what people mean when they talk about love at first sight.

He doesn't say that, not yet. But he knows that someday he will. And the thought makes him smile as he pulls Tris to him again, kissing her forehead lightly.

The smile only deepens with her next words. "As if I could walk anyway, after four of those."

A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Also, please check out my T-rated stories under the account name "Windchimed" if you haven't read those yet. :-)