This is my first Clawen fic! I’m such Clawen trash. I don’t normally have a lot of time to write, but I’m sick and I’ve had this idea for a fic rattling around in my head, so I thought, why not?
Disclaimer: Sadly, Claire and Owen do not belong to me.
I was originally planning on making this a one-shot, but it ended up being pretty long, so I’m splitting it into two chapters.
Part 1:
Claire gets sick and is stubborn about it. Owen takes care of her.
Claire Dearing is not sick. She is not sick. She blows her nose for the sixth time that morning and irritably tosses the tissue into the waste basket, where it lands softly atop the five others she had already gone through. She rests her throbbing head in the palms of her hands and braces her elbows on the cool surface of her desk. She can’t be sick. There’s just too much work to do. Even though in the two months since she had returned to Isla Nublar most of the dinosaurs (the particularly dangerous ones, at least) have all been herded back into their enclosures and the park is in the process of being cleared of the major debris, there is still mountains of paperwork that must be finished. And she has yet another major cooperate meeting requiring her attendance in approximately five minutes.
She mentally curses her weakened immune system for failing her like this. It probably doesn’t help, though, that she has practically worked every day until she drops, and has hardly slept at all since returning to the island. Her insomnia has nothing to do with not having Owen Grady by her side every night, though. Nothing at all.
After the disastrous day the park fell, they had agreed to stick together. For survival. And that’s what they did. He’d had no where to go, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, so she had offered him the spare bedroom in her apartment. The spare bedroom turned into the other side of her bed, which then turned into holding each other tightly when the nightmares came. Once back on the island, though, Claire had her apartment and Owen had his bungalow, so there was really no good excuse to continue living together. They weren’t even a couple, were they? It was… complicated. Neither of them had even brought up their kiss in the midst of the Pteranodon attack since the incident. It was easier to chalk it up to adrenaline and pretend it hadn’t really changed anything. They had hardly spent any time together since returning to the island anyways. Claire basically has a company to run. Owen once again has Blue and Delta, and two new raptor eggs incubating at the labs. And he seems to go about his life and job perfectly normally and happily, so Claire is not about to admit that she misses him so much it hurts. Claire Dearing has never been dependent on anyone, though, so it’s rather concerning how much she has come to rely on Owen. It’s probably better that they keep their distance, for now, so everything can get back to normal.
Claire sighs, rises from her chair, and heads for the board room empty handed before her dripping nose makes her think twice. She returns to her desk and stuffs a few tissues into her skirt pockets, just in case. And if anyone asks, she’s fine. Absolutely fine. Just some mild allergies.
Claire normally doesn’t mind board meetings, but this one is miserable. It drags on and on, and only seems to rehash issues that have already been discussed at length. The meeting requires the attendance of all of the park’s major staff. That of course means Owen Grady is there, reclining a bit too casually in a chair across the table from her, wearing a suit that he has absolutely no right to look so good in. As if her muddled brain doesn’t have enough to think about without him clouding her thoughts. It takes all her willpower to not make eye contact with him and at least pretend she is paying attention to the speaker. Her head feels foggy, the board room is freezing, she’s running dangerously low on tissues, and the bright light of the presentation projected on the wall hurts her eyes. When the meeting finally draws to a close – without really accomplishing anything – Claire glances at her watch and decides it’s an acceptable time to head home. She can finish some more of her paperwork curled up on her couch with a blanket and a mug of tea.
She’s almost successfully made to the building’s main entrance without anyone bringing up some pressing matter that she needs to attend to, and is about to congratulate herself on this good fortune when Owen Grady catches up to her.
“Hey Claire, if you’ve got a moment, there’s some paperwork for the new raptors down at the lab that I really need someone to sign off on.” He looks at her expectantly. If he was anyone else, anyone else , she would have said no. She’s certain there are other people qualified to sign whatever Owen needs signed. But he chose to come to her, she knows how much those raptors mean to him, and he’s not just anyone else, so she pushes the picture of her couch and mug of tea out of her mind for a while and agrees to help him. God she misses spending time with him
“Sure. I’ve got a moment.” She smiles softy, despite her throbbing head and throat that’s beginning to feel like she swallowed several knives or burning matches. . Owen doesn’t smile back as she expected though. Instead, he pulls back a bit and tilts his head to the side, while his face dons a rather concerned expression.
“Are you okay Claire?” He inquires, sounded genuinely worried. “You sound kind of like you have a cold.”
Of course he would notice.
“I’m fine.” She crosses her arms across her chest defensively. Owen looks less than convinced, but doesn’t say anything. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that arguing with Claire Dearing usually does not end well for him.
They walk out into the parking lot, and Owen offers to drive them over to the lab. As soon as he gets in the car, he pulls his suit jacket and tie off and unbuttons the collar of his shirt. Suits and topical climates are just not a good combination. Claire, though, slides into the passenger seat and shivers lightly, despite the white jacket she has on. They make small talk as he navigates the roads to the lab. She asks about his raptors, and he asks how all the paperwork is coming. Eventually she just falls silent, because silence with Owen is not uncomfortable, and her throat hurts too much to talk. She’s freezing, though, and her eyes land on Owen’s suit jacket draped unceremoniously across the console.
“Can I borrow your jacket?” His eyes dart over to her for a moment with a look of confusion.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
She gratefully pulls her arms through the sleeves and wraps the thick material around her. And she’s still shivering. So much so that Owen notices. He gives her another look of concern.
“Could you possibly turn the heat on?” She hates how miserable she sounds.
“The heat? What -” He pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car, turning in his seat to face her. She lay slumped against the car door, eyes half shut. “Claire, are you sure you’re okay?” She’s seriously worrying him.
“I’m fine,” she mumbles. “Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She doesn’t feel like keeping her eyes open anymore, so she misses his incredulous expression.
“Well,” he begins slowly, “for starters, it’s like 85 degrees, you’re wearing two jackets, you’re shivering, and you just asked me to turn the heat on. That does not sound fine.” She feels like she could make a more convincing argument if she opened her eyes, but it’s much harder than it should be. He reaches a hand over to her, and she makes a lame attempt to swat it away. He easily dodges the assault, brushes her bangs aside, and presses the back of his hand to her forehead. Her soft skin feels like it’s on fire.
“ Jesus , Claire, you are not fine. You’re burning up.” She doesn’t say anything in protest. He quickly puts the car in drive and pulls back onto the road. Claire opens her eyes a few minutes later when she feels the car turn from the main smooth road onto a rougher dirt path. She struggles to make her voice work.
“Where are we going? This is not the way to the lab.”
“Nope.” That’s the only response he offers.
“But the raptors. The paperwork – ”
“ – Can wait.” He finishes, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. They drive in silence for the nest few minutes, until his bungalow comes into view. He pulls the car to a stop, climbs out, walks around to the passenger side, and opens her door.
“Owen, what are you doing?”
He reaches down and gently pulls her out of the car and to her feet, tucking her into his chest.
“Taking care of you. We stick together, remember?” He presses his lips to the top of her head.
“For survival?” She mumbles into his chest. He laughs softly, and she relishes the feel of it vibrating through his body, relishes being this close to him again.
“For survival.”
dealingdreams