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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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Oh my god....this is so cute!!!!

Together for Survival (Part Two)

Well, I might have lied. I said this story was going to be two parts, but guess what? It ended up being longer than I expected (again). So now, it’s officially going to be three parts. Well, at least three. Actually, you know what? I’m not even going to confirm how many chapters it will be. It will just be however long it ends up being.

Anyways, here is Part Two:

Owen brings Claire inside his bungalow, where she collapses rather gracelessly onto his couch. The inside of his bungalow is surprisingly clean, and not nearly the chaotic mess she would have expected. It’s actually quite… cozy. The afternoon sunlight reflects off the lake outside and filters through the windows. There’s a small kitchen towards the back, the couch, a small television and some sort of old gaming console nestled in the front corner, and a door to what she assumes is his bedroom off to the left.

Owen disappears for a moment, and then comes back with a blanket and a pillow. He carefully tucks the blanket around her and positions the pillow under her head, brushing a stray bright red strand of hair from her face. Her eyelids flutter shut, and if she notices his fingertips lingering on her skin a few seconds longer than necessary, she doesn’t say anything about it.

He walks away again, and returns with a glass of water and a thermometer. She wordlessly accepts the thermometer from his extended hand and slips it between her lips while he crouches down beside her. When it beeps a few seconds later, he pulls the thermometer from her lips and reads the temperature it displays. 101.7º.

��Hey Claire,” he says softly, his brow furrowed. She opens her eyes, her head throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat. “You’ve got a pretty high fever. I’ve got some cold medicine that will bring your temperature down and might make you feel a little better, but sometimes it can be better to just let the fever run it’s course and cook out whatever bug is making you sick. It’s your choice.”

She contemplates this for a moment, readjusting the blanket around her. She feels awful, (probably worse than that time when she was twelve and got sick after Karen had dared her to stay outside in the rain all night long) but she also knows Owen has a valid point about the fever.

“I’ll just go without taking anything, for now,” she decides. Owen nods and hands her the glass of water. She takes a few small sips and sets it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“If you need anything, just ask,” he says, and stands back up. She nods and then closes her eyes, while Owen gives her one last lingering look that speaks volumes about how much he cares for her. As he turns to leave, she whispers softly.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know if he hears it or not.

Maybe being sick isn’t so bad, she decides, if she has Owen there to take care of her.

When Claire opens her eyes again, Owen is nowhere to be seen. Several hours must have passed because the sun is setting, giving the room a warm orange glow. A mug of tea sits steaming on the coffee table in front of her. She gathers it into her hands, soaking in the warmth emanating from the cup. She recognizes from the scent that it’s her favorite brand of tea, and absently wonders why Owen even has tea, because she knows for a fact Owen isn’t a tea drinker. She doesn’t dwell on the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he got it specifically for her. She takes a sip and realizes that not only did he remember what kind of tea was her favorite, but he also remembered exactly how she liked it. A drop of milk and one spoonful of honey. She isn’t quite sure why, but Claire is inexplicably confused about why he would remember something like that, and yet touched that he did. Owen Grady certainly has a way of getting her emotions all mixed up.

She lifts her head from the pillow as she hears the door open, and Owen walks in. He smiles at her across the room.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake,” he teases. “And here I thought I was going to have to kiss you.”

She nearly chokes, and of course her traitorous mind has to play the image of him bending over her and kissing her awake. Half of Claire’s mind is suddenly wondering whether he is completely joking, or if there is some measure of seriousness behind his statement and he really does want to kiss her. The other half is contemplating whether she wants him to have been joking or not.

Owen can’t be sure, since her face is already flushed with fever, but she might be blushing.

“Are you hungry at all?” he quickly changes the subject. She looks relieved and nods.

“Yeah, a little.” She lays her head back down on the pillow, and he just now remembers that she’s still dressed in her office clothes.

“And I’ll get you some different clothes to sleep in. Those can’t be comfortable.” She actually hasn’t noticed, because she practically lives in skirts and jackets. Now that he mentions it, though, it doesn’t make for the ideal sleepwear. Owen disappears into his bedroom and then comes back out a minute later, dropping a Navy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants into Claire’s lap. “You can change in the bathroom,” he offers. “It’s right over there.” Her eyes follow his hand as he points to a door next to the kitchen. She disentangles herself from the blanket, gathers the clothes up in her arms, and heads to the bathroom while Owen walks over to the kitchen to make something for dinner.

He’s staring idly and the ingredients in his refrigerator when Claire emerges from the bathroom.

“Hey Owen,” She sounds miserably congested. “Do you have any cleanex?”

“Yeah, sure.” He turns around, which might have been a mistake, because he can’t even breathe looking at her. Somehow, even with her eyes watering and hair messed up from sleep, she looks gorgeous. The fever has tinted her cheeks and lips a very enticing shade of pink. And seeing her in his clothes did things to him he couldn’t explain. His t-shirt hangs loosely from her small frame, exposing her collarbones and the majority of her left shoulder. The elastic band of his sweatpants is far too loose on her, riding dangerously low on her hips. It’s taking all his willpower not to stare. He’s pretty sure he’s failing miserably. In retrospect, maybe he should’ve just let her sleep in her skirt and jacket.

“Owen?”

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head lightly and blinks. “I’ll go get them.” He busies himself looking for the cleanex, somewhat grateful for the distraction. She wraps herself back in the blanket on the couch, and a few minutes later a box of tissues is deposited in her lap. She grabs a TV remote and idly flips through channels to distract herself from her pounding head and that the clothes she is wearing smell so comfortingly like Owen.

She’s on her third round of flipping through the same five channels when Owen comes into the living room bearing two bowls of chicken noodle soup. He passes a bowl to her and slides onto the couch next to her. They eat in silence as Claire flips through all of the channels again. He really lives in the middle of nowhere, and the channel selection is truly pitiful.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He ends up suggesting.

“Sure.” She doesn’t actually care what they watch, because she just feels like sleeping anyways, but they decide on Star Wars. They are barely ten minutes into the movie when Claire’s eyelids won’t stay open anymore, and Owen wordlessly pulls her down so that she’s laying across the couch with her head in his lap. He doesn’t think it takes her more than a minute to fall asleep, and he takes the opportunity run his fingers through the ends of her hair, watching the way her lips part as she exhales softly.

It’s only when the credits start rolling that Owen realizes he’s spent more time mesmerized by Claire sleeping in his lap than he has actually watching the movie. It’s after midnight, and when he shuts the TV the room is bathed in darkness. He can still feel the heat practically radiating off of Claire, so he grabs the thermometer from the coffee table and gently nudges Claire awake. She mumbles something unintelligible and tries to bury her face in the blanket. When Owen pulls the material back and holds the thermometer in front of her face, though, she lets him slip it between her lips without protest.

The thermometer beeps and the small screen lights up, giving off a pale blue glow. “You’ve still got a pretty high fever. You should probably take something for it now.” He suggests, brushing her bangs back softly. “Okay, Doctor.” He consoles himself with the thought that she can’t be too bad off if she’s still joking. He gently lifts her head from his lap, slides out from under her, and re-positions the pillow so that she’ll be as comfortable as possible. He brings her the cold medicine and a glass of water, and she swallows both appreciatively.

He knows from experience that spending the night on the couch isn’t exactly the picture of comfort, so he suggests that she take his bed and he can sleep on the couch. She shakes her head adamantly.

“I’m serious, Claire,” he insists.

“’M good here.” She doesn’t even open her eyes, just pulls the blanket tighter around her.

“Come on. Don’t make me carry you.” Either she thinks he’s joking or she’s already falling back to sleep, because she offers no sort of response until she feels strong arms slide under her and lift her from the couch in a dizzying burst of motion. She lets out a high pitched squeal. It would be a lot easier to put up more of a resistance, though, if she had more energy and if being wrapped in his arms with the gentle sway of his footsteps didn’t feel so good.

He’d scooped her up blankets and all, because she’s still wearing his too loose pants that might fall off with even the slightest pull, and he’s not sure what he would do if that happened. He’s using nearly all of his self-control as is.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, deftly navigating the house in the dark. He gently lays her down on his bed, tucking the sheets around her. The sheets are soft and cool against her burning skin, and she can already feel the irresistible pull of sleep because the scent of his blankets screams Owen, and in her mind Owen means safe.

Owen tucks her hair behind her ear and admires how the moonlight shining through the window plays over her delicate features. He is inexplicably filled with the irresistible urge to crawl under the sheets beside her, wrap her in his arms and tuck her tightly into his chest. He’s already kind of forced her to stay in his house and sleep in his bed, though, and he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He pushed down the desire and stands up from the edge of the bed. He considers brushing a kiss to her forehead, but decides against it because he’s pretty sure she’s already asleep and he doesn’t want to wake her.

As he turns to leave, though, her fingertips softly catch the inside of his wrist and she whispers a single word through the darkness and silence.

“Stay.”

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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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Beautiful 💋

for bashermvran (^_^)

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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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Me, too. ;)* I'm crazy about Claire x Owen and the whole Jurassic thing

I absolutely have a problem because I went to see it again today!

That’s 4 times I’ve seen it now…

FOUR TIMES!!!

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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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three words:

I LOVE THAT 💋❤️☀️

we build then we break - a claire/owen drabble (read on ff.net here or below the cut)

AN: there’s a lot of fic being written for these two that is absolutely lovely so this is nothing special in comparison, just an idea I had based on one of my favorite parts in the movie that I wanted to get out! enjoy!

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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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well done, go on like this. I also write a fanfiction about these two, unfortunately in German but still these two are too cute!

The first chapter in a multi-chapter fic about Claire and Owen! Don’t worry, there’s more after this one. I hope you like it! Make sure you tag after you reblog, I LOVE to see what you write in there. <3 <3 <3

“Hey, I’m home,” Claire Dearing called out as she walked in the front door of her apartment. She threw her keys on the island counter and set down the paper grocery bags she had been carrying. Then she went to the fridge, pulled out an iced tea and waited to hear the footsteps of her boyfriend Owen Grady. When the only thing Claire heard was silence, she turned around to look at the doorway. “Owen?” Claire said. She stepped through the kitchen into the living room. Her eyes scanned over the two couches, coffee table, end tables, and the book cases. “Hey, babe, where are you at?” Claire was beginning to feel a little silly, but she also felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She knocked on the bathroom door, and when there was no answer, she opened the door. When she saw what was laying on the floor, she screamed horrifically and backed out of the bathroom door into the living room.

Claire thought she was done with damned dinosaurs. That’s all she saw on the floor, was a six foot, four-legged, spiky-crested damn dinosaur on the floor of her bathroom. She looked for anything hefty and decided the soap dispenser on the sink would do. She picked it up, cranked back her arm, and—

“Claire, don’t!” Owen came crashing into the living room from the spare bedroom, holding a harness. He ran up to her and grabbed her arm. He snatched the soap dispenser from her hand. He went into the bathroom even as Claire tugged at his shirt.

“Owen!” Claire gasped. She meant to say ‘Stop!’ or ‘Don’t go in there!’ or ‘Give me my damn soap dispenser back!’ but all that came out was his name.

Owen’s body blocked the view of the beast on the tile, but when Owen moved out of the way, Claire saw that he had put a harness and a leash on the thing.

“What the heck are you doing? What is that thing? Why is there a damn dinosaur house?!” Claire demanded.

“Our house,” Owen corrected. “And, it’s not a dinosaur, okay? It’s not a dinosaur.” Owen made his voice smooth and quiet. Claire was clearly three wrong words away from an emotional catastrophe.

“What is it?” Claire’s voice shook and she held her hands out in front of her, her body pressed into the couch. If she moved any farther back she would flip over it.

“It’s a green iguana,” Owen explained. “It belongs to the kid next door and he asked me to watch it for an hour or two. It’s a herbivore. It eats plants and fruits. I promise that it is perfectly harmless.”

“I don’t want it in here, Owen. I don’t!” Her voice was shrill again.

“It’s okay, I swear. I’m sorry. I should’ve called you,” Owen said slowly. “Can we come out? I promise he’s going straight to the spare bedroom. You won’t see him again until the kid comes to get him.”

“Fine,” Claire breathed. She wiped her face with her palms and moved away from the couch. She retreated to the kitchen. She lifted herself onto the counter and brushed her hand through her hair, briefly. When Owen came into the kitchen, his hands were clasped in front of him and he was wearing a guilty and apologetic expression. He approached until he was only a few inches in front of her, but he stopped there.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked.

Claire nodded. “I just—it just—it looked like a dinosaur.”

Owen nodded. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known how you would’ve reacted.”

Claire made a face. “How I would’ve reacted? What, like this is my fault?”

Owen furrows his eyebrows. “Well I mean, you were the one that screamed and attempted to smash it with a soap dispenser. That wouldn’t have worked, by the way.”

“Are you serious, Owen? There was a damn dinosaur on my floor! I’m pretty sure that was a completely appropriate response!”

“Claire, it’s not a dinosaur! And—“

“After being chased and scratched and nearly getting killed? After the deaths of a thousand people? Being directly responsible for the near deaths of Zach and Gray?” Claire shouted as she jumped off the counter, advancing towards Owen. “That’s all my damn fault?” Her voiced lifted at the end, like a question. But it was a question she was asking herself. “It’s all my fault!” Claire’s voice cracked at the end like a dam, and then the tears came flooding out. She sank to her knees as sobs shook her chest. “It’s all my fault,” she repeated softly to herself.

“Claire,” Owen said as he kneeled next to her. He carefully got close to her, and put two hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” he whispered. He pulled her close to him and she was resistant at first, but then her head made contact with his shoulder and she melted into him. He wrapped his arms around her and she cried in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Owen. I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Owen kissed her temple and rubbed her arms. “It’s okay, Claire. Everything’s okay. Zach and Gray still love you. Karen and Scott love you. I…I love you.” It was the first time he’d ever said those words to her. It had always been apparent to each of them that love was there, but with each of their control-issues, they had never actually told each other.

Claire’s gasps halted and she looked up at Owen through teary-eyes, mascara running on her face. “You what?” She asked.

“I love you,” Owen repeated proudly. “I love you. And what happened at the park wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.” Owen kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

Claire put her hand on the back of Owen’s neck and drew his face to hers. Their lips met and she pressed into him. When they pulled apart, some of her tears were on Owen’s cheeks. They took turns wiping the makeup off each other’s faces. Claire smiled through her tears and kissed Owen again. “I love you.”

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simonelunarose · 9 years ago

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We'll stick together for survival.

Jurassic World FF written by me. Sry for my bad English :/* it’s about my new Ship Claire x Owen. Have Fun.

Chapter ONE

It’s odd how quickly everything can change.

Even 48 hours before I was totally stressed out in my Mercedes SUVs, the smartphone close at hand in the passenger seat. My job on Isla Nublar should be for me a new opportunity to prove myself after all the long, hard years on the Yale University finally. I had consciously decided to work after I had watched how the marriage of my sister broke up, her two children - my nephew Zach and Gray - suspected until a few weeks nothing of the actors my sister Kate was as Child outstanding. Love was for me up to the meeting with Owen a few months ago actually at all no longer an issue, my life consisted of high heels, smile and attached nightlong stay awake in order to coordinate the dates on phone and plan. The lipstick was my constant companion, and I got used to during my time on the island to always maintain attitude and class, to organize things perfectly and nothing is left to chance. When I was on a business trip to Florida last summer, Owen ran my way. Or rather, I went shopping and he stood in front of me in line. As always, I was terrible in a hurry, the headset and the phone in my free hand, in the other I held the bag of shopping. I was one second inattentive and crashed during a discussion with my assistant Zara on the phone unrestrained into him as he stood in line in front of me. My bag fell to the ground and when I got on my knees unnerved to cancel everything again, I looked at a few of the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. I knew until then, the eye can be as expressive and emotional, the green of the forest mingled with earthy browns, the striking face framed by a three-day beard. I lost for a brief moment in control of myself, my actions and my thoughts, stared for a few seconds too long in this so natural and sympathetic face, resulting in all the abundance even grinning at me mischievously. As we had arranged to meet for the evening, I do not remember afterwards. Anyway, I was dressed up as always at the beach promenade, my phone and my organizer I wore as always with me. Not in a dream would have occurred to me to consider the meeting as Date. Owen appeared with 2 friends and swim shorts dressed at the meeting point, and just as embarrassing as this first meeting proceeded the whole evening. When I left two days later I met him at the airport, he had told me he was going to Navy and I have to stay ahead of there. It was then implicitly clear that would become of us nothing. We were too different. Nevertheless. Forgotten I have Owen Grady never, have in recent weeks repeatedly heard of him. Until the investor has applied to me to make to find for this hell of amusement park exactly HIM.

The last 24 hours I feel changed, I saw death more than once in the eye, my two nephews had saved from death and probably worst noticed here that Owen and I are not at all different to each other. I’ve realized that my entire life has made in recent years to a man who I never wanted to be at the beginning of my studies and ever in my entire life. A profit-hungry and ruthless man who is trying primarily to make everything the best, even if he does not quite understand it myself yet sees fit. I have to work, as it was required of me. No one I have shown my tears, I told anyone of my lonely nights in which I have longed so for love and affection for people who not only see my performances in me and rate me, but love me the way I am: perfectionist, organized, and stubborn.

When Kate took me earlier in his arms, I felt how weak I really am, how good it feels to cry. I often cried, actually permanently, because I had cursed the fear last night. Fear for my life, my work, before my future and of dying. I was also afraid of losing Owen and Zach and Gray. Since Owen was here I felt again more like a human being. A fortiori, when he kissed me. With his gun, I shot down a flying dinosaur, which would have probably torn it in the next second the face. He got up and took me just pulled itself, not a word we said, none of us. His lips tasted of jungle and his sweat mixed with the remains of my make ups and my tears was a rather strange mess, but I felt his heart beating, full of gratitude and admiration.

As Zach and Gray then felt the truck that my friend would be a really great guy, I could not help but smile. Owen was a great guy, yes. But he was now my friend, my partner? Could we, after all that has happened here actually come together?

I turn away from my family, let his eyes wander in the great hall, in which one has brought us directly from the ship. I discover Owen at an elderly couple who keep their teenage daughter in her arms. I notice as well as Owen holds out for me and as if by magic to put my feet in motion, my fingers pull the emergency blanket tighter around my sweaty and dirty body.

A few centimeters in front of him I stop, he looks at me with confusion in his eyes. And I can think of only one question. “How do we go now?”

… To be continued … :)

#jurassicworld #clairexowen #clairedearing #OMFG #jurassic world #claire x owen #claire dearing #owen grady

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