In the state she'd been in, anything sudden meant panic for Claire. Especially now that she stood wrapped up in nothing but a towel, wet hair tumbling down her back, she was feeling extremely vulnerable. The shower wasn't nearly lengthy enough to dissipate the unease till simmering in her body, but she wanted to be dry and dressed and in bed as soon as possible. And for someone as hyper-efficient as Claire, that meant she was in and out of the bathroom in a maximum of ten minutes.

While it was unlikely Owen would be in her room already, Claire wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any surprises, cracking the door open and slowly and taking a sweep around with her eyes. Not only was the room empty, but she could hear that Owen had the TV on out in the living room. She stepped out of the bathroom, her bare feet feeling so clean and comfortable against the rug as she walked toward her dresser. She couldn't help but let out a little sigh of relief… or maybe contentment as she pulled the middle drawer open with one hand, holding her towel up with the other.

Oddly enough, it'd been a long time since things felt as right as they did right then. Claire couldn't remember the last time she had anyone else over, much less anyone like Owen. The tiniest smile warmed her face as she imagined him out there, just sitting on the couch, finishing his beer… surely not using a coaster, but that's for later, she'd decided. Maybe even passed out at this point. Maybe she was just sleep-deprived or traumatized or something, but she started to imagine more ridiculous things. Maisie wandering out of the guest room where they'd set her up, and just sitting there in the room with him. And he'd be saying… probably something stupid to cheer her up, and—

Whoa there. She interrupted her meandering thoughts. Claire had to keep from rolling her eyes at herself for thinking things like that. She's never been that way. Or maybe, she's just never had the chance before. Oh my god, get a grip! She reprimanded herself. But still, that other part of her held onto that feeling. Although it was something so simple, just the faint murmur of the TV floating through the apartment was the kind of passive company she didn't know she'd been starving for. Just knowing that there's somebody out in the living room. Just knowing someone was asleep in the guest room down the hall. And suddenly, this sterile, immaculate apartment felt that much more like a home. Claire drew a slow breath to take it all in. She was home now. She was safe.

"Hm—"

"Owen!" She gasped, throwing her hands up and jumping halfway to the ceiling at the sound of him clearing his throat in the doorway. So much for safe.

"Relax," He chuckled as he watched her scramble to get her towel back where it belonged. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

"Jesus, Owen…" She breathed, trying to tuck her towel around her chest a little better this time. "I thought you were still out in the living room."

"Well I was, but then I figured I should hose down too. Downed the beer, hopped in the guest shower, and now I'm here. Asking you if you still have any of my clothes I left here like two years ago." Claire, still preoccupied with her towel, had hardly noticed that he, too was wearing only a towel. "Plus, I missed you."

"Two years… is kind of a… long time…" She responded, perfecting her towel tuck.

"If that one's not working out for you, you can try this one," He flirted, walking right up to the dresser and dipping down to the bottom drawer.

"That won't be necessary." She threw her hair up into a dark, heavy bun to keep it from dripping on the floor while he rummaged through her clothes. "And please don't—"

"Don't do that, Owen; You won't find anything," He mocked playfully, plucking a pair of his grey boxers from the bottom of the drawer. "Two years is kinda a long time," He continued, pulling out an old henley, a T-shirt, and a pair of socks, raising his eyebrows at her as if to say, Really, Claire?

"I said two years was a long time." She felt herself blushing as she tried not to let on how embarrassed she was. She couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eye. "I never said I got rid of your things."

"Ohhhhh you liked mmeeee," He taunted.

"Don't push it." Claire said, looking around now for her own underwear she'd dropped. Owen picked them up off the floor and handed them to her, now decidedly teasing.

"These are nice."

Claire blushed even harder, grabbing them from him. "Thank you—"

"Especially when they're not on."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." She said, pulling them up underneath her towel and turning back toward the dresser to reach for her pajama set. She was admittedly too flustered to move very quickly, so when Owen stood up, he beat her to it, slipping his hand into the drawer and retrieving the grey-and-white set himself.

"Hey—"

"These are also nice," He said, sauntering away with the garments. "Y'know. Especially 'cause they're not on." He took a seat on the ottoman placed at the foot of the bed. Claire sauntered right after him, stopping directly in front of him just between his knees.

"Are you going to give me my pajamas?" She asked as he put his arms around her waist.

"Depends," He said, cocking his head to the side. "You gonna take this off before you put them on?" He tugged on her towel ever so slightly. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, are you crazy? He raised his in response, a clear, you heard me.

"I'm not undressing in front of you tonight." She said with a shake of her head, mostly just reassuring herself. He laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Not the first time I've heard that."

"I'm sure you've heard it plenty of times, Grady."

"All of them from you." He laughed. "And almost every single one of them ended up bein' a lie."

"What?" She said, skeptically. "Like when?"

"Well, there was that time you wanted to drive, but I wouldn't let you, so you got all fake mad at me, and then... let's say… well… you weren't mad anymore. And then there was that other time that we were on our first date… or I should say, our second first date… And of course, who could forget our actual first date, when you—"

Claire leaned forward and kissed him abruptly, deeply, tenderly. When she finally pulled back, Owen was effectively distracted.

"Y'know you're just training me to keep being obnoxious." He breathed.

"And you're just reinforcing my methods of shutting you up."

"What can I say; I'm a simple man."

"So are you going to give me my pajamas?"

"Are you gonna make me?" He said, pulling her closer. And with a fiery little smirk, she kissed him again.