Owen has the best job in the world but he lives on an island and there aren't many distractions to be found if you don't want to be swamped in a crowd of tourists. Drowning his heartache in tequila in Margaritaville would be tempting but he isn't in the mood to deal with the flirty college girls that are always glued to the bar or the family men eager to escape their wife and children for a little while. He settles for a pathetic night in with a pack of beer and re-runs of Grey's Anatomy on cable.
He's a bottle and a half and two episodes in – rooting for Callie during one of the many arguments she has with Arizona – when he hears the knocks on the door. He turns off the TV, not keen on explaining to whoever is visiting that he secretly enjoys medical dramas – he has a reputation to uphold, thank you very much – and not impatient to deal with Barry's taunts – because at that time of night, it can only be Barry and Barry always knows when he has been watching this sort of shows, it's a gift the French man has.
When he opens the door though, it's not his best friend standing on his porch but Claire. She's wearing tight jeans and a green tank top and her hair is slightly wavy instead of the rigid straight style she usually keeps. The clothes shock him the most though. Aside for the night of their date, he has never seen her in anything but suits, blouses and straight professional skirts. He likes the casual look. He likes the fact she is still wearing heels with her casual outfit even more. He spends too long gawking at her clothes.
"Hi." she says uncertainly.
"Hi." he replies automatically. She looks off, her usual confidence shattered, her eyes are red as if she has been crying and her fists are clenched at her side as if she's forcing herself not to worry her hands – a habit she wasn't always successful at hiding on the rare occasions they have brushed personal topics she is uncomfortable with. "You're upset."
"I had a fight with my sister." she shrugs, one of her hand resting briefly on the purse hanging on her shoulder betraying the presence of her phone in there. "It was… She's thinking about getting a divorce and… Let's just say tempers were running high." She shuffles on her feet, glancing hesitantly behind him. "Can I come in?"
It is the progress he has been waiting for, he realizes, as he wordlessly steps aside to let her pass. She has left her battle armor behind with her perfectly tailored suits, she's talking about a sister she has hardly ever mentioned before…
"Drink?" he offers. "I think I have wine somewhere… Or beer."
"No tequila?" she teases with a small smile.
"Nah." he shrugs. "I'm told it's bad for my diet."
Her smile grows wilder and he relaxes a little.
"Wine would be good." she nods.
She follows him to the little kitchen and leans against the counter while he rummages around the fridge for the bottle of wine he knows is there somewhere. She's looking through the window over the sink when he holds up the bottle in triumph and pours her a glass. She gives a sniff before taking a cautious sip and she can barely hide her wince.
"What?" he frowns. "It's off?"
He tries to remember how long that has been in his fridge and draws a blank. It's a gift from Barry, something directly imported from France, but Owen isn't a great fan of wine and he only drinks it occasionally.
"I think it became vinegar." she laughs, handing him the glass.
He tastes it and coughs at the sourness.
"Yeah, ok. Not good." he wrinkles his nose, pouring it in the sink. "I will buy you wine next time I do groceries."
He fully expects her to say he doesn't have to because whatever it is they have is only a business arrangement and he is not required to provide the drinks. It seems it is a night full of surprises.
"You don't mind me coming by, then?" she asks – and she aims for commanding, he hears it in her voice, but it comes out a little frightened all the same. "I wasn't sure I would be welcome after last time."
"I was out of line last time." he offers. "I meant what I said about you and your need for control but I was out of line with the stuck-up comment." He snorts bitterly and looks down at his feet. "Way to show you could trust me and I wouldn't hurt you."
"I do trust you." she whispers, taking a step closer. "I… Look, Owen…"
"Owen, not Mr Grady, that's off to a good start." he grins.
She rolls her eyes. "Are you going to let me speak?"
"Depends. Will I like what you want to say?" he retorts, tilting his head with a cockiness he knows will exasperate her. He can't help it. She's too hot when she's annoyed.
"I never had this sort of business arrangements before." she states, reaching for his shirt and bundling the fabric in her fist as if she's scared he's going to run away. He has no intention of running away. He is where he wants to be. "I had one-night stands, yes, but not… I'm not a friend with benefits person."
"I know." He tucks her hair behind her ear and lets his hand linger on her cheek, happy to be allowed to touch her again. He has missed her. He wants to kiss her but his instinct warns him whatever she wants to tell him is important and it is in his interest to let her speak. That's what he has been waiting for : she's opening up, she's letting him in.
"I just thought…" she continues. "I don't have the best track record with relationships and… Our date was disastrous, Owen. It was the worst date ever."
"Ever is a little harsh." he points out.
"It was the worst date in the history of worst dates." she scoffs. "It was the queen of worst dates."
He rolls his eyes. "So maybe it wasn't the greatest date. But we haven't done so bad since then."
She stares at him like he has grown a second head. "All we do is argue."
"Which spices things up nicely." he smirks, ogling her chest not so discreetly. He can't help it when the tank top hugs her figure so tightly.
"Which is why I thought sticking to sex would be the best thing." she sighs. "We have an attraction..."
His gaze falls on her lips. They're not red today, her lipstick is a pale pink. "That's not what you said the last time."
"I don't know what you want." she snaps with obvious frustration.
"You." he declares very simply. "I want you, all of you."
She tugs on his shirt harder as if in reflex and he obliges by taking a step closer, completely annihilating the concept of space between them. She keeps her eyes level when she speaks next which means she's staring at his chin.
"I don't know if I can do that." she breathes out and the admission obviously costs her. "It scares me."
"I know." he leans in and captures her lips. She doesn't try to take control of the kiss and he doesn't try to deepen it. "It's a little bit scary for me too. It's been a while since I've been really interested in someone."
"It's not reassuring." She finally lets go of his shirt to wrap her arms around his chest and tucks her head under his chin. He embraces her back, savoring the moment. "I would feel better if one of us was good at this."
"I'm good at this." he shrugs. He isn't lying. All his relationships didn't end badly. Things didn't work out but it wasn't a mess. "It has just been a while. Look, it's all about mutual respect, Claire. In this, you're not the boss of me and I'm not the boss of you. Just like with my raptors."
"I'm not one of your damn animals." she grumbles.
He snorts and drops a kiss on the top of her head.
"I'm a workaholic and I won't ever apologize for it." she warns. "My career comes first. If it isn't something you can live with…"
"Claire, my job is to train four raptors. They're little shits who like to try to escape their paddock in the middle of the night. My job is always going to be a priority too." he sighs.
She remains silent for a while but he doesn't mind. He likes holding her, it makes for a nice change from the times she was in a hurry to flee.
"I know I'm bossy…" she says after a few minutes.
"You're an alpha, there's nothing wrong with that." he chuckles. "It's actually kind of hot."
"Men don't usually like it." she points out.
"That's because you never found another alpha." he teases. "Lucky for you, you just got yourself one complete with a pack. I'm happy to share my girls, don't thank me yet, they're in the rebellious age."
Her laugh is sweet but too rare and he relinquishes the sound of it. "Your assets…"
"Girls." he corrects firmly. "Animals if you really want to call them that but they're not just assets, they're more than just a number on a piece of paper and they're more than just potential money."
"It's my job to think about their worth." she counters. "You talk like Masrani. Someone has to think about the assets' worth and the public's satisfaction ratio because that's what keeps the park running, Owen, that's what makes it possible for you to keep your girls."
"Still doesn't mean you can't see them for what they are…" he argues.
She shifts in his arms and, for one second, he thinks they're going to fight again and she's going to leave and slam the door. Again. But he can't bring himself to back down on this, he feels too strongly about it.
"Teenage raptors with behavior issues who are making their Daddy's life hell?" she taunts.
And he laughs in relief because he can't argue with that. "Basically, yes."
She laughs with him and he can't help it, he leans in and kisses her. The moment is almost too perfect.
"We're trying this, right?" he asks, between two pecks. "This isn't you just ringing for a booty call, we're serious about trying this?"
"I wasn't ringing for a booty call." she frowns, locking her arms around his neck. "And don't call it booty calls. I don't have booty calls with men wearing board shorts anyway. That would be embarrassing."
"It's central America!" he exclaims. "And you're lucky I'm wearing shorts at all. I wasn't expecting company."
The grin on her lips can only be described as devilish.
"How is that lucky?" she purrs.
The mood is busted by the shrill ringing of her phone. She bit on her bottom lip, already taking her arms off his neck before stopping herself hallways through. "It's probably Karen. Do you mind if I…"
"No, go ahead." he shrugs, stealing a last lingering kiss.
She flashes him a small smile and rummages in her purse for the phone. He leaves her in the kitchen and goes back to the living-room even though there is no real privacy to be had in his bungalow.
"No, Karen, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have snapped at you…" He hears her say as she steps outside.
He has no experience with sisters – or family for that matter, he's an only child and there is bad blood between him and his parents – but he senses it can take a while. There is no point in waiting around doing nothing so he picks up his now tepid beer and grabs the remote. The TV automatically displays the last channel he has been watching, he has every intentions of switching channels before Claire comes back and catches him watching Grey's but the interns are at it again and he is engrossed.
It takes entirely longer than he would be comfortable admitting to notice she has slipped back inside and is watching him with a grin she is not even trying to hide.
"Having fun?" she taunts.
His eyes dart between her and the screen and he shrugs. "Wanna join?"
She looks unsure as she joins him on the couch. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, she tenses at first but slowly relaxes, curls up against his side and rests her head on his chest. It's nice. Cozy. That's the kind of dates they should be doing in future, he thinks. Going out doesn't suit them, too much expectations. Staying in seems a good idea, there would be no need for itineraries at least.
"What are we watching?" she asks.
"Grey's." he answers absentmindedly.
She steals his beer and takes a long mouthful that leaves him smirking at her. So, tequila isn't part of her diet but beer is… Interesting.
"What is it about?" she hums.
"Seriously?" he mocks. He can't understand how someone in that time and age doesn't know Grey's Anatomy. "It's been running for ten years."
"I don't have much time for TV shows. I work a lot." she snaps defensively.
"Yeah, I noticed." he snorts.
"What does that mean?" She's out of his arms in a flash, sitting straight next to him on the couch and watching him with the cold and commanding posture of the senior asset manager.
"Just that it is impossible not to notice you work a lot." he frowns. "It's not an attack, Claire."
He can almost see the urge to run away in her eyes. He also sees the effort she makes to suppress it. She's out of her depths here, he figures.
"Hey, you're a big shot, you're good at your job, you're committed. I get that. I respect that." he insists. "I don't know what kind of assholes you went out with before but if I have a problem with you I will say it. I don't do passive aggressive."
She slowly takes the remote from his hand and switches the TV off before tossing a leg over his. For the longest time, she simply sits on his lap, her legs on either side of him, her hands flat on his chest.
"Men always say that but eventually they get tired of the boss fantasy and they expect me to put myself down to stroke their ego." she offers. "I am the best at what I do. I worked very hard to be the best at what I do. I don't like being told I'm too intimidating to be with just because I'm a woman. I don't like that my boyfriend always ends up expecting me to change for him, to be less. I don't want to be less. I am what I am, take me or leave me."
Owen hates the way she can't seem to look at him in the eyes. He gently frames her face in his hands and pulls her closer until their foreheads are pressed together and she has no choice but to look at him.
"You're more than a fantasy and I don't want to change you." he says softly. "You are who you are, that's fine with me. I'm not easily intimidated. Raptors trainer, remember?"
The joke earns him a smile but it falters before long.
"That's what they always say and then I get hurt." she whispers.
The surge of protectiveness is instinctive and almost dizzying. He wraps his arms around her and cradles her close.
"Forget them. They didn't deserve you." he growls. "They were arrogant assholes who couldn't get their head out of their ass long enough to see you're a badass."
"Do you really think I'm a badass?" she asks against his neck.
"I've seen you walk around the park all day in six inches heels. That's badass." he says. "Ninety percents of the park employees are scared shitless of you. That's because they know you're a badass who will slay them if they step out of line. Masrani put you in charge of the biggest amusement park in the world, there's a reason : you're a badass, Claire."
There's a long silence and he hopes he hasn't said the wrong thing but then she wriggles until she's in a more comfortable position – it isn't more comfortable for him because all the straddling and wriggling is making parts of him jump to attention.
"What about the ten percents of employees left?" she asks.
"They're smarter than the rest and they know that there's a woman behind the boss." he shrugs. "They also know that doesn't mean they can mess with you."
"You say badass, they say bitch." she points out. "I'm not deaf and they're not discreet."
"You know what happens to raptors who don't recognize an alpha when they see one?" he switches topic.
"No." she frowns.
"They get eaten." he says. "The people who call you these kind of names, they're the raptors getting eaten."
She snorts and presses a kiss against his neck. "I think I could keep you."
"It's our best date yet." he decides, drawing shapes on her back with his thumbs, inching that tank top higher with every sweep. She knows what he's doing, he can tell from her grin, but she's not stopping him so…
"This is not a date." she sighs.
"You had wine, we watched a show, we're making out on my couch… Sure seems like a date to me." he replies. "I'm curious though. Why did you decide to come back? Today, I mean. Why not yesterday or tomorrow? What decided you?"
Trust him never to quit while he's ahead, a reproaching voice murmurs at the back of his head.
"I wasn't planning to." she confesses. "I just… I might have been missing you a little?"
"I missed you too." His fingers finally succeed in pushing the tank top high enough that he meets skin. It is still as smooth and warm as in his memories and he can't wait to kiss every inches of it.
"Karen called, we ended up fighting, I went for a drive to calm my nerves and… I drove up here." she explains. "I didn't know I was coming. I would have changed."
"Why? I like it." he says honestly. "Casual looks good on you."
"That's because my casual doesn't involve board shorts." she declares.
"You love my shorts." he argues, abandoning all pretense and tugging on her tank top until she lifts her arms so he can slip it over her head.
"No, I don't." she denies. "Take them off."
His mouth latches on her chest and he chuckles. "I knew this was a booty call…"