This Damnable Place

by seasidewriter1

After taking a proffered job at Jurassic World, Gwyn Grant finds herself thrust back into the world of living dinosaurs and paranoia. Throw in a raptor trainer, a full time job, a concerned father, and a brand-new dinosaur, Gwyn's got her hands full. Now she's got to strike the perfect balance between glancing over her shoulder and actually doing her contracted job Eventual Owen/OC

41. California Dreamin'

Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park/World franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind.

41. California Dreamin'

Sacramento International Airport, Sacramento, CA

Gwyn considered herself many things, but 'hopeless romantic' was not one of them. Romance, in any aspect, had never been a priority for her. When she was a little kid, she never played house, never longingly dreamed about getting married. Instead, she skinned her knees pretending to be dinosaurs, and fantasized about her dream job. If romance came Gwyn's way, she took as it came. Sometimes it was there for a day, a week, a year. But co-workers often joked that her 'one and only love' was her job; and both Alan and Billy said it with worried sighs. Alan worried that he'd inadvertently taught her that the job was more important than personal relationships. The only thing that Gwyn blamed him for in that regard was making her a softie at heart––just like him. And even for that, she didn't really blame him.

That softness had truly been exercised as of late. Upon coming to the giggly, grin inducing realization that she was in love, things had seemed a little more rosy. It reminded her of the way Alan had smiled––still smiled––at Ellie when they were dating. Of how he used to agonize over what kind of flowers to buy her at the supermarket. She got to see all the moments where the toughness of Alan Grant melted into something so soft, no one would believe her if she said she'd seen it. It was that kind of love-induced, bubbly anxiety that roiled in Gwyn's stomach, as she rode the escalator down to baggage claim. Maybe this whole situation was turning her into a hopeless romantic. Because some stubborn, relentlessly tough part of herself told her to keep a clear head; because wouldn't it be embarrassing if people saw her like that? But something stronger won out over that thought. Because there were plenty of other people in that airport reuniting with loved ones, who felt just the exact same way.

Half-way down the escalator, she spotted him. Owen stood waiting for her, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes narrowed at a screen displaying arrival times. Gwyn felt her heart lurch, stuttering excitedly. Because he was there. The only thing separating them was a dozen feet across shiny white flooring. There wasn't a thousand some miles between them, or a phone screen to remind them of how far apart they were. And when Owen turned his eyes towards the escalator, when their gazes met––the brightest grin split across Gwyn's face. A matching one bloomed across his, and his shoulders seemed to shake with a short burst of laughter. Suddenly the escalator seemed to be moving too slow, and the two people in front of her were two too many.

When Gwyn was able to step off the escalator, she scooted her way past the people in front of her. She told herself not to run, and she didn't––but she wanted to. Because Owen was moving towards her, and the space between them was closing rapidly. They were moments away from being together again, after a surprisingly agonizing month of being apart. And then, Gwyn dropped her duffle bag from her shoulder, because they were close enough to touch. No sooner did the bag hit the ground, than were Owen's arms snatching her towards him. The impact of their bodies meeting was enough to cause them both to shuffle on their feet. Gwyn laughed happily into his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly. But he held her even tighter, squeezing as though he needed to make sure she was real. An odd urge struck her, then, that she wanted to jump and hike her legs over his hips. She wanted to cling to him, be as close to him as possible.

And the way he held her seemed to wordlessly convey a similar feeling. There was no space between their bodies. Wherever they could be pressed together, they were. Owen had pressed his face into her hair, just next to her ear. She could both hear and feel him take slow, deep breaths. They were the kind of breaths that one took when they were trying not to cry. So Gwyn pressed her face further into his shoulder, and threaded her fingers through his hair. It was longer than she remembered it being. Owen continued to hold her tightly, strength unwavering. She continued to card her fingers through his hair, until, eventually, she pulled back. Just a little, so she could see his face. His eyes were, indeed, a little glassy; but when their gazes met, he was beaming.

"Hi," he murmured.

Gwyn swept her hand from the back of his head to his cheek, happy to smile right back at him. "Hi."

Then, as though it were the natural continuation of conversation, Owen crashed his lips against hers. Gwyn eagerly leaned into him, one of her arms still draped over his shoulders. She could feel his fingers fist at her denim jacket. The hand that just migrated to his cheek drifted back to the nape of his neck, fingers dragging reverently across his skin. It was another moment where Gwyn thought she'd slipped the rose colored glasses on again; because she forgot they were in baggage claim. It didn't feel like she'd just gotten off of a two and a half hour flight, having worked a full day, feeling a little gross and a little stiff jointed. All there was in that moment was herself and Owen, who smelled like the sweetest marriage of cologne and sweat, whose lips tasted like chapstick and diet Coke. It was clichéd to say it felt as though it was only them––but it did feel that way. And a kiss had never felt like that for Gwyn before.

But it ended all too quickly. Owen broke the kiss, with a slowness that seemed hesitant. His forehead came to rest against hers, and their noses brushed gently. Gwyn kept her fingers laced through his hair, fingers gently twisting at it.

"I really wanna keep kissing you… but I also really don't wanna get cited for public indecency, so we'll have to take this somewhere else," Owen murmured. She thwacked him on the back with her free hand, a playful reprimand.

"Owen," Gwyn laughed. She heard him chuckle, and felt the warm breath of it stutter across her face. She felt him draw his head away, an action quickly followed by the brush of his lips just over her left eyebrow. When Gwyn opened her eyes, she found Owen smiling down at her sweetly. A smile that quickly went a little lopsided when their eyes met again. He squeezed her a little and drew back more.

"I'm serious about getting out of here, though. You have anything other than the duffle?" He dipped down to snag the bag, and hoisted the strap onto his shoulder.

"Nope, no checked bags," Gwyn confirmed.

Owen patted the bag in a 'let's go' manner, and offered her his hand. As she took his hand, Gwyn couldn't help but drink in the sight of him. It was strange to see him in such a different setting. He was wearing a quarter-zip, russet red sweater and relaxed jeans, a far cry from henleys, khaki pants, and utility vests. This was a gentler look on him. A reminder that for as much as she knew Owen, there were still parts of him she didn't know––she didn't know what kind of car he drove, what his civilian style was like, or what kind of drink he'd get at a convenience store. Small, simple little things that Isla Nublar hadn't let them experience together. And, with a little thrill, Gwyn was happy to realize that they could do so now.

Typical travel-related chatter was exchanged as they made for the parking garage. He asked how the flight was––good, but cramped––and she said she hoped traffic wasn't bad getting in––not too bad, he said. The first thing that struck Gwyn upon entering the garage was the chill. It was cold; but it was nothing compared to the bone-biting frigidity they'd been experiencing in Montana. Nevertheless, she tugged her fleece-lined denim jacket closed with her free hand. The other remained lovingly clasped against Owen's warm palm.

"Car's just here," he said, jerking his chin to the right. Gwyn hummed her acknowledgement and let her eyes scan over the parked vehicles. A bright blue Toyota, a white sedan, a silver VW, and a black Ford were the first few in the line. The immediate presumption was that the Ford was Owen's. So as he let go of her hand to root for his keys, Gwyn made to walk for the truck. "Gwyn." She turned a glance over her shoulder to find that Owen had stopped in front of the sedan. He had just popped the trunk, and he nodded at the car as he hauled the duffle bag into it. "Right here."

Gwyn blinked at him. Her eyes darted between him and the car, brows slowly arching. He snickered a quiet 'what' at her incredulous expression. She pointed at the vehicle and shuffled closer.

"A sedan? You drive a sedan?" she stressed in disbelief. Of all the things she'd thought he'd be the owner of, this was not one of them. She'd always taken him as a jeep driver and a motorcycle enthusiast––but perhaps that was because those were the only things she'd seen him drive on Isla Nublar. Beyond that, she thought a truck suited him nicely; but a sedan? Paired with the quarter-zip, he looked like he was about to pull into the opening of a rom-com of some sort.

Owen slowly drew his eyes from Gwyn to the car in question. He slowly shut the trunk and let his lips press into a line. "Is that a deal breaker? That I drive a sedan?"

"No!" Gwyn quickly denied. She felt her heart trip over itself, and she quickly trotted over to the car, which she placed her hand on. "No, no, no! It's just… I don't… I didn't see you as a sedan… enthusiast."

There was a quiet––nearly awkward––moment where Owen fiddled around with the keyring in his hands. The keys clattered tinnily, the sound sharp and unpleasant in the echo of the garage. He cleared his throat, sniffed, and turned to stare at the back windshield. His brows had furrowed. Gwyn could feel the slow burn of embarrassment creeping up her throat, which had her scrunching her face up in self-reprimand. Of course she'd screw things up right off the bat; she'd known she was rusty with this kind of stuff, but she hadn't thought she was that rusty…

"Well… you'd be right." Owen grinned suddenly, crookedly and patted the trunk with a heavy thunk. "This is my parents' car."

Gwyn stared at him, face still flushed with embarrassment. Her expression slowly shifted as she registered that he'd just pulled her leg, and she'd fallen for it hard. A month away from him had lessened her ability to pick up on his expert level trickery. Owen grinned at her affronted look, a chuckle resonating from him throatily. She scoffed a disbelieving breath and shoved a finger at him.

"You…" She mashed her lips together, which desperately desired to pull into a smile. Gwyn fought to compose her expression into something stern, something she might use during a lecture. But the corners of her mouth were twitching stubbornly. She jabbed her finger against the trunk. "Give me my bag, I'm going back to Montana."

"No, you're not," Owen drawled. His grin had become boyish, and when he reached out for her, Gwyn skirted away from him. The look she served him very clearly said 'oh, no you don't.' One of her hands flew up to press against her chest, and a half-scoff, half-laugh tore from her mouth.

"You scared the shit out of me," she accused flatly.

"Aww, you're worried about offending me. Cute."

Gwyn rolled her eyes, unable to fight back the smile any longer. She threw her fist into his shoulder, and he snagged an arm around her waist. He pulled her in close, the playfulness of his demeanor not yet faded. It twinkled in his eyes, and softened any true annoyance Gwyn held from the teasing. She didn't fight him pulling her in; instead, she thumped her fist into his chest, and leveled him with a wry look.

"Forgive me for being a little on edge," Gwyn deadpanned.

That comment had Owen's expression switching in an instant. His brows furrowed and his lips pulled into an immediate frown. He leaned away a bit, as though that would allow him a better look at her demeanor.

"Why're you on edge? Did something happen?" he asked.

Owen's tone had gone from playful to worried. His eyes were searching her face, and his hold on her had tightened a little bit. That look of concern was something far too familiar to Gwyn; when they'd last been together, it was the prevailing expression of the day. It twisted her gut to remember it, and to think that he, once again, feared for her in some way, shape, or form. So she flattened out her fist, letting her palm settle calmly over his heart. She shook her head.

"No, nothing happened. It's just…" Gwyn trailed off. Again she shook her head, and her fingers crept upwards to play with the flopped over collar of his sweater. A self-deprecating laugh puttered out of her throat, accompanied by an eye-roll. Owen squeezed her hip gently, a quiet prompting. "I'm meeting your parents."

It was quiet for a moment. In the distance there was the echo of some laughter, the beep of a locking car, the rumble of a starting engine.

"You're… are you scared of meeting my parents?" Owen asked. From her periphery, Gwyn could see him try and crane his head down to catch her eyes, but she stubbornly avoided meeting them. Instead, she shook her head and made a face at the word 'scared.'

"Worried. I… I'm not exactly Miss Sunshine, am I?"

Meeting Owen's parents had been a worry since she'd booked the trip. She wasn't exactly who she imagined most parents expected their sons to bring home––she was blunt, gruff, and sharply opinionated. When Gwyn was younger, people had told her, and Alan, that playing in the dirt wasn't something that girls did. It wasn't something she'd thought much of, or paid attention to; she was confident in who she was, as both a person and as a professional. But it had been said enough for it to become a lingering, nagging voice in her vulnerable moments. It was enough to make her anxious as she wondered who it was Owen's parents thought he was bringing to meet them.

"Hey," Owen said softly. Gwyn glanced up and found him staring at her with a gentle gaze. "My Mom hasn't stopped talking about how excited she is to meet you. And I think my Dad became your biggest fan when I told him about how you dressed-down that guy at your lecture." At that, Gwyn clucked her tongue in a 'you did not tell him that' way. But Owen smiled at that and reached up to brush hair behind her ear. "They'll love you, 'cause they already kinda do. Besides, if I handled meeting your Dad alone and unsupervised, I think you can handle meeting mine. They're much less scary."

A comment rose to mind, something that he'd said about his Dad being former military, and his Mom being a force to be reckoned with. While Alan Grant may have scared the love of god out of Owen, Diane and Michael Grady scared the shit out of her. So Gwyn rolled her eyes good naturedly, and leveled Owen with a look.

"Can I be scared of your sisters, then?"

"Nah, they're little punks." Owen leaned forward and dashed a quick kiss against her lips. Then he spun the keyring around his finger and nodded to the sedan that had caused so much contention. "Let's get moving––it may be late, but that doesn't mean evening traffic will be great."

OOOO

The Grady household appeared inviting, even in the dark. A small flower bed, currently barren with the season, sat alongside the pathway that led to the front door. This was the house that Owen had grown up in. She could just picture him tearing across the small front lawn, chasing his younger sisters, a wicked grin on his face. She could picture him sneaking out late, ducking below the front window. It brought a smile to her face, and assuaged some of her anxiety. Owen had parked the sedan in a wide driveway, to the side of which was a trailer. Its windows were obscured by familiar navy-blue curtains, the ones Gwyn would see in countless video calls. The lights were on inside, as was evidenced by the sliver of light in the in one of the windows. It was clearly meant to be hitched to the back of a truck, but the weeds grown up by the wheels betrayed it hadn't been moved in a while.

Owen squeezed her knee. He'd placed his hand there while he drove, and Gwyn had kept it there by clasping her own over his. He flipped his hand over, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed her hand again. He smiled at her, his eyes darting towards the house. "Doesn't look so scary, does it?"

"No," Gwyn agreed. She looked to the front door and let her smile go lopsided. With a laugh, she turned back to him. "I was just thinking I could picture you sneaking out as a teenager."

"Yeah, right," he laughed, like the idea was ridiculous. He then pointed out the high wooden gate beside the garage. "I didn't use the front door. I used the sliding glass door in the back, then jumped that. Quieter that way. But, really, don't worry. You'll get a full night's rest before you have to meet anyone. Even my scary sisters."

The two shared a quiet, lovely laugh, the radio playing gently under the sound. The anxiety that Gwyn had felt surrounding meeting his family began to melt away. It gave way to the excitement of being there. With him, at his home, with his family––he trusted her enough, cared for her enough to let her meet his family. She squeezed his hand, smiled, and nodded at the door.

"Let's go," she said.

Owen smiled a little wider and swept his thumb over her knuckles. His other hand reached down to pull at a little button, and there was a soft thunk as the trunk opened. "Lemme just grab your bag and we can head inside." He popped his door open and shuffled out, his hand holding hers till he couldn't any longer.

"Y'know," Gwyn climbed out of the car and chuckled a little, "I hauled that bag into the overhead compartment all by my lonesome. I can carry it."

"Oh, I know," Owen agreed as he disappeared behind the opened trunk. "You just said you pinched your shoulder at work today, don't want you to aggravate that. It's okay to admit you need to take a rest."

He shut the trunk, maybe a little too loudly for the time of night. The sound echoed down the sleepy street, which Gwyn briefly turned to observe. Time and time again, Owen had complained about how 'goddamn quiet' home was. And it was, which was strange to her. Because it reminded her of home. Of the quietude of her home on Trails Edge Road. But the Grady family home wasn't on the outskirts of the city, bordered by fields and separated by decent sized yards. It was packed in close beside the neighbors, in a suburb in the middle of the city. And it was quiet. It was disconcerting, almost. Gwyn could tell why it put him on edge; it just didn't feel right, instead, it felt out of place. Even at eleven o'clock at night, even with everyone asleep, it was strange.

Then there was a sound that cut through that silence. It was the squeal of a door opening, followed by the soft thud of it hitting something. Gwyn turned to find that Owen was stood in the door of his trailer, which was now fully open. She slowly started to round the hood of the sedan, arms folding over her chest.

"I thought I was supposed to stay in the guest room," she drawled cheekily.

"Yeah, well," Owen shrugged and, with a roguish smirk, nodded into the trailer, "this is closer."

Gwyn arched an eyebrow, still slowly plodding towards him. "And what'll your mother think about it? After she very generously offered me the guest room?"

"She'll think that I'm just misbehaving." The look on his face grew exponentially more impish. "Again."

There was a moment where Gwyn legitimately thought about the presented options. The guest room had been offered to her, and it would be rude to turn it down. But the house was unfamiliar to her, as were the people inside it. Staying in the trailer offered at least the familiarity of someone she knew. Though some part of her worried what the reaction would be when she appeared out of Owen's trailer the next morning. It was obviously no secret that they were dating, so it wouldn't be out of the ordinary. And it wasn't as though she ever really cared what people thought of her, anyway. A lifetime of prying press had made her more content to roll her eyes at misplaced opinions. But this was Owen's family. Their offer of the guest room still stood, glowing in the light over the front door; it complicated a simple decision, which was a killer. Because good things shouldn't make situations complicated, Gwyn quietly griped.

A snort rattled in Gwyn's nose. A last contemplating look was shot at the front door, before it slowly slid back to Owen. He arched his eyebrows in a way that silently screamed, 'c'mon!' She approached the trailer door, and once she had a foot on the first step, she turned to Owen. She patted his cheek with a smirk.

"You're lucky that you're cute," she drawled. Owen's eyes gleamed with something sharp and playful. She continued to climb up the stairs, and heard him chuckling behind her.

"Yes I am," he snickered.

The urge to heave her eyes into a roll was mighty; but she was too immediately absorbed in the interior of the trailer. Gwyn had seen the interior of many a trailer and camper before. Half the time they were a perfect mess, the other time they looked like a showroom, tentatively used due to its rental status. But Owen's felt homey. It was small enough to be considered cramped, but it didn't feel that way. The beige, faux-leather loveseat had pillows with homemade crochet covers. A tiny table, which seated two comfortably, seemed to serve as a quasi workplace, with a laptop, mail, and a half-empty coffee mug spread across it. A flannel was draped over the back of a chair, and there were a handful of basic spice containers by the stove. Dishes in the sink. Cabinets not fully closed. It was unapologetically lived in.

"Sorry it's cramped," Owen said. The trailer wobbled a little as he stepped up inside, and a firm click as the door was shut. But he didn't sound apologetic; it felt run-of-the-mill, scripted almost. Like he'd said it before, or been told to say it before.

But Gwyn shook her head. "I love it," she told him. "It's cozy, not cramped."

"In that case," Owen paused as he brushed past her, and pressed a kiss against her temple, "make yourself at home."

"Would I have been relegated to the house if I'd said otherwise?"

"Oh, yeah!"

Gwyn snickered at the boisterously teasing tone, and watched him haul her duffle towards a door that lent a peak at a bed. As he disappeared through said door, she moved to look at some of the pictures taped to the wall between the loveseat and table. One of them displayed several men with their arms slung over each other's shoulders. They were all dressed the same, with heather grey shirts with the word 'NAVY' printed in black across the chest, tucked into camo pants. They all respectively smiled, smirked, or grinned at the camera. Two of them wore sunglasses, while the other two had theirs propped atop their heads. Owen was second to the left, clean shaven, hair buzzed, and eyes squinted into the sun. He looked younger. Like he'd seen and done less. That the world had been kinder to him up till the point of that photograph. Some low, discomforted stirring in her stomach predicted it was taken just before deployment.

Other pictures on the wall included two young women, whom she presumed were his sisters. They looked like his sisters––the same mischievous gleam in their eyes, the same way their cheeks lifted in their smiles. There was a picture of a couple she believed to be his parents, smiling happily at a small table with the backdrop of a picturesque vineyard. The pictures were snapshots of the parts of Owen's life she didn't know too much about yet. They were all printed on photo paper, but there were slightly discolored bands across them, which meant they'd been printed at home. They were a little dusty, and the paper was bending slightly with age. All of them must have been taped there after he'd come back from overseas, and stayed up the whole time he was away on Isla Nublar.

"Damn shame the only photo record of us together was on your old phone."

Gwyn twisted around to find Owen leaned up in the doorway of the bedroom. The look on his face was soft, but the crook of his lips made it quintessentially him. He'd spoken quietly, but earnestly and truthfully. There had only been a meagre handful of pictures of Gwyn and Owen together. They'd all been taken jokingly by him, after he'd swipe her phone and snap a picture of them at an inopportune moment. Such as in the blistering heat on the cat-walk, or wobbling around the bungalows a little too tipsy. But those were memories owned by Isla Nublar now, wherever her phone lay forgotten. With a glance thrown back at the taped up pictures, Gwyn threw her shoulders into a shrug.

"I think that could be rectified while I'm here," she said.

An approving, quiet laugh rumbled in Owen's chest. His eyes roved over her form, from head to toe. A sigh, barely vocalized, tickled past his lips, and his head thunked sideways into the doorframe. He stretched out one of his hands, a wordless plea for her to come over and take it. There was no hesitation as Gwyn did as silently asked. The moment their hands were clasped, he was pulling her closer. He curled an arm around her waist, and she wormed hers between him and the door frame to return the favor. In that moment, Gwyn let herself luxuriate in being huddled against him. Because he was staring at her like she'd hung the moon in the sky; and she was sure she was staring at him the same way. It was amazing how much a month apart could prove how much someone meant to you.

"God I missed you…" he murmured, face scrunched. He shook his head as his fingers squeezed her hand. It was the first time the sentiment had been exchanged in person. There was no screen to stop the whisper of breath that accompanied those words. It was the first time that Gwyn could feel it. That sentiment lived in the way he clutched her close. It existed in the absence of space between their bodies. In the gentle caress of his breath.

"I missed you, too," she agreed. And her heart swelled to admit it. Because it was different than whispering it in the early hours of the morning, words falling flat against her phone screen. It was something else to admit it when they no longer had to miss each other. It was a sigh of relief carefully crafted into three simple words.

Owen slowly pried his hand out of hers, and brought it up to her cheek. His thumb dragged along her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Gwyn pushed her hand up along his chest, pressing with just enough intent that made his breath hitch. Her eyes dropped low to his lips, which were parted delicately. The hand that had traveled up his chest skimmed up to his neck. When their lips met this time, it was not nearly as frantic a kiss as the one in the airport. It was slower, more heartfelt. It was the backed-up emotion of every 'I miss you' whispered into the lonely darkness. It conveyed the relief and the joy of being together again. Gwyn's fingers stretched through the hair at the nape of his neck again, and curled in order to pull gently. Simultaneously, Owen slipped a hand along her lower back so slowly, it was breathtakingly sensual.

The hand that rested on Gwyn's cheek sought out the back of her neck. His fingers pressed carefully, and coaxed her into tilting her head back a little further. The angle of the kiss changed, made it deeper and had them both pressing closer. A shiver rolled along Gwyn's spine when she felt the hem of her shirt shift. It lifted, slightly, and the warmth of Owen's hand ghosted along her skin. The smallest of sounds hummed in the back of her throat. She let her fingertips push just beneath the hem of his shirt, and he responded by splaying his hand flat across her lower back. It pushed their hips flush together, which elicited a soft grunt from Owen. Gwyn could feel her heart start to race, pounding harder and faster than it had mere seconds before. It felt like she'd just run a marathon––or from the snapping jaws of something monstrous.

The kiss' quiet intensity was heat inducing. Their closeness held a promise of something far more intimate––but that's all it was. A promise of things yet to come. And neither of them seemed particularly discouraged by that. They lingered in one another's embrace even after their lips parted. Stray kisses were pressed against foreheads and cheeks. Fingers brushed with an intoxicating delicateness over bare skin. They luxuriated in just being there, with one another. And when a yawn stretched Gwyn's mouth open wide, she hid it in Owen's shoulder and shook her head.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be. You're an hour ahead, it's, like… midnight for you. C'mon," Owen lazily rolled his head to the side, a haphazard gesture to the room behind them, "bed's waiting."

A pleased groan buzzed at Gwyn's lips. With all the traveling––by air and car––done and over with, she could truly feel how tired she was. It had been a long while since she'd been so busy in a single day; she'd gone to work, suffered through airport security lines, and endured a flight. It was no surprise she was starting to feel dead on her feet. Owen was happy to direct her towards the small bathroom, where she could change and brush her teeth. It felt good to change, splash water on her face, and scrub the taste of airplane food out of her mouth. But what was going to feel even better was sleep. And the thought was made even better knowing that the hollow feeling of loneliness would not be present tonight. Nor would it be lingering in the morning, in the quiet of an empty house.

Once both were ready to settle down for the evening, it became obvious there was some level of hesitation on both their parts. Despite their comfortability with one another, this was still a step for them. They'd shared a bed only one time before, and the circumstance had been wholly different. This was no longer a decision born out of a night-terror induced haze. The last time, they'd both consciously slept back-to-back; this time, they'd be navigating the situation differently. It would be new, and it was clear neither of them knew how to brave the first step. So, when Owen slipped out to grab a glass of water, Gwyn decided it was up to her to take that initiative. So she peeled one corner of the blanket back, and climbed into the bed. The sheets were grey and cool against her bare feet. It took everything in her not to just flop sideways and konk out. Instead, she wiggled her way into the middle and pulled the blanket over her legs.

Owen came back, water glass in hand, and smiled upon spotting her getting comfortable. Gwyn gave a little shrug and gestured to where she'd tucked herself under the covers.

"I don't know if you have a preferred side. Don't wanna be the reason you've got a bad night's sleep 'cause I took the wrong side of the bed," she said.

A chuckle rumbled in Owen's chest, a sound warm, inviting, and homey. He quirked his brows and set the glass on his small bedside table. "If I'm being honest, your being here will probably result in the best night sleep I've had in a month," he admitted. He lifted the comforter as he climbed into bed, and let out a relieved exhale.

"At least we won't have to video call each other." Gwyn slinked down to lie flat on her back. She smirked up at Owen. "We just kick each other."

The smirk was returned with a familiar ease, and his eyes twinkled boyishly.

"I could think of better ways to wake each other up," he drawled roguishly.

"Oh, I'm sure you could. But in order to wake up, we first have to fall asleep," she countered. A sleepy croak had entered her tone of voice. She wiggled to the side a little and patted the narrow space that existed between them. "Get down here."

"Yes, ma'am," Owen chuckled.

As he laid down, his hand shot out to knock into the lightswitch. There was a faint click as the lights simultaneously went dark. Owen let out a relieved little sigh as his head hit the pillow. For a moment, the couple laid shoulder-to-shoulder. Everything was momentarily bathed in inky blackness. Then, the gentle glow of the street lamps illuminated the curtain over the headboard. As Gwyn's eyes adjusted to that soft light, she rolled onto her side and nestled herself up against Owen. Her head came to rest on his chest, ear just over his heart. Its gentle thrumming was hypnotic. One of his arms curled around her middle and held her secure against him. His other hand found her knee and guided one of her legs over his, tangling them comfortably. His fingers then snatched up one of her hands, and brought them both to rest on his chest.

After a quiet moment, he sleepily murmured, "You painted your nails."

"I was bored," she replied, voice half muffled by his chest.

He hummed, and gently played with her fingers in the darkness. "Looks nice."

Gwyn smiled, eyes falling shut as their fingers skimmed against each other. "Thanks. They're chipped." Her responses were getting increasingly more groggy, words slurring into each other, getting quieter half-way through speaking. She felt Owen press a kiss against the top of her head. And when next he spoke, his lips brushed against her hair.

"Still looks good."

Both lapsed into an easy silence, then. Gwyn hadn't felt so at ease in a while, especially not at bedtime. Because there, in the cramped little bedroom, everything was warm and cozy. The other half of the bed wasn't empty, and the promise of a lonely morning didn't wait on the other side of a night's rest. For the first time since she'd left Isla Nublar, the quiet wasn't so daunting. It didn't feel like it would explode in a monstrous roar, or that the silence would deafen her. Instead, Gwyn was lulled to sleep by the warmth of the man beside her, and the sound of his steady breathing. Every problem from the last two months––nightmares, reporters, insomnia, anxiety––all seemed to melt away, as though they'd never existed at all.

For the first time in a long while, everything felt right with the world.

Afterword: This took so long to get out, because this reunion wanted to go several different ways, and I had to figure out the best one. Also, this is the first time I've gotten to write Owen and Gwyn outside of Isla Nublar, and as a couple, so I had some new waters to navigate. But, I hope it was worth the wait!

Review Replies!

MsRosePetal: In flushing out Owen's family, I had to figure out who in the family he garnered his sense of humor from. So as I was building Diane's character I was like 'she's totally that kind of mom.' I cannot wait to write Gwyn and Diane together, which we'll get in the next chapter! Ahh, the embarrassing stories that will be told! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

AlchemyWriter: We're really close to wholly throwing ourselves into their post-JW lives; I foresee one or two more chapters before we fully switch into gear to head towards Fallen Kingdom. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

NicoleR85: Tim's gonna be popping up more often! I knew I had to get a good in-person Tim/Gwyn reunion before this leg of the story closes! And, oh, the photo albums are gonna get broken out next chapter––and all of the Grady women are gonna have so much fun poking fun at Owen. From old haircuts/styles to baby pictures, it's gonna be one hell of a time. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

ChildishAssassin: I've got some plans for Gwyn in Fallen Kingdom; they're ever developing, so I'm really excited to eventually get to the FK canon events! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

TheSilverWolf: I love writing good, supportive friendships; because they're so special, and so unique! When I started writing this story, I just knew that Tim and Gwyn were gonna be the best of friends. They're so different, but that makes them meld together so well. And in all my ponderings about the Murphys, I always figured that they'd be really big on getting Isla Nublar cordoned off for good. Especially if the legal responsibility fell to them.

Writing this reunion was tricky; because originally Gwyn was meeting Mr. and Mrs. Grady in this chapter. But then I just had too much fun writing Owen and Gwyn back together again. And figuring out how their dynamic has shifted now that they're off the island and in a relationship. But we'll get to meet Owen's parents, and sisters, next time! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

RJNorth: Writing Gwyn's adult relationships with Tim and Billy is always a joy. And I cannot wait for Owen to meet them both. I had a serious sit down a while ago to figure out how they'd all get along. Because when Owen and Billy do meet, it's gonna be interesting. 'Cause there's gonna be that initial tension right off the bat, as there's wont to be. But I do agree that Owen's gonna be in those 'I'm lucky she's mine now' feels. And I, too, am excited for the wedding! I love writing weddings, and am currently in the process of helping my friend reschedule/replan hers for next year. And congrats on planning your own wedding! Wedding planning certainly is wholly consuming, and stressful, but it's also such a joyful occasion.

Owen's want (need) to work hard so he can just sleep is so real. There have been so many days where I can't sleep, so the next day I just try and wear myself out so I can get a good night's rest. I've also just had a terrible time sleeping lately, so maybe I'm projecting my sleep issues onto these characters, ahaha!

And, oh, Gwyn and Owen would throw hands for the other so fast; if the media dares come for either of them, there's gonna be hell to pay. But the reactions would be so different. Gwyn would be quietly scathing; Owen would get that drill sergeant kind of tone, I feel, and just make the reporter just feel so goddamn small.

And a lot of the lead-up to Fallen Kingdom is gonna address what the shut down of the island, and the questioning of what to do with the dinos, does to Gwyn. And to everyone who's ever gone through hell on those islands. We'll also get to see how public all this stuff gets; and whether or not Gwyn starts to reluctantly use the media as a platform.

Oh, the Gradys are gonna be so fun. There's gonna be lots of showing old photo albums and embarrassing stories that Owen will rue; and Gwyn's not gonna get out of it easy, either. There'll definitely be some nosiness, especially from his sisters. And it is gonna be really interesting for Gwyn to see/react to the sibling dynamics! Especially since she's gonna get caught in the crossfire (in a good way, of course).

I fully believe that, behind that chipper, dopey, excited exterior, there's something a little dark (and sad) about Tim. I think he'd definitely have grown up being that person who's like 'I have to be happy and okay, so that when other people aren't okay I can be there for them.' When I was developing who I think Tim would be as an adult, I tried to think of what childhood mannerisms would stick––and the rambling was on the top of the list! He's so excitable about almost anything, and that cheesy grin––ugh, I'd die for it. I'll definitely let you know if I get a Tim story up there! It's very tempting… and more ideas may have cropped up (all I'm saying is Tim being a dork and in love with, like… an elementary school teacher is just… ugh, my heart).

And, yes, our friend Dr. Ian Malcolm may be coming in for a visit very soon… :)

I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much, again, and I hope you're doing well!

god of all: Thank you so much, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Angel JJK: I think that Tim will absolutely want to meet Owen. I feel like Tim's the kind of person who just delights in the fact that his friends are happy. So I think that he'd be incredibly psyched to meet Owen 'cause Gwyn likes him so much. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

MageVicky: We'll get more Billy! Now that Gwyn's back in Montana, we'll get more of him making visits, being at work and whatnot. I really enjoy writing Billy; he's got such a cheeky attitude, but he's got a kind heart. It's a fun combo to write. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Tohka123: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

Guest 1: I had a lot of fun fleshing out Gwyn's relationships with Billy and Tim. 'Cause Tim's one of those long-distance best friends that are just so dear to your heart. The kind you plan annual vacations with and just really hate that you have to live so far away from each other. And Billy's that friend that you call at ten o'clock and ask to come over for drinks and tv show binging. I don't do a lot of Owen's POV (which will probably change), but I just had to get a taste of the Grady family in here before we officially meet them next chapter. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Guest 2: This story really taught me to love writing the in-between bits. And with these characters, it's so easy to get carried away with them; so I'm glad that you've been enjoying it! I'm very excited for Fallen Kingdom, too! I keep developing new ideas, which just hypes me up even more. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Duchess of Lantern Waste: I've been itching to get Tim and Owen in the same room. Because I have this very specific idea of how they perceive each other. 'Cause Tim and Gwyn have a very particular relationship, and I have a pretty good idea of how Owen (initially) reacts to it. Luckily this entire chapter was all Owen and Gwyn, so I hope that fulfilled your need for their interactions! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
breezzylife12: I actually have planned on having Gwyn at the courthouse at the start of FK. I have a very defined idea of how involved Gwyn gets with the closing down of Isla Nublar, and I can't see her not being there for that hearing. And we'll get a lot of original survivor testimonies/reactions/ideas on what should happen. 'Cause I wish we would've gotten more of that in the movie, and hope that we'll get some of that in JW3. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

AmericanNidiot: Tim would crash Gwyn and Lex's girls' night with wine, snacks, and movies. Not to mention a pair of those slippers that make your feet look like dinosaur feet. It would be… so delightful, and absolutely welcomed. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

monkeybaby: I had been itching to get back to writing Billy and Tim. So I was more than happy to get them in the same chapter together! And maybe, one day, they'll actually be in the same room together. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Guest 3: I'm really happy to finally get this updated! And I'm really happy that you've enjoyed this story so much; and flattered to hear that it inspired you! I'd love to hear about your character/story some time! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

And thank you for those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

Well, I hope y'all enjoyed my vaguely coherent 3AM ramblings of Owen and Gwyn's reunion. I had a lot of fun getting back into the swing of writing these two dorks together again. Next chapter, we'll get to meet the Gradys! I've been fleshing out the family for a bit, now, and I'm excited to get them down on paper! I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter; thanks for being so patient!

~Mary