"Ah-CHOO!"
Owen had never before awoken to the sensation of a large hybrid dinosaur projectile-sneezing mucus all over his face, but he decided very quickly that he didn't particularly enjoy it.
"Oooooooooh . . . I think I'm sick . . ." Claire groaned.
Owen, who hadn't moved since the snot hit his face, blinked.
"I think so."
***TSJWFEW***
Owen came back from town with no less than fifteen bottles of medicine. They weren't even different brands: he just wanted to make sure that he had enough to accommodate Claire's body size. When he jogged up to their room with a beaker of DayQuil, he found her lying on her side, breathing heavily. There was snot lining her nostrils and foam dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were vacant and glazed over. All in all, she wasn't looking good.
"Claire?"
"Oweeeeeen . . . I love you . . ."
He sat down beside her, frowning in confusion.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm going to die."
Owen's eyes went wide. He put his hand on her forehead and looked into her eyes.
"Claire, what's wrong? What do you have?"
"Common . . . cold . . ."
Owen sighed with relief.
"Hardly anyone dies from the common cold. I mean, it happens, but-"
"I'm a dinosaur. When dinosaurs got sick at Jurassic World, we had professional vets look at them. Even then, we lost a lot of assets . . ."
She coughed.
"I'm a goner."
Owen put his forehead against hers.
"I won't let you die, Clairebear. You can beat this. It's just a cold. And I think you're being just a little dramatic."
She opened her mouth, making a raspy rumbling sound. Her tongue lifted slightly, then sank.
"L- . . . Love you."
Owen smiled and patted her cheek.
"I'm going to make you some soup."
"Don't bother. Will die soon."
"You need your strength. Don't give up, okay?"
Claire mooed.
"Good," Owen said with false satisfaction, "I'll be back in two minutes."
***TSJWFEW***
When Owen climbed back up the stairs with a bowl of soup in his hands, Claire was crawling across the floor. Her plates were hanging limply, and she was mostly pulling herself forward with her front legs. Her mouth was hanging open lazily.
"Claire! Get back in bed!"
"Must die outside. You can't carry body."
Owen rolled his eyes.
"Claire, you're not dying."
"Mooooooooo . . ."
Owen placed the bowl of soup on the ground and lifted her head. He tried to drag her across the floor by her horns, but she wouldn't budge.
"I'm too faaaaaaaaat . . ."
Owen let go of her, falling backwards.
"Fine. But I'm feeding you the soup."
He lifted the spoon and held it beside her mouth. After a moment, she opened her beak.
"There . . . good . . ." Owen cooed.
He gave her another spoonful, then another, then another. When the soup was gone, Owen rubbed her snout.
"How do you feel?"
"Gross."
Owen smiled.
"You're never gross."
He kissed her beak.
"Don't do that. You'll get sick," Claire moaned.
"I don't mind. Are you feeling any better?"
"No . . ."
He kissed her again.
"How about now?"
Claire opened her mouth, but instead of speaking, she drooled slightly and made a gurgling sound.
"Is that a yes?" Owen asked.
Suddenly, she sneezed, sending both saliva and mucus flying all over the room. Owen coughed, as his mouth had been open during the event.
"Sorry . . ." Claire muttered.
Owen's lip twitched as wet boogers dripped off of his mustache.
"It's . . . fine . . ."
He wiped his face and went back to rubbing her snout. She moaned and mooed miserably, giving the occasional cough.
"Owen . . ."
"I'm here."
"Owen . . ."
"What?"
Claire stood up shakily.
"This isn't a cold."
"What? Why not?"
Claire stumbled over to the window.
"Because I'm about to- BLAAAAAAAAARGH!"
She leaned on the windowsill, spewing thick vomit on the lawn below. Owen ran into the bathroom to get a towel to wipe her face. When he came back, she was coughing up the last few chunks with tears in her eyes.
"Oh god. This is so gross."
Owen wiped her beak.
"Shhh. It's okay, Claire. Just lie down on the bed. I'll get you a bucket."
"We don't have a bu- a bucket big enough," she croaked.
"I'll get the garbage can."
Owen skittered down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door. He emptied the bin and wheeled it into the house, dragging it up the stairs clunkily. He placed it beside the bed, making sure that it was within reach. During his expedition, Claire had crawled under the blankets, and was shivering like crazy. Owen adjusted the comforter, then went over to the closet to get more sheets. He draped quilts and rugs and towels all over her body until she looked like a massive pile of laundry. She was still shivering.
"Do you . . . Do you believe me now?"
"About what?"
"Me dying."
Owen rubbed his thumb in a circular pattern on her forehead.
"No. You're going to get better. I promise."
"A promise tomorrow is . . ."
She groaned and rolled over, sending at least half of the blankets slipping down her side.
"I'm dying."
"You're not. I've seen people recover from worse."
"I'm not people . . . I'm not person . . . I'm dinosaur . . ."
"I know you are, darling."
Owen dipped down for another kiss, but his nose began to itch. Before he could stop himself, he gave a massive sneeze. Claire gawked at him with wide eyes.
"Oh, no . . ."
***TSJWFEW***
Later that night, Owen and Claire sat shivering on the floor. The lights were turned off, because neither of them had the strength to reach the switch. Owen was wrapped in Claire's arms, his forehead covered in a cold sweat and his lips dark blue. Claire had goop running out of her eyes, and her scales were starting to peel.
"C-Claire? . . ." Owen squeaked.
"Yes? . . ."
"I'm scared."
"Me too."
They stared ahead vacantly for a few seconds.
"O-Owen?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna puke."
Owen crawled out of her arms.
"Can you reach the garbage can?"
"Maybe. I'll try."
She pushed herself up to her knees, but fell back down soon after.
"It's coming."
"No . . ."
"It's coming."
"Claire, don't you dare!"
"It's- MMMGH."
She placed her front foot over her beak, and her cheeks bulged out. Owen tried desperately to crawl out of the way. Claire struggled to hold back her barf.
"Mmm-mgh-mmm- BLECH!"
Claire threw up on his chest. She dribbled a little bit before coughing.
"This is hell."
Smelling her putrid expulsions, Owen threw up too.
"It's in my be-eard!" he gagged.
"BLAAAAAAAAA-"
Claire projectile vomited on his head.
"Oh god. Oh god. I'm so sorry- BUUUUUUUUURG!"
Their puke met in a messy splash, like two opposing fountains. They contorted on the carpet, screaming weakly.
"Heeeeeeeeelp! . . ." Claire wheezed.
"I'm dying . . ." Owen choked.
"BLARCK!"
Claire coughed up a small stream of acidic malt.
"Oh god . . . When did I eat carrots?"
Owen crawled forward through a chunky puddle.
"Claire, if we don't make it through this, I want you to know that I love you."
Claire whimpered.
"I love you, too."
She kissed him, not knowing that he was on the verge of barfing again. They had to separate because of the spew-pressure.
"Oh god! Why is this happening?"
***TSJWFEW***
"Ellie, help . . ." Elkay groaned as she leaned over the toilet.
Ellie licked her finger and turned the page casually.
"Can't. Owen and Claire are having the same problem."
Ellie heard the sound of barfing, then a loud clank. She frowned and took off her glasses.
"What hit the bowl?"
"A license plate."
"You swallowed a license plate?"
"I figured it would make a good inside joke if anyone cuts me open."
Ellie rolled her eyes.
"Alright. Let me cure Owen and Claire first, then I'll see if I have enough magic left over for you."
"Blarck! Please hurry!"
***TSJWFEW***
Owen's eyes fluttered open gently as he became aware of what seemed to be an inflating pillow behind his head. When his wooziness settled down, he realized that he was actually leaning against Claire's side. She took deep breaths. Peaceful breaths. She didn't look sick at all. Owen, too, was feeling better, and he suspected that it had something to do with Ellie. The room was clean, after all, with not a single drop of sick to be found. Owen rubbed his eyes and yawned.
"Claire?"
She shifted slightly.
"Yes?"
"You didn't die."
"Nope."
"I'm glad."
"Me too."
Owen placed his hand over her front foot.
"Did you really think you were going to die?"
"Yes."
He kissed her cheek.
"I wouldn't have let you."
Claire smiled.
"I would try to fight it, if it would make you happy."
"Very happy. I can't live without you, Claire."
Owen didn't realize the gravity of his words until he had spoken them. He expected Claire to make some sort of snappy remark about his devotion, but instead, she tilted her head gently.
"The same goes for me."
Something flickered between them like a string of invisible light, and they found themselves staring at each other with a recognition that had been previously unattainable. In that moment, they both made a crucial decision, though neither of them knew what the other had planned.
One thing was for certain: this was the beginning of something entirely new.
***TSJWFEW***
Three weeks later, Owen tapped his fingers nervously against the kitchen table. Claire wasn't up yet, and he was anxious to get his rehearsing done. He would occasionally push his chair back, circle the table, and get down on one knee, mouthing a quick placeholder speech, but it still didn't feel natural. Maybe he shouldn't kneel at all. Was that allowed? Would that make it seem too casual?
Owen heard a noise upstairs and leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. He quickly shoved the rough draft of his script into his pocket and stood staring at the staircase with his hands behind his back. Claire came lumbering down the steps, yawning loudly. When she saw him, she jumped a little.
"Have you been waiting for me?"
"No. Yes. Maybe. Yes. Maybe . . . I already said yes. Yes is what I mean. I mean . . . Yes."
Claire blinked. Owen wrung his hands.
"But not in, like, a creepy way. I was just waiting because I had nothing better to do. Well, I mean, I made us breakfast, but you weren't up, so- I'm not implying that you're lazy, by the way. Just thought I'd clear that up . . ."
Claire gave him a funny look.
"I wasn't going to say anything . . ."
"Yeah, anyway . . . What was I saying?"
Claire shrugged and sat down at the table.
"No idea. You sound like you've had too much coffee. No offense."
Owen gave a twitchy grin.
"None taken. How was your sleep?"
"I had nightmares."
Shit. That meant she wasn't in a good mood. What if she remembered her nightmares whenever she thought about this day in retrospect? Maybe it would be best to wait until tomorrow. No, that was stupid. He'd been putting it off for far too long already . . .
"Owen? You gonna stop staring into space?"
Owen blinked.
"What?"
"You look like you're having a 'Nam flashback or something."
Owen laughed nervously.
"I was just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"Nothing much. You look beautiful today."
Claire smiled.
"Implying that I don't look beautiful every day?" she teased.
Owen considered proposing right then, but he decided against it. He had a plan, after all, and his usual laid-back approach to life would not fly in this situation. Claire deserved something organized. He couldn't fake his way through it and hope for the best. He had to be clever.
"The badgers have been trying to get into the chicken coop."
Owen blinked.
"Hm?"
"The badgers," Claire repeated, "They've been digging holes under the fence. We should fill them in at some point today."
Oh, great. Now they had chores to do. Owen could think of nothing less romantic than filling badger-holes. It was time for some sneaky redirection.
"Actually, Claire, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a walk today. It's been a while since we hiked up to the lake."
Claire smiled.
"Sounds nice. I'm up for it. I guess the holes can wait. They aren't that deep."
Owen sighed with relief. That was one crisis averted. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
***TSJWFEW***
Around ten o'clock, they began their climb up the mountain. The lake was a few kilometers away, and Owen predicted that they'd make it there by noon. That was, if everything went as planned.
Owen snapped out of his ponderings when Claire nudged him with her tail.
"You okay?"
He nodded quickly.
"Fine. Fine."
She smiled and ran her tail down his side.
"You seem distracted today."
Owen forced a smile.
"I'm just thinking."
"Well, that's a switch . . ."
He laughed and jogged up to her side. They continued to walk, leaning against each other. Halfway up the trail, they decided to stop for a quick break. They sat down on an old log and unpacked their sandwiches. Their lunch started out normal enough, but somehow, they ended up rolling around on the ground, stegocera-snogging. It was kind of crazy how often things like that happened. Owen smiled up at Claire with an amorous glow.
"Claire, I was wondering . . ."
He forced himself to stop. He had a plan, and he was sticking to it. It didn't matter how infatuated he was; he had to be strong. Claire would appreciate it if he made an effort to keep this whole thing as neat as possible. He hoped.
"What were you wondering, Owen?"
He gulped.
"If you wanted to keep walking . . ."
She raised her eyebrow.
"Are you sure you're not just saying that because you actually wanted to ask me something else?"
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
Owen's eye twitched. He grinned awkwardly.
"No. I have nothing else to ask you."
Claire shrugged.
"Alright. Let's keep walking, then."
Owen was horrified when he noticed that she looked slightly relieved.
***TSJWFEW***
By the time they arrived at the lake, Owen's remaining confidence had completely petered out. The look on Claire's face had nearly destroyed him, and it had done just as much to his plans. He felt like a complete idiot. Maybe Claire really didn't want to get married.
Or maybe she just didn't want to get married to him.
He tried to forget that look of relief, but it stuck to his mind like a wad of half-dried glue. She had probably sensed that he was going to ask, and she clearly didn't want it. God, he was so stupid. He had gone and bought her a beautiful ring, and he certainly couldn't return it now. Claire didn't have fingers anymore, so he had secretly measured the diameter of her left tail-spike and proceeded from there. What was he supposed to do with a massive, golden hoop? Maybe he could have it melted into smaller bits so that he could resell it . . . If he could get over the emotional trauma, that is. It was such a shame. He had spent a very long time picking out the perfect diamond, and now it was going to waste.
"You okay?" Claire asked.
No, I am not okay! Why don't you want to marry me?
"I'm fine," Owen said.
"You sure? You look upset."
Damn right, I'm upset! I had this whole thing planned out, and you had to go and ruin it by being stubborn and snobbish and-
"I'm just a little tired."
Claire frowned sadly and put her front foot on his knee.
"Owen, is there something you're not telling me? You've been acting really strange all day."
Owen sneered.
"Yeah, well, I'm just not feeling great, okay? I think I need some time alone."
He stormed off into the woods, leaving a very confused Claire behind. When he was out of earshot, he began to mumble and grumble and kick rocks around. He stubbed his toe on a tree root and hopped up and down in pain. Growling unpleasantly, he snapped a branch off of a nearby tree and began to beat the living shit out of the trunk. He stopped mid-swing, however, when he heard something odd. There was a light scratching sound coming from inside the bark. Owen frowned in puzzlement.
"Eeeeee-peep-peep-peep-peep!"
Owen tapped the trunk again. He yelped as a small weasel leapt out of a hole in the tree and started scratching his eyeballs. He tried to pull the rodent off of his face, but it was clinging to him like iron wool. He fell backwards and landed on the forest floor with a loud whump. He didn't realize what had happened to the weasel until he felt claws digging into his chest. Through his shirt, he could see the bump of a weasel head poking up every now and then. He tried to swat it away, but his actions only drove the weasel South. With wide eyes, Owen tried to divert the animal's path, but it was too late. The weasel opened its tiny weasel-mouth, and-
***TSJWFEW***
Claire handed Owen another ice pack. They were back at the ranch, having cut their trip short for obvious reasons. Owen winced as Claire dabbed at his cheek with an alcohol-soaked cloth. She handed him a Band-Aid.
"Is the pain getting any better?"
Owen sighed.
"Well, I don't think it's easy to recover from a weasel mauling your privates."
Claire laughed.
"The situations you get yourself into . . ."
She kissed his cheek and hopped up on the bed. Owen winced as she shifted, but didn't stop her.
"You know, I used to think you were an idiot," she said whimsically.
Owen gave her a sardonic look.
"I know."
Claire smiled.
"You proved me wrong. You're really sweet . . ."
Owen picked at his scratches idly. He didn't know what to make of her compliments. Sure, she was being nice to him, but it was all a sham . . .
"I'm really glad we ended up together. I mean, all of that crazy stuff was hard to get through, but I'm glad I did it with you."
Yes, well, that "crazy stuff" obviously meant nothing to her, if she wasn't ready for a commitment.
"Owen, will you marry me?"
And now she was asking him to marry her. Typical. She-
WAIT.
Owen sat up straight and turned to Claire with wide eyes.
"What did you say?"
Claire gave a half-smile.
"I was wondering if you'd marry me."
She reached into the bedside table drawer and resurface with a box in her beak. She popped it open to reveal a ring.
"I was waiting for the right moment. I know you don't like all of that planned-out stuff, so I thought I'd play it by ear."
Owen stared at the ring with his jaw hanging. Put off by his silence, Claire gulped.
"I mean, if you don't want to, we could-"
He pulled his own ring out of his pocket and showed it to her. She gasped.
"Owen! You said you had nothing to ask me!"
He flapped his hands in agitation.
"I- Well- I couldn't just ask you out of nowhere!" he sputtered.
"Why not?"
"Because I needed to follow the plan!"
Claire blinked.
"You had a plan?"
Owen nodded.
"Yes! I've been planning this for weeks!"
Claire cocked her head.
"But you were so nervous . . . If you had a plan, why were you freaked out all day?"
Owen cradled his knees.
"I didn't want to screw up."
After a few seconds, Claire burst out laughing. She rolled onto her back and giggled like a ninny.
"What's so funny?" Owen asked.
Claire struggled to breathe through her laughter.
"You were . . . attacked by a weasel . . . while you were trying to propose!"
Owen frowned.
"You laugh, but you're not the one with scratches all over your face."
Claire wrapped her arms around him.
"True . . . True . . ."
Owen smiled up at her.
"Does this mean we're engaged?"
Claire shrugged.
"Only if you want to be."
Owen laughed.
"Claire, I wouldn't have bought you a giant ring if I wasn't one hundred percent serious about this."
"Serious? You're never serious!" she giggled.
"I'm seriously in love with you . . ."
Claire grimaced.
"That was awful!"
Owen shrugged.
"I had a script, if you want to read it . . ."
"I'd love to read it."
With this, they exchanged rings and sat happily on the bed.