A/N: It's here! Finally! The sequel to Home for the Weekend! I've been hard at work on this one and it took a few tries to get right but I am really looking forward to writing this one so I hope you'll enjoy it too! The setup is similar to Home for the Weekend, except this time the boys are staying with Claire and Owen for a week. It's the end of June and the last few months have been a bit rough so a week away seems to be in order. I hope you love it and please leave a review!

"You almost done with that?" Owen looked up to see Claire leaning over the railing of the deck, a smirk on her face. "You've been at it for an hour."

"Half hour," Owen retorted good-naturedly, turning his attention back to the hammock he was trying to set up between two trees in their backyard. For some reason, the ropes just would not cooperate. He gave another hard tug on one of the knots and bit back a curse as it fell apart. "It would be so much easier if these damn hooks would just stay in place," he picked up one of the anchors that had been pulled from the tree trunk for the umpteenth time.

"Don't they teach you a million types of knots in the Navy?" Claire teased.

Owen turned to her. "Yeah but I must've been on leave when they taught us how to tie cheap department store yard furniture knots," he answered sarcastically. "Maybe it'd go faster if you helped me, Red."

"No, no," his girlfriend grinned impishly. "We had a deal. I set up the patio furniture, you handle the yard. Look," she gestured to the table and six deck chairs—all assembled and neatly arranged like a page out of a Home Depot catalog. "My job's finished. Besides," she added, "I'm having much more fun up here."

The man shook his head and failed to cover up his own smile of amusement. "Let's just leave it on the ground," he finally suggested.

"If it's on the ground, it's just a net," Claire pointed out, her voice much closer now. A moment later her arms were encircling his waist. His large hands covered her smaller ones.

"If we dig a hole, put the hammock over it, and then cover it with leaves we could have a booby trap," he offered and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Think it'll be ready by the time the boys get here?" she asked.

"I'll have it up by then even if I have to duct tape the damn thing to two tree trunks," he promised.

"Good," Claire released her grip on him and began sauntering up toward the house again. "They'll be here in an hour. I'll be watching this little production from the window with a cold drink," she winked and then ascended the steps to the deck, disappearing through the slider and into the house. Owen turned his attention back to the hammock and shook his head.

Claire straightened the throw pillows on the couch in the den, turning them one way, then the other and examining the fabric for any imperfections. Her work was undone a moment later when a shaggy sheepdog leapt up onto the sofa and plopped herself down atop all four cushions. "Blue," the woman chastised the canine mildly. Blue cocked her head to one side, ears perking up at the mention of her name. "Blue, c'mon. Off the couch," the redhead pointed to the ground. The dog followed her finger with her eyes, looked between the ground and the woman's face, and then lazily turned away, remaining where she was. Claire shook her head and gave up, heading for the stairs to check on the boys' rooms one last time.

She passed her open office door at the top of the landing and sighed. The desk was covered in files that still needed sorting through. Some of them should have been faxed to San Diego yesterday. She stepped into the room, examined the paper on top—a form letter offering condolences to the family of yet another victim who had finally succumbed to their injuries months after the fatal events at Jurassic World. She was expected to sign it but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not yet.

This was supposed to be a happy day and she had already dealt with too much death. This letter and the person it represented brought the official count to 212 people killed due to what happened on Isla Nublar. She had signed too many papers identical to this one, been asked too many questions relating to the casualties, seen too many bodies, and been to too many funerals. Simon Masrani's. Katashi Hamada's. Zara Young's, where she nearly had a breakdown. Gary Spears, Joe Miller, Nathan Lee, Oscar Craig, Reggie Cooper, and countless other park employees and affiliates who were just trying to do their jobs. She had seen too many families cry over their losses—mothers and fathers and siblings and aunts and uncles and husbands and wives and children. It was impossible to not feel some responsibility each time she blinked away tears and watched a casket disappear into a grave marked with one of her coworkers' names. Even now, in the safety of her own home, she could feel that familiar tightness in her throat as she choked back tears. No. She would sign this paper and send condolences to the family. But not now. She tucked the paper into the file folder on top and shut the door on her way out.

Claire watched from the window, heart rate increasing as her sister's blue Nissan minivan ambled down the long drive, scattering loose pebbles and bits of gravel and finally coming to a halt in front of the three-car garage. A moment later, one of the rear doors slid open and Gray leapt out of the car.

"You okay, Red?" Owen laid a gentle hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. "You're acting like you haven't seen them in months."

Claire sighed. She felt like she hadn't seen them in months. Between flights to San Diego (and New York, and Chicago, and LA, and any other city where Masrani Global had offices being picketed), the amount of paperwork she was being asked to complete, and the number of subpoenas she had to respond to, she hadn't spent more than an hour at a time with her nephews since February. "I just want their week to be nice," she said simply.

"It will be," Owen assured her. "I'm gonna go help with their bags." She hummed an acknowledgement and didn't take her eyes off the window.

Gray's eyes lit up the second he spotted Owen coming towards him. The boy immediately abandoned the suitcase he had been dragging from the trunk of the van. "Uncle Owen!" he called out, launching himself at the man.

Owen stopped short, a smile frozen onto his features. When did I become Uncle Owen? Gray closed the distance and was met with a tight bear hug.

"God, you're getting heavy!" Owen exulted, lifting the eleven-year-old up with ease anyway.

"I grew almost a whole inch," the boy replied. He looked up and noticed Karen beaming, leaning against the side of the car and he shot her a knowing smile.

"I see," the man set Gray down and spotted Zach unloading a duffel bag. "And how many inches did Zach grow? You're a giant."

"Real funny, Uncle Owen," the teen retorted but his smile indicated he was pleased with being noticed. The word uncle still felt foreign to his tongue but he was starting to get used to it. It felt better than calling him Owen. He was more than just his aunt's boyfriend by now.

"Aunt Claire's inside," Owen jerked his head in the direction of the house and moved to pick up Zach's duffel. "Why don't you boys go on up?" Gray took off running up the gravel driveway toward the front door without any further bidding. "Go 'head," Owen took the suitcase from the older Mitchell brother and the teen followed his brother's path.

"Thank you," Karen tried to take the duffel bag from him but he pulled it away insistently. "For taking them for the week. They've really missed the two of you."

"We missed 'em too," Owen assured the mother as they began the trek up to the front door.

"It's lovely in the summer," she commented, looking around at the towering trees that were now covered in green leaves, sunlight filtering down and casting soft shadows that swayed with the breeze. "You picked a good spot."

"Claire and the realtor did all the real work," he deflected. "I just help fix up the place."

"It's quiet," Karen noticed. "Plenty of room for the boys to hang out." The man couldn't help but notice a hint of longing in the woman's voice. "I see why they like it here."

"Y'know, you're always welcome too," he told her.

"Thank you," his almost-but-not-quite-sister-in-law smiled wanly. "But I've got work. And the boys could do with some bonding time with their aunt and uncle."

" 'S your call," he shrugged, opening the door for her. "You can come over whenever you want."

Karen stepped over the threshold and was greeted with cool, conditioned air and the excited barking of a dog. Gray's laughter could be heard from somewhere within.

"I missed you, too, Blue," the boy laughed. Owen dropped the bags in the foyer and followed the blonde woman into the great room where the sheepdog was leaping in circles around the younger boy.

"Haven't seen her this excited since we first adopted her," the man stated.

Claire looked up, spotted her sister beside Owen and rushed to greet her in a tight hug. When she pulled back, she examined Karen's face. The woman's cheeks were a little hollower than before—a little paler, too, and she noticed wrinkles forming in places her sister hadn't had wrinkles before but they disappeared under laugh lines when Karen smiled at her again.

"The place looks great!" the older sister enthused, looking around the room. "Love the green on the walls."

"We've done a lot since the last time you came by," Claire answered.

"Well it looks great!" Karen repeated. The dog approached her, sniffed cautiously at her feet, nuzzled her nose under the cuff of one jean leg.

"If you think that's great, you should see the yard," the younger sister pointed toward the deck with a teasing smile. "Or more specifically, Owen's hammock."

"Your hammock. You made me buy it," Owen pointed a good-natured but accusatory finger at her.

"I would, but I should probably get going," Karen looked from her older son to her younger one.

"Oh, stay," Claire pleaded. "At least for coffee. I already made it," she jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. Her sister looked conflicted for a moment.

"Alright. Just for coffee," she finally relented.

Claire set two mugs down on the kitchen island and took a glance out the window to where Owen and the boys were taking turns flopping into the wildly-swinging hammock, evidently enjoying her boyfriend's handiwork.

"Is that safe?" Karen asked.

"Probably not," Claire teased but her smile faded when she noticed her sister's frown. "It's fine, Kare. It's a foot off the ground. Bruises are about the only real danger here."

"Right," the woman replied, stirring her coffee. "Sorry."

"So," the younger sister changed the subject, "what are you going to do now that you have the house to yourself for the week?"

"Enjoy the quiet without my two men around," Karen answered. "Wait till you and Owen have kids. You'll learn to appreciate silence."

Claire frowned. In truth, she had thought about kids a lot in recent months. But why did her sister just assume that she would be having any? And why with Owen, who she had only been with for the last six months or so? "So the whole house to yourself, huh? No men at all?" she teased, concealing her grin with the rim of her mug.

"No!" Karen insisted adamantly. "Claire, it's too soon. Too soon. I'm still getting used to…well, you know. Besides. I have work. I can't think about that right now."

"Right," Claire answered, suddenly regretting bringing it up. "Well, enjoy the peace and quiet then! They're in good hands here."

"I know," Karen looked meaningfully at her sister. "I know they are." She finished her coffee. "Scott was supposed to have the boys this weekend but I told him they were gonna be here," she said. Claire looked startled. "He said it's fine but don't be surprised if he calls to check in."

"How are the boys taking it?"

"They're fine. As fine as they could be with the whole situation. I guess. I don't know." Her voice sounded a little choked and Claire walked around the island to drape an arm over her big sister. "I mean they go to Scott's every other weekend. He drops by during the week sometimes. He's planning to take them to a Packers game this fall…It seems like everyone's much happier now that we split…But then Gray still has nightmares sometimes and Zach gets flashbacks every so often. They still see a therapist twice a week for god's sake. It's just hard to shake this feeling like I failed them…"

"Don't say that, Kare. You tried. Sometimes…sometimes these things don't work out. And that's okay. It's okay." She felt stupid saying it. Like she somehow didn't have a right to offer her sister counsel when her relationship with Owen continued to flourish.

Karen shook her head. "It just feels like…I don't know, I made the same mistakes Mom made, you know? I thought I was smart enough to see trouble coming."

"Hey, we turned out fine, didn't we?" Claire pointed out. "Give Mom some credit. And give yourself some, too. Zach and Gray love you."

"In truth, sometimes I think they'd be happier if they just lived with you."

Claire winced. It was natural for the boys to talk more about her and Owen than their own parents. Their own parents weren't in the news every week. Their own parents hadn't fought off dinosaurs. It didn't mean they loved their parents any less. She knew that. But she still couldn't shake the guilty feeling that inevitably followed interacting with her nephews in Karen's presence. It didn't change the fact that she felt sad for Karen whenever their eyes lit up upon seeing her or Owen when their eyes never lit up for their own mother. "Don't say that," she said softly. "Please don't say that. They're your sons, Kare. They'll always be yours."

Karen paused, staring into the empty coffee mug for a moment longer, index finger tracing the handle. "You're right," she finally said, looking up. Her eyes were clear. "I didn't mean it that way. I just…feel like you'd do a better job at raising kids than me."

"Why is it always about me having kids?" Claire teased.

"I'll shut up about kids when I have a little niece or nephew to play with," Karen responded playfully, setting her mug down in the sink and running water into it. "I should get going."

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?"

"No, no. I shouldn't."

"I promise I'm not cooking," Claire added. "So you probably won't get sick."

Karen laughed but her face was soon serious once more. "Have fun with them this week. They deserve it. You deserve it." She picked up her purse from the side table in the foyer and pulled the door open.

"We won't let them get into too much trouble," Claire promised, giving her sister one last hug. "Get home safe." She watched from the door as her sister backed the minivan out of the driveway and disappeared down the wooded street.

"Who's hungry?" Claire questioned when Zach, Gray, and Owen returned inside.

Zach dropped onto the couch. "Me," he answered immediately.

"Me too," Gray chimed in, plopping down beside his brother.

"You?" Claire raised an eyebrow at Owen.

"D'you even need to ask?" he replied.

Claire playfully swatted his arm with a stack of takeout menus. "Then here. Take your pick."

"Alright, boys, what're we in the mood for," Owen stepped over to the couch. "We got Chinese," he let the menu fall into Gray's lap. "We got pizza." This one fell into Zach's. "Falafels. Tacos." He read each and by the time he was done, there was a pile between the two brothers.

"There's too many to choose," Gray said.

"Alright. So here's what you do. Close your eyes," Owen waited for the boy to shut his eyes. "Reach into the pile and grab the first menu you touch." Zach looked on with a smirk as Gray fumbled with the papers, fingers finally closing around one. "Open 'em. What're we eating?"

"Chinese," he held the menu up like a trophy.

"Problem solved," Owen grinned, gathering up the remaining food options and reaching for the phone.

"So what's new?" Claire asked, reaching for the carton of lo mein. She was again reminded of how out-of-touch she had fallen with her nephews—that despite seeing them every other week, she hadn't actually talked to them in months. Not meaningfully.

"Zach got a new girlfriend!" Gray blurted and the older brother nudged him in the ribs.

"Shut up," Zach admonished but his voice was devoid of any harshness.

"It's true," Gray shrugged.

"Okay," Claire dragged the word out as she tried and failed to conceal a smirk. "What else is new? You excited for school?"

"Summer just started," Zach pointed out and it was Owen's turn to stifle his amusement.

"I'm starting seventh grade," Gray offered.

"That's awesome, sweetie," Claire's mouth formed the words but all she could think was my god, he's getting so big.

"Zach," Claire turned to her elder nephew. "Junior year?"

The teen dipped his head slightly, hummed an affirmative.

"Thought about college yet?" his aunt queried.

"Why does everybody keep asking that?" Zach responded, though he was clearly amused.

"I know a guy starting at Wisconsin-Madison," Owen piped up, sending a sly wink at the teenager. "S'posed to be a big deal. Some kinda raptor trainer or something crazy like that." Zach gave a knowing smile but kept quiet, a sure sign to Owen that the kid definitely had not thought about college yet.

There was a lull in the conversation and Claire looked around the table—Zach slurping his noodles, Gray picking out the baby corn, Owen reaching for seconds—and felt compelled to say something. Anything. Claire Dearing always knew what to say. Claire Dearing never left white space in a conversation unless she planned it that way. She looked to Owen, who noticed her apparent discomfort. "So what do you guys wanna do tomorrow," he jumped in to save her. "We can hike, we can swim, we can go to the lakes…"

"Can we go windsurfing?" Gray asked. "Mom never lets us go windsurfing!"

Owen and Claire exchanged a glance. "I think that can be arranged," he answered.

Add that to the list of things we don't tell Karen, Claire thought with a smirk.

The bedroom was exactly how Zach remembered it from their visit in February. Green like the surrounding trees. The bed was spread in a forest-colored comforter and turned down so that the cream-colored bedsheets were also visible. His bare feet sank into the plush, burgundy rug that spanned both sides of the queen-sized bed as he toweled off his wet hair, cinched the waist of his plaid lounge pants, and began rummaging in his suitcase for a t-shirt. His hands finally closed around a navy blue one and he pulled it over his head. That accomplished, he dragged the open suitcase to one corner and hung the towel up behind the door.

It was quiet. He could hear crickets and the occasional bullfrog out in the woods and when he pulled the curtains back to look outside, he was greeted with almost pitch blackness. Outside the room, he heard Gray padding down the hall from the bathroom, the bedroom door next to his shutting a moment later. Gray had slept in his own room for as long as Zach could remember—since the boy grew out of infancy. But in the months after Isla Nublar, Zach's room had more or less become Gray's room. Or vice versa. Inevitably, the boy would need comfort (or the teen would prefer to have his younger brother around, though he was always too proud to admit it outright). And while things had settled down since their dad moved out and time had begun its work in healing the two, Zach always felt an uneasiness in their own home, the feeling that he might have to go running down the hall to his brother's room at any minute. The nightmares were fewer and further between now, but the threat of them still loomed large for both Mitchells.

Claire and Owen—Uncle Owen's—was different, though. There was no underlying uneasiness creeping into the back of his mind the way it did at home. There was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that happened right before their parents got into a really bad fight, or the tense silence that followed. Not the kind of quiet the signaled something terrible was on the horizon. Just peace. A silence thick and heavy but comfortable at the same time. The teen let out a breath slowly, looked around the room at the green walls, curled his toes against the glossy wood floor, paced the room once, twice, three times. A bullfrog croaked. Gray shuffled around in the room next door. Downstairs, he heard Aunt Claire's ringing laugh at something Uncle Owen said. Zach bit back a smile of his own and finally flopped down on the bed, releasing a sigh of content as he let his feet dangle over the edge of the mattress and intently studied the fibers of the rug, fiddling with the corner to reveal the whoops and whorls of the woodgrain underneath.

His smile broadened. He had two homes—his mom's and his dad's. His mother's, while familiar, had become dreary as of late. He hadn't noticed during the school year but without their father, the large, two-story home, painted in yellow and trimmed in white, felt empty and cold. Too much house for just three people. And his father had the opposite problem—a townhouse barely big enough for three people, still cramped and cluttered with moving boxes even now, almost six months after the divorce was finalized and he had left the old house for good. But maybe, Zach thought. Maybe it's actually three homes.

A faint knock at the door. Gray poked his head in a moment later, his mop of hair still slicked down from the shower. "Zach?"

"What's up?" the teen picked himself up into a sitting position and faced his younger brother.

"Nothing," the boy shrugged. "I thought you were sleeping. It's quiet."

"Sure is," Zach drawled, reclining against the pillow with his hands resting behind his head. Gray hesitated, lingered in the doorway a bit longer. "You gonna be okay by yourself?" Zach asked.

"Yeah," the boy brightened after a moment. "We're going windsurfing tomorrow. Bet you'll wipe out more than me!" Gray challenged.

"You're on, dude," Zach broke out in an even wider grin. Gray returned the smile brightly and then left. Only the crickets were making noise now, aside from the occasional creak of the settling house. Just crickets and windsurfing and summer and home.

It was well past midnight when Owen and Claire finally came upstairs, the dog trailing loyally behind them. They paused in front of each boy's room. Zach's door was shut but light still escaped from the crack under the door, indicating the teen was either up or had fallen asleep before he could turn it off. Gray's room was quiet and the light was out. Claire smiled to her boyfriend as they moved on, finally sweeping into their own bedroom. The dog bounded past and settled in her own bed at the foot of Claire and Owen's.

"We got kids. Boys, too," Owen said, flopping down onto the bed as Claire removed her earrings and washed her face. She paused, frowning into the bathroom mirror, makeup wipe still pressed to her cheek.

"Why did you say it like that?" she questioned, poking her head out of the bathroom door and finding her boyfriend leaning against the headboard, two pillows propped behind him. He looked perplexed.

"Say what like what?" he asked.

Claire shook her head. "Never mind," she said, ducking back into the bathroom.

"What is it, Red?" Owen materialized in the doorway, resting his hands on either side of the frame. She avoided eye contact, dipping her head low over the sink and running cool water over her face. When she emerged, he was still standing there, eyeing her in the mirror. "What's wrong?"

Claire sighed. "It's dumb."

Owen's hands found purchase on either of her slender shoulders and he began to rub and kneed. "When've I ever thought anything you said was dumb?"

"Just…I don't know. Everybody's always talking about kids. My mom won't stop asking. Karen said something about kids earlier. Now you, too."

"Jesus, it hasn't been that long," Owen murmured, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he said louder, more directly to his girlfriend. "I was just kidding around. We're not ready to be parents…are we?"

"No!" Claire insisted, but she had relaxed significantly in Owen's arms. "No. Not yet."

"Maybe one day," Owen kissed the top of her head.

"One day," she agreed. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that one day was a very real, albeit long-term possibility.

"Let's focus on our kids for the week, first," Owen suggested.

"Windsurfing," Claire said with a conspiratorial smirk, sauntering through the bathroom door. Owen followed her out. "Karen's gonna kill me," she unbuttoned her blouse, left it in a pile on the floor and slipped into the night shirt that had been folded on the edge of the bed.

"Karen doesn't have to know," her boyfriend suggested.

"Great minds think alike, Mr. Grady," she answered, undoing her belt and exchanging her jeans for a pair of shorts. Owen flopped down onto the mattress and she climbed in beside him a moment later.

"We have kids for the week," Claire suddenly repeated his words from earlier. It struck her all of a sudden. This would be the longest period of time she'd ever had custody over her nephews—or anyone's kids for that matter—ever. Owen wore an enigmatic grin as he observed her. "What're we gonna do this week?" she asked. There was the Claire he knew and loved. Scheduling Claire. Itinerary-making Claire. The Claire that worried about all the little details. She had been so laidback initially and he had been wondering how long it would take for this side of her to surface. "Wait, they're here for the Fourth of July!" she realized. "What're we gonna do for that? Should we do a barbecue? Plan a party? Invite people?"

"Or," Owen interrupted her, as he was wont to do whenever she began to get worked up over under-planning, "we can take it one day at a time." He gripped her waist gently and rolled her onto her side so that she was nuzzling into him. She let out a puff of warm breath against his chest.

"Okay," she said. "One day at a time."

A/N: So I'm building a bit of a larger plot (and perhaps a little tension—not bad tension but just tension) into this one. And expanding on some characters and the aspects of their lives we haven't seen before. It's been fun for me to try to evolve each character's psyche a little more now that there's a half a year between them and Jurassic World. Please let me know if my characterizations were realistic, what needs work, etc. because this story also evolves based on the feedback I get. I'm so excited to share the rest of this with you! Thanks for reading so far and I'll update ASAP.