So this is not part of the series I've been crafting with my other Jurassic World stories but instead inspired by the fact that I live in the part of Florida that has had rain almost every single day since early July, and I'm freaking sick of it, haha. This is my first rain-free weekend in months!

I'll get back to my series soon, but until then, enjoy this bit of Clawen fluff!

Owen Grady loved the rain. Sure, it wasn't always so great when he was deployed with the military, but in Costa Rica, on Isla Nublar, Owen had learned to love it. It wasn't just because the water falling from the sky typically made his raptors more playful than usual (which was always a sight to see.) The humidity in the air could sometimes be hell, but the rain and the corresponding clouds cooled everything off, bringing temporary relief from the hot, Central American sun. The sounds were calming and soothing, whether coming down in a drizzle or a full-blown deluge, and, as a fan of nature in general, Owen had grown to love lying in his bungalow and listening to the storms outside.

Claire Dearing, however, hated the rain and always had. The moisture in the air did terrible things to her perfectly styled hair, making it frizz in every which way, and once she had arrived on Isla Nublar, she quickly learned that there was nothing quite like a downpour to absolutely obliterate the day's guest satisfaction statistics. No one wanted to be in a theme park in the rain. Attractions were closed, shows were cancelled, every covered space became cramped and crowded, and the gift shops charged almost 9 dollars for a sheet of plastic that, if Claire were being honest, only minimally served its intended purpose in keeping the guests dry.

Those aggravations were true of any theme park in the world, not just Jurassic World, and while their prices – merchandise, admission, and otherwise – were relatively on par with places like Disney and Universal, they were much less easily accessed than places like Disney and Universal, so trips to her theme park, more often than not, truly were once-in-a-lifetime, and when the rain came (and didn't go away quickly, something the guests always seemed to stupidly blame on her employees) and vacations were ruined, it wasn't just the dinosaurs that seemed increasingly bigger, louder, scarier. Add that to the fact that she was prone to weather-related headaches, and rain was not something she looked forward to.

But Jurassic World, in its glorious theme park format, was a thing of the past, at least for the time being. Owen's bungalow, that was a thing of the past, too, lying abandoned, just as he'd left it on that fateful day, on the darkened island. Even still, Owen still loved the rain, and Claire still wished it would just go away.

She pulled her key from the door of the little apartment she shared with Owen. The team dealing with the post-incident Jurassic World had settled in the Masrani office in San Jose, Costa Rica, and, after growing tired of hotels but not of sticking together, with both of their former residences back on the island no one had dared brave yet, Claire and Owen had found a little, furnished one bedroom apartment that allowed for month-to-month renting. It wasn't a forever home, but it would do until things settled, possessions could be reclaimed, and bigger, more permanent decisions could be made.

The apartment was dark as she wandered in, happy to be home, her hair dripping and her dress clinging to her damp skin after getting caught in the unexpected but lengthy storm outside. Her car was on the island, too, but the apartment was close enough to the Masrani offices that she could just walk to work most days, a decision she was now severely regretting. Claire left her wet shoes by the front door and let her toes sink into the carpet as she headed for the bathroom to retrieve a towel. She normally came home to Owen in the kitchen, cooking dinner and singing some silly song, but everything was still and dark and quiet, save for the thunder crashing outside and the rain beating on the roof of their top-floor home, and she wondered if he was even there.

The bathroom was nestled inside of the bedroom suite, and she arrived at the door to the bedroom to find it as dark and quiet as the living room. Just enough daylight spilled in from the opened blinds to illuminate his large frame on their even larger bed. Owen was lying on his back, eyes closed, one arm resting on his stomach, the other bent behind his head. She paused.

"Owen?" she said cautiously, her voice hushed.

"Hey, baby," he replied in a raspy voice.

Her lips curved into a small smile at the pet name he typically only used in the dead of night. "Were you sleeping?" she asked.

"Nah," he said.

His voice sounded lively and bright, so she flipped the switch at the doorway, bathing the room in the bright overhead light. He instantly groaned and scrunched his eyes shut, telling her to turn the damn light off.

"Okay, sorry," she said, flipping the switch back to the off position. By the time his face relaxed, she had made her way over to him and was touching his forehead with her palm. "Are you alright? Do you feel okay?"

He batted her hand away when she flipped it around to test his skin with the back of her hand. "I'm fine," he chuckled. "I'm just listening to the rain."

Claire rolled her eyes and started making her way towards the bathroom. "That's a productive use of your time," she said sarcastically.

He knew she was working a hell of a lot harder than he was these days (and probably always had, if he were being honest with himself), his presence only being requested at Masrani Global a few days a week. Despite his better judgment, he replied, "Oh-kay, what's got you so crabby?"

"I'm not crabby," she huffed.

She yanked the door of the bathroom closet open with so much force, it banged against the wall as it swung open. From his place on the bed, Owen finally opened his eyes and looked towards the bathroom. He couldn't see her face, just her arm curled around the opened closet door.

"Bad day?" he asked.

She sighed again, stress still permeating her being. The throbbing in her head wasn't helping her mood. She grabbed a towel and started patting down her bare arms.

"Is there any other kind right now?" she groaned. "This stupid rain is not helping anything."

"What? You don't like the rain?" he asked, slipping his eyes shut again.

"I could do without it," she replied, wrapping the dripping strands of her darkened red hair in the towel as she made her way back to the bedroom.

"Why?" he asked. "You don't find it kinda nice?"

She glared at him, despite the fact that his eyes were closed. "Imagine how bad the guest satisfaction numbers would be, had we polled people before fully evacuating the island a few weeks ago," she said.

He chuckled. "Okay," he said, eager to see where she was going with this.

"The numbers when it rains are only slightly higher than that," she told him.

Owen laughed at what he hoped was her obvious exaggeration. "The park's closed, honey," he said, finally opening his eyes again to take a peek at her. Her hair was flat and beginning to curl, and even in the dark, he could tell her dress was a few shades darker than it had been when she left that morning. "Oh, you got wet."

"Yeah," she grumbled. "I was about halfway home when it started."

The look he was giving her was about 50 percent amused and 50 percent turned on, and since she was mentally conceding to his assessment of her crabby mood, she 100 percent wanted to smack it off his face. The rain outside grew harder, and Claire let out an audible noise of disgust.

"Okay, come here," he chuckled, finally swinging himself up.

He walked on his knees across the mattress until he reached the edge closest to her and pulled her to him. His hands curled around her back until they found the zipper on her dress, and he slowly dragged it down its track. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly to the side as she glared at him, clearly not in the mood.

"Owen," she said accusingly.

"Claire," he replied, matching her tone. "You can't stay in these wet clothes," he argued, a bit of a wicked grin gracing his face as he tugged the sleeves down off her shoulders.

She had been eager to pull the wet garment from her body as soon as she walked in the door, so she let him continue. He pulled the dress down over her hips until gravity took over and it dropped to the floor. Owen rested his hands on either side of her waist as he leaned in for a proper hello kiss, running them over her skin as their lips met. Her skin was cold and clammy, and goosebumps peppered her flesh. He hooked his finger into the fabric of her bra between her breasts and tugged.

"Take this off," he murmured.

Claire reached behind her back to unhook the damp lingerie as Owen pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in just a pair of sweatpants. She sighed as the bra dropped to the floor next to the dress still pooled at her ankles. The storm was still raging outside, which meant the migraine was still raging in her skull.

"Owen, I wasn't kidding; I'm really not…" Claire started.

She stopped mid-sentence, speechless in surprise as Owen pushed the shirt he'd just removed from his body over her head. She pulled the shirt the rest of the way on, looping her arms through the proper holes in the fabric, and reached underneath to discard her rain-soaked panties while Owen watched with that same smirk from before. The urge to smack him didn't feel quite as strong now that warm, dry cotton settled against her skin, so she looked at him, waiting to be apprised of his plan.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Dearing," he teased. "Jeez, all about sex with you…"

Claire decided she wasn't even going to dignify that with a response – no head tilts, no eye rolls, no pot calling the kettle black comments – and stared straight at him, her face stern and aggravated.

"I am going to teach you to love the rain," Owen said confidently, grabbing her waist again.

"I seriously doubt that," Claire muttered.

He pulled her onto the mattress with him. Owen lay back down on his back, expecting her to curl up next to him. When she didn't, he popped one eye open, whistled lightly, and pointed to his side. Claire's eyes widened as her gaze somehow grew harsher.

"Excuse me," she said. "Did you just whistle at me like I'm one of your damn raptors?"

"Okay, that was dumb," Owen admitted, his heart sinking a bit at the damn raptors comment. "I'm sorry. Come here."

"My hair's all wet," she sighed.

"That's why I took my shirt off," Owen said.

"Oh, and here I thought that was for me," Claire replied, fingering the edges of the shirt he'd given her.

"That, too. Come here," Owen said again.

A beat of pain pulsated in her head, and she acquiesced to his request, tucking her head beneath his chin as she curled into his side. Her arm fell across his bare chest as one of his hands came up to brush her bangs to the side. Owen kissed the newly exposed skin of her forehead.

"Relax," he whispered.

The darkened room was quiet, save for the sounds of the storm outside. It wasn't until several minutes later, when his fingers started massaging her head and around her ear that he felt her really melt into him. He grinned as he felt the tension finally leave her body, glad that her pain was seemingly lifting.

"How did you know?" she asked with awe, breaking the silence.

He chuckled at her tone and said, "The day we met. You called a meeting with all of us on the raptor project, demanding to know exactly what the hell we were doing out there when we didn't even really know ourselves. The weather went to shit almost as soon as we got to the control building, and you spent half the meeting rubbing your temple." He put on a joking tone again and finished with, "I thought it was me, but…"

"God, how do you remember that?" Claire asked.

"You were beautiful," Owen said. "Confident as hell. Those are things I remember."

She simply moaned a little in response, her eyes finally slipping shut. Everything suddenly felt so good – his body beneath hers, his warm shirt on her skin, his fingers in her hair – that she almost forgot about the pounding rain outside. She slipped one of her legs between his, their bare feet tangling together. Between the steady, soothing motion of his fingers against her scalp and the rhythmic beating of the rain outside their windows, Claire knew she wasn't going to be long for the conscious world. Owen opened his eyes just enough to glance down at Claire, and a small smile teased his lips.

"Rain's not so bad now, huh?" he asked.

"You are not so bad," Claire murmured. "Jury's still out on the rain."

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you've got some time :)