Prompt: Bloody Hands

Title: Natural Instincts

Fandom: Jurassic World (2015)

Warnings: Mentions of open wounds, blood

Word Count: 3,385

Synopsis: After a rather chaotic day that was made worse by a seemingly never ending relentless rainstorm, Y/N finds herself in a situation she could've sworn she never wanted to be in... but her instincts disagree.

----

Natural Instincts

To say you were in shock was an understatement.

You had just quite literally been saved from the jaws of death by a man you'd found yourself spending more and more time alongside.

The same man who also possess a bond with the creatures you'd found yourself quickly becoming cornered by a mere few minutes earlier.

And now, as the pair of you sit huddled under a patio umbrella, the rain coming down even more relentlessly than before, you allow a shiver to dance through your body, the thin material of your work uniform drenched and cold with no apparent chance to dry anytime soon.

"We haven't had rain like this in quite some time!" Your companion practically shouts over the noise, leaning closer towards you, the picnic table separating you both feeling substantially larger than it should be. "Should liven things up a bit around here!"

All you can do is offer a small nod and a smile in return, hugging yourself in a vain attempt to stay warm as the downpour continues, with no end in sight - heavy, grey clouds looming on the horizon.

It had been this rain that had caused your prior mishap.

One wrong step and you'd found yourself losing your balance and plummeting into the foliage of the Raptor enclosure below, which, had softened your landing a bit, but it still hurt.

You hadn't had much concern about your possible injuries though, as you'd clambered haphazardly to your feet, your head on a swivel, senses on high alert.

The four Raptors that you'd spent countless hours training and observing... they'd have heard your fall... and likely to come running in hopes of what they might very well consider a snack.

Though, to your surprise, they'd never even made it close to you.

Without hesitation, he'd leaped in after you and quickly put himself between the four of them and your beaten up figure, no doubt a ghostly pale.

It had all been such a blur... in fact, all you can remember is the way he'd looked at you while keeping the Raptors calm... his gaze full of utter concern, features stern yet creased in a certain type of worry you hadn't seen from a man in what seemed like-

"Now's our chance if we want to get out of this," Owen's compassionate tone pulls you from your thoughts and roots you back to the present, your eyes widening in surprise as you quickly meet his gaze, earning a light chuckle from him.

"What did you say?" You stammer, the back of your neck involuntarily getting warm as his familiar grin spreads across his features.

"I said now's our chance to get out of this rain; change into some drier clothes," He explains, gaze holding yours with a humored glimmer in it.

Sighing, you shimmy backwards against the wet wooden bench beneath you, craning your gaze to the momentarily less dark sky above you.

"We won't be able to make it back before those next clouds decide to open up," You mutter, frowning as you turn your attention back to the man in front of you, his features shifted into a look of certainty. "What do you have in mind, Owen?"

"Well, I know you won't like the sound of this, but-"

You stop him mid-sentence, sighing heavily, inwardly willing the heat crawling up the back of your neck doesn't creep onto your cheeks.

"I'm not going to your place."

Owen just shakes his head with yet another chuckle, giving you a look of confirmed disbelief.

"I told you you wouldn't like the sound of it, but it's the only chance we got to actually get out of this rain. And by the looks of you, you're freezing. Doesn't make much sense to stay out here in the cold and damp when all I'm offering you is shelter."

"Is that all you're offering me, Grady?"

Raising his hands in a demonstration of mock surrender and honesty, he nods, sincerity shining in his gaze.

"Unless you'd like me to add anything else to this arrangement, then yes, shelter is all I'm offering at the moment."

You can practically feel the heat burning on your cheeks at his remark, though you will yourself to calm down, shoving down the sudden fury of emotions.

"Alright," You sigh as Owen clambers to his feet, his evidently soaked figure extending a welcoming hand down towards you, which you accept with a tentative reach, your body aching in protest as you're hauled to your own two feet and guided towards a nearby quad, equally as soaked as the two of you.

And as you both climb onto the rather nasty feeling seat, you quickly find yourself speeding through the familiar paths of the jungle, clinging to a man who you'd swore you'd never feel anything towards... but maybe...

No. Nothing else. We're Partners. Seeking shelter from the rain. That's it.

****

Turns out, Owen's prediction hadn't quite turned out to be one-hundred percent accurate.

The skies had opened up once again on your way to his place, and after nearly getting stuck along the mud-ridden trails, it came as a welcome relief when he'd helped you off the quad and guided your now muddy and soaked to the bone figure towards the entrance to his small bungalow.

"Don't worry about making a mess of anything," He'd declared as you'd cast your gaze around your new surroundings, a rather comforting scent lingering in the air.

You watch with a hazy gaze as he scrambles to turn on some lights, the warm glow of the lamps rather mesmerizing as they illuminate the quaint space against the now much darker world outside the large windows to your back.

It surprises you slightly, how organized the space around you is.

To someone from the outside, it might appear messy and filled with clutter - but to you...

You've worked alongside Owen Grady long enough to get a gist of how he functions... and as a former Navy man... organization, though not necessarily traditional, tends to stick.

Various books and notes lie scattered across the coffee table you're practically stumbling towards, the evidently lone, worn leather couch looking immensely inviting.

Though, you resist the urge to lie down right then and there, yet another shiver racking through your frame serving as a sharp reminder of your current state.

"You got a kettle?" You holler towards where Owen had previously disappeared, presumably to the bedroom to scrounge up some dry clothes as you stumble into the smaller kitchenette, a coffee mug and a lone plate sitting dirty in the sink.

"Yeah! Bottom cupboard to your right! Tea bags are in the drawer above that!"

You allow a slight grin to tug at your lips as you crouch down towards the specified cupboard, humming contentedly as the desired item meets your grasp before wandering back upwards yet again finding a rather minimal selection of relatively ordinary types of tea.

"I wouldn't have ever taken you as the type of guy to have tea bags lying around," You tease softly as light yet authoritative footsteps meet your senses, turning to face your Partner with a gentle grin.

At this, his evidently now much drier figure shrugs, taking the kettle from your grasp and switching it with a bundle of clothes, earning a huff of offense and surprise from you.

"They're the best I could find," He explains, ignoring your teasing as he fills up the kettle and places it on the stovetop, making quick work of igniting it and re-focusing his attention on you. "Better than what you're working with now, though."

A soft "yeah," is all that falls from your lips as you wander the way he had came from previously, so caught up in your own thoughts that you barely even comprehend the fact that you'd somehow made it to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, your reflection looking back at you pale and utterly exhausted.

I look like I'm dead.

Wincing and hissing in pain, you begin to shed your damp clothes, glancing skeptically at the outer and under garments Owen had managed to find for you.

The outer clothes appear to just be some pieces of his own lounge wear - an evidently well-loved light grey, almost white, Henley shirt and a pair of black joggers.

The undergarments though...

Certainly clean, you determine upon inspecting them.

Though you certainly do not want to know where these originated from, that is for sure.

Shrugging the dry clothing on is a bit of a chore, but after some struggle and a few moments of running your fingers and a washcloth across your features and through your hair, the feeling of the dirt and grime of the outdoors is gradually wearing away.

The whistle of the kettle back in the kitchen is what catches your rather fatigued attention, your hand resting heavy on the cool metal of the doorknob for a moment before yanking the door open and leaving the bathroom behind, your footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

The outside world has become even darker than before, whether from the prospect of nightfall or what appears to be the threat of an impending thunderstorm, you're uncertain.

But the one thing you're immensely certain of is how heavy your eyes are becoming, a rising, immovable haze refusing to clear no matter how much you try to blink and rub it away.

Stifling back a yawn, you round the corner back into the main living space, your Partner's broader figure standing behind the kitchen island, kettle in hand, as he pours the hot water into two mugs, the steam rising lazily.

"Nice shirt," He muses teasingly as he nears where you stand, your own gaze wandering over him.

You hadn't even realized you'd come to a halt upon rounding the corner, nor had you even comprehended your sudden wandering gaze, coupled by the rising heat of a blush dusting your cheeks.

"Thanks," Is all you can murmur in reply as you turn on your heel and follow after him, settling back against the rather plush couch cushions, sighing in relief.

Though you're innately aware of just how close you are to his side, the lone leather couch in the small living space housing the pair of you.

The rain continues it's relentless pounding, the steady rhythm against the tin roof above you a rather lulling sensation, though the occasional accompanying rumble of thunder and crackle of lightning keeps you on your toes.

"I wonder what the animals think of this weather," You hum softly, turning to face the man at your side, unconsciously shifting closer. "Do you think they like it?"

At this, Owen just chuckles, shaking his head with a sigh.

"I'm sure they're just fine. They've adapted to their surroundings, just like we have. And even if they are afraid, they have their natural instincts to fall back on."

"How so?"

"Well, it doesn't take a scientist to understand the basics of strength in numbers and behavioral tendencies. Those species that are simply inherently weaker or those who are afraid, will run to their strongest member, or they'll simply hide themselves away and wait out whatever it is they are so afraid of," Your Partner explains, his tone low, the edges of his lips twitching upwards into the slightest of smiles.

"You're not implying that because I'm a woman I'm inherently-"

A sudden, simultaneous crackle of thunder and lightning combined rumbles through your core and shakes your surroundings, your body involuntarily leaping in surprise...

Right into a pair of open arms that pull you closer into his side.

"Weaker? No. Possess a tendency to react to surprise with more emotion? A proven fact," Owen practically whispers as you find yourself melting beneath his touch, an instinctive sense of safety flooding through you.

Though that safety is soon replaced by a new sensation radiating through your lower back, a steady throbbing making it's way through your body and resonating within your brain.

For awhile, you ignore it, simply enjoying the quiet moment practically hidden away in your Partner's arms, the lingering thoughts of plausible explanations of your current situation bubbling to the forefront of your mind.

But when you finally wiggle free from his grasp and reach forward towards the coffee table to grasp the cup of tea that should now likely be cooled to a much more tolerable temperature, a firm yet gentle grip on your torso resonates with you, accompanied by an unmoving arm extended in front of you, effectively preventing you from bending forward any further.

"Owen, what are you-" You begin, pure confusion echoing in your thoughts as you crane your neck to meet his gaze, his own resting heavy on yours, glistening with concern.

"You have a cut on your lower back," He explains, tone low, voice even - unwavering. "It must've sealed over with your wet clothes before, but now that those are gone and you bending  forward..."

"It's opened up," You finish for him, the warmth of wet blood trickling down your back making you wince, a whimper of pain involuntarily being pulled from your lips. "How in the world did I not feel this 'till now?"

"No idea," Comes the reply, the arm in front of you pressing deeper into you now as you feel yourself give out, the events from today, coupled with your rising fatigue and the sudden injury making your vision swim. "But it's alright. I'll get you patched up."

A light silence settles between the pair of you as the wound on your back continues to burn, the blood gradually trickling down your back and seeping into the previously dry and clean clothes.

"Can you lie on your stomach for me?" Owen murmurs, tone full of utmost compassion as your pain continues to mount, the arm that had been supporting you leaving. "I've gotta go find something to fix this... I'll be right back, though."

Once more, a wordless groan of pain is pulled from your lips as you're helped onto your stomach, your Partner's gentle touch lifting the shirt you wear, exposing the wound to the cold air yet again earning a hiss of pain.

"Easy... Easy... You'll be okay," He coaxes, a lightly reassuring squeeze on your shoulder breaking through the pain for a moment.

Inwardly, you want to scold him for treating you like one of his Raptors - talking to you like you're some kind of wounded animal.

Yet... as your mind drifts on the clouds of fatigue and pain, you can't help but chuckle, a certain swell of thankfulness and slight disbelief rising within you.

Maybe man and beast aren't so different after all.

Footsteps reach your muddled senses as you twist to see their source.

Brow creased in concern, Owen Grady approaches you, gaze locking with yours as he comes to a halt by your side, kneeling on the plush carpet beneath so he remains at your level.

Though as he begins to rummage through the tin First Aid kit, the sounds sounding incredibly muted, a pang of concern ripples through you, eyes widening, your free hand gesturing to his own hands.

A set of large, calloused, rough yet gentle hands...

Covered in blood.

Your blood.

"It's that bad?" You croak, feeling the color drain away from your features as realization cascades over you like a wave.

"It's not that bad," Owen chuckles in a vain attempt to ease your concerns, his bloodied fingers tearing away strips of gauze and surgical tape. "I've dealt with worse. All we're gonna do is clean it out and bandage it up and then you'll be good to go. Okay?"

You barely hear your no doubt pathetic response as something at first, cold, makes contact with your bare skin, working it's way into the wound and quickly beginning to burn, an agonized cry of pain being pulled from your dry, chapped lips.

"It's alright. Just breathe through it."

His soothing tone is merely a distant sort of noise, your head swimming in a sea of raging waters, threating to pull you under-

But a hand finds yours.

And you grip it with all your might as it holds you above the raging waves, keeping you in the realm of consciousness, albeit a foggy one.

Though as time passes and your grip around the hand begins to loosen, you find your senses trickling back to you, your labored breathing coupled with soft, reassuring murmurings reaching your ears.

"You're okay. You're alright. One last piece of tape and you're all patched up," You can barely make out Owen's murmurs as you will your breathing and wild heartbeat to calm down, the presence of his hands finishing up their work on your wounded back a comfort.

And as you lie there, simply letting yourself calm down and come back to your senses, a new sensation is gradually working it's way through you, a certain heat rising to your cheeks as your Partner tidies up the gauze and tape before re-focusing on you, compassion and relief shining in his warm gaze.

Without even realizing it, you find yourself working your way to an upright position so quick, that the man in front of you barely has any time to respond, a look of urgency creasing his brow as he moves to try and stop you, his hands falling heavy on your shoulders.

Though as he stands in front of you, gaze resting heavy on yours that is already gazing up at him, your heart begins to race once again, though this time, there's no pain to accompany it.

Instead, you find your way to your own two feet, the hands that had been resting on your shoulders ghosting along your sides and down to your hips, a sudden shared sense of something... utterly instinctual falling between the pair of you.

And as your lips meet his in a kiss that's almost... primal, it's almost as if you've done this a thousand times over, your hands finding themselves roaming across his arms and into his hair, his own touch dancing across your clammy skin, earning new types of almost silent whimpers from you.

But, as the instinct for air and the better, more sophisticated side of you both quickly surface, you find yourselves panting, foreheads touching, his hands back on your hips, pulling you closer.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Owen mutters, voice low and slightly rough as you wrap him in an embrace, your still trembling frame resting against his stronger one for support.

"I figured I had to say thank you somehow," You breathe as his lips make contact with your cheek, earning another rush of emotions from you, though you shove them down. "And frankly, I was just following my natural instincts like you suggested."

The man holding you close just laughs, stepping away from you slightly to look you in the eye, a certain dark honesty glimmering in his warmly illuminated gaze.

"At least you know when to call it a day. If I followed my instincts to a tee, we'd-"

A certain swell of a blush burns red-hot on your cheeks as you cut his sentence short, knowing right well that now certainly is not the time nor the place for anything such as his suggestive comment.

"Thank you, Owen."

The man in front of you chuckles, grinning in understanding and teasing.

"For the save from the Raptors or for getting you outta the rain or for patching you up?"

Swatting his arm playfully, you watch as he shifts away from you and shrinks down towards the leather couch, laying on his side and patting the empty space next to him.

"All of the above," You mutter with a light laugh as you carefully join him at his side, his arms finding your torso and softly pulling you close.

"Try and get some rest, Y/N."

And with that, you find yourself laying in the arms of someone who you swore you'd never feel anything for, but it would seem that no matter how hard the logical, more advanced side of you disagrees...

The simple, primitive side of you falls even harder, rendering your logic invalid in moments like these.

Which, for once, you're thankful for.

After all, it is just instinct.