entrancelogs | the party don't start til...

the party don't start til...

Who: Annie and YOU GREAT PARTY GOERS
Where: the beach, near the docks.
When: saturday the 14th, starting at 5pm
Rating: M (or R?) just to be safe~
Summary: Annie's sick of every event being awful, so why not make her own event?? Yeah??? JUST COME PARTY YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO
The Story:

Behold! The world's most thrown together invitation to the most thrown together party that Annie has ever thrown. You probably got one if you live in the mansion. Or spend any time there at all. They were posted on doors, shoved under them, and even, in some special cases, rolled up and put into fruit baskets and left at the entrance to the caves. But anyway.

Come one, come all!

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Thanks for your help, D'Artagnan. [He glances up at him, giving him a tight smile; Owen knows how awkward this must be for him, but he's bad at expressing things like appreciation.

And then he's glancing down at Clara's abdomen. It's not quite as bad as he thought; the bleeding is at least sluggish now, and he moves away to start gathering supplies.] Plenty of stitches, I think, and consequently bedrest - not the enjoyable sort, I'm afraid, but the kind where you can't exert yourself because you really don't want to rip your stitches.

You can -

[Clara turns her head to ask him to stay, but she doesn't know if that would make things more awkward or not. So she falls silent and turns her eyes to the ceiling instead, nodding slowly to what Owen's telling her.]

Right. Didn't get enough staying in bed after coming back here. Great I get to do it all over again.

[Owen starts scrubbing his hands and forearms in the sink, trying to ignore the fact that it's Clara's blood swirling down the drain, then dries his hands and pulls a pair of latex gloves on.]

Maybe you ought to run away from scary things with giant fucking needle-sword arms next time. Just a suggestion.

[Judging by his tone, he's not exactly happy with her actions.]

[She tries to sit up at that point, even though it hurts and causes things to gush. She doesn't care, she wants to fix him with a look.]

So sorry for attempting to figure out what the hell was going on! Also? I don't walk away. Not from danger, not when people I care about might be the ones hurt instead.

[And judging from her tone, she's not happy with his not being happy. It's just a lot of unhappy tension up in here now, and she isn't quite sure how to get the message across that she'll always choose to be the one that gets hurt instead of him, or anyone else she cares for.]

Edited 2013-09-17 05:48 (UTC)

[He fixes her with a stern look in return, pressing her back down firmly.]

If I even have to do a sodding blood transfusion, Clara, I am going to be really pissed off. You could have died, all right? You still could die if I don't stop this bleeding.

[He thinks of Tosh for a moment, shot and bleeding out while he didn't even know, and it hurts. He's seeing Clara there in the Hub in his mind's eye, while he rages over the communicators, and that terrifies him.]

You were fucking defenceless, Clara. That thing could've run you through in the blink of an eye - it nearly did - and I- I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing while you died there on the sand.

[His voice cracks towards the end, and his hands tremble as he fills a syringe with local anaesthetic and injects her carefully.]

[She scowls as she feels the tiny pinch of the needle, but knows he's being gentle with her despite being emotional. She knows she's worried him, and while she doesn't like the thought of dying, she's resigned herself to the fact that it will probably happen to her eventually.]

I would've been back in a day's time if I had.

[Of course, she knows this isn't necessarily true, because she had been so afraid Owen wouldn't come back after his death a month or so ago. So she gets teary eyed, which she doesn't want him to see, and she flops her head over to stare at the wall instead of at him. She's hurt him enough tonight, she doesn't want to make it worse by crying where he can see.]

You'll stop the bleeding, and I'll be just fine. You said so yourself, plenty of stitches and bedrest.

That doesn't mean I want it to happen, Clara. What if-

[He cuts himself off, shaking his head. He doesn't want to voice that fear; she knows it as well as he does.]

I've told you before. The worst thing about being a doctor is that no matter how many people you save, it's never the ones who matter most. It's happened to me before, and I don't want you to die while I watch.

[Owen swallows past the lump in his throat and begins gently cleaning her wound instead, wiping it down with antiseptic-soaked gauze.]

[Her stomach muscles twitch, despite her best efforts to hold still. She wants to stop him from what he's doing and just hold his hand and sit up and hold him and tell him that she's just fine, but she figures there's a lot more to this than what he's saying right now.]

It won't happen to us. You won't watch me die.

[She knows she can't promise that, but she feels the need to have some sort of bravado.]

Saying that is practically begging fate to come along and fuck you over. You realise that, right? [He snorts as he threads a needle.] Don't know if you've been paying attention, Clara, but fate fucking me over is basically the story of my entire life. And my afterlife, too.

[It's why he's so afraid of being happy, because he knows what happens next, and he can't lose Clara. Not now.]

This is going to feel a little weird. Just take deep breaths and try to hold still, okay? [He bends down again and carefully starts stitching her up.] At least you'll get to have some really good painkillers for awhile.

[She opens her mouth to try and say something reassuring, but it's cut off by a hiss. Instead, she bites down on her lip in concentration, holding as still as possible.]

Oh yeah, just love being knocked out for entire chunks of the day. Might as well ask you to keep me in here, so that I'll at least be able to see you in any fleeting moments of clarity.

[He should know from her little injury after her return how great she is about taking any medicine at all, she just doesn't, not until the pain gets so horrible she can't stand it any longer.]

Also. Dunno if you've been paying attention, Owen, but I've got a tendency to defy fate. I'm the impossible girl, remember?

[He has every intention of shoving the drugs down her throat, because he knows perfectly well that she'll need them.]

I'll probably have to spend all my time with you anyway to make sure you're actually staying in bed. I know exactly how you are, thanks.

[He glances up at her then, giving her a tight smile before going back to work. At least he's quick and efficient about it.]

What I know is that you have no idea whether you're alive or dead back home. But all right, you can defy fate all you like, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to be bloody worried about it. I- well, you know. I'm not likely to stop worrying about you anytime soon.

Love you too.

[She mutters under her breath, taking in a sharp intake of air as a particular series of stitches is a little awkward feeling. She's glad it doesn't hurt much worse than the injury itself, though she's certain his little injection has a lot to do with that.]

I'm going to be fine, Owen. Because of you. Promise I'll be more careful, though. It's not like I want to die, not here or back home.

[She doesn't even bother arguing against the fact he'll have to make sure she actually stays in bed, because the first chance she sees freedom, she's going to be up and moving around. Staying still for too long drives her crazy.]

[His smile this time is a bit broader and more than a little smitten, though he only allows himself a moment of distraction before he continues on with his work.]

As long as you try. [He doesn't really expect her to stop doing stupid heroic things, but the promise makes him feel a little better.] Not like you'll have much of a choice for the next couple weeks, anyway.

[He finishes his stitching and ties the thread off, snipping it with a pair of scissors before he moves on to bandaging the wound.]

Good, that part's over.

[She allows her stomach to get in all kinds of twitching, and her breathing becomes more deep and less regulated as she worries less about holding perfectly still. Also, she's referring to both the fact their little argument seems to have ceased, and the fact she managed to let the l-word slip without much fuss being made. All in all it's a success.

She waits until she thinks he's almost done bandaging up the wound, and then her hand wraps around his wrist to still him.]

Meant it though. Every word.

[About the trying to stay out of trouble, and that other thing too.]

[And since she isn't in immediate danger of bleeding to death anymore, he pauses in his work to lean up and kiss her briefly.]

I know you did.

[He'd stroke her cheek, but his hands are kind of bloody right now. Yeah. Really gross and not at all romantic.]

[Yeah, last thing she wants is to be touched with her own blood. Definitely not romantic. But she's all too pleased to get that kiss, and as far as she's concerned, their brief spat is now over and forgotten.

Of course, he hasn't said the thing back to her, which is a little dismaying, but she figures he will eventually. When it feels right for him.]

Think I'm just about ready to head to our room. Unless you think I should stay here for the night?

[He's got issues. He'll get around to it eventually, really. Owen finishes his bandaging, taping the dressing into place.]

Nah, I can keep you under observation just as easily there as I can here. [He flashes her a quick wink before he moves to pick her up again.] Besides, it'll be easier to clean you up there.

We have to shower together again?

[This is said much like a child that's about to refuse getting a bath before bed. She doesn't want to move, much less have Owen keep looking at her stitches so he's constantly reminded of how reckless she is.]

You know, you're usually much more enthusiastic about the prospect of showering with me.

[...because, really, do you think they haven't had sex in the shower? ~~hint: they have.~~]

No showering for you, though. I just want to wipe the rest of the blood off you tonight - starting tomorrow, you can take baths.

[~~They probably do frequently, sssh.~~ She sighs in relief at the fact he's not expecting a lot of movement or anything out of her, and nods in agreement.]

Right then, let's head on up. Also, figure I'll be all kinds of enthusiastic about you, me, and a shower again the day it doesn't hurt to breathe.

Yeah, this is sort of gonna curtail things for awhile. [He grimaces as he starts heading back to their room.] But I'll manage - sure you will, too. [Since she has more things to worry about than whether or not she's having sex.]

[She laughs. Loudly.

Of course they'd be talking about sex at a time like this. The laughter hurts, but she ignores it, and instead turns her head so her face is buried up against his neck. ]

Think we'll both survive. For a day or two, at least.

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