#NEARLY A YEAR LATER I FINALLY FIXED THIS SO THEY HAVE FRECKLES LMAO

[voidimp]

happy valentines day and also happy birthday mika!!

(left is x, right is mika, both use they/them pronouns!!)

[akastarlords]

home sweet home

2/?

chapter two and it only took me a year! lmao i know, i am garbage made flesh. i’m sorry. but last year was wild. but i love this story and i refuse to give up on it. also i’m flying out to australia thursday!! i’ll be there for a good while so hopefully more updates will follow while i’m there! anyway, this chapter has been a long time coming. sorry again and i hope it’s alright!

Owen woke up that morning with a sense of dread. He couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, or even why. Especially after dreaming about red hair and blue eyes. 

But as the day dragged slowly into evening, Owen began to relax. Nothing unusual happened. It was like every single routine morning since she left. 

A loud bark echoed from the porch, followed by a car door slamming shut. Great, just some unannounced visitor.

Owen sighed, scooping up the motor piece he had been working on and strolled out from the work shed. "Hey, settle down!" He called over to the bloodhound dog. 

Blue continued to bark at the newcomer, until Owen came up and patted her head. "Ah, she's all bark and no bite. Ain't ya, girl?"

Blue huffed and dropped her head back down. "How can I help you?" Owen asked, not bothering to glance at the new comer's way. 

"Well, for starters." They replied and the dread Owen felt in the pit of his stomach reared its ugly head. The motor piece fell from his hands. "You can come down here and give me a divorce."

Now, usually, Owen like to consider himself decent with the quick quips and sly comebacks. But for his life, not even a single coherent thought could even form in his mind at the sight of Claire Dearing standing in the front yard. 

Her long red locks that use to tangle around his fingers with ease were cut into a short and neat bob. Somehow the freckles that use to scatter across her cheeks, the very same ones he loved to kiss one by one, seemed to have vanish. 

Owen stomped across the porch and down to his truck. Claire rolled her eyes skyward, as she followed. "Owen, enough's enough. We've dragged this on for too long. Let's finish this, I have a plane to catch and-"

"You're shittin' me, right?" Owen grunted, facing her. Claire's nose wrinkled at the expression. She never could understand it.

"No, Owen. I'm not 'shitting' you." She replied as calmly as she could, and dug into her purse. Owen jerked his head back as Claire whipped out a manila folder inches from his face. "It's easy. See? It's even got idiot proof tabs."

"Oh, well golly." Owen commented dryly. "After seven years, that's the first thing you got to say to me?"

Blue lifted her head and let out a bark. Claire gave the floppy bloodhound and hesitant look, before narrowing her eyes back on Owen. "What do you want me to say?"

Owen leaned against the bed of the truck, a mocking look of thought crossing his face. He even tapped his chin for good measure. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'Hey there, Owen. Remember me? Your wife'? That's a good one, or even 'Hi, Honey. Lookin' good. How's the family?"

Claire crossed her arms, lifting a brow. "You expect me to tell you that you look good?" She asked. She gave his appearance a one over. Sure, not much had changed about Owen. It's like he never took the time to properly scrub himself clean, or try to use a razor weekly. But even after seven years, it worked for him. Even better now.

It was that and the way he'd surprise her with the soft words he spoke and daring promises he made that charmed Claire right into his arms. Claire stood straight and fixed her shoulders. "Did the run out of soap at the general store since I left?"

"Do they laugh up North?" Owen countered.

Claire poked at his chest. "You knew exactly where I was. You just never-"

Blue howled loudly, drowning out their argument.

At once they both shouted.

"Charlie, shut up!"

"Blue, shut up!"

Claire froze, eyeing the sleepy looking dog on the porch. "Blue?" She asked. "Where's Charlie?"

Sighing, Owen shook his head. "She died. Ya weren't here." He slipped passed her, yanking the truck door open. Claire stared at Blue, her mouth opening and closing before she turned back to Owen.

"What are you doing?"

"Leavin'." Owen answered as a matter of fact. "You should recognize the gesture."

He certainly was getting his jabs in. But Claire wasn't about to back down without throwing in a few of her own. Blocking the door, Claire braced herself against the side with her body.

"I know it'll be a great feat for you, Owen. But can we try to keep this as civilized as possible?" Claire said, holding the folder to him. "Please just sign these so I can go home?"

Owen scoffed. "That's rich. What do you know from home? I bet your sister and dad don't even know you're back in town."

"That's my business." Claire retorted, settling the folder on his lap. The papers fell into a mess at the ground as Owen climbed across the seats of the truck and came out on the other side.

"Honey, they're the only family you got."

"Don't you 'honey' me, I- Owen!" Claire shouted after the man as he marched back into the house, slamming the door after him. Claire stumbled slightly in the mud as her heels sunk in, but still made an impressive B-line for the door. 

"Owen! Open up!" she demanded, slamming her hand on the thin window. Owen appeared as he lifted the blinds, giving her a thoroughly over and done with look. "Call your family. Maybe we'll talk!" He snapped, tugging the blinds back down. They shot right back up. Claire stood there, watching as her husband tried in vain, once, twice, three times to keep the blinds shut. After the fifth time they shot back up, Owen practically tore them from the hinges and shook them in Claire's direction.

"Ya finished?" Claire asked, not even flinching at the way her well softened and hidden drawl came back to her. Owen threw the blinds down and stormed away. 

"Divorce. Right." Owen grumbled. Pausing, he eyes caught a flash of Claire's hair as she rounded the house. The garage door. Sprinting, Owen practically lunged himself over the couch and barreled into the garage, snapped the lock shut just as Claire twisted the knob.

The red that crossed Claire's face nearly put her hair to shame. Owen grinned lazily and held up his hands. "Good seein' you again, Claire." 

He heard her aggravated squeal as she walked away. Finally, maybe now he could process Claire's sudden arrival in peace. He walked back into the house, only to find the front door wide open.

"Hey, genius." Claire called from the dining room. She lifted her hand to show off the dirty key between her fingers. "If you wanna lock someone out, make sure they don't know where the spare key is hidden."

Owen didn't reply to her and instead looked to Blue who remained outside, watching the whole ordeal curiously. "Some watchdog you are."

Blue yawned and circled around back into a nap with a tired huff. Owen finally looked back to Claire. "Also, funny thing about hiding things, it'd be nice if your wife told you were she was." he said, this time, his voice was much more quiet. Claire shook her head.

"I'm not your wife, Owen. I'm just..."

Neither of them spoke. The seconds that passed almost felt like grueling minutes. Claire lifted her head. "I'm just the first girl to climb in the back of your truck."

Owen felt his body slack. Claire felt like she swallowed an entire rock. 

"I don't even know that girl anymore." Claire added. Owen nodded slowly, setting the can down, yanking up the phone from the table. 

"Well, lemme be the first to remind ya." Owen muttered, going into the next room, shutting the door. Claire sighed and dropped onto the couch. It sunk instantly under her weight, Claire reached out for anything to pull her out.

The same God awful couch that Owen had since he was a teenage, with the same deep dip and still he hadn't replaced it. Claire flashed an annoyed glare to the closed door. She really was dumb to think anything could have changed. 

Especially Owen.

-

Ten minutes later, Owen strolled out of the room with a satisfied look. "So, big into fashion up North?" he asked casually. Claire grunted as she finally pulled herself free from the couch. 

"What kind of question is that?"

Owen shrugged slightly. "Just wanted to know if stripes are in." It was almost too perfectly timed, as soon as Owen asked his question a police siren rang out. Claire paled. "You called the sheriff?!" she dated to the window and pressed herself to the wall in a fruitless attempt to hide herself. "You know he hates me!"

"For a damn good reason." Owen agreed, nodding. Opening the door wide. "Cuthers!" He called out. 

A much younger and not as angry looking Sheriff Cuthers stepped through the door, a wide grin on his face. 

"Hell's bells!" He greeted in Claire's direction. "If it ain't devil-may-care Claire!" Claire looked into the familiar face of her old friend, and found a smile pulling the corners of her lips. "Lowery? You're the sheriff?"

Lowery nearly beamed with pride. "Someone had to take over that old bat I call my dad. Besides, gettin' to spend my days frisking pretty things like you-"

"Try to be a professional here, Lowery." Owen cut in.

Lowery nodded but continued. "Hot damn, we've missed you around here, Claire. 'Specially Owen."

"Lowery." Owen snapped, jabbing a thumb at Claire. "She's a crime suspect. Breaking in and entering."

Claire cut in before Lowery could even get a chance to speak. "I didn't break in and enter. I used a key." She explained. Lowery held up his hands. 

"Sorry, Claire. It's still not your house. I'm gonna have to escort ya out." 

"Use the handcuffs." Owen suggested. The look Claire gave him should have put Owen twenty feet under. 

Claire backed away and held up the folder that had Owen rolling his eyes. "Not till he signs these divorce papers. Then I'll go."

Lowery glanced at Owen. "I thought ya said that was all cleared up. You're still married?"

By the stiff silence he got from them both, Lowery took it as a reluctant yes and snorted. "Then this is still her house, Owen. I ain't needed around here." He laughed. "You know, there isn't a single childhood memory I have that you two ain't apart of."

He walked to the door. Owen followed. "I set you up with your wife, Lowery! You owe me one! C'mon...what about that steak shop lifting from the Winn-Dixie?"

"I returned everything!" Claire defended herself. Lowery waved a hand.

"The..." Owen tried again. "The vandalism at the stockyard? Totally her!" He accused. He held out his arms wide, blocking Claire from reaching Lowery

"Like I could tip a cow by myself!" Claire gave Owen a scratching gaze. Lowery snorted, stepping outside. Owen finally had to draw his final card. 

"Lowery, ain't there an outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your mama's tractor into the fishing pond?"

Claire gasped, and covered her mouth. It was too late. Lowery turned slowly back to them. Owen slipped away. "Should've stuck with breaking and entering, Claire."

-

Boy where the black and white background stripes of a mug shot a familiar sight. Claire turned slowly and faced the camera. The flashing lights blinded her for a second and she realizes how much she didn't miss it at all. Usually Owen would be on the bench waiting his turn or already in a cell waiting for their parent's bail. 

But this...

"Turn." The officer snapped. Claire faced away, her mind already at work.

This was war.

(tagging: @dinosaurswowenough )