#owelle

He's sitting at the bar, turning his now empty glass in his hand when someone appears in the space next to him. Shifting over to allow them more room, he thinks nothing of it, and is about to signal the bartender when the person starts to speak. "Hey Chris!" She calls, and Owen's head snaps up. "Can I get a double?" He tries not to let her notice him while he tries to get a good look at the woman next to him, her turned head denying him a glimpse of her face. The bartender, Chris he guesses, lifts his hand in a wave, before confirming her order.

He can't see her face, but he knows enough to know that she's gorgeous. He knew that even before he saw her, saw her hair falling down her back, saw her fingers lacing together on the countertop. He knew it when her voice washed over him in a wave, shocking his system and sending him straightening in his stool.

He takes out his phone, pretending to scroll while he watches her wait on her drink, watches her thumb trace patterns in the back of her hand. His own need of a fresh drink is totally forgotten in his focus on the presence beside him. She starts to look around herself, and his eyes snap firmly to his phone when he sees her head turn to his side.

He can feel her eyes linger on him for a moment, and he almost opens his mouth to talk to her, when Chris sets her drink in front of her. "Ya'll back soon I hear?" Chris asks her, and Owen's interest is piqued.

"We'll be causing trouble again in no time, I'm sure." She replies with a weak, but affectionate, smile in her voice. Owen can hear it even without looking at her, and he so wants to see it.

"You make sure to bring them round, Michelle. I wanna meet em." He tells her, before turning to attend another customer. The woman, Michelle, lets out a heavy sigh, drooping onto the counter as she lifts her drink.

"So you come here often?" Owen asks, before cursing himself for not thinking of something better. The woman stiffens, turning to him slowly with a confused, concerned, and slightly amused frown. And she is... Stunning.

"What gave it away?" Blue eyes pierce him, and her lips draw into the most attractive smirk he has ever seen. "The bartender knowing me by name?" She cocks her head at him. "Or are you just a really bad flirt?" She looks him up and down, and he nearly shudders.

"I'm gonna go with both." He admits, after a moment of floundering. She nods at him, eyes narrowing. He can't seem to hold his tongue under her gaze. "I was curious." He starts, stomach tightening. "And it was a conversation starter. A bad, clichéd one, I'll admit." Her brow furrows, and it feels like a challenge. "And I would really like to try again." He flushes, before nodding at her. "Hi, I'm Owen." He holds out a hand, and she examines it for a moment.

"Michelle." She offers, still frowning. "But you already knew that." She smirks at him again. It pricks at his skin, making him want to squirm under her gaze.

He shakes it off before he speaks. "So what has you sighing into a double tequila?" He asks casually, finally summoning the bartender to order another drink.

She drops her head for a moment before answering. "I'll tell you, if you tell me why you're alone in a bar…" She looks him up and down again. "A long way from home?"

He doesn't ask how she knows that, just laughs a little before answering. "I start a new job tomorrow, I guess I'm pretty nervous." He takes his drink gratefully from Chris. "Your turn." He sips.

"Same as you I guess." She shrugs. "But I suppose it's not a new job. Same job as before. But it's different now, everything's gonna be so...different." Her eyes dim their sparkle. "So here I am." He gestures around the bar. "Pretending it's not different." In reality, it's not the kind of bar she'd normally go to on her own, but it felt like the right place to come tonight.

Owen watches as she tries to bring back the light tension from before she answered his question. "Ah, we have something in common." He offers with a smile, raising his glass to her. "To new jobs." He toasts, chest blooming with light when it earns him an actual smile. "You've got a good eye." He tells her when he's sipped his drink. "How did you know I'm a long way from home?" She actually laughs at him, a twinkling thing that dances around her before it fully reaches him, pulling him to lean towards her.

"It's just...really obvious." She smiles apologetically. "Sorry if you were trying to blend in. It's everything about you really." He just looks at her questioningly, before looking at himself, pressing her to elaborate. "Your clothes are too tight." She starts. "Not like...too tight, too tight, just like...not loose." Even in the low light she blushes, her eyes tracing his biceps. "The way you were sitting." He blushes at how tense he was when she appeared next to him.  "You just look a little out of place, that's all." She brushes it off, as though she's worried she has offended him.  

"I'm definitely out of place." He looks around at cowboy hats and flannel. He looks back at her. "It's not so bad now though." He quirks his eyebrows, and she shakes her head with a blush. "You though, you're right at home." He smiles at her. "Something tells me you're just the kind of friend a guy wants when he's new in town." It's forward, and he worries himself for a moment before she leans back on the counter, smiling.

"Ah, you want a tour guide." She muses. "Someone to show you around town." She clasps her hands in front of her, examining him, as though she's considering what he might actually mean.

So he clarifies. "I'm sure you know all the best places in town." He leans towards her, cocking his head to the door. And she understands, nodding.

She glances towards the door herself, before delaying. "You don't know me," she points out. She signals Chris for two more drinks. "And I don't know you." She says it with a smirk, leaning towards him now.

"What do you want to know?" He asks her, taking a swig of his fresh drink.

"Anything." She shrugs, finally settling on the stool next to her. He tells her about New York, skimming over the details of his life, and focusing instead on his places, his apartment, his street, his favourite cafes. He doesn't let her know him at all really, but he knows all she wants is to pretend she does.

She does the same. She tells him about Austin. Where she grew up, where she moved, where she drinks when she isn't here. He knows he doesn't know her, but he knows she doesn't want him to.

He doesn't ask her about her work, which she is obviously trying not to think about,  and she doesn't ask him about his. Eventually, he tells her a joke and she leans forward as she laughs, steadying herself with a hand on his thigh. She doesn't move it.

So he tells her a story of his drunken 20s with her hand on his thigh, tingling as he desperately tries to focus on anything else. Preferably something that isn't her eyes. But they are difficult to ignore.

Which is how he catches the moment she decides to take his hand, lacing her fingers with his. She doesn't say anything as she picks up her bag, standing from her stool. He doesn't say anything while he follows her.

Neither of them say anything when they step outside, or while he turns her to face him, or before he takes her by the back of the neck, kissing her fiercely against the wall of the bar. He's been desperate to do it since she first started to speak, and his skin tingles when she responds to him, a slight whimper rising in her throat. "I've wanted to do that all night." He admits, breaking away from her. She nods, forehead resting on his.

"You want to start your tour of Austin?" She asks him with the tiniest of grins. He nods, releasing her to call a taxi, which she manages even with his arm sneaking around her waist.

They keep their hands, mostly, to themselves in the taxi. Her hand rests apparently innocently on his thigh, while his traces light circles on her shoulder and they try their best not to embarrass the poor driver.

Neither of them show any such restraint when they arrive on her porch and the taxi is gone, and she barely has the door unlocked before she's tugging him inside and slamming it shut behind them.

Later, she lies staring at the ceiling, brow furrowed. He can see the cogs turning in her head, and he starts to worry about everything he's done tonight. "Fuck." She whispers under her breath, the heel of her hand coming up to press on her forehead. "What the fuck did I just do?" She asks the air, and he pulls himself further away from her. She jolts and the movement, immediately reaching her hand out in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that I just…" She sighs, sitting up, taking bedsheets with her in some imitation of modesty. "I don't do this. Ever. And I've been really… it doesn't matter. I'm sorry." She squeezes his bicep before pulling away from him, her hands dropping to twist together in her lap. "I keep doing stupid things." She tells them, squeezing her fingers together. "Carlos is gonna go crazy."

Carlos? Owen panics, if this woman has a partner this just went from amazing, to awkward, to horrible really fast. "He's had to arrest me fourteen times and now I've taken a total stranger into my house." She drops her head, bringing a hand up to catch it. "I'm supposed to be the smart one. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You've been arrested fourteen times?" It mustn't be for anything serious, but he does wish he'd known this before she took him home. He assumes Carlos isn't a partner, but maybe a friend, or a relative. So he's left not with adultery, but run-of-the-mill bad decisions. So he tries to relieve the tension. "Not to pry, but how does that even happen?"

"A lot has happened." She offers, wiping at her eyes. "I'm so sorry Owen, I shouldn't have…" She's not really sure what she shouldn't have done. She probably shouldn't have taken him home, but that's not what she wanted to say. Shouldn't have reacted like this, probably. "You should go." That's not right. "I mean, you don't have to stay, and listen to me ruin the night."

"Nah." He smiles, settling back on the pillows. "I can't leave a woman's bed while she's upset, what kind of guy would that make me?" He grins at her, and she manages a weak chuckle. "Besides, I could probably help. I know a thing or two about regrets. I've been married twice." Regrets aplenty there. Especially the second time. He doesn't like to think about the second time. "This stuff that's happened? You can tell me about it if you want? No harm in telling a stranger."

She hesitates, as though she wants to take him up on his offer before she shakes her head. "Okay." He concedes. "Can I tell you my thing though? Cos I've got a thing, that I haven't told anybody about. And you seem nice." She flushes, she had certainly seemed nice half an hour ago, moaning beneath him. She pushes the thought away, and settles back next to him with a nod. "I've got cancer." She jolts beside him, concern radiating off her. "It's not serious, it should be totally fine." He waves her off. "But I haven't told my son yet." He has a son? She shifts again, now knowing too much about the man next to her. "Or my new boss. I took this new job down here because my son needed to get out of New York. And now I'm scared, because I brought him here with this secret, and now I don't know how to tell him." Even telling her, this total stranger, sends a rush of nerves through him, making his whole body tremble next to her, and she lays a soothing hand on his arm. She rubs her hand up and down his arm until he stops shaking.

Behind him, she watches the clock on the table flick over to midnight, and her chest tightens. "It's my sister's birthday." She chokes out, her eyes screwing shut to force back the tears threatening to break through them. "She's been missing." She explains, and it's his turn to be concerned, his hand reaching out to grasp hers. "For almost three years. Her boyfriend," she scoffs, her lips almost turning to a weak smile. "He has a restraining order against me. That's why I keep getting arrested." He nods understandingly, the tiniest hint of amusement pulling at his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He offers weakly, unsure what else to say. His health seems so trivial, so easily fixed. Even withholding the truth from TK has such a simple solution. But Michelle? There's no easy way out for Michelle, if there is a way out at all.

"It's not your fault." She shrugs, biting her lip. "I'm sorry about you too." She offers, and it lingers in the air.

His chest tightens, something pulling at it, and he knows that he can't walk away from her now. A beautiful woman from a bar? Yes, he could move on from her, with a memory to smile about. But her? This woman, the first one to hear about its cancer. This woman who offers no advice, only comfort. Whose own troubles are so devastating behind her smile. This woman he couldn't walk away from. So he leans up to kiss her softly, and she stares at him dumbly when he pulls away.

"See?" He smiles at her, unable to contain the light fluttering in his chest. "The night isn't ruined." She smiles down at him, sighing before she lets herself lie down next to him. He takes her hand in his, squeezing lightly. "You doing anything for your sister's birthday?" He asks casually. As though she would be able to take the woman out for a drink.

"I don't know." She shrugs. "I'm working till late. Maybe I'll have a drink for her after, I don't know." It actually lightens her chest, the thought of celebrating for Iris. "Maybe I will." She stares at the ceiling with a tiny smile, her thumb stroking his hand. "You should tell your son." She turns to him. "You should tell him before something happens. You need someone to know."

He nods. "Thank you." He whispers, and she leans in to kiss him. It isn't the rushed, delirium from before. But she hooks a leg over him, moving to straddle his waist, and it is a slow desperation that he lets himself reciprocate.

Xx

It's early, but probably not early enough for Owen's son to not wonder where he spent the night. "I probably shouldn't have stayed till morning." He sighs, eyeing the dim sunrise. She hums from the bed, not opening her eyes. "TK will never let me live it down if he catches me sneaking in."

Her stomach rolls at the new information. It must be short for something, but even this half-identity presses her to ask more about him. "So, TK?" She starts, rolling to face him. "Tell me about him. How old is he?" She's imagining a young teen, too street-wise for his age, in need of some access to the countryside, while still having the familiarities  of the city. So Owen's answer shocks her. "Twenty six? Twenty...so he's...an adult?"

"Well yeah." Owen chuckles. "Pretty sure twenty-six is an adult. But he makes me question that constantly." She doesn't dare ask how old he is, but she knows it must be considerably older than she first thought. She hopes to God that he was born when Owen was young, but either way he must be easily ten years older than she is.

"Kids always seem like kids." She laughs awkwardly. "No matter how old they get. Iris is ten years younger then I am." She laughs properly now. "She's always seemed like such a kid."

"Wow, some age gap." He tugs his shirt over his head.

"My parents were really young when they had me." She tells him, sitting up in her bed. She eyes him, his back turned to her. He drops his head back with a sigh.

"Oh, that's tough, I was twenty-two when we had TK." She lets out a tiny, relieved sigh. Not too huge an age gap, maybe Carlos won't absolutely kill her when he finds out about this. Because Carlos always finds out.

Owen drops onto the bed, shoes in hand. It occurs to her that it would be rude to make him walk himself out of her home in the early hours of the morning, so she slips out of bed, grabbing the robe hanging on the bathroom door. She doesn't settle back on the bed, but stands, leaning against the wardrobe, watching him put on his shoes.

Something in her stomach drops when she hears the taxi pull into the driveway. But she shakes it loose before he turns his head to smile at her. “I guess that’s my ride.” She nods silently, following him when he makes to leave her room.

He stops at her front door, and she waits behind him for him to turn around to her. She can’t help the smirk playing at her lips. He doesn’t want to leave yet. But he has to, so he turns back to her.

“Thank you.” He steps towards her. “For last night, for everything.” His hand brushes at her arm lightly.