It was the rain's fault, naturally.

Owen was in no way responsible for the weather's fickle ways, couldn't be held accountable for his lack of a jacket (though the radio had broadcasted a warning for the day's forecast that morning, and Barry swore up and down to the crew that only a few days ago he and his partner had argued about the best way to hold down the fort during a thunderstorm). It wasn't his fault that he failed to notice the dark gray clouds building overhead when he headed out after breakfast in his bungalow.

All through Tuesday, instead of taking shelter in the specially-equipped for just such occasions tent and sipping hot chocolate like a 'responsible' park operator would do, Owen had stubbornly (stupidly, according to Barry) decided to 'tough it out', ignoring the downpour that completely drenched the landscape in favor of gathering the pack into a relatively dry section of the pen and feeding them large amounts of dead rats to ensure they didn't feel the need to venture out into the cold.

Echo, who was easily spooked and especially sensitive to the loud claps of thunder that rumbled overhead, stuck incredibly close to her sisters, not even minding when Charlie smacked her repeatedly for crowding into her space. Delta, restless and impatient, kept ducking out of the safe haven to frolic in the mud; the only thing that would bring her back was a hissed warning from Blue and a whistle from their Alpha, dripping above them and wiping rainwater out of his eyes in his best attempts to keep all four girls in sight. Blue was the only calm one, remaining still and content inside their tiny space under the leaves, happily snapping her tossed morsels of food out of the air and devouring them, not stopping to snort at the soggy hide like Echo and Delta or beg for more like Charlie.

"Come on, Delta," he groaned, resisting the urge to facepalm with a dead rat in his hand as she splashed rather dramatically into a large puddle once again, a delighted warbling sound coming from her throat. "You'll get a cold out here! We don't know enough about raptor biology to know what that could do to your immune system!"

"We know what it would do to your immune system, though," said a voice, making Owen twitch slightly and look up; Barry had braved the heavy rain with a jacket pulled over his head and a visibly steaming coffee cup in hand, and Owen was hard-pressed not to simply kiss the man on the spot. As it was, when the cup was offered, he snatched it without hesitation, draining it in five long gulps and sighing in complete bliss only the truly exhausted or utterly cold could understand upon being given such salvation.

"How are our ladies?" Barry asked, leaning against the slick metal railing beside the blonde to watch Blue snappily herd Delta back into place under the meager shelter the wide leaves offered them.

Owen nodded down to them, a tired, fond smile on his face. "They're okay. Echo's getting all hot and bothered, but I think she'll do better now that Delta's back in there with them and they're all together again. They've eaten enough to last them a week," he admitted with a sheepish grin. When the other handler looked at him he shrugged. "They looked really sad stuck under there with nothing to hunt so I kept feeding them. They might be a bit chubby now."

"If you aren't careful, you might actually end up domesticating a pack of wild carnivorous mammals from 65 million B.C.," Barry huffed with a shake of his head.

There was a chuff from below, and the two handlers looked down to see their pack rustling around amid their safe haven, flashes of scales and claws through the undergrowth, until Charlie's head popped out, mouth open and staring directly at Owen expectantly, tail whipping back and forth and slapping the leaves behind her in clear show of what she wanted.

The duo shared a glance.

"I think it might be too late," Owen admitted, and Barry chuckled as the blonde tossed the last morsel the bucket held into the ecstatic raptor's waiting mouth. When she caught it, she spun around and raced back under the leaves, and several loud squawks came from her jealous and irritated sisters as she rejoined them.

The two handlers remained on the catwalk for a while in companionable silence, watching the dinosaur quartet shift through the foliage and find comfortable spots in the cramped space to stay out of the rain.

Eventually, however, Barry shivered slightly from the cold settling in the air and straightened up. "You wanna head in? They have more coffee in the relief tent," he tempted, knowing well that if anything could get Owen Grady moving, it was coffee, a.k.a. nectar of the gods, a.k.a. Owen's lifeblood.

It was clear from his face that even before Owen opened his mouth the other man knew what he was going to say. "Nah, I'll be out here for a little longer. It takes them a while to settle down if I'm not out here," he said, eyes still tracing through the undergrowth, scanning for the familiar blue-green skin of his raptors.

"You realize you're going to catch your death out here, right?" Barry asked, questioning the other's sanity – not for the first time, and definitely not the last, if the track record was anything to go by.

Owen raised a cocky smirk to the other. "What, me? You think a little rain is going to take me down? Need I remind you who it is that trains the most dangerous animals on the planet?"

"Greater men than you have died of infections from paper-cuts. I doubt even the great Owen Grady could survive pneumonia," deadpanned Barry, which made Owen laugh; if there was one thing he liked about his fellow handler – aside from the free coffee – it was his sass.

"You do know that's treatable these days, right?" he asked.

"Only if you get treatment in time," Barry offered with a shrug.

Owen snorted. "Wow. Pessimist much?"

"Someone around here has to be. So. In?" Barry asked hopefully, inching farther down the catwalk toward the relief tent where the coffee and perhaps a nice unoccupied chair awaited them.

Owen threw his hands up. "Yes! Alright! I'll come inside; in a minute. Go ahead without me."

"If I do that you'll be out here for another four hours," Barry pointed out, and Owen kinda wanted to smack his head on the metal rails because killjoy why do I even work with this guy uuugh.

"Noooooo, I'll be in within the hour! Scout's honor!" he said, holding up three fingers and grinning at the other's skeptical look.

Barry rolled his eyes and turned away, and Owen's eyes immediately turned back down to the pen, inwardly relieved when he saw that Delta had not decided to make another escape attempt.

Something landed on his head with a whumf, defending his head from the freezing drizzle, and as he struggled to remove the covering with many an indignant curse he could hear Barry's laugh trailing away to the safety of the relief tent.

"Traitor!" he cried as he freed his head, but all this accomplished was making Echo caw and Blue stick her head out of the leaves, blinking at her Alpha as if to ask why he was such a dimwit.

Owen sighed gustily and let the discarded jacket rest over his head as a makeshift umbrella, shooting a miserable look at Blue. Do you see this insubordination I have to live with? An unsympathetic velociraptor snorted at him and ducked back under the canopy. I don't care. Deal with it yourself.

Grumbling a few choice words under his breath, Owen hunkered down for another hour of dripping wet out in the open and tried not to feel the ice seeping into his veins.

Okay. Standing out in the middle of a heavy rainstorm without a jacket on.

Not his smartest idea.

He discovered the utter folly of such a choice when he awoke on Wednesday with blurry eyes, a pounding ache in his head and a visible flush to his skin. "Shit," he muttered, trying not to sway and fall over as he sat up despite the pain in his head.

However, he was forced to concede defeat when a shiver traveled up his spine and into his arms, making them quake terribly under his weight. He flopped backwards onto his bed, groaning as burning heat wrapped around his body like an incredibly stuffy, very unwelcome blanket.

"Ohhh, God dammit," he moaned, "I thought this only happened in sitcoms."

Unfortunately, this assumption was proved untrue when he sneezed unexpectedly and had to resist simply dying on the spot when his skull pounded like the T-rex had heartily tap-danced on it.

Crap.

Crap crap crap.

Just lifting one arm to press two fingers to his pulsing temples proved a chore; sitting up seemed outside the realm of possibility at the moment.

With a rasping sigh he laid back, vaguely wishing for more sleep. Despite the heat radiating off his skin, he shivered like a Chihuahua. He was freezing, and he tried to re-cocoon himself in his blanket, but the fire trickling across his skin and the agonizing thumping in his head demanded he lie still without such a comfort.

Okay then. Let's ride this one out.

'Riding it out' proved difficult when not half an hour later a shrill beep awoke him from his semi-comfortable half-doze.

Whimpering pathetically, he buried his head deeper into his pillow. 'Go away world, Owen is unconscious today.'

The world was not amused by such blatant avoidance.

The beep sounded again, seemingly louder and closer each time it went off, driving Owen deeper into his pillow place. Finally, it stopped after a shrill chirp, and he huffed in relief, already falling back to sleep.

'They don't need me like this. Barry's got this.'

Barry most certainly did not got this.

He really, really didn't.

He arrived at the raptor pen at six before the morning feeding, as per usual, along with the early crew that had the task of assisting the two raptor trainers with basic exercises or maintaining perimeter security; Jurassic World, while a swirling cesspool of corporate America byproduct, was run by some very smart people who didn't believe it wise to leave such feeble protection around the park's most dangerous additions – second only to the T-rex, of course. They'd learned a few things from the Jurassic Park days.

Barry had been in a chipper mood; his niece had called last night when he got in and announced she and her boyfriend were getting married – finally – which meant he could request a week off for the wedding. Barry loved the island, he really did, but there was only so much tropical weather a man could take before he begged for colder climates. The only problem he could really see with the arrangement was how Owen and the squad would react, but considering the raptors seemed more attached to their Alpha than him, he was willing to say it was a safe bet.

Sipping on Starbucks and humming merrily, he climbed up to the catwalk over the pen, smiling down at Echo as she noticed his entrance and chirped at him, craning her neck back to keep an eye on him as she trotted below him. "How are you today, pretty girl?" he asked, which gained him another chirp and a squawk from Delta as she appeared, Charlie a step behind her sister.

Blue was the last to arrive, walking with strikingly precise movements and a dangerous air around her as always. As the beta, she was both the oldest and smartest of the quartet, but she only acted this mature and in command when Owen wasn't around to keep them in line.

That brought Barry up short; as early as he'd arrived, Owen still should have been here before him. Despite practically living on the other side of the island, Owen was an early riser by nature and had a tendency to get lonely in his trailer, so he'd often ride out at the ass-crack of dawn to greet the squad as they woke up. It was an old habit, one of the man's weird quirks that Barry had long ago accepted, but if he wasn't here yet…

Barry shrugged, and headed toward the feeding station. If Owen didn't show up in time, they couldn't take the girls out hunting in the Restricted Area without risking the life of basically every man present, so they'd have to settle with a cow being released into the pen for them to eat.

But Owen would show up. He always did.

'Everyone sleeps in sometimes.'

An hour and a half later, Barry was getting worried. He wasn't the only one.

After begrudgingly accepting the cow despite the lack of actual cunning involved in the beast's capture, the squad had milled around the compound, gnawing on leftover bones or playing chase as they often did while waiting for Owen to give them a task to complete or an exercise to perform.

Barry, up topside, had asked a crew member called Manny to call Owen at his trailer to see if the lazy lump was up yet before turning to the squad, the spare clicker in hand and a fresh bucket of morsels by his feet.

"Girls! Eyes up here, please!" he called, and for a moment he felt a bit foolish saying please to a bunch of dinosaurs who would gladly eat him, but then Blue came to attention, head tilted slightly when she saw he wasn't Owen but no less attentive. Charlie still had a bone in her mouth, but she looked up. Echo reluctantly trailed away from chasing a colorful butterfly. Delta did look up from the cow remains eventually, but only after Charlie nudged her and Blue gave a warning yelp.

"Good," he grinned at them, and the usual routine began; laps around the pen, individual sound off, pouncing distance was measured and so on. Training within the pen was a bit dull for the girls, who were used to the wide open space of the Restricted Area to run about in, but Barry wasn't quite prepared to let them run loose without their alpha. Not that they didn't listen to him; Blue made sure they followed his instructions as well as they did Owen's, but… it wasn't the same.

They knew it, he knew it, and he could accept that.

The sun had risen some time ago, and the park attractions were most likely opening for the day elsewhere on the island, when Manny returned to him on the catwalk. "There's no answer from Mr. Grady, sir," he said, twisting a weathered cap between his fingers as he spoke.

That was when the first spike of alarm rose in Barry's chest. Turning from the railing, he faced Manny directly. "No answer?" he repeated.

"No sir. Just voicemail."

"The hell is he doing?" Barry muttered, brows furrowing in thought. A chirrup from below brought his attention back to the squad, who had all gathered below during his distraction. Echo was keening up at them, a curious look on her face. Charlie and Delta wore matching neutral expressions. Blue, however, wore one of the most intense looks Barry had ever seen on the predator's face. Her hackles were up, claws digging into the soft earth underneath her and teeth grit in an ugly grimace on her beautiful face as she cawed urgently up at the two humans above her, eyes fastened on her trainer.

"It's alright girls, training is over for now," he said, waving at them, but Blue didn't budge. Even when Delta pelted past her and Echo trailed away, Blue remained behind, Charlie staying nearby as she chewed on the bone she'd been gnawing on earlier.

"Did he have to be called somewhere else today? A meeting with some more military men?" Barry asked, shifting on his feet, trying to ignore the direct stare of one of the planet's most deadly creations.

"Nope. He just didn't show up this morning, and he's not answering his phone," Manny admitted, looking mighty uncomfortable to be glared at by a raptor.

The worry swirled around Barry's stomach, making him bite his lip reflexively. Owen hadn't mentioned anything like taking a day off lately, so what-

Oh right.

"The moron," Barry sighed heavily, shaking his head and turning on his heel.

"Sir?" stuttered Manny, startled at his superior's sudden hasty departure, quickly following behind him.

"It's nothing, Manny; Owen just didn't wear a jacket most of yesterday. He probably caught ill when he was helping the girls," the trainer explained, completely missing the carnivore directly underneath him until he climbed down the catwalk and headed for his jeep.

"Sir, where are you going?!" Manny asked, jogging to keep pace with the agitated man ahead of him.

"I'm going to make sure our favorite island idiot doesn't dehydrate in his sleep," Barry said with finality, shooting him a look as he slid into the vehicle and started it up.

"Sir, you know corporate demands there to be at least one raptor trainer on site whenever the raptors are active!" Manny only half-protested, reluctantly stepping back a couple steps as the engine came to life.

Barry gave him a dry look. "And I'm sure corporate would prefer their star raptor alpha to be left alone while he's sick since he's a sarcastic pain in the ass, but I'm afraid corporate is just going to have to live with it. Hold down the fort, I'll be back in an hour."

With that, he drove off, completely ignoring an irate Hoskins who'd been walking up to demand what the hell he was doing leaving in the middle of a training session. He didn't much like the InGen assigned head of security, so he only felt a little bad for leaving Manny to deal with the asshole.

"-can't just leave now! We have work to do! The raptors were doing just fine without Grady here!"

"Well, yes sir, but they work better when he's the one directing them, and leaving a sick person on their own isn't really-"

"I know the raptors like their 'daddy', but they are perfectly capable of operating without them; anyone else could go deal with Grady-"

The one-sided shouting match was brought to an abrupt end when a shrill alarm and panicked yells hit their ears in the same instant.

Claire Dearing was quite happily running her multi-billion dollar theme park from the safety of her air-conditioned office when a beep went off on her computer. Without a blink she clicked the message, a bit annoyed by the distraction but responsible enough not to let it hang any longer. She had only a moment to notice it came from the raptor compound before a blaring alarm erupted from the speakers on her desk.

"Ma'am!" cried one of the raptor crew members, and one look at the man's sweat-drenched face was enough to send a bucket of ice water down Claire's back.

"How many?!" she demanded, rising to her feet and punching in codes to her computer, raising the alarm.

"All of them, ma'am! All four squad members- all four raptors got out!"

Barry drove around the petting zoo, taking the shortcut through the woods behind the Apatosaurus paddock and skirting around the actual hotel where guests stayed. Of course, since he avoided everything, he had absolutely no idea the entire island had been thrown into chaos, and so he stayed on course, muttering many colorful insults aimed at one Owen Grady under his breath.

Owen's throat itched.

He vaguely felt the parched, sandpapery quality of his mouth, but it was the itch at the back of his throat that woke him up.

Groaning, he attempted to burrow again, but the itch wouldn't go away.

He tried flinging the pillow off his face and sit up, but all he accomplished was twitching an arm and nearly careening off the bed far too quickly for him to stop.

Luckily, through the confusion, he managed to hold on to whatever remained of last night's dinner despite the nausea making his guts feel like a tempest of fluids that most definitely should not be moving around.

'I hate sick,' he thought miserably, 'Where's mom when you need her?'

Somewhere in Wisconsin, probably, but he paid the detail no heed; instead, he focused on getting out of his comfy cocoon, which proved more difficult than it sounded.

Miracle of God, the sound of the door opening interrupted his attempts to gain freedom and brought with it a wave of sticky warm air from the outside world.

"Oh hell, Owen," sighed a voice, and Owen's blurry eyes made out a face.

"Barry!" he exclaimed, half-lucid enough to realize he should be embarrassed that the other man saw him in such a pathetic state, but too woozy to care too much.

His partner took in the sick man's disheveled state, the red spreading all across his face and down below his shirt and the haze in his eyes, before groaning dramatically. "Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked with a helpless shrug, moving forward to wrap one of Owen's arms around his shoulders and haul the sick man up despite his half-voiced protests.

"Do what?" Owen slurred, coherence already beginning to slip away again.

"Place yourself second after the girls. You need to be taken care of too," Barry said, only half-chiding, knowing full well that Owen would not take too kindly to any insults on the girl's part.

Owen didn't reply, but he hadn't really expected him to.

Barry managed to drag him to the kitchen and sat him down, feeling only slightly amused when the sick man pitched forward face-first into the table, moaning lowly.

Shaking his head, he collected a glass and filled it, then snagged a clean cloth and dipped that in water too before turning back to his impromptu patient.

The glass slipped out of his fingers.

"Owen?"

Owen didn't feel like waking up now, thank you.

Owen squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as if that would make the table more comfortable to lie on or sleep easier to fall back into.

His throat still itched and his mouth felt awful, but if he was asleep that wouldn't matter. If he could just sleep…

"Owen!"

A cold pressure on the back of his head.

This wasn't Barry's hand, cool to the touch and comforting in its own foreign way.

It wasn't flat enough, or big enough; if anything, it was too rough to be human skin anyway. He couldn't be sure this close to unconsciousness, but he could swear it almost felt like…

A puff of air hit part of his exposed face, and he scrunched his nose up; that breath was nasty. Blegh.

"Mmm, Barry," he mumbled, smooshing his face farther into the wood, "Get a mint, will you?"

"Owen!"

Wait, Barry's voice was over on the far side of the kitchen, he wasn't…

Owen cracked an eye open.

The blurry outlines of several shapes registered for a moment, indistinct but vaguely familiar, before they were all blotted out by a large, misshapen yellow eye that was definitely familiar.

"Blue?" he slurred, positive he was delirious.

The raptor blinked at him.

Nope. Not delirious.

He managed to turn his head somewhat, catching sight of the blob he was half-sure was a terrified Barry pressed into the countertop. "Aw, Barry, you didn't tell me you brought the girls around," he laughed, loopy like a drugged man but too far gone to care.

"I didn't," Barry squeaked, and Owen thought one of the others – either Charlie or Echo according to the coloring – had edged closer to the man, sniffing his jacket curiously, "I don't know how they got here."

Owen pouted. "Isn't it obvious? They came to visit their dear old alpha while he was sick in bed."

A strained grin cracked across Barry's face, but Owen was too busy lifting a hand to poke Blue's nose. "Hiya pretty bird," he murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open, "Miss me?"

His beta snorted, and whoever was behind him – Delta – nudged his head again with her snout.

"I'm okay," he assured them, "Just a bit sick. Alphas aren't supposed to be weak, but this alpha can't handle rain like you can. It's not fair; you'd think a badass like me could handle a little water, huh?"

Blue cawed at him, and Echo's worried little chirp followed as she appeared behind her sister, staring at their prone leader with wide eyes.

"Barry can take care of me. He's good at that sort of thing," he explained, and Barry edged along the wall, avoiding the quartet of dangerous beasties as much as he could. "He was always the one who took care of you guys when you felt sick after you hatched. InGen said I had to 'focus on training the healthy ones' and 'should cut ties to the goners already because three was enough to work with'. The pompous bastards," he hissed, anger causing a sharp pain to spike through his head. He was too pissed to care too much about it, but evidently he'd paled enough to make all four girls and Barry let out noises of concern.

"Owen, don't stress yourself over those idiots," Barry admonished him, slowly drawing closer, brushing past Delta with trembling limbs and nearly peeing his pants when Blue fixed him with a suspicious glare.

Without looking up, Owen half-heartedly patted his beta's snout. "Is' okay, Bluebird," he managed, calming her instantly. "Is jus' Barry. You know Barry, doncha'? He's nice. Calls me idiot lots though."

"You deserve it," Barry somehow managed to sass back, and a high, strangled giggle followed it when the predator took a step back from his partner, stiff but no longer looking ready to pounce at him. Finally reaching the table, he leant forward, placing the dripping cloth he'd somehow kept a hold of on the back of Owen's neck, gaining a loud groan of relief and several surprised chirps from his audience. With a sigh, he glanced back the way he came, where the broken glass littered the floor and three out of four velociraptors were waiting for him. "Only an idiot would let himself get sick like this," he muttered under his breath.

Owen huffed a breath that might've been a laugh. "I didn' want m'ladies gettin sick. I don' like it when they sick," he mumbled, slipping closer and closer back to dream land, but Barry was having none of it.

Sick and half-conscious though he was, he was the only other person around for miles and Barry would be damned if he were stuck with the girls alone.

"Stay awake, Owen. We need to get some liquids in you before you dehydrate," he said loudly next to his partner's ear, not quite willing to shake him lest he attract Blue's wrath.

There was a long whine of protest, but one cloudy blue eye opened, and then the other, and Barry nodded at him encouragingly.

"That's it. Be right back," he assured him, turning away and gulping as four pairs of eyes tracked his movements.

Barry headed back to the kitchen counter, a bit less stiff but in no way relaxed. What the fuck. How had the girls gotten out?! How'd they made it past the guards uninjured?! Had they hurt anyone? They didn't appear to be covered in gore as they usually were after a successful hunt, but you could never know…

He did his best to steady his shaking, but the new cup he grabbed still rattled against the countertop like a loud, angry metronome.

The girls didn't notice; Blue was sticking to Owen's side like a limpet, blinking slowly in time with him and meeting his eyes squarely, as if to intimidate him into not falling asleep. Of course, the alpha was too far gone for it to work, but he stayed awake anyway. Charlie had paced toward the main living quarters, curiously snuffling various articles of clothing left on the floor like a university frat house. Echo had stuck her head out of the kitchen's only window, staring out at the lake the bungalow was built next to. Delta alternated between booping her alpha with her nose and glancing over at Barry, clearly asking what was taking him so long.

After the glass was full, Barry forced his hands to still, taking a deep breath. 'They can sense your fear. They don't respect you if you're afraid; fear makes you prey, makes you weak. You're a part of the pack; you have to prove you're not weak,' he thought fiercely, and he resisted the urge to bite his lip when he turned around to find Delta staring at him expectantly.

"I am not afraid of you," he ground out determinedly. Delta blinked at him curiously, tilting her head. Charlie stopped her exploration to look up at him. Echo turned her head away from the window. Blue squinted at him.

He took a breath again. With surprisingly steady steps, he walked back to the table, completely ignoring the raptors staring at him and focusing on reaching Owen. The other man was still impossibly conscious, blinking rapidly and covered in sweat, but still awake.

Barry helped him sit up carefully, aware of Blue inching closer to them every second and choosing to ignore her, instead holding the glass to his partner's lips and carefully tilting a mouthful of water into his parched mouth.

Owen nearly choked for a second, making Blue snarl and Echo squeak in protest, but he managed to swallow quickly and then nearly gulped down half the glass before Barry pulled it back despite the half-garbled protest.

"Drink too quickly and you're going to regret it," the older man chided him.

Owen just glared at him.

"Why do I put up with him, Blue?" he asked, glancing over at his beta, who growled quietly.

"Because without him, you most surely would have caught pneumonia yesterday, and gone into a coma today," Barry answered for her, totally deadpan. Delta cawed; Barry liked to think she was laughing. "Come on. Bedtime."

There was much griping and moaning and half-serious snarling, but somehow Barry did manage to get Owen back into his bed despite four over-eager dinosaurs trying to offer their assistance, which only made things far more difficult than they already were.

The alpha flopped onto his bed, trying to re-cocoon himself in blankets. Barry tossed the comforter over him to let him sort it out himself, slipping through the quartet of lizards and sighing deeply once he was free to breathe again.

This was most certainly not how he pictured his morning to go, but what the hell.

The squeak of bedsprings and a surprised whuff of air had him turning around and nearly face-palming at the sight of Echo and Blue haphazardly attempting to climb onto the bed with Owen, distressed chirps rising as their claws got tangled in the bedding and their weight made the bed come closer to the ground.

"Ladies," he admonished, inching forward again to detangle the sheets from their feet. "Let alpha sleep. The worst of his sickness is not yet over."

"Don't remind me," Owen griped, drunkenly giggling at the sight of two of his girls so awkwardly perched next to him, the other two staring at the bed as if it were a deathtrap.

Rolling his eyes, Barry finished freeing the girls and slipped out again, heading for the door. He'd left his walkie in the jeep, and it was about time somebody knew what the hell happened to the squad.

He completely ignored the huge crowd of InGen guards in the front yard, walking through the sea of guns and flashing lights to the jeep with the air of calm that very few people could pull off.

This show of force didn't scare him.

He'd survived all four girls, he could handle a bunch of whiny humans any day.

"Nice of you to finally be doing your jobs," he drawled as he climbed into his jeep, lifting his eyebrows at Hoskins, who stood, pale and shocked in the middle of it all. "The girls are just making sure their alpha is okay. They'll happily return to their pen once he's feeling better. Storm in there now and you're asking for an ass whooping."

Hoskins opened his mouth, wide and shocked, but Barry just turned the key in the ignition. "I'm heading out to the infirmary to pick up some supplies," he explained, before driving off without another word.

Let the asshole deal with things himself for a change.

InGen was ordered to stand down, and Barry was given a huge box of supplies to take care of a sick, rowdy raptor trainer and his four protégés.

A week spent caring for a fully grown man that insisted on acting like a spoiled toddler didn't sound like much fun to Barry, but work was work.

The following Saturday, when Owen was now sitting up and mostly coherent and sipping soup whilst petting Charlie's head, Barry told him how Ms. Dearing had basically made it illegal for him to have a sick day ever again.

"Aw, I knew she loved me," Owen grinned, totally not at all repentant for inadvertently causing a park-wide shut down.

Barry sighed in exasperation. Charlie cawed. Echo chuffed. Delta tittered. Blue snorted.

It was one hell of a family meal.

A/N: I meant to get this done a g e s ago, but. Life. Writer's block. Ant-Man. I was very distracted for a while.
~Persephone