Shut Up, Owen.
“So…how was your day?”
Amelia froze in her spot for a second, “I’m sorry, what?”
“How was your day?” Owen repeated.
“Good, I guess,” she replied as she began moving again, “Why?”
“Just asking,” he replied with a soft smile, “How did the patient with the tumour go?”
“Uh…” she paused, trying to remember what she was supposed to be remembering, “He’s good. No post-op abnormalities or anything.” Silence again.
“Bailey wants an updated presentation of the budget for the neurosurgical ward,” Owen continued despite Amelia’s slightly annoyed face, “by tomorrow.”
“Uh…okay,” she replied uninterestingly, closing her eyes to focus. She grabbed his hands and moved them from her waist to her chest, moaning a little.
“Meredith is supposed to be coming over later to drop off some old neuro files that you asked for?”
Amelia sighed, “Yeah, she told me.”
“Owen, what are you doing?” she asked irritatingly, stopping.
“What?” he asked confusingly as if he’d been doing nothing.
“Why are you talking?”
The question caught him a little off guard, “To provide you with information?”
“No,” she said, resting her hands on his pecs, “Why are you doing it now?”
“When else am I supposed to do it, with the two of us always on call?” he queried with one raised eyebrow as he lowered his hands to her hips.
“Not here,” she answered impatiently. She needed this, and Owen was ruining it for her.
“How about…for a suggestion,” she said sarcastically as she began wiggling her hips again, “you just shut up, and fuck me?”
“Yeah but then how…” She grabbed his face with her left hand and silenced him with a sloppy kiss.
“Owen, shut up,” she said. She took his hands once more and brought them back to her breasts, “Grab my boobs, squeeze them and fuck me. I’m 100% sure we can talk about this later.”
“That’s what you always say,” he grumbled in response, “All we do is say hi and have sex. Is my penis just some sort of sex object to you?”
“Fine,” she said in a tantrum-like tone, “What do you want to talk about?” He was acting like an underappreciated housewife on her period, to put it stereotypically.
“Well, seeing as you probably heard none of what I said just now,” Owen began.
“You asked how my day was, asked about my patient, told me about neuro budget crap and said Meredith’s coming over later to drop off some old stupid brain papers,” she recalled, “Anything else?”
“Well, there’s this conference that I was invited to in New York,” he started again. As he spoke about the details of the trip and possible accommodation for the both of them, Amelia slowly and carefully shifted her hips forward and back, then up and down. To add insult to injury, she did what she knew would make him weak; the thing, “It’s next month and…I was… wondering… if… fuck.” He closed his eyes for moment as she bounced tantalisingly slow on him and she guided his hands back to her breasts once more. He squeezed them hard and it was like he hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t speaking anymore. Until he did.
“Could you stop that?” he begged, pulling his hands away from her chest. He grabbed onto her hips to hold them still so he could focus, “Just give me five minutes without you trying to distract me with sex and the thing. I’m trying to tell you something important.” It didn’t sound as important as he was making it out to be, but she decided to surrender and stop.
Amelia sighed and slid herself off of Owen and into the space next to him in the on call room bed, folding her arms across her chest disapprovingly, “Five minutes. Talk.” Owen smiled and propped himself up on his elbow, delving deep into his plans and other agendas, all the while Amelia laid down on the bed and listened, feeling like the universe was torturing her for fun these days.