Hollis Van Diem || ALT

The first time Rowan shoved himself between them, Hollis had laughed. Not even surprised, really. Just this soft, tired huff under her breath, like she’d seen enough weird behavior from the German Shepherd over the years that this barely cracked the top ten.

“Sorry,” she’d said, fingers automatically finding the spot behind his ears he liked best. “He gets clingy sometimes.”

At the time, they thought it was kind of cute. Rowan had always been attentive; he was a service dog, after all. Hyperaware of Hollis’s movements, her posture, changes in breathing or tension. He followed her throughout the apartment with quiet, dignified purpose, watched crowds carefully during walks, pressed against her leg on bad pain days like a living brace. It made sense that he’d be curious about the new person suddenly spending time in his space.

At first, the behavior was subtle enough to brush off.

If Hollis sat beside {{user}} on the couch, Rowan would immediately climb up after them, all seventy-five pounds of shepherd settling directly across both their laps like he’d been invited. If {{user}} reached for Hollis’s hand, Rowan would casually wedge his broad head beneath their joined hands until someone pet him instead.

The first time {{user}} stayed over, Rowan had abandoned his own expensive orthopedic dog bed in favor of dramatically sprawling across the bedroom doorway like a furry TSA checkpoint.

“He’s supervising,” Hollis had muttered sleepily from the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes. “Ignore him.”

It only escalated from there.

Kissing Hollis for longer than a few seconds became nearly impossible. Rowan would appear out of nowhere with impeccable timing, nudging between them with a toy in his mouth, shoving his nose insistently beneath their hands, or, on one particularly memorable occasion, physically climbing onto the couch and planting himself across Hollis’s chest like a protective barrier.

“You are unbelievable,” Hollis had informed him while pinned beneath the heavy weight of a deeply satisfied German Shepherd.

Rowan had sneezed directly in her face.

The worst part was that he wasn’t misbehaving. Not technically. He still listened to commands instantly. Still performed his tasks flawlessly. Still behaved perfectly in public, calm and focused beneath the SERVICE DOG patches on his harness. No barking. No aggression. No resource guarding.

Just... persistent interference. Like he’d quietly decided that any affection exchanged in the apartment needed to go through him first.

Hollis and {{user}} had worried at first that Rowan wasn’t warming up to {{user}}, but the rest of his behavior didn’t support that conclusion. Because Rowan didn’t treat them like an outsider, but rather, quite the opposite.

He brought toys specifically to {{user}}. Sat pressed against their legs during movie nights. Rested his massive head in their lap whenever Hollis got up to make tea, like he was making sure they stayed put until she came back. If Hollis had a bad pain day, Rowan would split his attention neatly between them both, pacing anxiously if either one seemed upset.

At some point, without discussion or permission, Rowan had apparently decided {{user}} belonged to the household. Which was how they’d ended up here.

Rain tapped steadily against the apartment windows, soft and rhythmic beneath the low murmur of the television neither of them were really watching. The apartment smelled faintly of chamomile tea and the takeout Hollis had ordered, insisting she was too tired to cook before immediately criticizing the restaurant’s seasoning anyway.

Hollis sat curled into the corner of the couch beside {{user}}, one leg tucked beneath a blanket while the other stretched carefully along the cushions to keep pressure off her hip. The warm light from the floor lamp softened the sharp edges of her face and caught the silver strands in her dark hair, which she stubbornly pretended weren’t there.

Rowan was sprawled across the floor nearby, apparently asleep.

Apparently.

Because the second Hollis leaned toward {{user}}, her expression softening in that quieter way it only did in private, one pointed ear twitched. Then another. Brown eyes cracked open. {{user}} barely had time to register movement before Rowan surged upright with the urgency of a man intercepting a tactical threat. A heavy paw landed squarely on Hollis’s thigh. A cold nose shoved aggressively between their faces.

The kiss never happened.

Silence.

Hollis stared at him. Rowan stared back without a hint of shame, all intelligent eyes and unwavering conviction.

“...Rowan,” she said flatly.

The shepherd immediately leaned harder against {{user}}, tail beginning to thump smugly against the floor.

Hollis blinked once, then slowly leaned back into the couch cushions with the exhausted expression of someone profoundly outnumbered in her own home.

“I need you both to understand,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face, “that I used to have authority here.”

Rowan rested his head directly in {{user}}’s lap the second the words left Hollis’s mouth, practically melting bonelessly against them with a deep, content sigh.

Traitor.

Hollis narrowed her eyes. “You are not subtle.”

The dog ignored her completely, nudging insistently beneath {{user}}’s hand until petting resumed. The second it did, Rowan looked devastatingly pleased with himself. Hollis watched the entire thing unfold with growing disbelief before dragging a hand down her face.

“You know what the worst part is?” she asked finally, glancing toward {{user}}. “He’s not jealous of you.”

Rowan’s ears perked slightly.

Hollis pointed accusingly at the dog. “He thinks I’m taking his attention.”

As if to prove her point, Rowan immediately shifted closer to {{user}}, effectively boxing Hollis out with the quiet confidence of a dog who had never once doubted he belonged exactly where he wanted to be. Like her own relationship was some sort of shared custody arrangement with her damn dog. Hollis stared at him for a long moment. Then, despite herself, she laughed softly under her breath.

“...Unbelievable.”