Luke Gray, finally getting his first Companion.

This is the "Canon" original storyline created by me, Spookity. I have a tendency to favor slow burn plots and focus more on romance and emotional connections more than sex (though there will be plenty of sex), as well as some worldly intrigue, so be prepared for a lot of build-up to most moments of passion.

I will also warn that I do NOT have a set update schedule for this story. I will be using it to "burn off" excess desire to write when I finish the update of my other stories. Once one of the other stories is complete, I may allow this story to take one of their update slots.

Alrighty, that's all from me. Enjoy the story!

__

xoxo Spookity <3

It's finally happening: the day you have been waiting for nearly all your life. From the day you could say the word "Companion," you knew you wanted one for yourself. Sure, playing with Mom and Dad's companions filled your childhood with happy, heartwarming memories, but you just know that having one for yourself will be infinitely better. Presto and Caesar are almost like siblings to you, having been adopted in the scant few years between your parents' marriage and conception of you. They were always close by, helping your parents care for you, offering just as much love and affection as you could hope for. It's time to show that love to a new Companion, and you can't wait another second.

K.A. 32 is only a few more minutes drive away and your heart pounds harder with every passing moment. You can barely keep your hands on the steering wheel, zipping through traffic as quickly as the law allows. Wouldn't do you any good to get a ticket or into an accident and spoil your big day, right? A few more blocks and you can see it: the huge red-brick building looming on the hill ahead. Well, it certainly looked huge, even if it was only two stories. Being on a hill made it look more austere and imposing than it really was. You'd promised your parents you wouldn't go to the K.A. early to browse, so you don't actually know what it's like inside.

"You don't want to shape your opinions before you get there," you recall Mom lecturing on your birthday last week. "It would break your heart to set your sights on one, only to find them adopted the next day. It would be cruel to the dogs, too, to see an owner come in and not choose anyone."

"Bah. You throw a ball for the young ones and they'll forget you existed a minute later." Dad was a harder sell on companions, so you were told as a child, but you still think he's a respectable owner for Caesar. "Just be patient, son. When you get there, you'll know exactly which one you want. It'll just click. They're all trained the same, so don't worry about skills. Listen to your gut for once, instead of trying to overthink it."

BEEEEEEP!!!

Oh shit, how long has the light been green?! You wave an apology to the car behind you, zooming forward and approaching the K.A. parking lot. It's pretty busy today, but that's exactly what you expected. Adoption event days were always busy with people coming in from several counties away to get their literal pick of the litter. One could technically come and try to adopt just about any day, but the event days were streamlined and efficient, as well as having the best possible stock of young dogs to show off. That is also part of your promise to your parents: wait for an event in order to get the best companion you can. This is a lifelong commitment you're making, and you know quite well that you need to take the decision seriously. You're just thankful that the closest event from your birthday was only a week away and not longer!

Gah, how can everyone else look so calm?! Stepping out of your car, you see all sorts of folks walking into the K.A. building. Many of them are young adults; college age men and women like you. The minimum age to be an owner is 21, so most people get their own companion either during or right after getting their degree. Pssh, as if you're going to wait that long! Another year or two is unimaginable! You're adopting a companion, and you're doing it today.

Once inside the lobby, you are just one of many buzzing with excitement, getting into a queue for registration. You checked and double-checked the standard procedure for adoption online (again) this morning, wanting to make sure you wasted as little time as possible with formalities. ID in hand, you couldn't be more prepared if you printed out and filled the paperwork in advance! You certainly would have, but apparently that's illegal. Damn.

~

After a painful eternity of vibrating in place, your turn to registration finally came up. You're ushered into a small, simple office space, somewhere between a business cubicle and a bank teller's booth. Behind a pane of plexiglass and sitting at a narrow counter, a soft-looking older woman with 'Deborah' on her nametag greets you coolly.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Kennel Academy 32." Her dark eyes flick up to your struck-stupid grin, not reciprocating the emotion. "ID, please."

You nearly throw the card at her, sliding it with a little too much ****. Your gleeful grin becomes apologetic, and you try to calm yourself a little for Deborah's sake. Poor woman seems tired just looking at you.

"Sorry. But yeah, that's me, Luke Gray. Just turned 21 last week."

"Congratulations," Deborah replies dryly. With no need for eye contact or pleasantries, Deborah began her canned spiel, likely for the millionth time today. "State law requires you to provide your form of payment in advance prior to the interview process."

"Yes yes, I know, I have it." She levels a gaze at you from behind her counter, throwing ice on your impatience. "Sorry. Um... I know it's a bit old-fashioned, but you guys still take checks, yes?" Digging into your pocket, you pluck out a semi-neatly folded piece of paper. Dad trusted you with a signed blank check, only asking that you tell him the amount for his books when you were done. Deborah's eyebrow raised as she looked at the antique paper slip, sighing softly.

You wince when told the official amount for Event adoption, but you waste no time scribbling it onto the check with a pen. You'll pay him back! Y'know... eventually.

"It's worth it," you mutter to yourself. "Every cent and every second."

Deborah finally broke her routine of legal jargon, looking you over again. "Are you alright, sir? Maybe had a little too much coffee?"

"Hm? Oh!" You chuckle, smiling brightly. "Fine, totally fine, just really excited. I'm kinda always like this, though. Friends always say my last name is false advertising; not Gray at all."

Aww, you thought you'd get a smile out of her with that one. Oh, well. Instead, you focus on signing forms, confirming personal information, and listening to more mandatory legal-ese before you finally get to the good part.

"And what a kind of companion are you looking for today, Mr. Gray?"

You almost explode giving your answer. "I want a Brittany Spaniel, female, and I promise not to name her Brittany!" You snicker at your own very lame, very rehearsed joke. The brick wall of a woman behind the counter clicks away at her keyboard, no doubt checking their roster of available adoptees.

"Sorry, none of those." Your heart drops. "What's your second pick?"

Not to worry, you're prepared for this! You have a whole list of picks you'd compiled for today, and any one of them would be more than acceptable.

"How about... English Setter?"

"None of those, either."

Oof. "Doberman?"

"Hmmm..." She's checking again, that's hopeful. "Sorry, we only have males available. All the females have been adopted already."

Fuck.

~

You must have had a dozen breeds in mind when you walked in the door. You want an energetic, spunky companion; one that will be able to keep up with your active, demanding lifestyle. You also want a loving breed. You want a friend just as much as you want a servant, just like Presto and Caesar. Mom and Dad warned you about the risks of spoiling a companion, but how can you resist when they're so cute and well-behaved? A little pampering here and there won't hurt anything.

But alas... with every suggestion you pose, Deborah is ready to shoot it down, taking your hopes and dreams along with them. No spaniels, no huskies, no collies, no poodles... no poodles! What breeds do they even have at this damn place?!

The problem is, sadly, that this particular K.A. doesn't keep a lot of purebreds, and the ones they do get are adopted first thing in the morning. Damn your excitement. If you'd gone to sleep at a proper time last night and not snored through your alarm, you might have still had a chance! Your head thumps onto the counter, wind finally torn from your sails. You let out a long, mournful sigh, deflating like an unloved balloon.

Deborah clicks her tongue, looking down at you with a hint of pity. "Sorry, Mr. Gray. You're welcome to check the catalogue for the girls we do have. If you decide that you're not satisfied, we can hold your payment for up to a week—"

"No. It's going to be today. Let me see the catalogue, please." Your hand fumbles forward, making contact with a small tablet as it slides your way. Craning your head back and sitting upright, you look it over and see that it's already sorted for female companions only. It's the only, the only preference you won't budge on. The girls are just cuter, and statistics show that opposite-sex owner-companion relationships report much higher satisfaction rates than others. You can certainly imagine why, but regardless, you want to try for the best possible options in compatibility, so girls only!

As you scroll through the small photos of each adoptee, you occasionally see one or two blink off the screen. Adoptions are taking place in real time all around you, and your pool of potential partners is dwindling. There's still plenty, sure, but... most of them are breeds you tried to avoid. Lazy lapdogs, emotionally distant service dogs, huge former worker breeds, and those weird 'toy' breeds that have gotten popular lately... too tiny and awkward, you think. Sure they're cute, but think of all the health problems! No, no these just aren't going to work. Keep scrolling...

Today isn't going like you planned it at all. You were supposed to get up bright and early, drive out to K.A. to find your perfect companion, and spend the rest of the day giving her a tour of her new home and going shopping for supplies. Instead, over an hour since you stepped into the cubicle, you're still scrolling through the catalogue, looking for anything that causes that spark, that... that knowing moment Mom and Dad talked about. Even Deborah abandoned you, telling you to press the call button when you're ready while she goes to assist other applicants.

"Take your time," she said before stepping away. "It's a big decision."

~

More time passes. You're pretty sure Deborah has forgotten about you. On more than one occasion a different associate has peeked in to check on you, possibly assuming the room was empty for how quiet you are. Each time, you assure them you're fine, that you're just being thorough in your search. Your blindingly bright excitement has faded, replaced now with stern determination. Your brow furrows, looking over the girls again and again. No spark. No gut feeling. Nothing special comes to mind. There's a few mutt-mixes that you might be okay with, but... do you want to just be okay with the one you choose to be your companion? Where's the magic in the air; the special moment you promised yourself?

Mumbling softly, you consider your options. Either compromise and settle for one of these not-quite-perfect picks, or come back next time. The K.A. will have new dogs during the next event, and if you get up early enough, you can be first in line to pick one out. You swore you'd get a companion today, but you have to consider the logic to that promise. Is it worth it?

There's a ping from the tablet again. You've gotten used to tuning the sounds out, having heard them a dozen times while you've been browsing. Any time a companion is taken off the list, there's a notifying ping. Something you've noticed, though, is that the browser also pings when a companion is added back onto the list. Not every interview goes perfectly, so the dogs are added right back to the roster as soon as the applicant rejects them. One in particular, a little almond-colored one, has come and gone at least fives times just in the period you've been searching. Poor thing, getting shuffled around like that.

Giving it some thought, you stare at the dog's portrait and profile stub. A shiba, by the looks of it. Hm... be it pity, curiosity, or maybe fleeting, defeated hope, you press the call button to summon the sparkling ray of sunshine, Deborah.