Requested by Bluewolfbat
"Skye, come on, we're gonna be late," Marshall whined, sticking his head out of the elevator, "everyone else is already downstairs."
"Give me a second!" barked the tiny dog, following up a grunt of exertion,
It was Saturday night, the weekly Pup Pup Boogie contest. Such a competition was treated quite seriously around their parts, especially from Chase. The German Shepherd almost scared the others with how immersed he got with the game. It was especially entertaining when Chase and Zuma got into full blown arguments over certain dance moves netting more points than others. In truth, some dances were considered "unfair," as they were easy to pull off yet they gave considerable points. Ryder considered outlawing such movesets, then realized he was wasting his time trying to set rules for a dancing dog game.
All dogs would gather outside of The Lookout and gather in a line, before entering the elevator all at once. It was almost ritualistic, and Ryder worried if it was healthy for the pups to be so obsessed with the game.
"I can literally see them outside," Marshall whined, walking over the window, "Chase and Zuma are bickering,"
"They always do," Skye muttered, trying to shove something into a storage compartment.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to put all this old gear away!" she growled, really putting her back into the motion,
Several backpacks and what looked like piloting gear was littered all over the floor. The backpacks themselves were quite large and round, notoriously difficult for putting away in an organized manner.
The Dalmation curiously walked over, sniffing a green bag, "I didn't know you had all this,"
"Neither did I," Skye confessed, "I have a problem with… uh, not being very organized. Don't go in my kennel."
"What's this?" asked the firefighter, pawing at a white and orange object,"
"Don't touch that, that's a flare gun,"
"A gun?" Marshall jerked back in alarm,
"No, it's different," Skye grunted, growing irritated, "it shoots a really bright light, helps people find you when you're lost,"
"Ooh, so we should've taken that on our last camping trip," Marshall shuddered, remembering the ghastly adventure they had wandering through the forest.
"Can you give me a paw here?"
Marshall padded over to Skye. She was attempting to forcefully stuff a large, bulky bag into a footlocker, not the ideal place for it but it would do for now. The Dalmation placed both paws on it and assisted Skye with his own strength, pushing it downward into position. The smaller pup quickly jumped up and shot the locker, sealing it inside.
"Okay, now the parachutes," she turned, walking over to the backpacks that littered the ground.
"Parachute?" Marshall smiled in awe, "I've always wanted to skydive!"
"Really?" she raised an eyebrow, "you've never told me that,"
"Well yeah, we're the Paw Patrol after all, we have jobs."
"Important jobs," Skye concluded, then chuckled, "but not important enough that we don't have these over-the-top Pup Pup Boogie parties. Now can you grab that one?"
She pointed her blond paw over at a backpack lying on the floor, as she went to grab another one in her teeth and drag it to another locker. Marshall looked over, then frowned when he saw it. It didn't look anything like he saw in magazines, it was just a backpack. As Skye opened the locker, Marshall approached the backpack and sniffed it.
"It doesn't look like a parachute," he inquired,
"What?" Skye questioned, although not looking back, "what do you mean?"
Marshall's curiosity got the better of him, such was a curse that always followed him wherever he went. His eyes rested on a small string that dangled from the back, ending in what looked like a pull handle. The Dalmation always loved those interactable games, and opened his mouth to grab the handle.
Skye finally turned around, "okay, can you hand me the-" her eyes went wide, "don't pull that!"
It was too late, Marshall gave the string a hearty yank, and a massive parachute exploded out of the top. Colors red, yellow, and blue blasted in all directions as the giant sheet unraveled in less than a second, spanning almost ninety square feet.
"Aaahhhh!" could be heard as the Dalmation was taken completely off guard, scaring him so rapidly one would think his spots would disappear, rendering him a fully white and terrified dog. Skye shielded her face as the parachute ruptured out, bracing herself for something in the room to knock over and break. A rush of relief washed over her when she heard nothing, but it quickly turned to panic when she remembered the firefighter.
"Marshall?!" she called, stepping onto the parachute, "you okay?"
No response, as the massive sheet finished gracefully falling to the ground, coming to a halt as it laid on the floor.
A very noticeable lump was in the center, Skye rolled her eyes and walked over to it, stepping over small folds in the parachute that would usually trip her. Coming up to what looked like a large mass underneath the sheet, Skye boredly nudged the lump with her paw.
"Am I dead?" the lump asked,
"I think I would have rathered you set off the flare gun than this," chuckled the pilot, giggling to herself, "come out from there."
The lump suddenly jolted as Marshall stood up, "I can't see anything under here,"
"Come to my voice,"
Without any warning, Marshall blindly shot forward and barreled into Skye, prompting an "oof," to leave her as she tumbled backward.
"Sorry," Marshall whimpered apologetically,
"Just walk in any direction!" Skye heaved,
The blind Dalmation quickly walked forward, then stopped for a moment. Skye raised an eyebrow as Marshall suddenly turned to his left, traveled in a small circle, then wandered back over to the center.
"Why are you going in circles?!" Skye stared, "just go forward!"
"This is confusing!" Marshall complained, "and very uncomfortable!"
An audible facepaw can be heard from the avian pup, "you're lucky you're adorable,"
"You think I'm adorable?" The Dalmation suddenly brightened, his tail could be heard scratching against the parachute as it wagged.
"You have your moments," Skye gigged, sitting down at a safe distance, "not many, but you have them,"
"Well I think you're pretty," he smiled,
Skye's smile suddenly died as those words hit her ears, "Marshall, don't say things like that. I don't think you know what that means."
The Dalmation frowned at Skye's tone, "Really? I thought I did,"
"People will think you like me if you call me pretty," she explained, gazing down sadly,
"What does that mean?" the parachute-covered lump tilted his head, "I like you,"
"No it means like, romantically. Like how… uh,"
"Like Zuma and Rocky?"
"Yeah, them," Skye waved off, "and I know that's not how you feel about me, so just watch what you-"
"But I do feel that way!" Marshall chirped, innocent as ever,
"Like… that?" she took a step back, blush creeping across her face, "Marshall, I don't think you know what you're talking about,"
"Oh," the Dalmation hung his head, but quickly smiled, "well that's how I feel!"
"Just come out."
Marshall finally emerged at the edge of the parachute, lifting it up on his head like a colorful hood. It was quite an adorable sight, and Skye couldn't help but laugh. Then they were both laughing, falling on the floor and unable to control their hysterics.
"Seriously though, don't touch those handles," Skye finally said, wiping a joyful tear from her eye,
"Sorry," he shrugged, "it looked fun,"
"Now come on, it's been long enough. Chase is probably ready to kill us for delaying the game,"
The two finally stood and gathered up what remained, cleaning away the gear and clenching their teeth as they put every ounce of strength into cramming the parachute into a locker. Once they finally shoved it in, the two dogs smiled warmly at each other as they locked it.
"Hey, can we go sky diving sometime?" Marshall asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.
Skye turned to face the Dalmation, and in that instant, a warm, sunny feeling danced within her. She found herself gazing at him, counting his spots and searching for gentle flickers in his eyes.
"Whenever you want," she smiled.