Requested by RockyChase on Wattpad

The Paw Patrol was notable for their feats as emergency services, even if it was mildly debatable whether or not Adventure Bay really needed them. It was unheard of what the Patrol would soon grow into, but in their early years they carried out basic missions and tasks to assist the people of the town. Everything from a rouge chicken, misplaced mail, or a cat comedically stuck in a tree, the dogs were there to save the day.

Even then, they were puppies at heart, carefree spirits who sometimes just wanted to run and play to their hearts' content. All dogs were, by nature, playful animals who sought a puddle of mud to roll in or a rubber ball to chew up.

The day was perfect, a warm, sunny sky was nothing but the birds and trees singing in the distance. Ryder warned the dogs not to get too comfortable in case a mission suddenly reared its head, but it was a warning the Patrol had heard dozens of times, enough for them to secretly roll their eyes. Before Ryder was even done talking, five of the six pups had already sprinted outside, leaving a surprised Chase left in the dust.

Marshall wiggled low to the warm grass, "team Fire is down three points, Marshall is up to play," he narrowed his eyes at the small blue ball sitting aimlessly on the ground, "all he has to do is get a touchdown, and it'll be a perfect comeback!"

The invisible crowd was roaring his name, confetti and pup treat raining from the sky as they excitedly awaited his move. "The defense is loaded," the Dalmation said in a hushed tone, eyeing the small bush a few feet away, "he's surrounded, no one has ever broken through a wall like this, folks. Is this even possible?" Kneading his paws in the dirt, Marshall took a deep breath, "he's concentrating, he's concentrating," then suddenly launched his whole body forward, running in a sprint. "He's off!"

Grabbing the ball swiftly in his teeth, the Dalmation shoved himself through the bush, shutting his eyes and using his nose as a battering ram to smash through the leaves and twigs, "he completely breaks through! The crowd goes berserk!" Filled with excitement, Marshall charged all over the field, running for a goal no one could see. It was debatable whether he was running anywhere or just sprinting with no end in sight.

"A hundred points!" He jumped triumphantly, slamming the ball into the grass. It bounced from the impact and rolled off down the hill, "a hundred points, a thousand points, a million!" Spiked with drive, the puppy turned and launched him in a random direction, but his run was cut short instantaneously. The Dalmation crashed head-on into another dog standing right to his left, wandering over out of curiosity.

"Unnf-" was the sound that escaped his mouth as he collided with a gray mass of fur, rolling along the grass until coming to a slow stop.

"Ow…" groaned the second dog,

Marshall chuckled sheepishly, finding his chin nestled into his friend's chest. It was an oddly warm feeling, "uh, sorry, heh."

"Didn't know I was gonna be roadkill today," Rocky shook his head the dizziness, flicking off grass and dirt, "can I get up now?"

"Yeah yeah," the Dalmation rolled off his friend, "sorry about that."

The two of them quickly separated, Marshall's imaginary audience was probably booing him now for the drastic misplay. Crashing into another player on the field was usually frowned upon unless he was playing football. Despite that infraction, Marshall was more than happy to let someone like Rocky in, and almost caught himself staring at the shining mix.

"So what are you playing?" Rocky wagged his tail as he got up, looking toward the empty field, "it looked fun."

"I… uh," the Dalmation snapped out of his infatuation and looked back at his misplaced ball, sitting lonely on the field, "I don't know actually. I think it was soccer, but it kinda turned into football," he shrugged with a careless smile, "I'm just happy to play ball honestly."

The mix gave a joyful bounce, "ooh, can I play?"

"Sure, I just need to figure out what I'm-" the Dalmation's words fell on deaf ears, as Rocky already took off running into the field, Marshall watching him as he trailed off, "oh, or you could just, run off…" The sight of Rocky's utter joy was flooding him with dopamine.

Quick to rejoin the game, Marshall walked back over as his friend flung the ball in the air and caught it in his mouth in one swift motion. Hit with a pang of annoyance, yet a burst of playfulness right alongside it, Marshall lowered his torso and swayed his haunches in the air. Narrowing his eyes and leaning down his head, he got into a pouncing position, kneading his paws in the grass. Rocky ran in a circle a few times before spotting his friend's pose and raised his eyebrow with an intrigued look.

"My ball," Marshall growled, although it was friendly and held no actual animosity.

Rocky mirrored the stance, his tail dancing in the air as he held the ball in his mouth, "come get it."

The two dogs stood frozen in place for a few seconds before suddenly springing into action like a light switch was flicked in their heads. Exploding into movement, Rocky broke into a sprint, kicking up shredded grass as he ran. Marshall chased after him, all eyes and targets locked onto his friend's tail. They ran like bullets around the field, mowing down flowers and weeds, and even obliterating an old anthill as they bulldozed through it.

Marshall and Rocky were somewhat equal in their speed. Dogs were fast by nature, having strong builds and four legs to carry them, yet some were faster than others. The fastest of the Paw Patrol was technically Skye, due to her ability to take flight in the air. If no one had their equipment, the winner of the "fastest dog contest" would be Chase by a landslide, being biologically built to work and pursue as a German Shepherd. Zuma wasn't too quick, but the Lab was incredibly elusive, taking evasive maneuvers whenever his chaser got too close.

"Gotcha!" Marshall leaped forward, holding out his arms to catch the mixed breed. Failure, the Dalmation crashed into the ground and skidded a good few feet before stopping.

Returning to the pouncing position, Rocky swayed playfully, "no you don't, still have it!" He laughed.

His spotted friend scrambled up from the dirt. "Oh yeah? Well-" the Dalmation's mind raced for something to carry into his imaginary world, "you just… passed the uh… line!"

"Line?" Rocky said, confused, "I didn't see a line."

"It's invisible," Marshall explained matter-of-factly, "you went over it, and that means you have to walk backward for two whole minutes!"

"Backward?" The mix looked around at his surroundings, "what if I hit something?"

"Then you lose ten points."

"We have points? How many do I have?"

"Uh, five," Marshall said quickly, "but I've been playing for a few hours, so I have like, fifty… million… bajillion zillion."

"How do I-"

"Time in!" The Dalmation exploded back into a run, leaping for Rocky to get his ball back. The mix was startled but acted fast, diving to the side to avoid Marshall's leap in one fell swoop. His dodge wasn't perfect, as his attacker managed to clip one of his legs, knocking him off balance.

Rocky stumbled in the grass, "hey, no fair!" Quickly scrambling back into a run, they continued their game of keep-away, with Marshall almost fighting tooth and nail to retrieve the ball from his friend's mouth. They ran non-stop for about half an hour, and neither of them noticed Rubble watching them from his kennel, pangs of jealousy pinning the Bulldog.

Soon the mix found himself cornered around some rocks, their run having strayed off into the forest. The vast field had transformed into a shady maze of trees, the canopies of leaves above protecting them from the sunlight. The grass left from under them, and they passed into a surface of twigs and fallen leaves. Rocky skidded to a halt and feverishly looked around for an escape, but it was hopeless to find any way out. Menacingly approaching him, Marshall smirked as he came to a stop, basking in his victory. "Well, someone's trapped," he said with a chuckle, "give me the ball."

The mix backed up further into the corner, "no," he said simply, turning his head away in defiance.

"Rocky give me my ball, you have nowhere to run."

"Oh yeah?" The mix challenged, "well you just passed over the line!"

"Line?" Marshall blinked, taken off guard.

"Yep, right here." Rocky held out his paw and traced it in a large semi-circle around him, "the line protects me, and you just crossed it."

The Dalmation looked down, trying to find the mysterious element pointed out to him, "but… but I don't see it."

"It's invisible," the mix grinned, a smug expression on his gray face, "so you can either lose a thousand points or… uh," he hesitated, trying to think of something, "you uh…"

With no warning, Marshall lunged forward, completely passing through Rocky's safety line. The two dogs crashed together, the ball flying from Rocky's mouth and sailing off into a bush. They uncomfortably collided with the rock wall behind them and fell on top of one another into the grass, Marshall landing on top of the mix.

"Ow!" Rocky groaned, "I said I had a line that protects me!"

"You took too long trying to explain it," the Dalmation shrugged, placing his paws on the mix's chest to further pin him down, "and rule eight says your rule is void in that case."

"Rule eight?" The mix growled as he tried to wiggle out, "where is that written?!"

"The rulebook, but it's invisible."

"I'm starting to think you're just making this up as you go along." Rocky flashed an annoyed look. "Is there any way to win this?"

"You don't really win," the Dalmation said with a giggle, "it's just the fun of the game itself, I guess."

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Marshall felt soreness climb into his arms. Perhaps playtime was over, as he had fully tired himself out. Without realizing it, the Dalmation let his head rest into Rocky's fur. It was oddly cool in temperature, a feeling that helped him relax and get his heart beating back to normal. Rocky was hesitant as his friend nuzzled into him, not to mention uncomfortable as he was lying roughly on his back. Even then, he bit the bullet and let it happen, leaning his head back into the dirt and draping his arm around Marshall's back.

"Thanks for playing with me," the Dalmation breathed, savoring the close feeling of the mix, "no one ever does."

"Likely because you keep making up rules," Rocky whispered with a slight giggle.

They sat motionless in the forest, huddled together in an endearing share of contentment. Marshall was beginning to feel warm when Rocky suddenly spoke up, mentioning that they should return to The Lookout eventually. With how many times Marshall would wander off, the others would get antsy if they didn't see him for some time. Disappointed at the disconnection, Marshall reluctantly moved off to let Rocky free. Even as their fun ended, they couldn't deny the sparks that flew between them.

.-.-.-.-.

"Still no missions today?" Marshall asked aloud as he dipped his nose into his food bowl, "we usually get a call by now."

Skye looked up from her dish, "maybe everyone's dead?"

All six dogs looked up from their food in surprise. They had all joined together for lunch, sitting in a circle with their bowls of food of kibble. "Sheesh," Chase said with a shocked expression, his ears completely flattened, "that's a horrible thing to say."

"Sorry, I've been watching a lot of horror movies lately," the Cockapoo tapped her paw apologetically, "you get used to the shocking stuff the more you watch."

Zuma joined the conversation, looking up with a fearful whine, "those kinds of movies always scawe me. Thewe's no happy ending if evewyone dies."

"I think that's the point of the movie though," Rocky pointed out, chewing through a mouthful of food, "sometimes you just have a movie where the sole premise is to watch characters die with nothing they can do about it."

The Labrador was terrified at those words, "who the hell would make a movie like that?"

As the dogs debated over what elements made a good horror flick, Marshall chewed his food in silence, only glancing upward at Rocky every few seconds. It wasn't fair that he was forced to hide his feelings, it wasn't fair that he wasn't allowed to talk about what happened that night. He had the right to be happy just as anyone else, didn't he? The thought angered him, slightly spiking up his fur a little along his back. No one seemed to notice, as they were listening to Chase rambling on and on.

"See I have this idea for the Patrol," the Shepherd wagged, unable to contain his excitement, "seeing how we already have a Lookout in Adventure City," he held his tongue, flicking his eyes around to build up the suspense, "why don't we expand even more?"

Skye tilted her head, "aren't we already though? We have like, seventeen other dogs recognized as members, they just don't live with us."

"Other than that, I'm talking more Lookouts, operations, and international communication!" Chase went starry-eyed, not noticing Marshall roll his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Rocky looked up from his bowl with a frown, still confused about what the Shepherd was getting at.

Chase was so excited he stepped over his bowl, completely overturning it, "what if we all split up? Divide among the land and build our own cores of operation? Why help one city when we can help a hundred?"

"Split up?" Rubble recoiled in alarm, his eyes gone fearful, "you mean… leave forever?" The Bulldog's words hung in the air like a raincloud, and Marshall's heart sank at what was being implied. He almost instinctively gazed over at Rocky, praying the mix would have something to say about separating.

"Well not forever, silly," the police dog waved off the comment, "we'd still be together, just living in different places. I'd open the police force, Marshall could start up a firefighting district, Rocky could get a green movement going-"

"Stop," Marshall put his paw down, a little sterner than he'd like, but his mood had seemingly flared at the mention of Rocky leaving. The other five all turned their heads in surprise, taken aback at the usually loveable Dalmation's tone. "Chase, I don't think Ryder is going to approve of this,"

"Well, he-"

"No, listen to yourself," Marshall stood up, agitated yet desperate, "you can't just break us all up like that!"

"Marshall, calm down," came a voice he was surprised to hear coming from Rocky. The mix stood up and mirrored his confrontational posture, his grey ears flattened as he stared down the Dalmation, "he kind of is the leader, whenever Ryder isn't. Hush up and eat your food."

Although he was more than ready to counter the statement, the fact that the words had come from Rocky had halted Marshall in his tracks. He couldn't bring himself to bite back, not while under the firm gaze of the mix. Biting his tongue, Marshall hung his head and lowered himself back before his food, choosing to stay silent for the rest of the conversation.

As soon as the words left his muzzle, Rocky instantly regretted them, seeing immediately after the way he verbally pushed Marshall away. A piece of him was praying the Dalmation would say something to counter the statement, giving Rocky the green light to take his words back and retract from the conversation, but he didn't. Marshall completely shut down, a sight that tore Rocky's heart to shreds. He wanted to apologize, but Zuma and Chase quickly hijacked the conversation, debating over whether or not coast guard police could be intimidating.

.-.-.-.-.

A day passed, with Marshall silently going to bed without saying goodnight to anyone. The sun went down, then came up in a glorious cycle. There were still no missions yet, and Ryder excused the pups outside, this time with a more lackluster warning to be on guard for incoming missions. As much as he wanted to run outside and play again, there were other matters he needed to attend to, like washing his fire engine.

Holding a sponge in his mouth, he dipped it into a pail of soapy water, grimacing as the cleaning fluid ran down his tongue. The water was abrasively cold, an unsavory feeling to plunge his nose and muzzle into.

Zuma was assisting, eager to help as an excuse to play with the hose. Marshall rolled his eyes as the Lab drenched the vehicle, then suddenly began jumping through the water stream joyfully. He truly loved the water in every form it took.

"Aren't you cold?" Asked the Dalmation, rubbing the soapy sponge into the side of the fire engine.

The Lab popped up into view, as he was standing on the top back of the car, "absolutely not!" He wagged his wet tail excitedly, "I love jumping thwough these things, hey can you blast me?"

"What?"

"Blast me!" Zuma bounced, buzzing with anticipation, "hit me with the hose!"

Marshall raised an eyebrow with a somewhat annoyed expression, "I thought you were helping me wash my car."

"I am! But that doesn't mean we can't have fun!"

Zuma's bouncing excitement was met with the brick wall that was Marshall's mood. The Dalmation carried a look on his face, an expression that could only be described as a mix of agitation and exasperation. The mention of fun had suddenly become a sore spot for the puppy, remembering immediately how Rocky raised his voice at him. It seemed their entire day together meant nothing if the mix just magically became hostile, a feeling that gutted Marshall's spotted heart into shreds. What had he done? Chase mentioned separation, and right away he got antsy. He didn't want to see Rocky go, or anyone for that matter, it would completely rob him of his feelings.

"Dude, you okay?" Zuma asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Marshall shook his head, grabbing the sponge quickly to resume cleaning, "fucking far from it." He said with venom in his voice.

"Hey, language," the Lab carefully hopped off the car, landing on the ground beside him, "don't say stuff like that."

The Dalmation jolted in mild shock, then quickly went hot with embarrassment, "oh, uh… sorry," he stuttered over his words, "I thought you were… okay with… swearing."

"No, I'm not," Zuma shook his head, disappointed in his friend's profanity, "no offense, but what's with you today?"

Marshall sighed to himself, not meeting the Lab's gaze. He was in the spotlight now, a situation he'd gone through twists and turns to avoid straying into. Perhaps now it was time, time to finally let someone in on the inner darkness. Zuma was trustworthy, he had no reason to suspect otherwise, although he'd probably feel better telling someone else. Someone like Skye perhaps, or even Rubble, but Zuma wanted an answer, and it was truly now or never.

"Look," he sighed, turning to the Lab, "you want the truth?"

Blinking in confusion, Zuma tilted his head, "there's a truth? What's going on?"

"I… I may have a crush on Rocky."

The words stung to get out, cutting and scratching his throat as they left. As painful as the confession was, it was oddly freeing to finally say it out loud.

"Okay and?"

Zuma's response genuinely took him off guard, and Marshall almost turned his head to stare at his friend in utter bewilderment. It was obvious how oblivious he was to the true situation, and Marshall wondered if the Lab would change his answer after knowing the full story.

Putting his cleaning supplies down, Marshall sat down and prepared himself to unload, "do you remember that campout we went on a month ago?"

The coast guard suddenly brightened, "I do, I do!" He hopped up and down, "I got to swim in the lake, we all had tents, and we made smowes!"

"Dogs aren't supposed to have marshmallows…" Marshall chuckled, "Rubble had diarrhea for two hours."

"Ha!" The Lab laughed at the memory, waving his paw, "I sweaw if he evew gets a wife, I will bwing that up in the toast."

Nodding in agreement, Marshall's smile slowly dimmed, knowing he had to turn the conversation back to an unhappy note. "So… you remember how I shared a tent with Rocky?"

"Yeah, I shared with Chase."

"Well…" Marshall winced, a terrible sinking feeling in his chest. The truth was about to come out, "I… I had too many pup treats…and…"

Zuma narrowed his eyes, his happy mood dying away, "Mawshall… what did you do?"

The Dalmation merely dragged his paw along the ground absently, looking down in shame for a few seconds. He couldn't bring himself to say it, yet he knew it had to come out. To finally call out the words would break apart his very being. Could he do it? Maybe not. He traced his paw a little faster. He couldn't, but he had to, but he couldn't. Zuma could easily read the Dalmation's discomfort, "Mawshall-"

"I kissed him!"

The truth was revealed, or half of it at least. Marshall almost shouted the words, like he forcefully shoved them out of his throat. Back at the campout, he had found himself delirious about treats, and he just so happened to share a tent with the object of his desire.

"Oh," Zuma blinked, then looked down for a moment, contemplating his friend's confession, "why didn't you evew tell us you wewe togethew?"

"Because we… aren't,"

"Wait, so you like Wocky, kiss him, but didn't get togethew?" The Lab repeated, sitting back as he tried to process the information. "I… I don't understand."

"That's only the half of it," Marshall absently tapped his paw on the sponge, fidgeting with its wet surface, "it didn't really… end well."

"What do you mean?"

"When I kissed him, he…" the Dalmation cringed internally, remembering the awful direction the night had turned, "he woke up, right in the middle of it."

Zuma bristled, "you kissed him while he was asleep?" He said, appalled, "dude that… that's like sexual assault."

"I know!" Marshall panicked, standing up, "I… I panicked… so I…" he shuddered, "I…"

"What?!"

"I pretended to sleepwalk!" He confessed, finally letting loose the whole truth, "I kissed him, he woke up, I panicked… so I made it look like I was sleepwalking…"

The memory, despite the great effort being made to repress it, returned in an instant. It was a sad night, the camp festivities had died down, and everyone had retired to their tents. Marshall could only take the ruckus of Chase and Skye's next-door laughter for so long, as it was clear neither of them was sleeping any time soon. Eager to numb his mind, he got up from his sleeping bag and crept over to his backpack. He had smuggled in some rather strong pup treats, a snack he didn't think he'd need but kept around. Out of desperation to cure his insomnia, and lack of knowledge if treats could even do that, the Dalmation consumed three bacon-flavored treats. He was delirious within minutes, goose-stepping around the tent and giggling to himself. Rocky was gently nuzzled in the corner, sleeping on his back with his paws sticking up in the air. It was an adorable sight as the puppy snored away, his tail flicking every few seconds. Marshall had been holding a crush on him for years, wooed by the mix's sensitivity and sarcastic humor. Usually, the Dalmation would keep himself restrained, knowing that throwing oneself into their object of infatuation was a quick way to lose them. However, wasted on spiked treats, there was no restraint to hold him back this time.

It was the nature of a psychoactive to dampen emotional responsiveness, tampering away at one's cognitive control. Lost in the beautiful gaze of the dog he carried fiery feelings for, Marshall found himself standing directly over the sleeping Rocky. What happened next, he was unsure of if he regretted it or not, but it would haunt him for all the days to come. He leaned his head down and kissed the mixed breed, gently pecking him in the silence of the night. Even in the quiet, Rocky somehow immediately reacted, snapping awake and breaking the kiss. For a split-second, they stared into each other's eyes, and Marshall recoiled in a panic. The Dalmation was frozen, locked up like a deer in headlights as he processed the fact Rocky had just caught him. In a moment of sheer instinct, Marshall shut his eyes and pretended to sleepwalk. He could hear Rocky react with a surprised grunt, then fall silent as if he was studying the dog above him. Filled to the brim with anxiety and paranoia, Marshall stayed completely quiet, letting his body sway a little as if he was delirious. He pondered giving up on the act and was just about to when he heard Rocky rollover, sighing as he returned to his slumber. Adrenaline coursing through him, Marshall held his breath and returned to bed.

Zuma was completely dumbfounded, staring at the Dalmation with a shocked expression. He couldn't believe for a moment that his firefighter friend had actually done something of the sort. To kiss someone in their sleep was assault, and to then suddenly lie about it by pretending to sleepwalk was just downright deceitful. He had never believed even a moment that Marshall could have this side to him. The Lab quickly became furious, his joyful demeaning dying away as his brown fur spiked up, "what the fuck, dude?!"

"Oh, so you can cuss, but I can't?"

"Mawshall, you'we not listening to me!" The Lab shouted, "what the hell wewe you thinking?!"

Now it was the other puppy's turn to flare up, matching Zuma's hostility, "I told you, I just panicked! I didn't mean for it to happen!"

"Well mean it ow not, you have to tell him!"

"Wha- no!" Marshall snarled, defiant as he stood his ground, "we had a whole fun day yesterday, so I doubt he even remembers it!"

"You think he doesn't wemembew his fwiend kissing him out of nowhewe?"

"You aren't helping, Zuma," the Dalmation bristled, "I'm going to tell him how I feel and you'll see!" He said with a bark, "you'll see he'll still accept me!"

Marshall turned away, abandoning the carwash in an attempt to flee the conversation. Zuma instantly followed him, refusing to end the argument. Knowing he was being followed, Marshall felt himself breaking inside. He just wanted this to be finished and over with so he could escape and go find Rocky. Why did Zuma always have to be so difficult?

"Mawshall, this isn't going to end the way you want it to!"

The Dalmation looked over his shoulder, "stop following me, leave me alone!" The aggression had completely left his voice, leaving a broken dog scared and seeking to flee. Zuma persisted for a few seconds but gave up knowing Marshall was finished talking. Whatever he was planning on doing, it surely wasn't going to end well. Deep down he was appalled, almost disgusted upon learning of Marhsall's unhinged actions. He had nothing against the feelings toward Rocky, but this was something entirely new, something worse. A whole crime had been committed here, and if Ryder found it, it was likely they'd be separated sooner than Chase envisioned.

.-.-.-.-.-.

Nightfall had bestowed itself over Adventure Bay. The sky darkened and glittered with stars, the cooling aura of the night resting upon the land. While most went to bed, a few pups in particular were still awake. Two friends were gathered in The Lookout, staying up late for a few extra hours of free time.

Laying on the floor, Rocky absently chewed a blue rubber ball, "play any good games lately?"

"I've literally never played anything except Pup Pup Boogie," Chase said, getting increasingly annoyed as he tried to catch his tail.

"Don't you ever get tired of that?"

The Shepherd slowed down, thinking for a moment, "sometimes, but Ryder doesn't let us have any other games. I really wish he did, I once heard these dogs talking about this really cool game. You're in a far, medieval land, with skeletons and stuff, and you have the voice of a dragon!"

Rocky brightened up, excited over the thought of a game, "oh that sounds epic!"

"But in their tongue," Chase suddenly posed, puffing out his chest as he quoted the game, "he is Dovahkin… Dragonborn!"

As the dogs mused to themselves, no one noticed the elevator light up, accompanied by a ding sound. The doors opened, a sound deafening compared to the silent night, and who stepped out was a lone Dalmation. Marshall anxiously crept in, but gently smiled as he spotted the others. He quickened his pace and walked over to join the group, "hey guys-"

"Fus Ro Dahh!" Chase sprinted forward, charging headfirst into a cardboard box full of dog kibble. The container completely exploded on impact, sending a nuclear blast of dog food into the air and raining down. Rocky stiffened in shock and quickly held a paw over his face as the brown pellets showered into him, while Marshall skidded to a halt as he witnessed the act of food terrorism.

"Dude, seriously?" Rocky looked around at the massive mess in great concern, "Ryder's gonna kill us."

Chase barked a reply, but it consisted mostly of video game lingo that the other two didn't understand. The mix and Dalmation exchanged confused looks as Chase ran off, now wound up from the action and excitement. He nearly threw himself down the big slide, traveling out of The Lookout endlessly barking something about dragons.

Rocky peered down the top of the slide, "good, let him make messes elsewhere."

"German Shepherds," Marshall giggled with a paw over his mouth, "the definition of erraticness."

"Maybe," the mix shrugged, then turned back to his partner with a friendly smile, "so what brings you up here at this hour? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

The Dalmation tried to hit a confident pose, "sleep is for the weak, eh?"

"It actually isn't," Rocky said, completely deadpan, "sleep is literally your body's way of repairing itself. Without sleep you-"

"Okay okay, it was just a joke."

The mix rolled his eyes at the Dalmation, trying to look exasperated, but suddenly broke into a smile that he tried to hide with his paw. A fit of giggles escaped the grey dog, endeared by Marshall, and his partner only brightened up even more at the sight. Seeing Rocky enamored by his presence filled Marshall with a shot of courage, bleeding into confidence that he was unsure if he really needed it or not. Whether or not it was the time, the truth was about to hit the air.

"So uh," he traced his spotted paw along the ground, fidgeting with the scattered dog food, "I kinda wanted to talk to you."

"What's up?" Rocky tilted his head, but then he noticed Marshall's uncomfortable position, "oh…" he leaned back a little, "is this… is this about yesterday?" He drew back a little, remembering how he snapped at the puppy during lunch. "Oh jeez uh…" he fumbled for the right words to say, "look, I'm sorry about that, I don't really know what came over me."

Marshall stopped, slightly aghast that Rocky actually apologized over the matter.

"No, not that," the Dalmation waved off, now turning a shade of red from embarrassment, "I… have a confession to make, and this is a little difficult to say."

The mix tilted his head, an adorable sight that nearly broke Marshall's words. It had to come out, no longer could the truth be hindered by distraction. He opened his muzzle but no words came out and his eyes trailed off to the side, inner instinct pleading for him not to reveal the news and preserve what little friendship they had.

"Ever since…" he said, his mouth on autopilot as Rocky silenced, "ever since you with me to Foggy Bottom for… well, that thing," he alluded to an old event in which the Paw Patrol had to deal with something in the old forests, something controversial enough that its name couldn't be directly said, "I've seen a new side of you."

"A good side, hopefully?" Rocky smiled and turned to the left, facing Marshall with what he jokingly referred to as his better half.

The gesture earned a chuckle from the Dalmation, "I mean like a…" he fought to find an example, "well yeah, something like that I guess. Look, the point is, you're my best friend and… you make me happy."

Rocky remained still, but his smile fell. He had an inkling of what was coming but didn't know enough to warrant a reaction.

Marshall came forward a little, trying to keep in line with Rocky's orange-brown eyes, "happy enough that… I…" he gulped, trying to temper the screaming anxiety in his stomach, "that I've had a crush on you for two months."

He winced, fearing Rocky would lash out in retaliation. It never came, yet the silence alone was somehow even more terrifying. When a solid, wordless ten seconds passed with no reply, Marshall flicked his eyes up at the mix, his nose still pointed at the ground.

Rocky was smiling.

"Heh," he giggled, briefly holding a paw over his gray muzzle before meeting Marshall's gaze, "I'm glad one of us finally had the courage to say something."

"Huh?" Marshall uttered a word of confusion, picking his head up.

The mix brightened up, slightly fluffing his fur, "come on dude, I've always felt that way about you," he gushed, "for a second, I was worried I wasn't dropping enough hints."

"Hints?"

"Yeah, I can't believe you didn't see it earlier-" then Rocky stopped, his brain freezing in its tracks. He remembered instantly how he scolded the Dalmation the other day in a harmless conversation, something that would certainly hurt things if he was trying to drop hints. If he didn't regret the words before, he absolutely did now, "oh God," the mix breathed to himself, then lowered his head in shame.

"I'm an asshole…" he said in shame, bowing his head, "Marshall I… I'm so sorry, I- …God that was so stupid of me to say, shooting you down like that."

The Dalmation held out his paw a little, wanting affection but was unsure how to ask for it. Even now as Rocky was practically confessing right back to him, he was still fearful of saying the wrong thing. The mix flicked his eyes up and spotted the gesture, a wave of comfort coming back over to him. Walking over the dog food that scattered the floor, he embraced Marshall and hugged him tightly. The Dalmation in his arms was hesitant at first, a part of him almost not believing it was real, but soon melted into his partner. As they were roughly the same height, he was unable to bury his nose in any chest fur due to their positioning, but Marshall didn't care. What mattered to him now was finally being one with his mixed breed. The stress and worry died away, and for a moment, Marshall felt inner peace.

"Sorry for being a dick," Rocky whispered, tightly holding Marshall.

The Dalmation chuckled, "sorry for kissing you."

The words hung in the air for a moment before Rocky spoke up, "kissing me?" He raised an eyebrow, "when was this?"

"In the tent, during the campout."

The mixed breed giggled, the fond, albeit awkward memory returning to him. They held each other for a few seconds as Rocky's mind went over the odd exchange they had shared in the tent when suddenly it latched onto something. The tiniest of silent alarms went off in Rocky's head, something about the memory had caught him, something that didn't add up.

There was a discrepancy in Marshall's words.

"Wait a second," Rocky gently pushed his boyfriend off, his mind now obsessively clinging to the old memory and scanning it over nearly hundreds of times. Marshall obliged, although faintly made grabby motions with his paws, unhappy with being apart from his darling. "Aww, I was enjoying that," the Dalmation said, brightening happily, then opened his eyes to meet Rocky's gaze.

Rocky wasn't smiling anymore.

The mix was looking him up and down, slightly narrowing his eyes, "you were… sleepwalking."

"Yeah, sorry," Marshall was oblivious to his partner's mood, "I guess I have really intense dreams."

"Marshall," the mix said sternly, "people who sleepwalk don't remember the things they did while they were doing it."

"They don't?" The firefighter tilted his head, intrigued,

"No. They don't."

Rocky stopped talking, continuing to stare down the confused Dalmation. It took Marshall a few seconds before the realization hit him, and it hit hard. He completely froze, his eyes widening ever so slightly as his heart quickened its pace. His paws twitched, feeling like a massive spotlight of anxiety had been shone onto him. The little dog was filled with motionless, silent panic, and he tried his hardest to not express the sheer terror bleeding onto his face.

He had just exposed himself.

"No no no!" He instantly tried to save it, utter panic spiking his movement, "I know that because… because-" his spotted tail hid underneath him, "Chase… saw it! Yeah, Chase saw it and then he told me, and then-"

"Chase was with Skye in a whole other tent." Rocky saw right through it, staring at the now fearful Dalmation with shocked eyes. "You lied to me."

"I didn't-"

"Marshall," he cut the dog off, voice rising, "did you fucking kiss me while I was sleeping?!"

"I…" Marshall backed up, darting his eyes around for an escape. All of the sudden, he didn't want to remain in The Lookout anymore.

"Did you," Rocky stood on all fours and spiked his fur, "without my consent-" he growled the last word, "kiss me in my sleep?" He walked forward, moving with a fierce poise that made Marshall curl down into a scared position.

Voice shaking, Marshall had no idea what to do, "... couples kiss each other while they sleep all the time…"

"We weren't a fucking couple!" Rocky barked, "and then you- what, lied about it to my face? Pretended to sleepwalk?!"

"But-"

"How would you like it if every night some random-ass street dog came into your kennel and made out with you while you slept?!"

Marshall whined in protest, "that- that's different…"

"Maybe it is," Rocky pretended to agree, then suddenly snapped, "or maybe it isn't!" You can't kiss non-consenting dogs while they sleep! Is that not textbook common sense?!"

"I was on treats…"

"Treats?!" The mix was appalled, "you're actually eating spiked treats again!? Whatever happened to 'getting help?!'" He made air quotes with his left paw.

The shouting was sparking up Marshall's fight or flight response, and this time, he didn't want to run away, "look I don't see why you're being so anal about this," the Dalmation stood up, facing Rocky, "I like you, what else do you want?"

"You're missing the point!" The mix snarled, then drew back a little, "what else did you do to me, huh? When I went back to sleep?"

Enraged, Marshall bared his teeth, "I'm not some sicko, you fucking asshole! I just kissed you, I made a mistake!"

"How do I trust you now?! You lied to me, you pretended to be asleep!"

"God, why are you being so much like Chase!?" Marshall snapped, his voice raised to shouting, "I'm not some serial manipulator, I just made a dumb mistake!"

Rocky was almost shaking, but he sighed to himself in an attempt to calm away the anger. He was willing to turn the heat down, as deep within he understood Marshall's mistake. A vile mistake sure, but a mistake nonetheless. He was willing to forgive his soon-to-be boyfriend for the overstep under the promise it wouldn't happen again.

Until Marshall brought up Chase.

"Wh- do not compare me to Chase!" Rocky fired back, stuttering the first word, "is he- what, better than me?!"

His fur standing on one end, Marshall flexed his claws, "well let's see," he said in a slightly normal tone, yet his voice dripped with venom. Anger was taking control of the Dalmation, taking such powerful hold he completely ignored his heart breaking in two "he's a cop," he listed first, "a significantly important profession!"

Rocky bristled, powerful words beginning to rise in him.

The firefighter continued, "he carries real weapons, people trust him, and he's a German Shepherd," he smugly pronounced the species' name. "You're, what, a dirty-bred mix?!" Never in a million years did Marshall think he'd damn his friend so harshly, but he was so enraged he barely caught the words coming out of his mouth.

"Wow, so this how treat people you like?!" Rocky snarled, trying to fight back the tears in his eyes, "I'm starting to think you're not worth it at all!" His voice broke slightly at the end of his sentence, his anger beginning to diminish into sorrow.

"Oh I'm not worth it?!" Marshall shouted, "I'm nothing, right? Nothing at all?!"

"I-" the mix tried to say.

The tables turned, and now it was Marshall cutting someone off in a sentence, "no! I see how it is!" He hissed, baring his fangs as wide as he could, "you hate me, huh?! Is that it?! You hate me?!"

"Shut up!" Rocky snapped, barking at his friend like he was about to attack him, "just fucking shut up!"

"Well if you hate me so much-" Marshall took a deep breath, and screamed as loud as his voice could possibly muster, "well why don't I just go fucking kill myself!?" He shouted those words directly into Rocky's face.

The noise ended. Rocky drew back in horror, bewildered at the sentence that had just torn into the air. He was too shocked to form a reply, and he could only stare into Marshall's flared eyes. The Dalmation was locked in a pose that looked he like was about to kill someone, his jaw was clenched tightly while his fangs shone out, ears flattened against his head, and his fur stood up so sharply he'd be mistaken for a porcupine.

Supercharged by anger, Marshall stared at the gray dog before him in seething hatred, until all at once everything died. The anger calmed, the fire doused, and the claws and teeth relaxed. Finally, Marshall realized in utter horror everything he had said. His breathing went shaky, terrified at the words attached to him, and he began shaking his head as his breathing intensified. Tears flooded his eyes, and this time, he couldn't control them.

The Dalmation broke down, slowly kneeling to the floor crying, suffering in the agony of his own actions. Collapsed to the ground, Marshall hid his face with his paws, sobbing as he pleaded to wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare.

The sight of his best friend utterly defeated on the floor was near traumatizing to Rocky. The mix stood still as he watched in expressionless horror, all his anger and venom gone in the blink of an eye. Marshall made a mistake, and now Rocky had made a mistake as well. Now everything was escalated, gone far enough that dead bodies may as well litter the floor. Rocky knew that whatever he did next would seal their fates forever. Looking down at his fallen, weeping friend, he wondered if he was supposed to feel victorious. He may have technically won the argument, but he didn't feel happy at all.

He took a few seconds to think, but it felt like an hour to him. Without a word, Rocky slowly began to walk toward Marshall, taking soft, silent steps as if the Dalmation was a frail kitten. When he was completely standing over him, Rocky tried to tap into his emotions, searching for any last drip of anger he felt. There was none, deep in his heart was nothing but a cold, sad shell that made a terrible mistake.

As his partner sobbed, Rocky slowly raised his arm, and gently rested his paw on Marshall's head. He felt the Dalmation flinch like he braced himself to be attacked and was helpless to defend himself.

"I-" Marshall choked through his tears, "I'm sorry…" he gasped repeatedly, fighting his hysteria, "I'm so sorry…"

Silence. Nothing but Marshall's cries could be heard. If the world was truly quiet and was not a sound to hit the air, one could hear Rocky's sniffles as his emotions were leaking out as well.

"Me too," the mix said, finally forgiving Marshall's crime.

He kneeled and cradled the broken Dalmation in his arms. For a long moment, they cried together, the interior of The Lookout clouded with sorrow and suffering. They had hit a terrible pothole, but deep down, Rocky loved Marshall more than anything else in the world. They could make it, the future was within their reach, but much work needed to be done. Emotions needed to be accounted for, the past needed to be forgiven, and they needed to work on themselves just as much as one another.

Rocky and Marshall shared a kennel that night, cuddled together in a tight embrace, a commitment, a bond they swore into place. They loved and supported one another, but they would not succeed without overcoming serious roadblocks. Rocky recognized he needed to work on his insecurities, wincing at himself in the mirror knowing how painful it would be to address his issues. Marshall knew he needed help for the drug use and possibly more proper therapy for certain other behaviors, something Rocky promised he'd support him through. They would not succeed with each other, yet they would not succeed if they didn't work on their problems.

As Marshall slept away, Rocky smiled as he spooned his Dalmation. He'd do whatever it took to earn them a happy life, he owed it to Marshall and possibly the others too. Taking in the endearing scent of his partner, he fell asleep with inner peace.

The truth can be a very painful thing, downright gut-wrenching if left to fester too long or if attempts to manipulate it was made. Love desires honesty, and to live a lie is no life at all. The truth will always hurt, and it will always tear a heart apart, but among all its negatives, there is one core positive: The truth frees. The truth will always bring liberation from inner darkness and agony, breaking the chains of doubt and the burdens of anxiety.

The truth shall set one free.