It could've been worse, Chase fell once before, he should've been more than capable of getting up again. This was different, the whole day was ripe with failure, something he should've easily been able to clean up. He couldn't fix the screen, he couldn't get a new one, he couldn't beat Rocky, he couldn't beat Rocky a second time with his full effort, and now he was banished outside with nothing but himself to blame.
Relaxing under the orange sky, gradually dimming to make way for the moon, Chase sat to observe the glittering stars peeking through the clouds. To fail under such stupid terms, to fall flat on his face in front of everyone, in front of Zuma; Chase was boiling hotter than the active flames chewing away at the tower's shell. Losing was bad enough, but having such tenacious confidence in something only to be proven wrong was twisting the knife.
"Jerks," Chase sat himself in the grass, pouting with flattened ears. "I should piss in their water dishes, that'll be good revenge." Too harsh, he quickly stopped himself, way too over the line. Maybe something more subtle, like going into their kennels and stealing all the towels. He could also take Rocky's tools and plant them in Rubble's drawers, that could surely cause some entertainment. Rocky was always very protective over his tools, thinking they were stolen would cause formidable chaos. No, he did that last week, he remembered again, it needed to be something fresher.
He could remove a few screws in Marshall's equipment, that'd be funny. Although last time he did that, Marshall's firetruck ended up flying down the road and smashing through the marketplace like a loose lawnmower. Raining fruit and loose chickens were everywhere, the firetruck didn't stop until it stormed through the docks, sailing off the pier and crashing into the ocean in a massive splash. No one died so Chase was allowed to say it was funny, but he probably should've left the brakes alone. A dormant firetruck officially joined the many treasures under the ocean that day, hopefully the leaking oil and gasoline didn't kill anything.
There was that one time he put a stink bomb in Rubble's pup pack; he intended for it to go off in the open outdoors, giving the putrid smoke a few seconds before drifting off. Much to his dismay, the tiny explosive didn't go off at the right time, and Rubble ended up walking into his kennel and shutting the door with the bomb still attached to him. It went off like a primed gas grenade, clouding the windows and enveloping the bulldog in a fully sealed and contained gas chamber. No one even knew what happened until Rubble didn't show up the next morning for breakfast, and everyone soon realized he was trapped legs-up in a demonic atmosphere of fart. The remaining dogs all had to band together to evacuate Rubble's fumigated corpse from the den; it took several hours before he woke up.
"How did I get away with that, anyway?" Chase said to himself, pondering over his old spite-filled attacks on the team.
"Get away with what?" Zuma walked up behind him.
His abrupt presence made Chase's fur spike, but he quickly checked behind him and relaxed himself. As much as he loved being around Zuma, the shame from earlier was still following him, soaking under his fur with its wet dye.
"You put on quite a show in there," Zuma approached him, chuckling at the now core memories. "Skye might need her stomach pumped later, but it's not like swallowing a game remote does that much damage. Rubble is alive... probably, I'm pretty sure."
"Go away," the shepherd flattened his ears, not looking at him.
"Come on Chase, you don't really want to be all alone out here, do you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," he tried to dismiss him, hiding his flushed face. "I prefer it out here, where it's quiet."
An entire segment of the tower's hull slowly peeled away from the structure, burning away from the fire until it dislodged completely. It fell through the air like a meteor, crashing into the Lookout's clearing in a slamming impact of ruined metal loud enough to be heard for a mile.
"Peace and quiet," Chase repeated, trying to quell his anxiety.
Glittering showers of embers gently fell like snowflakes into the grass, filling the area with shining stars of orange. Walking through the glowing mist, Chase's fur caught a few embers and shimmered brilliantly, not hot enough to catch his body on fire, but just enough to give him a lovely sparkling effect. Zuma briefly lost touch with reality, enchanted by the shepherd's glittering effect. It almost felt dreamlike, like the first time Zuma truly looked at him for what he was, the time he knew his heart would never go back to anyone else. It was hopeless, the poor Lab was powerless to stop the admiring smile drifting through him, and the rapid fluttering of his emotions mesmerized by true beauty.
"Everyone loses, Chase," Zuma walked closer, hoping his voice alone could soothe the shepherd's anger. "Rubble annihilated me in Super Smash Dogs Ultimate a few nights ago. And he mains Cario, you can imagine how I felt."
"That's different," Chase looked back at him with narrowed eyes. "Some of us aren't supposed to lose, you know?"
"Come on, dude, you don't honestly believe that?" the Lab sighed in response. "You can't go through life trying to be better than anyone else."
"It's not like that," the shepherd turned around, facing him with pained eyes. "I'm supposed to be Ryder's best, he told me himself! Isn't it on me to maintain the image of the PAW Patrol? I'm practically the fuckin' poster dog. I have to win, I have to beat these races, these little... tests. If I don't... doesn't that call into question everything I'm supposed to represent?"
Zuma came to his side, tilting his head with a softened gaze. "Well, what do you think you represent?"
"I don't know... maybe a... good dog? What dogs are supposed to be to people? Everyone loves working dogs, I mean, hell I'm a German shepherd, my whole breed was designed to work."
"There's such things as being too good, Chase. Remember when you were playing fetch with Ryder, he threw a stick, and you came back with someone's prosthetic leg?"
"If it looks like a stick, it's a stick."
"It didn't look anything like a stick! Ryder returned it, and you somehow got it back a second time, I don't even know how you managed that. It's okay to fall short, Chase, perfection is overrated anyway. Don't kill yourself trying to be over-the-top in literally everything, just... be you."
"This is me, Zuma," Chase said with a sigh, frowning at the grass. "No matter what missions come, no matter what Ryder asks me to do, if I can't be his best, I doubt I'm anything at all."
It was a while before anyone spoke, Zuma looking off trying to put his words together. "At least you get to go on missions at all," he said with a chuckle. "I can't remember the last time Ryder needed me for anything."
"We do need you," Chase said quickly, putting his arm around the Labrador. "You're the coast guard, you rescue people from the water."
"Exactly, but when do you remember a single mission where I actually came along?"
"You-" the shepherd stuttered, trying to think back for an answer mid-sentence. His mind only blanked, unable to turn up anything, making him deflate in yet another defeat.
"Don't worry about it," Zuma said crestfallen, a clear lament in his voice. "As someone who just gathers dust at home while you all go off saving the world, I wish I could be better too."
"You don't need to be," came Chase's rather sudden response, great concern replacing his initial frustration. "Zuma, you're just perfect to me exactly the way you are, you don't need to be anything else."
The Lab broke into a loving smile, "funny, I could say the exact same thing to you."
"What?"
"Chase, I don't care if you're some golden dog or win every game under the damn sun," he looked deeply into the shepherd's puzzled eyes, knowing his victory was afoot. "No matter what, you're always going to be the dog who makes me feel loved." The words took Chase like a beating to the face, sweeping him off his paws and locking him in place.
"When you came to me, those months ago," Zuma continued, "I thought you pitied me at first, the one that never got to do anything. But all the times you stayed with me, talked to me, just personal time we got to spend together with no one else, you made me feel..." he hesitated, trying to get words out over his beating heart. "You made me feel... appreciated, that at least someone finally wanted to talk to me after so much time of just... being alone." He emitted a small laugh, "I guess I was bound to get a little... attached."
Chase could feel his heart melting under the Lab's honeyed words, "well... you were different. You were someone I could be... honest with, more so than with Marshall or Skye, no offense to them. You're a nice change of pace, something new, someone..." he gave the Lab an endearing smile. "Someone who doesn't want me to be something else, and I thank you for that."
"Yes, but that being said," Zuma spoke up. "I'd rather you didn't drive your car through a city park. We've been getting a lot of phone calls from the mayor, luckily Ryder isn't here to answer them."
"In my defense, I really wanted to beat Rocky."
They shared a good laugh together, any remaining bits of anger now history in their united joy for one another.
"You know, Zuma, maybe all this just isn't for me," Chase said wistfully. "Wonder if I should become a social media influenc-"
A brown paw clamped over his muzzle, silencing the demonic words he was about to utter. "No," Zuma said, with a faint laugh. "Let's not go there. There are plenty of places to go, and that's not it. Skye's already trying, and she's becoming more unbearable by the minute." A sudden wet feeling slid across the underside of his paw, making him jerk it away in surprise. "Wh- hey!"
"Payback," Chase said playfully, retracting his tongue. "For licking me earlier."
"Please, you liked it."
"And that'll be our little secret," the shepherd leaned in, lowering his voice. "Just like... the rest of our interactions."
"Seriously though, don't become an influencer. No offense to Skye, but I'm kinda glad her phone got stolen, she was being so over the top..."
"Yeah, and I should probably give it back sometime later," Chase put a paw to his chin. "But she can't know it was me, I'll have to return it in secret."
The Lab stuck his tongue out with a cheeky smile, a gesture he knew Chase loved. "You and your little secrets, just like us."
The shepherd giggled at the comment, flushing under his fur. "I do love sneaking around."
Zuma nodded, although his expression fell in a longing frown. "I know, but... how much longer are we gonna do this? Why can't we just tell the others that we-"
"Because," Chase cut him off. "It's just not something I really need anyone else knowing about; I had you in my bed this morning, that was dangerous enough."
"What are you afraid of?" The Lab cornered him under the moonlight. "I'm not afraid, Rocky and Marshall would be more than supportive, Rubble's too young to even understand why it's dangerous, and Skye-" he paused briefly. "Skye... will probably be disappointed that you're off the market, but that's her problem."
"It's not..." the shepherd hesitated, looking to the ground. "It's not them, I'm worried about."
"Well then who is it?"
"I don't know," Chase said with faint annoyance, his fur spiking ever so slightly. "There's a lot of things I don't know and I hate not knowing things, I'm sorry." He hated talking this way, especially to Zuma, already regretting the words the moment they left him. Anger already dimming, he hung his head in shame, expecting Zuma to retort and stomp away. It was always remarkably easy to break a relationship, stark contrast to the immeasurable effort required to build one.
Zuma knew him, maintaining a straight face against Chase's sharp tone. It wasn't the first time he allowed the officer to vent a little, and he'd already seen much worse episodes of Chase's anger in the past. The shepherd's tendency to detach himself to reality, to hold such unyielding determination he'd carve a path through dead bodies to get somewhere, Zuma knew how anger could make him volatile. At least Chase was still managing the promise he made to Zuma a few months ago; progress was being made, compared to the severely worse reactions he had in the past.
They faced each other in the wind of dancing embers, infinitely emerging from the flaming tower with no end in sight. Now it was Zuma being coated in light, the small licks of flame catching in his dark fur. Like sweet gold-glittered chocolate, Chase's eyes wandered Zuma's glowing frame, gazing over each flickering ember that sang their burning voice to him.
"Chase," Zuma said softly, "it's okay. Whatever's wrong, whatever hurts you," he gently rested his paw on Chase's own. "You'll always have me as your biggest fan, and I'm happy to help you through anything."
Time slowed between them; each dog captured in a trance of each other under the drizzling lights of fire surrounding them. Warmth slowly returned to Chase's eyes, his worries burning away under the Lab's comforting gaze. It was all he needed, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.
"You're glowing," Zuma whispered in his ear, "you wear embers well. Am I glowing too?"
Chase emitted an endeared chuckle, reaching his other paw around his partner. "Zuma... to me, you always are."
They leaned into one another and shared a kiss, not their first, but one with great power and passion unlike any of the others. This was different, something beyond intimacy; it was an oath, a commitment. All the world could burn down around them -and it was, the Lookout was on the verge of collapse- and they'd always have each other. They held the gesture for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity, a perfect eternity with not a sound to disturb them. Gently breaking the kiss, they held each other under the burning embers, giggling at one another like enamored spirits.
"If you don't want to go public, that's okay with me," Zuma said, letting himself sink into Chase's arms and resting his head on the shepherd's shoulder.
"No... we probably should," Chase happily accepted it, holding him tightly. "It's been long enough, we may as well. If they don't like it, that's their problem. Besides," a smirk slid across his face. "I don't think Ryder would disown one of his best for being... you know."
"Oh, bragging again, are we?" the Lab gave a small chuckle. "Guess I'll have to put you in your place later."
"Easy there, darlin'."
The Lookout tower suddenly exploded with passion; the few windows that remained blasted out in powerful torrents of flaming desire. Everything in the tower was devoured, burned to nothing and swallowed by the fire's rage. Roaring for its gaping, bottomless hunger to be satiated, the flames spread to all corners, enraged enough to finally shred through the roof. The tower was nothing but a bonfire now, unable to be saved with its new overlord claiming full dominion over the structure. Molten glass, flaming debris, shards of bent metal, it all rained down with the embers and peppered the clearing. The night sky was unrecognizable through the burning orange, snowing beautiful lights like an early Christmas.
Chase and Zuma sat before the burning tower, settling themselves before its light. Pulling each other close, they basked in the serenity for a while, watching its burning, protective light.
"Uh... no one was... in there, right?" Chase said.
"I'm pretty sure everyone went to their kennels," Zuma nestled himself into his partner's fur. "Hope nothing falls on them."
"Blast radius was pretty strong; I think most of the debris flew too far to hit the kennels."
Nodding in agreement, the Labrador shifted against Chase's body, wanting to be closer. "Wonder what Ryder's gonna do about the tower being destroyed."
"He'll just rebuild it, he's made jets and tons of other crazy stuff, what's stopping him from building another tower?"
"Yeah, good point," a faint noise met Zuma's ear, coming from the distance. It was undoubtedly Ryder's ATV, a small vehicle but reliable in all situations. "Hey, I think I hear him coming back."
