Paw Patrol Oneshots

The Dreaming Glass (Chase X Marshall)

The alleyway was dimly lit in hot pink, and the buzzing of neon signs firmly latched on the brick wall displayed their message in bright colors. It was late Autumn, and the light rainfall resulted in a rather cold night, leading many strays among the city's dark corners to seek out the neon signs. Beneath each one was a simple door, a door that led to what many considered a safe haven from the darkness that lurked outside.

The Dreaming Glass was a bar unlike any other. While not as high class as some places the humans had access to, several dogs who passed through found solace inside its warm walls, a flicker of bliss burning in their hearts upon seeing the friendly smile of the bartenders. It was a humble, old-fashioned place, with wood-slated walls and a shiny black floor. If one was not sitting in one of the many booths, they would find themselves at the heart and soul of the restaurant, the bar itself.

Chase pushed his nose through the door, happy to get out of the rain. He was cold and tired, his tail drooping behind him and ears flattered with no strength to keep them up. His police uniform was slightly damp, collecting the rain that only made the bitter cold even worse. As the warmth washed over him, he felt his muscles relax, and he sighed in relief, happy to finally get a break. The pub overall had a relaxed atmosphere, with faint music playing in the back, getting into your head and washing away the intrusive thoughts that had plagued a person all day. Nothing was too much, the lowlight and modern design were more than appealing.

There had been a brutal collision on the highway around noon. Chase was called to the scene almost immediately, kickstarting him into action at the sight of the mess. An overturned car, another one in flames, screaming, debris everywhere, and the never-ending honking of others just trying to get past. He stayed out there in the cold rain for bitter hours, noting each detail of the scene and doing his job to ensure the safety of everyone involved. Eventually, the cars were towed away, debris cleaned up, people rushed to the hospital, and it wasn't until the moon was high in the sky that Chase could finally leave. Eager to relieve the stress of the hardworking day, the exhausted Shepherd entered a certain alleyway, seeking out The Dreaming Glass.

He walked up to the bar and climbed up on the red, leather stool, happy to finally sit down. The bar was polished in brilliant silver and decorated with black trim. Past it, a large wall of bottles stretched high to the ceiling, totally nearly four dozen different available drinks. It was remarkable the menu options in a place like this, but most only desired the one drink they've enjoyed all throughout their life.

"Evening, officer," spoke up the Labrador wiping down the bar, and giving Chase a soft smile.

Chase returned the greeting, briefly resting his head on the surface, "hey Zuma, it's been a long day."

Things don't always stay the same, eventually, some things tended to change. As the years went by, Zuma soon left the patrol, seeking out a life in the city. Everyone was sad to see him go, especially Rocky, but the Lab promised he'd write to them. A few months later, the room of The Lookout was filled with stunned expressions upon reading Zuma's most recent letter: He had opened a bar called The Dreaming Glass.

"Not to be mean, but you look terrible," Zuma said apologetically, "what can I pour you?"

"I was actually just planning on getting food," Chase shrugged, "what kind of sauce do the wings come with?"

"Honey Mustard, Teriyaki, Ranch, Buffalo, pick your poison," chuckled the Lab, showing a clear passion for his work, "or you could get them plain."

"Plain then."

Zuma quickly turned and made haste to a small opening in the wall, a window into the back kitchen from which steam was slowly escaping, "Basket of wings, Pete, no sauce!" he briefly turned back to his customer, "you want fries with that?"