Paw Patrol Oneshots

Insomnia Remedy (Chase x Rocky)

Chase was awake.

The greatest lie he ever told himself was that he'd start sleeping properly again. That, along with the second one where he insisted he'd return time for breakfast to his schedule. The promises had been declared in the privacy of his own kennel at the crack of dawn, a powerful drive of determination moving him forward at the time. He welcomed his vows like a new day on the horizon, eager to finally get himself back on track. Only for him to open his kennel door into the morning light, get blinded by the sun, and instantly retreat back into the comfortable darkness of his police kennel.

The vows were forgotten like paper notes discarded in a trash can, and Chase settled himself down for another lonely night. Beginning his nightly ritual of aimlessly roaming his kennel at three in the morning, he stood in the center of his room and looked straight up at the ceiling. "I should just do it, I gotta do it, what am I so afraid of?" He said out loud to himself, walking in circles around his bedroom. He stopped in front of the mirror, curling his face at the sight of himself. "God I look awful," he whimpered, flattening his ears as he turned his face at several angles. "I should do this another night, I'm clearly..." he trailed off, losing his train of thought like a lightbulb suddenly burning out. He stood still staring blankly at his reflection before snapping back to reality. "I'm clearly... not," he muttered, "clearly... uh... I'm hopeless." He hung his head, sitting down on the floor.

Suddenly whipping his head around, Chase remembered he had things to do. "Wait, what was I doing?" Hopping up on all fours, he sped over to his desk as his paws kicked aside dusty pencils and food scraps. "I think..." he stared at his desk, processing the blank paper in front of him. "I think I can just do this tomorrow. There's a lot I need to do right now anyway, like uh..."

The clanging knock of echoing sheet metal made him jump, spiking his fur in surprise. "Ah! Who's there!?" He faced his door, tail and fur sticking straight up. "I don't have it, Rubble took it!"

A soft voice flowed in from behind the door. "Chase, what the he- ... are you okay in there?" Came the dry, exhaustion-riddled words of a familiar dog.

"Rocky?" Chase quickly tried to groom his fur down, but he made a horrible miscalculation and ended up licking the floor. "Why are you awake?"

"Because you're keeping me up," the mixed breed grumbled. "Who are you talking to in here?"

"The ghost of Christmas past, obviously."

"Chase are you okay?"

It was a valid question, Chase put a paw to his chin as he pondered the inquiry yet his mind brought him nothing but static. "Words," he mumbled into his paw, "wait, did I already..." he slowly narrowed his eyes and glanced to his left, "I did, didn't I?"

A small thump was heard from the other side as Rocky put his paw against the door. "Chase how long has it been since you've slept?"

"Uh, when was uh-" Chase leaned in, his muzzle pulling into a cheeky smile, "when was the first mobile phone invented?"

"1973." Was the flat response.

The shepherd let out a giggle, "okay that." Pressing his cheek up against the door, his tail wagged as he tried to think of more random one-liners.

On the other side, Rocky sat in the grass, staring absently at the gray metal door. Tilting his head sightly, a faint smile curved up the side of his mouth. He had arrived at Chase's kennel to snap his jaws and tell him to shut up and sleep, but suddenly there was an opportunity for entertainment. "Are you drunk?" The mix chuckled, a warm feeling lighting up within him.

"I had a root beer earlier," Chase let his tongue stick out, "so I'm pretty much plastered, yeah."

"Root beer isn't real alcohol, Chase."