Chapter Text
Rocky liked to scratch himself.
It was nothing new. The pups would always giggle when they watched the mixed breed scratch the back of his neck with his hind leg as he descended the slide around the Lookout for a mission.
Zuma adored his little quirk almost as much as Rocky loved the labrador’s speech impediment. The two had been nearly inseparable since Skye’s birthday party. Even if Rocky was keeping himself busy tinkering with new gadgets and building things out of what everyone considered junk, Zuma was never more than a few feet away. The mutt’s company was enough to brighten his day.
Likewise, Rocky always appreciated Zuma’s presence, even if he was just lying down and listening to him ramble about some mechanical malfunction. And if either one ever felt the stress of life get the best of them, the other pup was always there to lend a shoulder to cry on.
It was around noon on a hot day in July when Rocky and Zuma were both playing jump rope on the lawn, with Chase and Marshall holding each end of the long string. Skye and Rubble were watching from under a tree, having exhausted themselves already.
Rocky had gotten into a steady jumping rhythm, his eyes focused on Zuma as he lovingly watched.
“Pfft, this is easy, Zuma!” he shouted. “Told ya I could do it!”
Zuma deviously grinned as he walked around Marshall, going behind him.
“H-hey, what are you—!”
Zuma stepped right next to Rocky, leaping just before the rope hit his paws. He started jumping in sync with Rocky, going a bit higher up to his lighter weight.
Rocky blushed as Zuma joined him in the game, his eyes now fixated to his left to stare at the lab’s glowing chestnut fur under the blistering sun.
Chase and Marshall gave each other knowing eyes as they watched the two jump together. It was only a matter of time before Rocky lost his concentration on jumping in time. His big paws tripped over the rope, taking Zuma down with him as Chase and Marshall let go.
“Whoaaa…OOMPH!” shrilled Zuma, who had landed right on top of Rocky’s back on the grass.
Rocky wheezed, getting the air partially knocked out of him. Zuma quickly got off of him, letting Rocky catch his breath before offering a paw.
Rocky looked up, the labrador looking just as hypnotizing as the first day they kissed in his recycling truck. Speechless, he took his paw, slowly rising to his feet.
“T-that…” he whispered before wheezing again. “...oh, Zuma, why do you always make a fool out of me?”
Zuma giggled, seeing Rocky break into a smile after mere seconds of trying to act serious.
“That was fun! We should do like…a duo competition next time!”
Marshall nudged Chase, grinning too.
“Maybe another day,” Chase replied.
“I suppose it’s a bit easier for me to do it with Rubble than with Evie.”
The pups looked over to Skye, who wore a sad smile on her face. The cockapoo had to say goodbye to Everest for a while as business was picking up at Jake’s snowboarding resort for the summer.
Bleep bleep!
“PAW Patrol, to the Lookout!” rang Ryder’s voice through their pup-tags.
“Ryder needs us!” the pups said in unison. Everyone quickly ran to the elevator, Chase holding the jump rope in his mouth so Marshall wouldn’t trip and knock everyone over.
Rocky and Zuma sat next to each other in the elevator as usual while it rose. Rocky scratched off some grass stuck to the gray fur around his head and neck with his hind paw, making Zuma’s heart flutter.
He hated how the wires that put on their uniforms in seconds required them to be standing in a specific order, forcing himself to separate from Zuma and stand between Chase and Skye instead as they reached the top, one-by-one leaping into the observatory.
“PAW Patrol, ready for action, Ryder, sir!” shouted Chase.
“Thanks for hurrying, pups!” said Ryder. “It looks like Mayor Humdinger’s back from his hiatus.” The boy hit a button on his pup-pad to display an animation on the screen.
“He thought it would be funny to get his Kitten Catastrophe Crew to break the walls of Adventure Bay’s landfill, and now there’s a huge pile of trash stinking up the outskirts of town!”
Rocky seemed the most upset by this news, cursing under his breath as he thought of the environment and people impacted by waste mismanagement.
“For this mission, I’ll need…Rubble!” The screen flashed to yellow. “I need you to use your bulldozer to gather all the trash that spilled out and bring it back to the landfill.”
“Rubble on the double!” the bulldog cried out.
“And…Rocky!”
Rocky perked up immediately as his green badge displayed on the screen.
“I need you to repair the broken wall once Rubble’s done.”
“Don’t lose it, reuse it!” he yelled, determined.
“Alright! PAW Patrol is on a roll!”
Ryder slid down his fireman’s pole while Rubble hopped onto the slide. Zuma gave Rocky a quick smooch on the snout before letting him leave.
“You’ll do amazing out there!” he assured him.
“Thanks, babe. This is what I’m made for!” Rocky smiled, his tail wagging. “See you soon!”
Zuma watched as Rocky hopped on the slide with a ruff, scratching at his neck again as he slid down. He sighed hopelessly in love as their vehicles took off for the city, resting his head on his paws.
The putrid smell of trash littering the grass and street next to the landfill made Ryder and Rubble gag and hold their breaths, but not Rocky. He was used to the smell of trash, and as a side effect, could hardly notice when he stunk after digging through the Lookout’s trash for misplaced items that could be recycled.
Katie had given him bottles of cologne to mask his odor since he frequently refused to get a bath at her pet parlor, and he would spritz some on every morning to make sure he smelled decent to the other pups. He had recently been using a lot of his ocean breeze and tropical paradise colognes for Zuma, even though the labrador had told him he preferred his natural scent, since the other pups would strongly disagree.
“Alright Rubble, let’s see how much your bulldozer can plow!” exclaimed Ryder.
Moments after, Rubble’s rig revved up. Rocky watched as the bulldog drove into a heap of trash, lifting a ludicrous amount off the road. Ryder had gone off to talk to the owner of the landfill to discuss what happened. Once Rubble had packed a large section of garbage back into the landfill, Rocky approached the destroyed wall with his recycling truck. Pieces of compact clay and high-density plastic were scattered on the ground. Diving into the back of his truck, he found nearly matching chunks of material fit enough to use to help repair the wall.
After what felt like forever in the rising heat of the day, Rubble gave Rocky the go-ahead.
“Everything’s neatly packed away! You can close it up now!”
“You got it, Rubble!” Rocky responded. He had already been rebuilding the wall with recycled materials and a welding gun from his pup-pack. Only a small section remained.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shine of an empty metal can. Then three.
“Oh my god…” Rocky whispered to himself, loud enough for Rubble to hear.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s TONS of perfectly good recyclable stuff in there that people just…threw out!! I-I gotta save it!”
“Rocky, no! There’s way too much in there and—ROCKY!!”
Too late. The mutt had already practically launched himself into the landfill, scavenging the area by the wall littered with tin cans, water bottles, and cardboard boxes. Everything including the kitchen sink.
Rubble sighed, knowing it was a hopeless cause. He only stayed to make sure Rocky wouldn’t stay inside the landfill all day and get heat stroke.
Can after can flew past Rubble’s face into the open trunk of Rocky’s truck. The bulldog watched as Rocky obsessively cleared the perimeter for recyclable items.
“Rocky, you’ve got fifteen minutes, then we’re calling it a day!” Rubble shouted to the gray blur underneath an old red blanket.
“Okay, okay! But like, we should definitely have a day where all of us sort out the landfill!”
Rubble whined in exasperation. “That would take weeks! Just…hurry up, would you!”
Rocky nodded, diving underneath a torn-up mattress to retrieve empty beer bottles.
The minutes ticked by, and after Rocky was physically worn out from tossing so many things into his truck, he leapt out of the landfill.
Rubble held back his laughter. The mixed breed’s fur was matted and stained brown, yellow, red, and black in various places. His formerly white paws were now as gray as the rest of his fur.
Rocky sluggishly welded the last section of wall into place, sealing off the landfill for good.
“L-let’s go home now…” he muttered, climbing into the seat of his recycling truck.
“I think you need to head straight to Katie’s,” retorted Rubble.
“Nuh-uh! I’ll just wipe myself down with a towel and spray on lots of cologne!”
Rubble sighed as he ignited his engine. If he starts smelling like Zuma more than Zuma, I’m gonna get a migraine…
Rocky couldn’t hear the end of it at dinner time.
“So I thought he was done, but then he dove back in and started chucking beer bottles in his truck!” said Rubble. A mixture of laughter and cringe filled the room.
Rocky miserably failed to hide himself from shame behind a smaller Zuma.
“Dude, you’re fine, it’s just funny is all!” Zuma reassured him, scratching the back of his ears. Rocky melted into his touch, only breaking away to continue eating his kibble.
“Saving the planet one bottle at a time,” joked Ryder, smiling. “I’m glad you’re so determined, Rocky, but please don’t go in there without proper protection again. You could’ve cut yourself on something.”
“Sorry, Ryder…I just couldn’t help myself seeing so many things that should be recycled!”
“I know, it sucks. But hey, maybe someday we could teach the citizens of Adventure Bay how to recycle properly!”
Rocky’s eyes sparkled at the idea. “Oh, I’d love to do that!”
Zuma grinned, licking Rocky’s forehead as his excitement filled his own heart with joy. He hummed as he breathed in a strong, salty, tropical scent.
“Did you put on extra cologne cause of the trash…or for me~?”
Rocky blushed. No matter how many times the lab flirted with him, his heart never ceased to pound when he did so.
“B-both…wouldn’t want to smell disgusting for you after today.”
Zuma opened his mouth to argue before sighing and snickering.
“Yeah, you’ve got a point. I wouldn’t wanna sleep with a walking trash bag.”
A timid smile tugged on Rocky’s lips. “So…you still wanna sleep together tonight?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The pups soon finished eating dinner, and Ryder wished everyone a good night.
“G’night, Wyder!” Zuma drowsily called out as he stepped outside with Rocky. The two walked to Zuma’s puphouse as usual. Given how the “junk” Rocky stored in his truck had only accumulated over time, Rocky began spending almost every single night with Zuma.
“After you, my twash collector in shining armor,” giggled Zuma, holding out his paw to usher him in first.
“Not trash! I literally went through all that because—”
Smack!
Rocky yelped as he was jolted inside Zuma’s house. He gave Zuma an exasperated look as he turned around to face the lab.
“Did you really just spank me?”
“Yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?” Zuma grinned, his tail brushing against him as he walked to his bed.
“I would teach you a lesson, but I’m too exhausted today,” Rocky softly grinned, lying down beside Zuma on the cushion.
“No cuddles tonight, it’s way too hot out and this fan can only do so much.”
Zuma whined. “Aww, can’t we just get a bigger fan?”
“Mmh, maybe I’ll make one tomorrow,” said Rocky, licking Zuma’s nose.
Zuma resisted the urge to snuggle up to him anyway as he slowly shut his eyes.
“I love you, Wocky…”
“Love you too, Zum…”
Zuma awoke to the sound of scratching and a pup-tag being struck repeatedly.
“Ugh…Wocky…? What time is it?”
Rocky’s hind leg fell from his neck just as Zuma opened his eyes.
“Uh…about seven.”
Zuma groaned, his head dramatically falling back on his pillow.
“It’s too early for you to be making so much noise…”
Rocky’s one perky ear drooped in embarrassment. “Sorry, Zuma.”
Rocky quietly rose up and stepped out of the dog bed while Zuma seemed to fall back asleep. He started stretching inside the puphouse when another attack of itchiness hit him in the side. His leg immediately rose up to combat the area, shedding bits of gray fur into the air.
Zuma stirred again, this time grabbing the pillow and covering his ears with it as he lay on the bed.
Rocky frowned as he observed his discomfort. I wanna go back to bed with him but…god DAMN, I can’t stop itching!
The mixed breed forced himself to leave Zuma’s puphouse, quietly shutting the door behind him. He retreated to his own green puphouse in hopes of finding a back scratcher.
About an hour had passed before Ryder called the pups for breakfast.
Zuma joined the rest of the group last, yawning as he padded in the lobby.
“Sup, dudes,” he said, sitting down at his orange bowl full of food next to Rocky.
Rocky was surprised by his somewhat deeper morning voice, contrasting significantly with his typical high-pitched, cheery voice. He found it quite sexy, his ears turning red.
“Mornin’, Zuma!” said Marshall, greeting him with a smile.
Rocky quietly watched as the pups broke into light chatter around him. Why am I dwelling so much about waking Zuma up early? It’s not a big deal! God, Rocky, you’re so insecure… he thought to himself.
His inner rambling was interrupted by a sudden, screaming desire to itch. In seconds, the pups began to watch in amusement as his leg jackhammered at his neck.
“Oh, Wocky, lemme get that for you!” said Zuma, smiling.
Rocky’s leg fell to the ground, allowing for Zuma to scratch at his neck with his paw for him. Rocky let out a small sigh of relief as Zuma itched the spot for him, his paws spreading their sweat on his fur.
“T-thanks, Zoomie…” he said, sounding embarrassed.
“Anytime!”
Only a minute after Zuma resumed eating, Rocky felt the itch come back. Again??
Rocky tensed up as he suppressed the desire to scratch at himself again, trying to scarf down his breakfast as quickly as possible.
Zuma noticed his rigidness, frowning.
“You okay, Wocky?”
“Y-yeah!” Rocky quipped. The unbearable itch moved to his left ear, forcing his left leg up to scratch it until it was nearly bleeding.
Zuma opened his mouth to speak again when their pup-tags rang.
“PAW Patrol, to the observatory!” shouted Ryder, getting up from his chair and disappearing behind his secret door upstairs.
“They always have to interrupt our breakfast!” grumbled Rubble as he followed the rest of the pups to the elevator.
The pups all laughed as they ascended the tower. All except for Rocky, who started to discreetly nip at the fur on his front legs. Zuma noticed, but kept to himself as he didn’t want to embarrass his boyfriend more than he already had been.
The elevator dinged, the pups jumped into formation, and Chase shouted his usual catchphrase.
“PAW Patrol, ready for action, Ryder, sir!”
“Sorry for calling you up so early, pups,” said Ryder. “The rain last night loosened the bolts on the wooden bridge at the school’s playground, and we need to fix it before kids start playing on it at noon! For this mission I’ll need…”
The big screen flashed green. “Rocky! I need you to tighten all the screws and make sure it won’t fall!”
The ensuing silence made the pups look at Rocky scratching himself yet again, his hind paw digging underneath his green uniform.
“O-oh uh, green means go!”
Ryder rolled his eyes, thinking it was another one of Rocky’s antics.
“And…Marshall! Rocky will need to stand on your ladder to tighten the screws from below.”
“I’m fired up!” the Dalmatian shouted.
“Alright! PAW Patrol is on a roll!”
Zuma walked over to Rocky as he prepared to hop on the slide.
“Second day in a woe, huh? Be careful out there, babe,” he whispered, licking him on the snout.
“Heh, I’m always careful!”
Zuma raised an eyebrow, making Rocky’s ears droop.
“Okay, well, I will be this time! See ya!”
Rocky took off for the slide without a moment to spare.
Zuma rolled his eyes as he saw him kicking wildly at his neck throughout the entire descent down the slide.
Rocky cursed himself for not inventing an automatic back scratching machine as he struggled to drive steady on the road to the school. He hoped Ryder and Marshall weren’t watching in their rear view mirrors as he rubbed his whole back up and down against the driver’s seat, moaning in relief.
Rocky and Ryder parked their vehicles in the elementary school’s parking lot while Marshall pulled his firetruck up to the swaying wooden bridge on the playscape.
“Alright, pups, I’m going to inform the teachers not to let the students use the playscape until we’re finished. This should be an easy fix for you, Rocky,” Ryder said with a smile.
Rocky quickly nodded, eager to get Ryder out of sight so he wouldn’t be scrutinizing him tearing at his itch the entire time. “We’ll be done in a jiffy!”
Ryder left the two alone, prompting Marshall to raise the ladder on his truck underneath the bridge.
“Okay, Rocky, you can climb on now!”
Rocky gave the Dalmatian a nervous smile, slowly ascending his ladder to the top.
Okay, this is fine. The itch is gone. I can do—oh fuck, it’s on my tail now!
“Rocky, now’s not the time!” cried Marshall, watching as Rocky contorted his body to bite at his scruffy tail at the top of his ladder.
“S-sorry, Marshall!” he replied, embarrassed. “Ruff! Screwdriver!”
A robotic screwdriver appeared from his pup-pack. Rocky took a deep breath, approaching a loose screw on one of the wooden planks. As his electric drill screwed it in halfway, irritation prickled again beneath his fur.
Marshall looked worried as Rocky thumped his hind leg against his side while he continued to tighten the screws.
“Rocky! Be careful up there, for crying out loud!”
“Oh my god, Marshall, I’m fi—wooAHH~!”
Rocky yelled as he lost his footing on the ladder, his paws skidding as he managed to break his fall, wrapping his front legs over the step as his hind legs dangled.
Marshall couldn’t help but chuckle. “For once it’s not me!”
Rocky grumbled, hopping back on the top ledge. “Let’s get this over with…”
Time ticked by as Rocky tightened the screws one by one and Marshall slowly drove his truck forward from beneath the bridge. Rocky’s itching only seemed to grow worse and more violent. By the time he reached the last screw, he practically vibrated with desperation.
“Jenny, why’s Rocky dancing?” asked a little boy on the playground, giggling and pointing at Rocky from below.
“I’M NOT DANCING!” Rocky quipped, a bit too harshly. His ears fell back as he looked at the two elementary schoolers. “I-I mean, uh, just a little itch!”
The girl giggled. “You’re really funny, Rocky! Keep it up!”
Rocky groaned in exasperation before finally screwing the last nail.
“DONE!” he shouted, putting away his screwdriver. As he descended Marshall’s ladder, he rubbed his entire body against each metal step, humming in relief.
“Ugh, I’m definitely going to need to clean that,” Marshall complained.
“Well, it was overdue for a clean anyway.”
“So are you,” Marshall retorted, deviously pulling out his water cannon.
“Ohh, no, no, no, get that thing away from me!” Rocky barked, quickly hopping off Marshall’s truck and running off to his own.
Marshall shook his head, laughing. A small suspicion that it was something more serious lingered in the back of his head, but he shrugged it off as another one of Rocky’s little antics. You’re lucky to have Zuma…
Zuma’s ear perked up as he heard the sound of trucks pulling into the Lookout. The labrador stepped out of his puphouse just in time to see Rocky’s green truck park a few yards past his.
“Wocky! How’d the mission go?”
Rocky jumped out of his truck, converting it to his green puphouse.
“Um…great! Mission accomplished!”
Zuma’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to him. The mutt gulped, backing up until he hit the wall of his puphouse. As soon as he felt the cold metal, he began to rub his rear end against it in circles.
“Eww, Wocky, you’re gwoss! Have some dignity!”
It looked like it pained Rocky to refrain from rubbing or scratching, which only deepened Zuma’s concern.
“Wocky…you pwomised not to lie to me. What’s going on?”
Rocky felt his paw pads sweat underneath him, his tail falling between his legs.
“I-I don’t know…I’ve just had a really bad itch all over since this morning…”
“Mind if I take a look?”
Rocky met Zuma’s gaze, feeling his heart racing. What am I so scared of…he’s my boyfriend…
“G-go ahead…” he whispered, still cornered against the wall of his puphouse as Zuma stood an inch away.
The labrador reached his paw up toward Rocky’s trembling body, frowning.
“Do you twust me…?”
Rocky timidly nodded.
“With my life.”
Zuma gave him a small grin before he parted the fur around Rocky’s neck, leaning closer. His smile abruptly faded into a look of terror.
“Oh my god…”
“W-What??”
“You have fleas.”
Rocky’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“N-no, I don’t! I-I’m clean!!”
Zuma yelped, jumping back as he continued to inspect his fur.
“There’s another!”
“A-another?? No, no, no, this can’t be happening. H-how!?”
Zuma thought to himself for mere seconds before he smirked, rolling his eyes.
“You were litewally dumpster diving yesterday. It’s no wonder!”
Rocky looked personally betrayed. His horror didn’t stop him from digging into his fur with his hind leg.
“I’m feeling itchy just looking at you. Stay away fwom me,” Zuma joked, trying to lighten the situation.
“Zuma!” Rocky pleaded mid-scratch. “I’m not infested! I just need…uh…”
“A bath. At Katie’s.”
Rocky vehemently shook his head.
“Surely Ryder’s got some anti-flea shampoo I can use!”
“Wocky…”
“Zuma, please…I…I can’t go in there.”
Zuma wanted to put his paw on his shoulder in reassurance, but he didn’t dare touch him in his current state.
“I get that you hate water…but it’s the only way.”
Rocky wanted to put his faith in Zuma. He really did. But he started to whimper and shudder as his anxiety rose just thinking about being plunged into a bathtub.
“Wocky…where are you—”
Before Zuma could complete his sentence, Rocky bolted out of his view, jumping inside his puphouse and slamming the door shut in seconds.
“HEY!”
“Over my dead body!” a muffled shout resonated from inside the walls.
Zuma groaned, turning to walk away just to run into Marshall.
“Oh, Zuma, I wanted to talk to you,” the Dalmatian said.
“Me too. But let’s not talk here.”
Marshall nodded, following Zuma’s footsteps to Chase’s puphouse, to his surprise.
Zuma knocked on Chase’s door. The German shepherd appeared seconds later, blushing as he saw Marshall.
“Uh…what’s up?”
“Wocky…he uh…” Zuma began, gulping. “He has fleas.”
Chase’s face cringed at the word. “That’s why he was itching so much this morning?”
Zuma nodded. “I saw them in his fur.”
“Yuck!” Marshall gagged, glad that he didn’t see them for himself.
“We need to get him to Katie’s, pronto,” declared Chase.
“Well…he conveniently hid inside his twuck, so I was thinking…we could just dwive him there ourselves,” Zuma proposed.
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Marshall. “Let’s not waste another minute!”
“Wait,” said Chase. “Let’s make sure he can’t escape.”
The shepherd dug through a pile in his house before presenting them with a silver lock.
“Pawsome!”
The three quietly walked back to Rocky’s green puphouse so as to not alert him. Zuma padded to his back door, holding the lock in his mouth. He slowly lowered it to the hinge, feeling a tinge of guilt as he triggered it to click.
“Hey, what the—”
Vroom….
Zuma leapt on top of the puphouse, squeezing his way behind Chase and Marshall in the seats as it expanded and sprung wheels.
Bang!
“This isn’t funny! Get me out of here!” Rocky’s voice cried from inside.
“Sorry, Rocky, but it’s for your own good!” shouted Chase as he backed up the truck.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Rocky’s heart raced as he felt his own truck shifting into drive and starting to move forward.
“B-bastards! This is kidnapping!” he shouted, his voice cracking.
“It’s an intervention!” replied Marshall. “Just relax, you’ll feel a ton better once those fleas are washed off!”
Just hearing the word made him start to scratch himself apart again. A-at least I’m safe in my truck for now…maybe I can barricade myself in so they can’t get to me.
As Chase drove Rocky’s truck over the bridge and downtown, Rocky began to compile a wall of heavy gadgets and junk around a corner, enveloping himself inside.
“Do you hear all that racket?” Chase asked.
Zuma nodded. “I…think it’s gonna be difficult to get him out…we might have to westwain him.”
“Do we really have to touch him? What if we get fleas too?” said Marshall, looking disgusted again.
“Marshall! He’s still our Wocky! A-and he’s scared…he’s been thwough a lot in wegards to water…”
Marshall frowned as his humorous coping mechanism began to fail.
“He was scared of water even before he…y’know, got electrocuted and drowned, wasn’t he?”
Zuma took a deep breath, facing the Dalmatian.
“I don’t know if he’d want me telling you guys this, but…this is a special situation. When Wocky was a few months old…after his pawents, well, disappeared…he nearly dwowned when he fell into an open sewer during a thunderstorm.”
Marshall’s face was aghast. Chase, though his eyes remained on the road, felt his ears droop.
“But…how did he survive?” the Dalmatian asked, his voice but a whisper over the sound of the truck’s engine.
“An old man stuck his cane down and he was able to gwab on…h-he fed him for a little while until he d-died…”
Marshall pulled in Zuma for a tight embrace, letting the labrador plant his snout into his chest as a tear escaped his eye.
“Oh, that’s terrible, Zuma…gosh, now I feel worse about spraying him with my hose so many times…”
“He never stays mad at anyone for long. He’s the best, most bwave pup I’ve ever known…”
“Gosh, guys, now you’re making me get sappy,” said Chase, his voice wavering as he pulled up to the salon’s parking lot.
The three could hear whimpering and a pup-tag jingling from inside as the truck slowed to a stop.
Zuma’s heart broke for his beloved mutt as he landed on the ground, followed by Chase and Marshall.
“I-I don’t know if…”
“Zuma,” said Chase, decisiveness in his voice. “You’re his boyfriend. He’ll listen to you more than any of us.”
Zuma gulped, his paw trembling as he undid the lock to the back door.
He gently opened the door, revealing a trunk littered with bottles and cans across the floor, a workbench covered in paper and tools, and a barrier stacked nearly to the ceiling of cardboard and styrofoam boxes concealing a corner.
“Wocky…? It’s Zuma…”
“G-go away!” a voice called out from behind the boxes.
Zuma’s heart ached even more as he stepped forward, navigating around the mess on the floor.
“I know you’re scared, but you can’t live with fleas in your fur.”
He could hear furious scratching from behind the wall as he pressed his ear against some styrofoam.
“She can use some dry shampoo, but no water!”
“Wocky. You need to soak in the bath to get the fleas out. Please…”
“I don’t care!”
“Or…or no more nighttime snuggles!”
Silence.
A long sigh resonated through the wall before Rocky knocked down a pillar of boxes, trembling as he stepped out.
It killed Zuma to not be able to just squeeze Rocky into a smothering hug. Zuma cautiously approached him as Marshall and Chase observed them from outside.
“Take it easy, Wocky. Just walk with me,” Zuma assured him, standing by his side. “We’re just walking inside.”
Rocky’s frightened copper eyes locked gazes with Zuma’s, slowly nodding.
Zuma gave him a small smile of encouragement as they began to step outside his truck.
Marshall gave Chase a knowing look as they landed on the ground. Looks like we won’t have to physically restrain him to get him in.
Rocky breathed heavily as he took small steps alongside Zuma toward the building. Chase and Marshall followed behind, a bit unsure what they would do from then on.
Zuma pushed open the door for Rocky, ushering the gray pup in first. Rocky closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
“Oh! Hi, Rocky! And Zuma! Chase, Marshall, you too!” exclaimed Katie, a hairbrush in hand. “What brings you all in today?”
Rocky’s ears fell back as he felt too embarrassed to speak. Luckily, or unluckily, for him, his hind leg kicked up and tore at his neck like his life depended on it.
“Rocky has fleas,” Chase announced abruptly.
Zuma twisted his head back, nearly growling at him, even though it was true.
“Oh no! How did that ever happen?” Katie asked. Rocky shook in place as Katie stepped closer.
“He dove in a landfill!” Marshall joked. Rocky’s ears turned bright red from shame as Katie giggled at his comment.
“Rocky…you know better than that! What on earth were you thinking?” she asked in a cheery voice, crouching down to his eye level.
“I-I…I had to…r-recycle…” he muttered, his eyes fixated on the floor. Another itch surged through his leg, making him gnaw on his flank in front of everyone.
“Don’t worry, Rocky, I’ll have you clean in no time,” Katie said, getting up to turn on the faucet and find a bottle of shampoo on the shelves.
Wssshhhhh!
Rocky found himself backed up against a wall, now violently shaking as he saw water gush out of a metal faucet into a tub.
Zuma could feel the waves of terror radiating off the poor pup. He walked forward to sit himself a few inches away from him, still dying to hug him.
Control yourself, Zuma…you just need to be there for him. Let him know everything will be okay.
“Hey, Katie?”
Katie looked in the direction of Zuma’s voice. “Yeah, Zuma?”
“I slept with Wocky last night…is it alwight if he shares the bath with me?”
Katie held the shampoo bottle to her chest, almost awwing in cuteness.
“Of course you can, Zuma! Let’s make sure no fleas got on you too!”
“Ooh! How ’bout we all get baths?” suggested Marshall, grinning.
Rocky squeezed his eyes shut, feeling even more embarrassed.
Zuma gave the two a hesitant look. “Guys…I appweciate all the help, but…maybe you should give us some space…why don’t you get some ice cweam at Mr. Porter’s?”
Chase looked a bit surprised at Zuma’s protectiveness, but soon looked in Marshall’s direction to nod at the idea.
“Yeah, sounds like a plan! I’m dying for some ice cream!” yipped Marshall, taking the hint.
Zuma gave them a reassuring smile as the couple got up to leave.
“Hope to see you soon, guys!” Katie waved.
“See you!”
Slam!
Squeeeak!
Katie turned off the water faucet. The periwinkle blue bathtub was filled with warm water and large, soapy bubbles.
“Okay, Rocky and Zuma, your bath’s ready!”
Zuma stood up first, offering Rocky a paw. It pained him to see how terrified Rocky’s eyes were as his white paw trembled upon grasping onto Zuma’s.
“Come on now, the water won’t hurt you. You’ll be just fine,” Katie coaxed softly. He’s been in a bath before… she thought. Why is he acting like…oh…maybe since it’s the first time since he nearly drowned.
Rocky silently took a few steps toward the bathtub with Zuma, his eyes focused on the glistening water.
“Wocky, I’ll go first, okay?” Zuma said quietly, briefly dipping his brown paw in the water.
“See? It’s alwight.”
Rocky held his breath, raising his larger paw over the edge of the tub and dipping it in. The water instantly soaked his fur, causing him to recoil hard.
Rocky started to hyperventilate as the memory of falling off the malfunctioning jetski flashed through his mind.
“Wocky, Wocky, it’s okay!”
Zuma put his paws on Rocky’s shoulders. He didn’t care if he contracted fleas. He needed to make sure Rocky would get through this. Together.
“I-I’m sorry, Zuma!” he gasped, speaking for the first time in minutes. “I…I can’t do it!”
“Yes, Wocky, you can. You need to believe in yourself as much as I do,” insisted Zuma, wrapping his arms around the mutt.
Rocky’s trembling began to slow as he instinctually melted into Zuma’s embrace. A tear fell from his eye, staining Zuma’s fur. Then another.
“We’re in this together…I’ll be here the entire time.”
“Y-yeah, well, you’re not afraid of a-anything,” Rocky choked, sniffling into Zuma’s shoulder.
“Wocky…we went over this that morning at the beach months ago…I’m scared of being useless. And twust me, you’re not the only one in the world scared of water.”
Rocky slowly pulled away from Zuma’s chest. The labrador’s compassionate citrine eyes filled him with a tiny bit of courage. Just enough to make the plunge.
“T-the whole time…?”
Zuma nodded. “The whole time. You can hold onto me as much as you need to.”
Rocky took another deep breath in and out. He rose to his feet, approaching the tub a second time with Zuma.
Zuma sank his front leg in the warm water, watching as Rocky slowly did the same. He paused a few seconds before lifting his other leg in, letting the mutt take as much time as he needed to.
“You’re doing good, Wocky. Let’s hop in on the count of thwee, alwight?”
Rocky timidly nodded as he tried not to look at the water.
“One…two…thwee!”
Splash!
The two pups leapt off the carpet with their hind legs, fully submerging themselves in the water.
Rocky’s head immediately surfaced as he started to gasp for air, despite having plenty of it. Zuma instantly wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into his neck.
“Shhhh, you’re okay, you’re with me. Evewything’s okay…” he whispered, desperately trying to calm him down.
“Look at me, Wocky.”
Rocky’s petrified eyes met Zuma’s steady gaze. His rapid breathing gradually slowed down as he started to process the water enveloping his body.
Katie stepped forward as it appeared that Rocky was finally starting to calm down.
“You’re doing great, Rocky. I’m just going to scrub Zuma down now, okay?”
I’ve never seen a cuter couple in my life…Rocky is so lucky to have Zuma.
“O-okay, Katie…” Rocky uttered.
Zuma reluctantly let go of Rocky as Katie pulled him toward her, rinsing him with her detachable hose. Underneath all the horror and confusion Rocky felt watching Zuma enjoy getting sprayed lay envy. Envy of how carefree he was. How he wasn’t a stupid little stray afraid of something as pleasurable as a warm bath.
Katie alternated between using a brush and her hands to scrub Zuma’s fur from top to bottom. Zuma sank deeper into the water as he closed his eyes, moaning in pleasure.
“Ohh, that’s the spot…it’s been wayyy too long since I’ve gotten a bath…”
Rocky’s lips gave way to a small smile as he watched Zuma look like he was in heaven. His silky brown fur shone under the sudsy bubbles, making his heart skip a beat.
Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a large black speck floating next to Zuma.
“I-is that…”
Zuma looked at Rocky, then to where he was looking. He hitched his breath as he saw the dead flea in the water too, but didn’t want to alarm him. Katie froze for half a second.
“It’s okay, it’s normal—”
“I…I have those on me?? L-like right now??”
A weak chuckle escaped Zuma’s throat. “Well…”
“Oh god, oh god, I’m infested!” Rocky yelped, his heart rate starting to pick up again.
“You’re not infested, Rocky,” said Katie. “Just…dirty!”
“G-get them off of me r-right now,” he implored, staring at the floating insect. He felt itchier just thinking about the dozens, no, hundreds of fleas that could be on him that very second.
“Don’t mind if I do!”
Rocky tensed up as he felt Katie’s hose spray multiple tiny jets of warm water at his fur.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the metallic smell of a sewer flooded his nostrils. For a few dizzy seconds, the salon dissipated into memories of filthy stormwater, thunder, and darkness.
Suddenly, he felt an old wooden cane hook under his stomach.
Rocky opened his eyes to see Zuma’s snout an inch away, his eyes staring back.
“Z-Zum…”
“I’m wight here. You’re fine, you’re safe…”
Rocky gripped onto Zuma’s shoulders for dear life as Katie started to massage his wet fur.
“I-I’m gonna die,” he whispered to Zuma.
“No dying before me~” teased Zuma, his paws holding up his stomach while Katie tousled several fleas free from his back, already dead from the shampoo.
Rocky whimpered, burying his muzzle in his chest again as he felt every little movement of Katie’s fingers through his body.
Zuma gently rubbed behind his ears and licked his forehead, succeeding in making the mutt loosen up enough for Katie to start working on his legs and underbelly.
Zuma watched in mild disgust as more black specks popped up on the surface. The water itself was starting to turn an orangish color from the amount of dirt and debris Rocky had accumulated over months on his fur.
I hate to say this but…how did I sleep with this guy? Let alone have sex with him…
Rocky stayed quiet for the next few minutes as Katie made sure every part of his body was flea-free. He might have even started to relax if he hadn’t opened his eyes and seen the black specks littering the water.
“Jesus Christ, they’re everywhere! A-and they were all on me?!”
“Relax, Rocky,” said Katie. “They’re all dead now, and I think you’re ready to come out!”
“R-really??”
Rocky’s paws slipped on ceramic as he tried to climb his way out of the tub. Thankfully, Katie walked over and pulled him up from under his front legs, gently setting him down on a fluffy towel. Rocky immediately shook the water from off his fur, sending little droplets in every direction.
Zuma laughed as Katie lifted him out of the water next, copying Rocky’s wet dog shake.
“Zuma?”
“Yeah, Wocky?”
“C-can you come cuddle with me…?”
Zuma’s heart melted upon his lover’s request, not wasting a second to lie down by Rocky’s side. He pulled the long towel over the two of them, nearly wrapping them like a burrito.
Rocky leaned into Zuma’s smaller body, breathing a sigh of relief. For the first time all day, he didn’t feel the need to itch.
“It’s over, Wocky…you did it. I’m so pwoud of you…” Zuma whispered, licking his cheek.
“I couldn’t have done it without you…I love you so, so much, Zuma.”
“I love you more…flea boy~”
Rocky gave him a gentle kick in the side, rolling his eyes.
“Never will I jump into the trash again…”
“Pwomise?”
“Well…” Rocky’s hesitation was met with a raised eyebrow from Zuma. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. I should probably clean out my truck soon.”
Zuma nervously laughed.
“What? …What did you do?”
“I mean, I didn’t do anything, but uh…I think the others are fumigating both of our vehicles wight now for fleas.”
Rocky grunted in exasperation. “They better not throw away any of my ju—er—material!”
“Wocky, you can’t even sleep in there.”
“Which is why I get to sleep with you every night!”
Zuma smirked, giving him a long lick on the snout.
“That part, I don’t mind.”
Rocky watched in horror as Skye and Rubble cleaned out his truck at the Lookout.
They wore hazmat suits so as to not get fleas. Skye was in charge of spraying pesticides over everything inside, while Rubble began to throw out junk cluttering the floor in an effort to give Rocky an actual place to sleep.
“H-hey!!” he shouted. “Those are recyclable!”
“Yeah, but you haven’t actually taken them to the recycling center.”
“T-that’s cause I was saving them for later to reuse them!”
“Rocky, you can’t live like this, it’s unsanitary,” said Skye, lifting off her protective headgear as she hopped outside. “I think you’re a hoarder…”
“What!?” Rocky yelped in disbelief. “Zuma, you don’t believe them…right?”
Zuma broke into that stupid I-don’t-wanna-say-it-but-it’s-true grin again, prompting a defeated groan from the mutt.
“Rocky, why do you own seven broken toasters!?” Rubble yelled from inside.
“T-they had potential!! You don’t understand!” Rocky quipped back.
“They had FLEAS!”
Zuma chuckled, putting a paw on Rocky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe, but uh…think of it as a fresh start! Now everything’s clean and organized for you to work on!”
A tinge of sadness struck Rocky as he saw Rubble remove his green dog bed to the trash. Meanwhile, Skye was taking out Zuma’s with a long metal grasping pole, acting as if it were on fire as she kept it six feet away.
“Hopefully Wyder has new beds in stowage,” said Zuma, snickering.
“Well, it’s still really hot out, so…we could just sleep on the floor,” Rocky proposed.
“Ooh, that sounds nice actually!”
Rocky smiled, giving him a long lick up the snout to his nose.
Knock, knock!
Rocky’s ear perked up as he sat on his upcycled chair by his workbench. His heart pitter-pattered as he hopped off and opened the door.
There stood the handsome chocolate lab, his dark sunset-lit fur standing in contrast to the clouds of fuchsia and lavender in the sky.
Why does he have to look so god damn cute all the time!? Rocky thought as he searched his brain for words.
“U-um, hey, Zuma…” he stuttered, scratching behind his neck with his front paw.
“Oh gosh, don’t tell me she missed one!” joked Zuma, laughing.
“Zuma!! Not funny!”
Zuma beamed at him as he stepped inside.
“Didn’t you wanna sleep on the floor tonight?” asked Rocky, confused.
“Yeah, I do!”
“In…your puphouse, right?”
Zuma looked at him with burning love and a twinge of sorrow in his eyes.
“No…wight here.”
Rocky plopped down on the squeaky clean floor in disbelief.
“Y-you wanna sleep in here…? We always sleep in yours cause it—it’s messy in here, and—mmph~”
Zuma stopped his panicking with a long smooch on the muzzle, their wet noses pressing against each other.
Rocky’s ears turned bright pink as Zuma’s tongue gently licked his canines, the lab’s paws softly gripping his fluffy cheeks.
The two parted snouts after what felt like a minute, a string of saliva holding them together for a few seconds later.
“This is your safe space…and I’m your safe pup, wight?”
Rocky’s throat tightened too much to speak. He slowly nodded, his gaze still locked on Zuma’s golden eyes.
“Then yes. I’d love to sleep here with you.”
Rocky began to sniffle, his paw reaching for his eye as he looked away.
“A-are you cwying?”
“Z-Zuma…” Rocky choked, his tears wetting the fur around his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me…I don’t know how you put up with me.”
“Oh, Wocky…I wish you could see yourself the same way I do,” Zuma whispered, wiping a tear from the eye surrounded by a circle of dark gray fur. “Without you…I might’ve left the team long ago. And although we don’t view water the same way…I’m pwoud to say you’re my mate for life.”
“I-I’ll get better for you…I want to swim with you…it’s just, s-so hard—”
“It’s okay, Wocky. Water or not, you’re all I need. And I’m the luckiest pup ever to have you in my life.”
Rocky wrapped his arms around Zuma, turning him around so he could spoon him on the refreshingly cool floor. He let out a long sigh from behind Zuma’s neck, gently licking the part where his floppy ears met his head.
“Still think threatening our nighttime cuddles was fair?”
Zuma giggled, melting into Rocky’s embrace. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Rocky huffed, his front leg protectively wrapped around the lab so there was no chance he could escape.
“You’re sleeping in the junk corner tomorrow.”